I love dogs.

I love cats.

I love anything with fur and four legs, and I always have. And Sophie is just like me.

Since we have enough dogs and cats for one household, we have decided that the next best thing for Miss Sophie to do is to foster kittens for the Nebraska Humane Society. When we got the email, we were able to choose the ages and numbers we could work with, which means that Sophie now has four little six-week-old babies in her charge for the next two weeks or so.

I've decided that if we don't actually name the kittens, we may not be as tempted to keep them, but I'm not entirely convinced this plan is going to work.

Here is the one we call The-Black-and-White-One:

And this one is The-Orange-One:

And finally, laying beside The-Orange-One are his brother and sister: The-Little-Black-Cat-That's-A-Boy-And-Has-The-White-Spot and The-Black-Cat-That's-A-Girl (yes, that is actually what we call them):

I find it interesting that the little orange tabby doesn't even look like the same kitten in the two photos; sometimes his eyes are a bright blue, and other times they fade to a pale green. He is a true beauty, and a very calm little boy. The black and white kitten in the first photo is the only one unafraid of Martha, and is the most active of the bunch. And the little black brother and sister pair are exact opposites: the girl (on the right) is feisty and confident, while her smaller brother is very shy and timid. (Of the four, my heart may belong to him.)(But I shall not name him!)

Thank you for stopping by to meet the little fosters in our home! Sophie has been a very sweet foster mom, and my hope is that in two weeks' time, they will be on their way to new families who will love them as much as she has.

Dear 2017,

I may be starting to like you after all.

Sincerely,

me

****************************************************************************************************************************************

Do you know how often I think about writing something here? Every day. Every day!

But then the evening comes, and I sit down on the edge of my bed, setting my slippers on the floor at just the right distance from my feet so that I can find them when the dark morning comes. 

After that, I wonder where the day went. It seems like I was just putting those slippers on my feet and trudging down to the coffee pot. And now here I sit again.

Twenty-seventeen has been a disjointed blur to me, but it feels like I may be settling back into the nice, steady rhythm of work. I love my work.

Thank you so much for all of you who have been so incredibly supportive of it. I truly feel God has given Plum Street Samplers to me, and has allowed me to meet so many of you through it. I hope I can be better, once again, at staying in touch (so to speak) through my blog. 

I'll leave you with a little bright spot in my day… the new Jingle Family, which has settled themselves quite comfortably in the Christmas wreath on my front porch. (I fell in love with a wreath on Etsy, so I ordered it, not taking time to measure it. When I received it, I found that it was much more enormous than I had planned for, and was far too heavy to hang on my front door. I had to hang it next to my door instead, which proved to be a nice, inviting spot for a little finch mother to build her nest. So if you happen to be in the neighborhood, you'll know why it still appears to be Christmas at the Stewart house.)

Thank you for stopping by!

Martha never stops hoping that one day – just one day – a plate of goodies will be close enough for her to reach.

Martha loves to look outside the window in our living room. There is almost always a squirrel outside, flicking its tail at Martha, knowing that the only thing Martha can do is to whine and pant furiously because she can't get to it through the glass.

But today, it rained, and the squirrel did not come out to play.

Maybe tomorrow, Martha.