Cats and Crows and Late Winter Snows

There.

I’m finally doing it.

I am finally giving some context and meaning to the title of my blog!

They all mean something to me, whether it is magical, mundane or otherwise.

             First things first, I suppose, I love cats. I always have. There is just something about them all domestic, wild, or anything in between, that is fascinating to me. We had cats when I was very young, but when my mom and brother and I moved out of my grandparent’s house, we did not get more. My father was allergic, and not too fond of them anyway. So I had to wait until I was married and living with my husband before I would have a kitty again. Now I have two, Cthulhu and Realta. Cthulhu has some minor personality issues, which means she is not particularly fond of people, or them doing things. She will gladly roll onto her back as though she wants a tummy rub, and then will proceed to try and tear off whatever body part you have deigned to put near her. If she decides she is actually itchy she will suddenly become a purring cuddly ball of sweetness, but only when she wants to.



Cthulhu next to Realta,
 I swear they are not really this fat



Realta is different, not in that she likes people better, she is just a wee more justified. She was a rescue kitten, and before she was rescued she was feral. This is an odd situation in Delaware, as feral cats are considered wild animals, like squirrels, and will not be picked up and have homes found for them. Whatever happened to her that made someone decide she needed human help resulted in her ultimately losing one of her hind legs, and being a little bit paranoid. Paranoid or not this sweet little cutie loves attention, as long as she knows you and she is not busy being frightened by a dust mote. She does have an affinity to when I am utilizing magic, or meditating, or even preforming simple ritual or prayer.  She has to have a seat on my lap and have a nap. Sometimes she brings presents, things she finds on the floor, like coins or a crumpled bit of paper she dug out of the trash. All of them manage to mean something to what I am doing.  She just seems to have a place with me.

            Crows have always been there, massing somewhere nearby in the sky, shadowing me from somewhere.. They have never been an ill omen for me, they have always felt more like protection. They have never been ravens, despite my misidentifying them as such in my youth. As I got older and learned more about different spiritual paths, I learned how to identify with them, I even have a crow as a spirit companion. There seems to be a naivety to the crow, a sense that no matter how wise or even ferocious they may seem, or become, there will always be some kind of innocence or incorruptibility to them. Yes they are scavengers, and yes they can be frightening in numbers, but they occupy that in-between space. They are not pure like doves, or fun to look at like some exotic birds, their calls are not particularly melodic, but this does not make them evil. It only means that they are a different part of nature, of our own natures. This gives them the ability to have within them a connection to the everything, and to remain disconnected. They are neither blazing light, nor engulfing darkness, they are spiritually open, without the temperance of bias.

           Late winter snows are just awesome. You get all of the beauty of snow, and the warmth to sit outside and enjoy it in.