This morning was a struggle of getting.

Getting out of bed.
Getting out of the shower.
Getting out of the house.
Getting out of the car and walking into work.

Bleah.

Then it was a struggle to stay put.

I busted my butt and got shit done and hoped we’d be slow. I hoped we’d be so slow so that I could get out as soon as possible and get myself home.

It was.

And I left.

- – - – - -

The falling rain turns into tiny rivers that wiggle down my window as I wrap myself in my favorite quilt; crafted by my late Aunt Shirley, memories of her are delicately weaved into each square, every stitch. It brings to me a deep comfort.

In the shadows of my room, just out of reach of the thunderous dark outside, my breathing paces slower, my hands tingle before going numb, and I drift away…

On the edge of a mountain, far from home, I stretch my arms out on winds that sweep up from the world below. With eyes held shut and the sun warming my face, I listen to the memories and whispers of ever so long ago as they rush by. I turn and wander over crooked trails of old, searching out the shade and sanctity of a few giants anchored nearby. With first a kiss upon my forehead, then a sudden push, a massive wind steals away my balance and I fall back, melting away into long cool deep grasses before disappearing into the earth.

I search my dreams looking for and trying to remember where I’ve left pieces of my heart.

Keepin’ it legit.

I admit it, I’m a cat lover. Always have been, always will be.

From my young days on the farm where we had barn mousers (Champagne was my favorite) to the present, they’ve always been a constant in my life.

Even now and even though I don’t cohabitate with one – we never really do own them, duh! – there is an orange tom who visits often. He usually wakes me at my back bedroom window and when I finally acknowledge him, he hollers back before running to the front door to greet me. He’ll come in, wander around checking each corner of the house before plopping down in the middle of my living room floor for either a quick nap or bath. Or both. it really depends on his mood. And probably what he’s been up to in the hours before arriving here. He’s also realized where the sardines are kept (from a failed experiment on myself-post coming on that soon) and will sometimes paw at the fridge door. He’s the only one who eats them and prefers the ones in oil to the mustard. Blech.

When I was in Turkey at this time last year I was wowed by all the cats there. In most doorways, alleys, rooftops and shops there are cats. And I watched as most everyone doted on them. In the corners of walkways and buildings I often spotted plates of scraps for these little guys and gals. I shot as much as I could but being on assignment much of it was on the go and I didn’t have time to really compose or get artsy with the images. And man, I’m slapping myself for passing up some of the cats I saw in the most awesome of settings. I just didn’t have the time.

Maybe I’ll just have to go back and shoot a cat essay of sorts. Serio!

On-the-go shots from the hip. No time to compose!

Seaside town of Antalya and right across from my hotel window. The guardian. We had a stare off. I lost.

More Antalya cats.

Acropolis

Museum cat

Celçuk shop cat and best friend. For a portrait of him and his human click HERE

One miscellaneous duck, er, goose. Or duck? Goose?

Sunbathing at Ephesus.

This fella kinda broke my heart. He was old, beat up and tired. He was struggling to chew the bits of dry bread left for him.

Cats will nap anywhere, including on top of museum artifacts we humans aren’t allowed to touch.

Surprisingly, most cats know they can’t enter buildings. This little guy just kept at my attention but never crossed the threshold.

City cat. Istanbul. Love this image and cat although I wish I wouldn’t have cropped off his rump. Reminds me of the tom that visits me.

During a break from assignment shooting I walked down to the docks of Antalya and ran into this young and pregnant soon-to-be mama cat. She was a definite fisher cat. Her territory pretty much ran the length of the docks and shores here. I watched as she dipped her paw down into cracks looking for smidges of food, although I could never quite tell what she was pulling out and nibbling on. I love how the rusty colored spots on her back matched that of the seawall.

Brooke wandering around my place yesterday with my camera. Love this self portrait she made. I especially have a fondness for self portraits by anyone when they are in their own homes or when made in refections while on the road traveling.

Rawr.