As I was writing the most recent Blog, I realized I had neglected to write about a sad and important event in our lives, the death of Charlie, our 14-year-old male cat. A mellow, loveable indoor/outdoor cat who thought he was a dog. He became great friends with Buster.
Charlie came to us at 6 weeks old along with his sister Tigger, originally to be barn cats. That soon changed. Tigger was cranky as Charlie was content. She disappeared four years earlier without a trace. Perhaps a fox.
Charlie was noble. We called him Sir Charles. He was a character. We had named him after Charlie Chaplin – being black and white and having a distinct moustache.
Here is a belated poem to honour the memory of Charlie, who is buried by a boulder in our north garden. A perennial flower bed is planted now at his grave.

Charlie the cat was tough as nails
He used to sit on the cedar fence rails
And watch in the grass for any trace
Of mice or a mole so good to the taste
He used up most of his daring nine lives
Well before he actually died
More than once he caused such distress
To dear old mother whom he tried to impress
With some dead carcass of rat or bird
Such shrieking of mother you never have heard.
We loved him so much and miss him a lot
But know by his memory he’ll not be forgot.

It has been a few years now since we have had our annual Winter Solstice Ceremony and party on our hill. As the cold of winter, and the harshness of a recession settle in, and after several lamentations by friends who had attended past events, we have revived the gathering again this year - but on a much smaller scale. Our last event saw 80 people gather. It was far too many to host. This year we have invited 30. All have been asked to bring a log for the bonfire and a bell to chime in the growing light. I have written a poem and so has another of our guests. A third person is going to sing a song. Another poem was on our invitation: I copy it here.

Come join us at Wind’s-E’e on the night the sun stands still
The moon will rise we hope, from yon dark eastern hill;
And though the night be cold, our bonfire crackles hot,
And if the air be chill, we hope our hearts will not.
For we will call the sun with voices loud and clear
To bring life to the fields and to us to bring great cheer.
And after singing loudly and imparting our good will
There’s wine and food awaiting at the house upon the hill.