woodpile

(via Heather @ Pintrest)

i drove by my parents' farm this morning to pick something up from my dad.

took a little wander down to the pole barn-slash-woodshed to check on my numerous kitties. when i moved out, they stayed behind. my daddy has discovered that he actually loves cats, and takes very good care of them for me.

at first glance, the barn was entirely empty

save for the woodpile 

and a few bits of machinery

and then i saw the ears. 

two tiny, fuzzy points sticking up from a small pile of wood

perched above a pair of wide golden eyes and a innocent little pink nose.

it was a stray kitten. scared to death. i could see it shaking. 

i could almost hear its thoughts as it stared right at me. 

please don't notice me. 

go away.

please don't see me. 

slowly, i turned to go. 

little kitty bolted. break-neck speed toward another woodpile, in which it hid. 

i am that little kitten.

doing my best to blend into the woodwork, begging all my fears

(via Natalie @ Pintrest)

please don't see me. 

go away.

just let me hide. 

and then, for whatever reason, i break cover and run as fast as i can. i'm too scared to just wait for the scary thing to turn and leave me alone. 

i get a burst of courage. and i run to safety. 

for a kittycat, it's a woodpile.

for me

it's a wooden cross.

prematurely linking up with The Wellspring.
perhaps not a playdate per se, but oh what joy .