Surely you’ve heard of the Great Northern wildberry cat, denizen of wild clover and foxtail country?
No? Read on . . . .
After Tina has lunch with her mom at work, she wants to play in the field beside her mom’s workplace.
What a wonderful place is that field, resplendent with foxtails, thistles, sweet clover, chamomile, and other creations the unenlightened would call weeds.
I know we’re some sort of animal as we dash to and fro collecting grains, flowers and stems for winter, and drinking the water from the snowflowers.
Aha–the revelation! We are “wildberry cats.” I love the way Tina makes up names without seeming to know she’s doing it.
Then we’re little foxes, the first in our family to wake up one spring morning. As the Grandma (and little) fox, I teach Tina how to hunt rabbits. Mercifully, they all escape as she creeps through the grass.
But it’s hot, and the lovely foxtails, soft as they are, don’t shade even two small foxes. So we build a shelter, tearing off tall clover branches and long stemmed wild grasses.
As we leave, we wonder if our shelter will still be here when we come back.
And I wonder something else. C.S. Lewis’ Queen Susan lost her throne in Narnia when she became more interested in “nylons and lipstick and invitations.” How much longer do I have to join Tina in her make-believe worlds before she grows out of them?
I don’t know, and that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I bask in the blessing of each moment, giving thanks to the Giver of good moments and sharing in Tina’s delight.
“To everything there is a season . . . .”