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I stared at the small advert stuck to the streetlight pole. “For Sale: Wormwood and other apothecary delights. Questions neither asked nor desired. The Alchemist’s Shelf Apothecary, 47 Whispering Crow Circle. Ask for Ravenna Gold.”

Could it be the same Ravenna? When we were in school, Ravenna’s last name had been Thistledown. But how many Ravenna’s could there be in Misty Hollow? I mean it was one town over from where I’d grown up, but that didn’t mean much in the small world of magical villages. And how many Ravenna’s were alchemists selling “apothecary delights” that were likely just the other side of legal? I mean, everyone knew an apothecary where you could buy things the authorities technically frowned on. But as long as the alchemist wasn’t obvious about it, the authorities were usually willing to overlook such sales.

The sentence about not asking or answering questions was sketchy as well. And another reason I thought this Ravenna might be the same girl, woman now, I’d gone to school with. I checked the address again. The shop was just around the corner from where I was standing. I glanced around at the village center. A fountain burbled away at the exact center of the village “square,” surrounded by a high curb and a riot of flowers between the fountain and the curb. The fountain stood in the middle of what might be termed a roundabout, if there’d actually been anything other than foot traffic in the village. Residents sauntered around the fountain and in and out of the stores surrounding the fountain. Misty Hollow was smaller than the town I’d grown up in, and I remembered its residents depended on my hometown, Crow’s Rest, for larger stores, school, that sort of thing. I’d spent some time here as a kid, but this was the first time in almost fifteen years I’d been back in the area since I graduated high school. Misty Hollow was still the epitome of cute, magical (in all meanings of that word), small town.

I tried to picture Ravenna Thistledown in my head and couldn’t come up with a mental picture. I did remember I didn’t know much about her. In fact, I couldn’t remember hearing much about her, good or bad, while we were in school. Something tickled the back of my head but I couldn’t quite grab a hold of it. I stared at the advert for a moment longer.

“She’s new in town,” a voice behind me said. “Do you know her?”

I turned around and gazed at the tiny, grandmotherly woman standing behind me, staring at the advert over my shoulder. I shifted to the left so she could see it clearly.

“New? How long has she been here?” I asked.

The woman tilted her head. “You’re new too.”

“Yes and no. I grew up in Crow’s Rest, but I haven’t been back here in several years.” I waved a hand at the flyer on the pole. “I was just thinking her name sounded familiar.”

“Mm-hmm.” The woman continued to stare at me. She must have come to some conclusion because she abruptly stuck out a hand and smiled. “I’m Sadie O’Connor. I live just down there,” she gestured to the street behind us, “right next door to the new alchemist.”

I shook her hand and unraveled things for a moment. “Wait. You live next door to Ravenna?”

“I do, and for the last couple of weeks I’ve been thinking one of us needs to move,” Sadie said with a glint in her eye.

“Um, okay?” I wasn’t quite sure where this conversation was going.

“I don’t like what I’ve been hearing, seeing, and, more importantly, smelling lately and all coming out of her house,” Sadie said vehemently.

I nodded, uncertain about what kind of response she expected from me.

Sadie gave me a terse nod in return, and marched down the sidewalk, presumably toward her house. I stood staring after her for a moment before turning around and continuing on my own way. I wasn’t going to follow Sadie, I wasn’t going to track down Ravenna Gold, and I wasn’t going to stick around in Misty Hollow just to see what happened next.

Nope. I’m outta here.

Although… there were a couple things I needed at the apothecary…

******

Another odd brain fragment… must be the heat! This week’s challenge was issued courtesy of Fiona Grey. For Sale, the advert read. Wormwood and other apothecary delights. Questions neither asked nor desired. March yourself right on over to More Odds Than Ends and see what the others have wrought.

I know I’m a day late with this Sunday gardening post, and I apologize. We actually did house things on Sunday and I got all caught up in those. And none of them had anything to do with the garden.

So what happened in the garden? Well, it’s still roasting in the sun. We’ve added a day to the schedule for the sprinklers and that’s at least keeping things alive. My goal right now has lowered from a thriving garden to a surviving garden.

We could really use some rain, as could most of the state.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned our little stray kitty who comes by for breakfast most days. She’s gray with a white chest and white back legs. Very skittish as with all feral cats. I think she’s pregnant (which is what made me think it’s a “she” and not “he”). And for that reason I bought one of those cat houses you put on the patio. This one came with a cooling pad that allows more air to circulate, and it’s insulated for colder weather. I was going to get one once the cooler weather rolled around, but since I believe the little one is preggers, I got it now, just in case she needs a safe place to have her babies.

Of course, our shed is probably known in the feral cat world as the maternity center for the neighborhood. We know for certain at least two and likely three litters of kittens have been born under the shed. The last litter we noticed was Kona’s late last summer. And of course, Kona showed up hungry and screaming on the patio about two weeks after the last time we saw any of the other kittens. We’re pretty sure she was the runt of her litter and got abandoned by her mother.

So gardening has turned into a struggle for survival and tracking the adventures of the feral kitty who sees us as a diner (and I’m fine with being a kitty diner).

Here’s hoping I can keep things going for another couple months!

How are your gardens growing?

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Ever since I was a small child, I loved watching the flock of gargoyles take off from the church steeple in the evening. It was an amazing, breath-taking, fear-inducing sight. It didn’t matter that they were “our” gargoyles, not that anybody could actually say they owned or even controlled a gargoyle, their presence instilled fear no matter what, but they chose our church steeple as their spot, and our village as the center of their security area. So, the village considered them to be ours.

“Stunning sight, no?” Dimitar murmured, standing next to me.

“It is. Hopefully just another boring night patrol for them,” I replied.

Dimitar turned to me, his eyebrows drawing down. “Do you expect something?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. I’m not sure. I’ve had an itching sensation under my skin all day long. It’s gotten worse in the last hour or so. Actually, I think it’s been building all day long. So, I’m not really sure what’s going on right now.”

“Miyako. You’re supposed to tell me when these things happen. Especially when you are not certain of the source or the direction… you’re not certain of either, are you?” Dimitar peered at me from under his shaggy brows.

I sighed. “No, I’m not certain of either. The pull is coming from the northeast quadrant, but I couldn’t tell you if it is more east or more north. It’s just a blanket feeling right now.”

Dimitar straightened. “Right. And do you have an inkling about the source?”

I rubbed my arms. “It’s dark… ish. If that makes any sense. It feels… I don’t know… like something’s trying to be dark, but can’t quite make it. Like whatever or whoever is being forced into acting as a dark force.”

Before Dimitar could respond, the village’s de facto mayor strolled past, giving me a smile that made my skin crawl and my gut scream a warning.

“Well, a very good evening to you, Miyako.” Ruslav’s voice was sickeningly sweet, and his eyes flicked to Dimitar, dismissing him as present, but irrelevant. “Dimitar.”

Dimitar gave a short nod, but I decided I wasn’t going to acknowledge the obsequious little man. And that was my mistake. Ruslav stopped in front of me, a leer spreading across his face.

“Ah. I see little Miyako is too good to even acknowledge the true power in this village. Well, we’ll just have to take some corrective measures, yes?”

Dimitar gave me a small push back with his shoulder and then shifted so he stood between me and Ruslav.

“It would be foolish of you to interfere with the one person in this village who can sense the direction from which danger approaches,” he said in a cold voice.

Ruslav did at least step back, but a dangerous glint came into his eyes. “And it would be foolish of you, Dimitar, to interfere with the directives of the mayor of this village.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “You’re the mayor in name only, and that’s only because you insist on people using that title. You have no real power here and any influence you do have is only because some people, for some reason, seem to think you have influence over their lives.”

Dimitar put a hand on my arm. “Miyako…” he said, his voice low.

“Yes, Dimitar. You should warn the little whore. She is treading into territory she’d best stay out of,” he sneered. I barely registered the flicker that passed through his eyes, but it made me take a step back. Ruslav appeared to recognize he’d let something slip and turned away.

“Just make sure your precious little fox knows her place, Dimitar,” he called back over his shoulder.

Dimitar stared at me. “What just happened?” he whispered.

“I think someone or something is controlling Ruslav. That’s the direction the danger is coming from. It’s coming from him. That’s why I said ‘dark-ish.’ Ruslav is being controlled, but fighting the control. Not that he’s above bullying or scaring people, he just doesn’t like when he can’t control things. I don’t know if he invited it in, or if it just moved in. Either way, we need to get the gargoyles back here now.” The gargoyles were the only ones who could successfully take on whatever was controlling Ruslav.

I stared into the sky, willing the huge flying creatures to return from their patrol early.

******

This week’s challenge came from nother Mike: Watching the flock of gargoyles take off from the church steeple in the evening was… Once again, my brain went off-leash and came up with this little scene. My prompt went to Fiona Grey. If you make your way over to More Odds Than Ends, you can check out her response along with everybody else’s. Have fun!

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IT IS FREAKING HOT.

Temperatures have been over 100F for the last couple of weeks, and the forecast shows those temps continuing for another week or more.

Now, I love heat. I joke that I’m a lizard, because I love to bask. Having almost year-round warmth is one of the main reasons we moved to Texas. But this is getting ridiculous even for me. And my garden is truly suffering. It is, as noted, hanging on by a thread; a thread which I am desperately trying to make stronger.

I am now watering the patio plants every morning and refilling the birdbath about every other day. I keep a bowl of water on the patio, under one of the chairs, for the neighborhood stray cats, Jumpy the Squirrel who lives around here, and any other critters needing it. I have also moved most of the patio plants closer to the house where the afternoon sun is blocked. The house faces east-west so the backyard gets morning sun, and the front the afternoon sun. Fortunately, we have a huge, 20-year-old live oak in the front yard which shades the front of the house or I don’t think I’d be able to use my office in the afternoons. The problem is that a great deal of the back yard also gets the broiling afternoon sun and that’s what’s causing a lot of the plant stress.

My hibiscus has a ton of buds, but the afternoon sun, which used to give me glorious blooms, is now frying them before they can even open. Even the mandevilla, a tropical plant, is having a hard time in this heat.

I am working hard to keep things alive even if I can’t keep them thriving. Hopefully, this heat will break sooner than predicted and we can get back to our normal 90+F days. That said, I am very much looking forward to our annual trip to Dillon Beach in northern California. The temperatures there are in the high 50s-low 60s. If I get to put on a sweatshirt, trust me, you’ll hear about it!

Please keep my plants in your thoughts!

And the editing continues although not as quickly as I’d like. It’s part procrastination and part other things needing to be taken care of. But I will keep forging ahead!

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The application questions were quite normal until I got to the part about dinosaurs. I was puzzled. Why did the IT department need to know about my favorite dinosaur? After staring for a moment, I answered and moved on.

When I finally got to the live interview, I asked my recruiter. His response didn’t help much.

“You’re Mr. Don Aplin?”

“Yes.”

“So, what IS your favorite dinosaur?”

“Kaiju, of course.” I repeated what I’d written on the form.

“Huh?”

“Um, Godzilla?”

The recruiter frowned. “Hmmm… I don’t think we’ve run into any of those. We’ll have to figure out what’s compatible with Godzilla.”

Wait. What?

What exactly was I signing up for?

“Um, sir? May I ask why…”

“No, you may not. Not yet,” he interjected before I could even finish my question. “But if you have an affinity for Godzilla, I’m certain you’ll be fine.”

He clapped his hands together. “Right. Let’s get you sorted, and on your way. I have dozens of new recruits coming through today. Gotta keep the line moving, ya know.” The recruiter stood, so I did too. He gestured for me to precede him out the door. As soon as I stepped into the hallway with its glaring, flickering (just on the edge of my vision) fluorescent lights, a middle-aged woman, steel gray hair pulled back into a severe bun (why did they all put their hair up like that?) appeared to my right.

“Thank you, Sergeant Smithers. I’ll take him from here.”

“Yes, ma’am, Captain Whistler.” The recruiter snapped off a precision salute, spun on his heel and marched back into his office. I stared after him. Nobody was wearing a uniform… why were they addressing each other with military titles and command structure?

“This way. Come.” Captain Whistler gestured sharply and strode off down the empty hallway.

I hurried to keep up. “Um, ma’am? Would it be possible to get a little more information on this, ah, unit? I’m afraid there was nothing in the recruiting materials…”

Without stopping, Captain Whistler turned to stare at me. “What do you mean, nothing in the materials? Were you not asked about your favorite dinosaur?”

“Um, yes, I mean, it was on the intake form, but before that there was nothing,” I managed to answer while trying not to look as out of shape as I felt.

“And as I understand it Mr. Aplin, you answered ‘kaiju’ for that particular question, did you not?”

“I did, but, um… why was that question asked?”

“Ah! You are looking for an explanation of this unit’s work,” the captain said, sounding very satisfied.

“Yes?”

“That will come in the orientation meeting. Which I will take you to once we get you fitted for your fire retardant gear.”

“Um, what? Fire retardant?” I started to slow down. What exactly was going on here?

“Your kaiju, Godzilla? He breathes fire, right Mr. Aplin?”

“Um, yes.”

“Well, then, you will need fire retardant gear in order to work with a Godzilla kaiju, correct?”

Okay, now things were getting out of hand. Work with Godzilla? On the one hand, totally cool! On the other hand… wait. How was this real?

Captain Whistler hadn’t stopped her determined march down the long hallway. I sped up to a quick trot to catch up to her.

“Okay. I’m in. What I gotta do?”

Without looking back, Whistler simply waved a hand forward. “Follow me.”

Life had just taken a very interesting turn!

Even though I still didn’t know what a kaiju might do for the IT department.

******

This prompt response is a small tribute to my late, great friend, Don Aplin, one of the best people I’ve ever known. He loved, loved, loved Godzilla and I think of him every time I see anything Godzilla related. Miss you, Don.

So what IS your favorite dinosaur? was the prompt flung at me by Marissa Marinello. My prompt went to nother Mike. If you make your way over to More Odds Than Ends you can check out what everyone else has done for their challenge.

Here in north Texas, toward the western edge of the DFW metroplex, we have been gifted with a week or more of 100F+ temperatures and those are expected to continue through next week. As you can imagine, this kind of heat makes gardening… challenging to say the least.

It does indeed feel like we’re sitting on Hell’s front porch.

What this means in practical terms, for me at least, is an early morning daily stroll around the back yard with the hose, giving everything a good dousing. I am happy to say it appears to be working.

The raised bed in the back is covered in shade cloth which is enormously helpful. The basil, parsley, and Thai basil are all still thriving. The newly transplanted lacinato kale is also doing well tucked into my green tunnel.

I just saw a post in a gardening group about mealy bugs on hibiscus. Fortunately, I haven’t seen those on my hibiscus yet, but I won’t be surprised when/if they show up. At least now I have a couple of ideas for dealing with them.

The patio plants are doing well (again, watered every morning) and I’m hopeful I’ll have color through the fall with them. At some point this week, I will need to figure out transplanting some of the babies my succulents are growing. I don’t want to overcrowd anything.

The agave is thriving and I’m looking forward to my tequila business! The others have recovered from what I thought was a catastrophic fall several months ago, dumping them out of their pot. However, even just shoving them back into the dirt has kept them all alive. And they’re now in a bigger pot that hopefully won’t tip over any time soon!

It’s too hot to sit out on the patio right now, but I am looking forward to doing that, at least in the mornings with my coffee, once cooler temps arrive.

In the meantime, I am actually enjoying the challenge of keeping everything alive and even thriving as the summer simultaneously draws to a close and heats up!

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I staggered against the wall, one hand trailing along it, trying to keep myself upright. Whatever attacked me back there had run off, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Leaning heavily against the rough brick, I made my way to the corner of the building. Who knew taking out the trash could become some sort of monster hunting game? I fished my pepper spray out of my jacket pocket, staring at the long tear down my favorite hoodie. The pepper spray was probably completely ineffective, but it was the best I had. Perhaps I needed to look into some shooting classes. Would regular bullets work on whatever jumped me on the corner?

“This is getting ridiculous,” I muttered. “I need to move the hell outta here. I am so not down with living in the eldritch horror neighborhood.”

“Yes, little human, you probably should leave the area,” a deep, gravelly voice said from behind me.

I jumped and spun around, looking down the length of the apartment building. There wasn’t anybody, or anything down there.

“Right. Noted. I’ll be checking rentals first thing in the morning. Maybe the other side of town is my best bet,” I said, still carefully working my way toward the door into my apartment building.

Once I reached the questionable safety of the building entry, I took a second to look around the area once again. Nothing was out of place, nothing seemed off. In fact, the entire block, cars and all, looked exactly as it had every night for the last two years. So, what had happened in the last couple of days to turn my fairly quiet, non-eldritch neighborhood into… well, into whatever it was that attacked me tonight? And speaking of, why had whatever it was run off so suddenly. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my impressive fighting skills.

Figuring that was a puzzle best considered in the dubious safety of my apartment, I put my key fob against the pad and let myself into the building. I pulled the door closed behind me rather than waiting for it to take its sweet time swinging shut. I was going to do my best to make sure nobody and nothing came through that door because of me.

I trotted up the two flights of stairs to my third floor apartment. I really did like this apartment. The building had been built in the ‘30s, so the apartments had some character. They weren’t all just identical subdivided boxes. Mine had a short entry hall that opened into a small living room on the left, with big windows giving me a nice view into the main square of town. To the right a dining room big enough for a six-seat table, had an admittedly tiny, almost microscopic, kitchen off of it. Another hallway, continuing from the entry, went back to two bedrooms and a decent bathroom. All in all, it was the perfect apartment for me.

Until now. While I really liked this apartment, I didn’t want to deal with whatever was currently stalking this neighborhood.

The next morning, I had almost convinced myself that the previous night’s adventures had been nothing more than a hyper-realistic dream. That all came crashing down when, while I was still on my first cup of coffee, I spotted the hoodie I’d been wearing, and the long tear down the front gave my eyes the evidence my brain was refusing to process.

I poured myself a second cup of coffee and called in sick to work. I needed to figure out what had happened and why. I didn’t really believe we were sitting on a hellmouth or anything like that, since I didn’t really believe in that stuff, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. There had to be somebody in town who understood this stuff.

I grabbed a travel mug and emptied my coffee cup into it, adding as much as I could from the pot. I turned everything off, grabbed my keys, phone, and bag before finally grabbing an intact hoodie from the hook by the front door.

Trotting down the stairs, I formed a vague plan. There was a section of town where the concentration of psychics, fortune tellers, palm readers, and crystal stores was higher than anywhere else. I’d head over there; it would be a good place to start.

I’d just stepped out the main door of the building when the smell hit me. The nasty combination of rotting meat, swamp gas, and old farts mixed in with the general miasma of car exhaust sent me reeling. I coughed and shoved my face into the crook of my elbow. Good God, that was disgusting.

It was also familiar.

That was the smell I’d noticed last night right before whatever it was had jumped me and pushed me into the wall. I scrambled to get back inside my building, heavy footsteps racing toward me. I still couldn’t see the source of the thudding footsteps, but my eyes were watering so badly, I wasn’t seeing anything anyway.

Lighter steps, running quickly, came from the other direction. Great. I was going to end up smashed against the door of my building by two whatevers. They’d probably find what was left of me clutching my key fob in a vain attempt to get inside. Not that I could find my key fob right now.

The lighter steps sped up and through my tears I saw a lithe, dark, masked figure racing toward me. The figure made a waving gesture as if telling me to get out of the way. I immediately jumped to the side and crouched down against the building. I had no idea what was about to happen, but if it meant someone else was going to take on the approaching swamp garbage bucket, I was more than happy to let them.

The masked figure leapt into the air, and Scouts honor, flew toward whatever was coming up from my other side. I still couldn’t see anything, but the thudding footsteps had stopped. The masked person, I assume it was a person, hit what appeared to be air with a solid thump.

The air exploded with black sparkles and my ears rang like I was standing inside a tympani… while it was being played.

The masked person landed lightly and turned to me. I could just see a smile under the half-mask.

“You should continue with the plan you made earlier. It will be important.” He or she gave a small bow and ran back the way they came.

I took a long sip of coffee. “Okay. There’s definitely something weird going on. But I guess that sometimes the masked figures aren’t monsters, they’re angels of mercy trying to help. Because they sure as hell just saved my ass.”

After another sip of coffee, I made my way to my car and headed for the weird side of town to start looking for answers.

******

This week’s prompt response came from nother Mike: Sometimes the masked figures aren’t bandits, they’re angels of mercy trying to help… My prompt went to Parrish Baker. If you want to see what everybody else did, make your way over to More Odds Than Ends and check out the responses.

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Seems like Sundays are my days for reviewing my gardening adventures for the week. I am usually out in the garden every morning, watering, deadheading, and generally checking up on things. As I mentioned last week, I need to do the same for the front garden on a regular basis as well.

This morning’s adventures included discovering that the spider who’d run an anchor for his web from the wall of the house to the hose holder, had shifted the web so he is now parallel to the wall. The anchor threads seem to be self-contained for now. The main web itself is definitely an extension of the wall.

I’m glad the spider has shifted the web. I usually automatically walk to the right of the hose carrier to get to the faucet. I’ve had remind myself for the last few days to walk to the left. You might think I’m being very kind and considerate of the spider and all the work he’s put into making this web. The truth of the matter is walking into spider webs gives me the heebie-jeebies and I do that freak-out dance when I do walk into a web. You know, this one:

The well-being of the spider is my last concern. Spidey is just lucky I spotted him the first time (he was hanging at eye-level). My general feelings about all sorts of bugs is, if we’re outside, I’m in your territory and I will leave you alone unless you attack, and then all bets are off. If you’re a bug inside my house, you will die. No reprieve unless my husband finds you first and puts you back outside.

So, the spider had very kindly moved off the hose which meant I could water without worrying about any unwanted arachnid assistance.

In addition to watering, I transplanted some lacinato/Tuscan/dinosaur kale. Last year I had one plant that survived the great cantaloupe invasion, and it was tasty! This year, I started some in my seedling/herb box, hoping to get more this year. I transplanted the two largest plants into the raised bed and they’re now happily, I hope, ensconced between the basil and parsley, both of which are still going strong.

I also checked on my two little wilding experiments and they’re also doing well. In the southeast corner the Turks Cap are blooming regularly, and the lantana had a few blooms. In the northeast corner, the scabiosa (say that without using Hermione’s voice… bet you can’t!) is doing well, but the tickweed seems to be in trouble. Both are native plants, so I’m curious to see how they fare. The hibiscus in with them is prospering however (see photo at the top of this page).

Using my Neil Sperry book on Texas gardening, I will be planning out my front garden over the next couple of weeks. We probably won’t do anything drastic until fall (if we decide to put in fall plants), or even March next year.

The chaos continues and I’m happy with the results. How’s your chaos coming along?

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I stared at the tiny little body, lying too still on the pillow. Wee Bairn the air duct kitten was gone. I gently ran one finger down the length of his tiny body. He’d fought so hard, but the lack of food and water, and the injuries he’d received while living in the air duct had been too much. Even though I’d only found him three days ago, he’d wormed his way into my heart. I sighed, wrapping him in a towel and placing him in a small wooden tchotchke box I had on my nightstand. No matter what, or how hard, we love, it all passes away. I picked up my tiny bundle and headed for the airlock. He’d get a proper spacer’s funeral. I placed him gently on the floor of the airlock right next to the outer door, and after one last pat, stepped back and closed and latched the inner door. I watched through the window as the cycle was completed and the outer door opened. The small box holding Bairn shot into the vacuum as the last of the oxygen left the lock.

“Farewell, brave Bairn. I hope you find all the mice you want in your kitty heaven,” I whispered.

I turned away and trudged back to my quarters. About two meters from my door, I heard a small sound.

Coming from the air duct.

What the hell?

I paused, listening. The sound came again. Scratching followed by a small squeak.

There were more cats in the air ducts? Where the hell did they come from? I dashed into my quarters, grabbed my tool box, and raced back to where I’d heard the sound. I stopped short and held my breath. There! I heard it again.

I started to open up the panels that would give me access to the interior of the air duct.

“Uh, sir? What are you doing?” The voice of my navigator came from behind me.

“Found another kitten in the air ducts,” I said, continuing to open up the wall.

“Are you kidding?” Niko exclaimed. “I’ll be right back.” He ran off and returned very quickly with his own tool box and a small crate lined with a towel. When I glanced at him, he shrugged.

“It or they will likely be cold and could be hurt. I mean, look at Bairn’s condition when we found him.”

I nodded. “Good thinking. I’ve almost got it…” One last screw and I was in the air duct.

Two tiny sets of eyes peered out at me. The kittens looked to be about eight weeks old, but they were too skinny. Their condition made me think mama hadn’t survived. I carefully pulled them out of the ductwork and placed them in Niko’s box.

“Go find some milk, or ground meat for them. I’ll put this all back together and meet you in the galley.”

“Will do, cap’n,” Niko said. He gazed down at the two little balls of squeaking fluff. “Welcome to the more comfortable part of the Burning Eagle,” he told them in a gentle voice.

I smiled. For a very large, very scary-looking guy, Niko was quite a soft touch, especially around small, vulnerable creatures.

After putting everything back together, I headed for the galley to check on our newest crew members. Niko was sitting at the small table, staring into the crate which was placed in the middle of the table. He glanced up as I entered.

“I think these guys will be okay, Perry,” he said quietly. “They’re eating well and I don’t see any obvious injuries on them. I’m guessing little Bairn just got unlucky.”

“That’s good. I’d rather not leave any more to the vacuum right now.”

Niko nodded his agreement. We both gazed down at the two kittens who were ravenously devouring the ground beef Niko had put in front of them. I noticed there was also a small dish of water in the crate with them.

“Well, I’ll keep them in my quarters for now. I’ll have to find something to use as a litter box for them, but hopefully in a week or so we can let them out into the rest of the ship,” I said.

“As long as they don’t get into any more air ducts,” Niko added.

“Yeah, we’ll have to figure out where mama might have gotten in, and we’ll have to find her as well. I don’t relish the idea of breathing in eau de dead cat,” I said.

“No, I don’t either. I’m sorry she didn’t make it, but I’m glad we were able to save these guys,” Niko said.

“Me, too. Now we just have to come up with names.”

******

This week my prompt challenge came from Parrish Baker: No matter what we love, it all passes away. My prompt went to TA Leederman. This short scene involves characters from my short story Market Station which was published in the Raconteur Press anthology Goblin Market. If you haven’t already guessed, or known, I like cats. I fully expect there to eventually be cats on long-haul space ships if for no other reason than companionship and ease of care. Make your way over to More Odds Than Ends and see what everyone else came up with. It’s fun and makes for a good break in the day.

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We spent an hour or so earlier this morning in the front garden trying to get it looking like we cared. Even more than the back yard, the front tends to look like we mostly forgot it existed.

That changed last week when we had an arborist come out to trim all our trees. They trimmed the big, twenty year old live oak in the front and raised the canopy giving the front yard a lot more light, but still shading the front of the house. Raising the canopy of the tree also exposed more of the garden to the rest of the world and both of us realized we needed to put some love and care into the front.

We’ve been mulling over what to do in front, besides weeding, for a while. The other day, we ran into a neighbor who we’ve been talking to on our evening walks. She is an avid gardener and lawn care individual. She came over to the house with us that evening and we spent some time discussing what to do with the front, what to do with the bare patch between the oak tree and the garden now that it has more light, and generally what would work and what wouldn’t. We made a date for her to come over Sunday (today) morning at 8:00am (gotta beat the heat!) and start working on things.

Well, she forgot or something came up, because she never showed up. I didn’t text her because I didn’t want to bother her. But her plan still worked. Husband and I were out of the house at 8:00 weeding and cleaning up the front. So by 10am we had a cleaned up front garden, and a sense of accomplishment!

I’ve been meaning to deal with the front garden for a while now as it is, well… the front. But it’s been one of those things that every time I walk past I think, “I really need to deal with that,” and then promptly forget until mid-afternoon when it’s raging hot and the front of the house is in the direct afternoon sun (house faces west). I then tell myself I’ll get out there in the morning… rinse and repeat.

Our wonderful neighbor really did help us out even if she wasn’t there physically. We got up and got out of the house early while the temperatures were still bearable, and we got a lot done. We finished off the checklist I’ve been carrying around in my head for weeks now. We’ve added some tasks to that checklist, but at least they’re new and not simply reworking what we already knew had to be done.

And don’t think we were out there unsupervised… Kona and Marshmallow sat in my office window carefully watching our every move.

The chaos gardening moves to the front of the house now. Look out neighborhood!