It snowed during the night again. My Champagne-O-Meter had a new-fallen cap of powder on him.
The new snow made it hard for the cats to nip into the backyard shed. So Lickety decided to beat the path.
Little birdies can make quite a mess, too. Oh sure, they look sweet:
But they have terrible manners, spilling their bird seed all over the place:
So, with all this new snow and old habits on my mind, it was a good day to clean out the linen closet.
Imagine my surprise when I pulled out a small Saks Fifth Avenue shopping bag (Where did that come from? I never shop at Saks) and looked inside and found my long lost baby mitten collection!
Readers of When Wanderers Cease to Roam might know these mittens from page 11:
This is the picture I called Mindfulness and Mittens:
A Collecting mittens became my favorite Winter hobby, when I was living in that little village on the Long Island Sound during that decade that I write about in When Wanderers Cease to Roam. Keeping an eye out for lost mittens — only the smallest ones would do — like they were truffles; or strange, Winter-blooming roses: it kept me on the alert for possibilities, kept me in the game during these most sensory-deprived months of the year. It was part of what I call my Winter Mind.
When I got married and moved into Top Cat’s house, I lost track of those mittens. I’ve been wondering for years (all seven years that I’ve lived in his 100-year old house) what happened to them and today I found the collection, just waiting to re-enact page 11…
I still collect little lost mittens. The collection now totals 24.
Yes, I am quite the connoisseur collector.