Mickey

On hearing the inimitable calls of cranes for the second time today, I ventured out from the warmth of the hearth, having put down my book. The wasteland of the garden, now that the snow has melted, was no sight to behold. The cranes were having none of it either but I did spot Mickey in her doorway. She seems to have returned to us for the moment but remains a staunchly outdoor cat. Perhaps the forest has lost its charms or our café is, after all, the best she can find.