Oh, but I love to pick up pecans. And I like to play with limbs and sticks in the yard; but mostly I like to roll in the sunshine and throw out a few sage remarks while Chloe picks up the pecans. (I am not sure if she enjoys this as much as I do.)

(Pecans and Chloe’s old Red Flyer wagon from years ago. Chloe loves that Pecan Picker gadget)

Our four pecan trees were planted by Chloe’s folks in 1922, so they are quite grand and stately. We haven’t had pecans for a few years, mostly because of the storms.

When Chloe was a kid she used to sell pecans and sometimes she sold as many as 15 bushels. She told me that in all her years growing up on the farm at Big Mill she had never been hit on the head by a pecan until yesterday. Now she is wearing a hat.

This year we have five bushels of nuts and I must inspect them all.  

Chloe is very fond of a potato crate and we store pecans in them. I see nothing noble about these crates. If I went in a car I used to have to ride in this ridiculous crate. It was humilating. Imagine showing up for an event in a crate like some Eastern North Carolina country hick. I am not the one who has a Redneck Woman license tag on my pick up truck. Now I have my own carrier but I want a nicer, padded one.

We are working on a Big Mill pecan biscotti recipe. I don’t much care for biscotti, but Chloe tells me they go great with our guest’s morning coffee here at Big Mill Bed and Breakfast.

Mouse flavored biscotti might be nice.

I want to thank all of you kind folks who sent me Christmas presents and treats…you are great!

    (the Big Mill Fur Person)

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Chloe announced to me several days ago that I should take a bath and make myself pretty because we were going to a special event; I didn’t really think she meant it. I don’t get out much, and we cats can be "subject to violent anxiety at any uprooting."  * 

Well, today we motored in a car into Williamston and gathered on the lawn of the Episcopal Church of the Advent. Now that I am a published author I have obligations.

Chloe told me that she went to the Blessing of the Animals at Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine in New York City and they had giraffes, elephants, chickens, snakes and most of the animals that Moses had in his ark. I have never seen an elephant and was looking forward to seing one. I haven’t even seen a chicken. I am a wee bit disappointed that I could not see an elephant.

Anyway, there were some very poorly behaved critters at our blessing. I am dignified.  I am a cat of integrity.  I know how to act.  I did not say a word, I did not bite anybody, I did not growl. My new friend Izzy bit Susan.

Here I am with the Reverend Jim Horton and Chloe. We attended what appeared to be a Fur Ball Festival on the Feast of St. Francis, patron saint of animals, birds and the environment. I rather liked his prayer; we could all learn from St. Francis.

I have now been blessed and I have to admit I feel like a new Fur Person. I wonder if I have to do this eight more times?

 P.S. I just received a letter from one of my admirers telling me that it was Noah on the ark, not Moses. Forsooth, I could have sworn it was my namesake.

* The Fur Person by May Sarton

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This summer has been tough on me with this fur coat and my advancing years. I haven’t done much except lounge about in the shade of the bushes and under the house.

The mockingbird eats my food, I don’t care. The hummingbirds fly right up to me and I don’t move a muscle. I am practicing my “I don’t care and am not interested” attitude. I spend much time with my back turned to folks who want my attention. I have to maintain my superiority.

* Check out The Fur Person by May Sarton

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