The Disappearance and Rescue of Pippin

Note: This is a long story, so allow yourself some reading time.


While my parents were away having an early anniversary trip to Georgia the third weekend of January, I experienced the disappearance of my three-year-old cat Pippin. I let him out Saturday evening when it was still light outside. Later that evening, after it got dark, I saw him at the sliding doors, licking himself, but when I went over and opened the door, he wasn't anywhere on my deck. He sometimes has a habit of running off right when I open the door to let him in, and he was showing it then. I sat on the couch, quite tired and knowing that I needed to get back to my family’s dog Rusty, let him out to pee, and eat supper. I dozed off a few times, but whenever I roused up, Pippin still wasn't around. I didn’t know if he was showing up when I was asleep and leaving again when he saw I wasn’t getting up. I woke up again around one in the morning, and decided to go out onto the deck to see if I could get Pippin inside. I bundled up, stepped onto the deck, and called out to Pippin, but couldn't hear his bell collar anywhere. I thought of my parents far away enjoying their anniversary trip and therefore very much unable to help me find my dear cat. I turned back to the sliding door that was still open, and there was my next door neighbor Deborah Payne's cat Huck, right outside the door. He had heard my calls and wanted to come inside my house! I stepped into my house and shut Huck outside, still wondering where Pippin was. He had been outside for hours and I had not seen him, other than the time he sat at the door and ran off when I tried to let him in. I hated to leave Pippin out in the freezing cold, but I knew I had to return to the other house. There was the possibility of him finding me as I headed over to the other house, and I thought maybe I could convince him to go into my house then. I knew the neighbors were all in bed and therefore couldn’t help me get Pippin back inside my house.


I walked up my driveway and stepped onto the street, and Pippin made no appearance at all. I got even more nervous, since Pippin often runs up and starts to follow me if he is left outside and I try to leave my house. This time, he had already been out on his own for so long. I knew if he was around, he would be eager to see me. I became afraid that Pippin might be stuck somewhere or had gotten lost, even though he knew my neighborhood extremely well. I wondered if he had gotten into a cat fight and became wounded, though I doubted that was true, because I didn’t hear anything resembling a cat fight outside my house. I got to the door of my family’s house, and Rusty was eagerly jumping all over me and immediately started running towards the direction of the yard of what used to be the Bleekers’ house before they moved away. I called Rusty’s name, but Rusty ignored me and disappeared into the other yard. I decided the best thing was to stand in the doorway and continue to call out his name instead of going after him in the dark night air. Now I had two pets who have disappeared in the darkness! I wasn’t too worried about Rusty however. He had run off on me like this once before at night and eventually came back after my repeated callings. I imagined how eager he was to get outside after being shut up inside the house for much longer than what I had intended.


My family’s cat Charlie had stepped outside the house when I opened the door, and was now sitting calmly on the front step as I called out for Rusty. The disappearance of Pippin had made me think of when Charlie was a kitten. Charlie disappeared after just two months of living with us. He had wandered into our yard as a stray kitten towards the end of July of 2004, and after adjusting to life as an outdoor cat being taken care of by us and loving our strokes and attention, he was nowhere to be seen one day in mid-September of that year. We were all very worried. I had become so attached to Charlie, and was so sad he was gone, not knowing if he’d come back. The following afternoon however, I came home from college classes, and Daddy and Emma were sitting by the outdoor fire pit with Charlie right nearby. Daddy said he had gone to our basement earlier that afternoon to look for Charlie, and Charlie came rushing outside. Charlie therefore must have gone into the basement with Daddy the previous afternoon without Daddy noticing. Daddy told me that he had wondered if Charlie had done so, and looked in the basement for Charlie the night that he got lost, but didn’t find him. Since that experience, Daddy built a cat door to the basement so Charlie can go in and out on his own. The possibility of Charlie being trapped in the basement was something I hadn’t thought of then, but now that Pippin had disappeared, I was afraid that he too was trapped somewhere. I have a crawl space below my house, but I didn’t know how he could get in there, since I never enter the crawl space and always keep the door shut. I planned to go to church by myself the next day, and really hoped I could find Pippin before then. In the meantime, I kept calling for Rusty, and after many calls into the darkness, Rusty finally came running back to me.


I slept with Rusty that night and woke up later than intended. I really wanted to get to church that morning since the Starry Mountain Trio were visiting and singing as part of the service, and it was also my pastor Kent Gilbert’s birthday. I thought it would be nice to be with Kent on his birthday, though I continued to worry about Pippin. I hoped that Pippin was just busy exploring around last night and was now waiting for me outside my house, like the other times I had to leave him outdoors. I let Rusty out to pee, though this time he was just trembling in the cold air and didn’t want to go anywhere. By the time I left for my house, there was very little time to get ready for church and I was afraid I was going to be late. I turned onto Center Street and walked towards my house, and there was no sign of Pippin running up the street to greet me. I got to my driveway, hoping to see Pippin at the front door, but I didn’t see him or hear him meowing for me. I started becoming even more worried. I believed something bad had indeed happened to Pippin for him not to show up by now. I glanced out the back sliding doors as I hurried to get ready for church, but there was still no sign of Pippin. By the time I was ready to go to church, I knew I would be about fifteen minutes late, but I decided to go anyway.


I left the house and still didn’t see Pippin. I hurried up the sidewalks towards church, while slowing down and being careful going over the icy places. I got to church just as the first scripture reading was taking place. I had missed the choir singing, but as I got to my usual spot in the back left corner, the Starry Mountain Trio was starting to sing for the Children’s Moment. A girl I knew in my early childhood years and is about my age, Susanna Park, was in the trio, and it was nice to see her again and hear her sing. They sang a pretty song, and then the Children’s Moment was immediately over. Kent asked the children for prayer requests as he typically ends the Children’s Moment. I imagined shouting out to him from the back of the church, “My cat Pippin disappeared yesterday evening! Pray for his safe return! He’s like my child! I’m afraid something’s terribly wrong! He likes to be outside, but it’s not like him to be gone this long. My parents aren’t around to help me look for him.”


Several of the children had pet prayer requests of their own, and Kent ended up saying a prayer for all pets, including the missing ones. My Pippin was being prayed for, even without me having to speak up. I was so moved by the prayer, that combined with me being filled with deep longing for Pippin, I started crying my first tears since Pippin’s disappearance. The fact that the pet prayer was taking place right when my own beloved cat was missing reminded me of when I went blind in the right eye with Shingles last September. The whole church was informed of my blindness and started praying for me. I was so touched by their support. Since then, with a lot of medical attention as well as continued prayers from the church and friends elsewhere, my eyesight has mostly returned. This pet prayer started giving me more hope that Pippin would return too. I was still prepared to go out and look for Pippin, and not rely wholly on prayer, but this prayer was something to encourage me on.


I continued thinking of Pippin throughout the service, wondering what I should do to try to find him. After the service was over, it was a comfort to see friends, though I just confided in one friend about Pippin’s disappearance. She had seen me crying from where she was sitting in the choir, and she was worried about me. It was a comfort to tell someone. I got to be with Susanna again, and she remised about our childhood together. I got together with Kent too, and that was nice, though I ended up not telling him about Pippin. While trying to decide what to do after church, I knew I needed to let Rusty out to pee again, but I wanted to stop by my house one more time and see if Pippin had managed to come back on his own. It was freezing outside, and I was afraid Pippin hadn’t eaten anything since before I let him out the evening before. He might have eaten from another cat’s food dish left outside, but I didn’t know if that was very likely. I walked most of the way back, and just when I was about to cross the street where Harrison Road breaks off from Center Street near my house, a black and white cat that lives nearby me crossed the street to join me. This cat resembles both Pippin and Charlie in that it loves for me to pet it and for us spend a lot of time together. I have become good friends with it. Often when I come by, it runs out to me and begs for some loving attention with a loud and demanding meow. I didn’t want to ignore this cat in my anxiety to find Pippin, so after we crossed the street together, I stayed with it for several minutes as it rubbed up against me and even stood on its hind legs for me to rub its head. I finally made myself break away from my friend and head to my house, but as I was afraid of, Pippin was again nowhere to be seen. I walked into the house, ate a bit, and stood at the back sliding doors, severely longing for my dear Pippin to return. I imagined having to cope with the total loss of Pippin if he never came back. I recalled two car break-ins that my parents recently experienced, and hoped nobody snatched up Pippin. His bell collar showed he wasn’t a stray cat.


I just stayed at my house for a few minutes, and then left for the other house to get Sunday’s paper, let Rusty out, and let Charlie inside so he could eat. My black and white cat friend met me once again, demanding more loving affection. I knew it has a habit of rubbing against me and getting in the way if I don’t stop and pet it, so even though I was in a hurry, I spent a few more minutes with it. I walked to the bottom of my family’s hill, got the paper, walked back up, and finally let Rusty outside. Thankfully this time he didn’t run away, though I had to keep a close watch as he ran around the hillside and interacted with Charlie. I spend a part of the afternoon with Rusty and got on the computer, but I wanted to make sure I got to my house and search around for Pippin before it got dark. I was really desperate to try to find Pippin by now. My black and white cat friend again got in my path, asking for me to pet it, but I only gave it a couple of strokes before continuing on. I knew I could ask my neighbors for help, but I wanted to see if I could first find Pippin on my own before I asked anyone. My front yard and carport were again devoid of Pippin, so I walked into my back yard, calling out to Pippin quite sadly, while listening for any meows or his bell collar. I peered under my deck with its bins stored there, but I didn’t see how Pippin could be trapped in one of those bins without me hearing his meows or bell collar. I didn’t think my brick outdoor fireplace would be a possible source for Pippin to be trapped inside. I walked to my big tree that stood in the back of my yard, recalling when I stood leaning against the tree at the time of Charlie’s disappearance and imagined telling it of my grief. It was right after that when I returned to my family’s house and discovered that Charlie had been found. I wanted to believe that just like then, being with my tree would mean that Pippin would soon make a happy appearance. The tree now has a lot of brush growing up tall and surrounding it, so I couldn’t really reach out and touch it this time.


I walked some more around my back yard, eventually standing at the edge of Deborah’s driveway and imagining Pippin running up to me right then. As I continued to long for my cat, I heard a single faint meow coming from the direction of Deborah’s garage and house. The meow was high pitched and sounded like Pippin’s. Could Pippin be trapped in Deborah’s garage? I had wondered if Pippin was trapped somewhere, but I didn’t think of Deborah’s garage. Deborah rarely opens her garage, just using it as storage space. Pippin being trapped in Deborah’s garage would resemble Charlie trapped in my family’s basement. I became extremely grateful Deborah’s car was parked outside her house. I would need her help if Pippin was indeed trapped inside her garage. I heard more meows and hurried over to the garage. The meows were sure enough coming from right inside the garage door, and when I walked right up to the garage door, the meows came really fast. I was sure it had to be Pippin. I wondered if he could tell it was me out there by the sound of my crutches. I knew cats have excellent hearing and smell, and Pippin could be so desperate, just having his mommy out of reach and still remaining trapped in his garage prison he’d been in since the night before, deprived of all food and human comfort and experiencing the bitter coldness of winter without being able to explore the outdoors.


I had to rescue Pippin right away. I could see a light on in Deborah’s house, so I had further proof that Deborah was home. I quickly knocked at her door, and when Deborah opened it, I managed to blurt out that I thought that Pippin was in her garage. I had to repeat myself before Deborah understood me. She went over to the garage door explaining that she had opened her garage door the night before and Pippin must have run inside without her realizing it. She had earlier trapped Huck inside a few times the same way. Deborah opened the door, and Pippin came shooting outside. Deborah spoke the same thing that I felt, that Pippin must be starving. I was so glad to see my cat again, and Pippin was so glad to be free. The special pet prayer at church was answered for me.


I bid goodbye to Deborah and followed Pippin up Deborah’s driveway. We got to my front yard and the street, and there was one of Pippin’s cat friends, not much older than him. They immediately began pouncing after each other, and Pippin was able to feel the joy of playing with a friend of his right after being trapped in Deborah’s garage for so long. Pippin nibbled on some of the grass in my yard before coming inside with me, where he went straight to his food. He was so glad to be home and eat again, after not having eaten for around 24 hours. I got down onto the living room floor to pet him as it got dark outside. My Pippin and I were together again after all that despair and worry, and I had just managed to rescue him in the last remaining daylight. Deborah’s car pulled out of the driveway right then, so I had just managed to get her help before she left. I could imagine the agony of hearing Pippin’s cries coming from the garage and not being able to get to him because of Deborah being gone. I would have had to leave a note for Deborah or just wait until Deborah came back. I wished I had gone to Deborah’s house earlier to ask about Pippin. I would likely have heard Pippin’s cries then and therefore known right where Pippin was. I know Deborah had walked right past the garage since Pippin got trapped inside, but she didn’t recognize cat meows coming from the garage for some reason.


Pippin soon walked over to the sliding door and asked to go outside again. I hated to part with Pippin so quickly, but I knew there was no chance of Pippin getting trapped in Deborah’s garage again with Deborah being gone. I figured Pippin must be really missing the outdoors. I let him out and sat by the sliding doors to keep watch for him. Pippin came back a little while later, but he did the same thing of running off right when I started to open the door to let him in. That happened again before Pippin finally came inside later on. I sat on the couch, quite tired, and Pippin jumped up beside me. I thought of how the night before, I was full of anxiety, dozing off by myself and waking up several times to face the disappointment of not finding Pippin anywhere around outdoors. This time, Pippin and I were happily side by side on the couch, falling asleep for a short bit before waking up and finding ourselves still together. I was so much more at ease with Pippin right with me instead of him to still be missing somewhere. I eventually had to leave my house again to take care of Rusty and eat supper, but I was able to leave my house much happier than the night before, knowing my dear Pippin was safe at home.


Since that experience, I’ve thought of Kent’s sermon title of that Sunday, “Call of the Mild”. That title being a takeoff from Jack London’s popular novel “Call of the Wild” and reinforcing what Kent was trying to preach, it began to mean something else especially to me. Pippin’s sad meows were calling for help from the garage, and therefore I was hearing the “Call of the Mild”. It was because of those meows that I finally found Pippin. I could also consider it the “Call of the Child”, since I think of Pippin as my child. I think of what I’ve been through as Pippin’s mommy, desperately wondering where my missing child was all night and most of the next day, and then going to his rescue after I finally heard him calling for help. I’ve always liked being by Pippin’s side and stroking his fur, but I treasure those times together all the more now, knowing what it’s like for Pippin to totally disappear.


Back when I became blind in my right eye, I was quite scared that the blindness would last forever, but to provide some humor relief, I rewrote the last line of the first verse of Amazing Grace to say, “My right eye is blind but my left eye sees.” Thinking of the gradual return of my right eyesight plus how I am now full of gratitude of finding Pippin after he went missing, I rewrote Amazing Grace again to say these words:


Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
My cat was lost, but now is found.
My right eye was blind but now can see.


Here's a picture of Pippin that I took the Wednesday after I rescued him from Deborah's garage. I let him inside just as a snowstorm was beginning, and he happily lay down on his favorite pillow on my armchair. I wanted to include the garage I rescued him from. The roof of Deborah's house is just visible to the right of the garage. This show how much happier Pippin is at home and not trapped inside the garage anymore.

Pippin Enjoying My Dresser

As my parents are off on their anniversary trip to Georgia and I am left alone, I felt that I should get back onto my blog and connect with people. Mommy had given me a bunch of clothes to put in my dresser in my house, and last night before they left, I carried a backpack full of clothes to my dresser, with my cat Pippin accompanying me. Pippin often likes to jump onto my dresser, and he became very interested in the open drawers. He found the bottom drawer a very nice place to take a rest. I was quite amused and very glad that my camera was available right there in my backpack. It was hard to get a clear picture without a flash, and it took several tries. I wanted to get the natural lighting from the hall light and my bedside lamp. Pippin had his head buried in a dark and very colorful blouse of mine in this picture.

Pippin then stuck his head up, and I tried to get another picture, but Daddy interrupted the picture taking when he entered my house with cat litter and bird seed. Pippin jumped out of my dresser and onto the stairs, but after Daddy left, Pippin settled on top of the dresser and peered down at me as I still sat on the floor. His pose made for another sweet picture.

Today is Pippin's Third Birthday

My cat Pippin turned three today, and unfortunately I couldn't be with him most of the day, since I had church this morning, and then I was at Berea's Spoonbread Festival all afternoon. I wanted to share with everybody this spring photo I took of him and some flowers from a flowering bush that was hanging over my back deck this past May. Pippin was looking up above my house. He was probably watching a bird or squirrel.



The picture below is a better view of the bush and my big tree beyond. I loved these flowers when they were present. I'm now getting ready for fall.

My Beloved Clown Mask That I Painted and My Poem Honoring It

Back when I was in Humanities class in high school, I was given the assignment of coming up with a mask design, and my first choice was a clown, because I love clowns and I felt that they reflect my inner personality. The mask itself was formed over my face and I painted it afterwards. I have since then placed it on top of a teddy bear graduation bank that I received upon graduating from Berea Community School. My high school graduation cap and previous glasses of mine complete the look. My clown is a bit shabby looking from several falls it had, and the glasses have a loose lens, but I don't mind these imperfections, and I don't think my clown minds either, always smiling. I'm really attached to my clown. My clown is holding his diploma, and I imagine him as the class clown, much like I have made my teachers laugh. In my mind, he is really happy that I treasure him in my life.



Just this summer, I decided to write a poem to honor my clown. I wrote it when my family was away and I was left alone for a week. Writing the poem made me feel better.

An Ode to My Clown

I have a great love for smiles and humor,

And so when I was assigned to paint a mask,
I immediately wanted to paint you, my dear clown.
I knew that painting your face would be a happy task.

It doesn't matter that I painted one eye a bit narrow.

What matters is the big smile on your face.
Although you have suffered several unfortunate falls,
I have picked you up again and held you with grace.

Even with your paint chipped off in several places,
You haven't lost your sense of humor.
You know I will continue to care for you.
My affection for you grows all the more.

Sometimes when I'm upset or lonely, I turn to you.
You remind me so much of my friends who love me.
My friends lead me to smile during our times together,
And we console each other when we feel dreary.

May you and I continue to enjoy our relationship,
And may you bring joy to others as well.
It's been eleven years since I formed you.
May the rest of our years together be just as swell.

I placed the photo and the poem together in the silent auction at Cumberland Dance Week that took place in July, and the finished result proved to be well liked. I loved showing it to my friends and any other people who came by. They were very happy to see my clown and read my poem. Just a few friends of mine bid on the poem, but a couple of those friends wanted it so badly that they kept bidding against each other, and the price of the poem eventually reached $40.00. However, George Paul, the winner of my poem, decided to make a copy to give to Eric Schreiber, so now they are both happy. All the money went to the Lloyd Shaw Scholarship Fund, and I'm happy to support it. Like my poem says, after enjoying being alone with my clown all these years, it's wonderful to be able share my clown with people and let everyone get to know him. My clown's smile does mean a lot.

I'm Trying Out a New Background to My Blog

My blogger has a new feature that lets me choose from a wide variety of backgrounds from my blog post. It has been kind of hard to choose. This bookcase background and a rose background has been two of my favorites. These bookshelves reflect me as a reader and a writer. There are more shelves as you scroll down, making it appear as a super tall bookcase with lots and lots of books. I happen to have several wide bookshelves stacked together with lots and lots of books at my house, since I love to read. Daddy attached them to my walls for me. I look at this background and think of how many real books that I have. I love to write my own stories and poetry, plus draw and take pictures with my camera. I could imagine that these books in the background contain my own writings.

I may try out a different background later. I wanted to see what people think of this.

Remembering My Friend David Witherspoon

On February 18, my family got the very sad news that our friend David Witherspoon had died two days before, at the age of 61. David was Daddy's very best friend, and together they would play Daddy's composed music in the Berea Castoffs band for contra dances. David was also a writer, and I loved e-mailing him my poetry for his review. I grew up knowing David, and thought it was great being friends with another writer. He really liked my writings. David stopped playing music when he had a stroke in 2001 that took away his arm strength for flute playing, though he still managed to teach flute. Sadly, another stroke took his writing skills in 2006, plus removed his ability to even teach flute. Throughout the time I knew him, David lived in the countryside nearby the Great Smoky Mountains, and I loved going hiking with him whenever we got to visit him. David and I both have been really great hikers, and we also liked to just go out and enjoy nature, such as walking to the river that ran nearby his house. It's been years since I'd last went to visit David, but Daddy had just gone to see David last summer, during the time Mommy was away helping my aunt Jennifer recover from surgery. I was resigned to my task of staying home and taking care of our dog Rusty, though I wish I had begged Daddy to let me go with him and visit David. We had no idea how soon David would die.

Daddy and I went to David's memorial service together, right in the middle of a dance weekend Daddy was playing for in Berea. Daddy was given permission to miss the daytime workshops so we could go down to the memorial service in Pittman Center in Tennessee, near where David had lived. We were lucky enough to have a sunny day so we could be outdoors. I met David's brother Bill Witherspoon, as well as his first wife and his girlfriend. Daddy took the picture below as sections of David's memoir was being read, and it meant a lot to me to hear David's own words talking about his life. We also heard sections from David's novels and poetry book. I would love to read his recently published writings, though it would also make me quite emotional now that he's gone. You can see the instruments of David's jazz musician friends who played at the service. I hadn't even known David had played jazz before he took up the flute. I was fascinated to hear other people's stories about David, while continuing to be sad of course, that David has died. Daddy himself was invited to speak at the end of the service. I couldn't take a picture of him speaking, since he had his camera hung around his shoulder as he spoke. I was glad Daddy was able to speak however, and tell everybody just how much David meant to him.


Daddy and I visited the roadside creek both before and after David's memorial service. I could just imagine David standing with us. The creek was rushing towards the river we had driven alongside earlier. It was very audible during the service itself, and it was nice hearing it while people honored David and read from his writings. In this picture that Daddy took of me after the service, I was holding onto the program for the service, which had a couple of pictures of David on it. One is a boyhood photo of David balancing parrots on his shoulders and head in a parrot jungle in Florida. The other picture is a more familiar picture of David standing on a wooded trail that's likely in the Smoky Mountains. My name tag has a photo of David too, which is not visible in this photograph. I'm keeping the name tag along with the program. It's nice to have these pictures of David.

I have gotten in the habit of writing memorial poetry for those close to me who have died, and I thought it would be appropriate to write a poem for David too. This poem that I wrote a week and a half ago was inspired by a special butterfly I saw at the service.

A Memorial Visit From a Butterfly

By Rachael White

Here I sat at a sunny outdoor service
Memorializing my friend David Witherspoon.
David was a very beautiful flute player,
As well as a writer and nature lover like myself.

At the service’s end, two flutes were being played,
Off to the side and hidden from my view.
I was content just to listen to the flute music,
And observe the peaceful natural surroundings.

As I looked out towards the roadside creek,
A butterfly appeared, diving low before leaving us.
I was probably one of the very few to see it,
Since so many people’s heads were turned away.

Little yellow butterfly, flying free,
If it is indeed David who sent you here,
Can you tell him that I have seen you,
And feel blessed by your presence?

Can you tell him that I will continue to write,
And take walks on outdoor trails?
I believe David’s spirit will be with me,
And I will remember you, my butterfly friend.

I also thought that walking around and photographing nature around my house would be a nice tribute to David, starting back before I wrote the poem. This flower below grew on the far side of my front yard, and by the time I was photographing it, it was starting to show aging, but I thought it was still a nice flower to be in honor of David. The late afternoon sun was shining on it.

The sun had already gone behind houses by the time I took this next picture, but I really wanted to get a picture of this redbud tree framing the front of my house. Even without the sun shining down, I think it looks lovely. The redbud tree is actually on the property of my neighbors Tina and Jason. On the way to David's service in Tennessee, I kept seeing redbuds alongside the highway. Those redbuds gave me comfort as I thought of David and our shared love for nature.

As I returned to my driveway, my cat Pippin decided that he wanted to rest upon the brick pillar that stands at the end of the driveway. It is funny how he has one leg hanging out. My neighbor Elizabeth Crowe's house is shown here, along with her redbud tree.

These flowers were growing in Tina's yard right beside my driveway. They did not last long afterwards, so I'm glad I preserved them in this picture.

It started getting dark, but before I went inside, I took a picture of the sunset nicely framed by the trees from my vantage point on my driveway.

On the day I wrote my poem, I took another walk to inspire me, with my poem freshly on my mind. As I set out on my usual walk around Berea Municipal Utilities, I took this picture of the view in front of me while walking down the hill. I thought the flowering trees looked lovely. The utility building is off to the right, just out of view. The big white building in the background is the Berea Quaker meeting house, with my pastor Kent Gilbert's house beside it. Brushy Fork Creek is running through the trees where the walking path disappears from view.

I took this close-up picture to my right from the same vantage point. I just love this big tree and how the path winds around it.

I walked down to the tree and onto the grass to get this next picture. I wanted to get the beauty of the tree, despite the shed that has been built beside it.

As I reached the other side of Berea Municipal Utilities, I discovered these white flowering bushes growing beside the path.

I got to the creek, which is so much calmer than the creek where David's memorial service was. Once again, I could see water bugs hopping across the surface of the water. I took this picture, where a ripple caused by one of the water bugs is visible in the bottom right corner.

Looking to my right, I could see rosebud blossoms just slightly visible through the bushes.

I got this spring creek view on my left, while standing on the gravel.

Back on the walking path, I found this beautiful spot where I admired these two tree trunks growing together, and the reflection below.

This is another glimpse of the creek from the same vantage point.

I finally stood on the bridge leading to Kent's house and the Quaker meeting house. I took this picture just as my camera battery gave out. Throughout this walk, I thought of feeling David's spirit with me, just as my poem said.

Just as I was walking back uphill towards the end of my walk, I was startled by a blurry movement crossing the sidewalk in front of me. I then discovered that resting on the street beside me was a brown rabbit that had managed to come up to me. I was quite surprised to see that rabbit, and wished my camera still had battery power so I could take a picture of it. I immediately thought of the butterfly at the service, and imagined that this rabbit was another sign from David. The rabbit was with me for just a moment before it hopped across the road and disappeared into the trees. It was my first time to see a rabbit on my walks, and it gave me comfort like the butterfly did. It's nice to have such animal encounters while remembering someone else who loved nature. I had this walk in mind as I went back to my house and worked on my poem some more. I worked hard on my poem before I came up with the finished version above, and I think David would have been proud of me.

David's brother Bill has now read my poem, and he liked it so much that he put it on David's Facebook page. As of right now, I don't know how to get onto that page, even though I'm on Facebook, but it's nice knowing my poem will reach readers who also treasured David as a friend, musician, and writer. I went ahead and put my poem on my own Facebook page as well, as another way to share it. Through both poetry and photography, it's nice to remember David and pay my own honor to him.

Mommy's baby chicks, ducks, and geese

I mentioned in my last post about how Mommy and her fellow first grade teachers at Silver Creek Elementary School hatched chicks, ducklings and goslings in incubators from eggs supplied by our friend Frank Jenkins. We got to keep the new babies overnight the Friday before Easter. I was at my house and got a call from Daddy that Hazel and Sage were there, and Mommy was about to take the new babies home from school and take Easter pictures out in the front yard. I was awaiting that call, but before I went over, I hurriedly took my own Easter outdoor pictures with my New Lanark stuffed bunny, which I got published in my last post. By the time I reached my family's house, the pictures were already taking place. I'm posting some of the ones that were taken, both before and after I arrived.


Sage enjoyed seeing the goslings, ducklings, and chicks wandering around on the blanket that was set outside.

Emma got in the pictures.

This next picture is funny, with one of the baby geese perched on Hazel's very pregnant belly.

Sage wanted to see how the gosling was perched.

It is cute how she made a pouch for two of the chicks.

This gosling was on Emma's lap.

I really wanted to get into the pictures, but Sage had an unfortunate accident, and everything was taken inside, with the chicks, ducks and goslings put back into their boxes. Mommy talked about taking more pictures, but then she and Hazel got engaged in cooking supper. I begged Mommy to let me have some pictures, and she finally let me go outside for pictures, though she only got three of the chicks for me to hold, and not the basket or ducklings and baby geese. I thought it was nice to hold the chicks in my hands anyway. This first picture is my favorite, with my big smile. I like the flowers in the background.

It is neat how the orange chick is looking towards the camera in this next picture.

The dark chick and the light colored chick look cute together in the picture below.

I was quickly made to go back inside, but that night I took my own pictures of the chicks, ducklings, and goslings in their boxes. The chicks were first. I noticed how the chicks loved to perch on top of their food dishes. I managed to get a picture with both the food dishes being occupied.

I then turned to the box housing the ducklings and goslings. The four goslings were eager for water, while the baby ducks enjoyed resting with each other. I like their close companionship. It is funny that in this photo, it looks like the woman featured in the newspaper photograph is lying down and holding a giant duckling on her chest. The duckling seems to be looking into her face.

There kept being lots of scampering around in the box, and I managed to get a close-up picture of one of the ducklings resting all alone. Since the word "College" happens to be right beside the duckling, I like to imagine that the duckling is dreaming of attending college.

The duckling had a friend come join it, causing it to rouse up again.

The water dish proved to be a big gathering place. One of the ducklings is hard to see in this picture. It is in the very bottom of the picture in the shadows by the dish and the geese.

This duckling and gosling were a sweet pair at the food dish.

I wanted to get more close up photos of the chicks perched on their food dishes, and I took this picture just as one of the other chicks was sticking its head completely through a hole in this dish, making for a rather funny picture.

I thought this chick that perched on the other food dish is a beautiful chick with its stripes running down its back.

The chicks were snuggled up with one another, dozing off as I took the last photo of the night.

Frank Jenkins wasn't coming to collect the chicks, ducklings, and goslings until the following evening, so I had more time to spend with my new friends before he came. After arriving from my house, I noticed the ducklings and geese were in a different box with sides more of an even length all around. The goslings were busy pecking holes along the cardboard.

I thought this was a nice example of ducklings and goslings lying down together.

This duckling looked cute in between two goslings, lined up in a row.

I turned to the chicks once again, with the food dishes now side by side. The chick perched on the left food dish remained there for a long time.

When Mommy got home, Frank was already here, but he was sitting with Daddy at our outdoor fireplace, where Daddy likes to grill food. Mommy led Frank in and showed him the ducklings and the goslings first, since they were right next to the door. Mommy explained to him that a baby goose and a chick had hatched just that day. I had forgotten about what Mommy had said the day before about them still being unhatched in the incubators at school. From what Mommy said, both the baby goose and the chick could have easily died unhatched. I managed to take a picture of the chick before Mommy set it into the box again. Mommy was naming it Lucky, along with the baby goose that just hatched.

I looked back at the newly hatched gosling in its box. This gosling was so much smaller than its peers. I was rather confused when I first saw it that day. After having heard its story about its late hatching, I took a rather sweet picture of it lying with three of its bigger siblings. I like how one of the other goslings is looking right at it as they rest.

Later on all of the ducklings and goslings decided to rest together, making for a very cute group picture.

I remained fascinated with the tiny gosling that almost didn't hatch, and watched it walking along the box with a duckling friend, before the two of them decided to rest together.

Just shortly after I took that picture, Mommy took out their food and water, removed the heat lamps, and totally shut the box up, so Frank could take it away. It was time to say goodbye to my new friends, and I was rather sad. I imagined the ducklings and goslings weren't very happy, with their peace being disrupted and being shut up in the dark. Mommy then took the food and water away from the chicks and I hurriedly took one last picture of them before Mommy removed their heat lamps as well. They were clearly running around and talking to each other, wondering what's going on. I knew they would ultimately get to live on a farm, but they would have to have a long and miserable car ride before that.

I met Frank's wife, Deborah Thompson at the Berea College Country Dancer convocation the following Tuesday, and she shared the very sad news that the tiny gosling that was born late had in fact died. I had gotten so attached to that gosling and had taken such sweet pictures of it with the others, and now I found out that it was no longer alive. I had admired its ability to get along and socialize with the others despite its tiny size. Now I felt that I had truly lost a friend. At least the chick that almost didn't hatch is still doing fine. As I mourned the little gosling, I knew I still have Hazel's new baby boy to look forward to. My nephew can be born any time now, and I've been anticipating spending my first moments with him. I really hope he has a good birth and turns out healthy. I think he will be happy with his new family.