The barn cats are mystical creatures to me, sliding in and out of the night, hunting, dancing in the hay barn. This week, as the Solstice approached, the barn cats suddenly came to the door and asked to come in, rather simply presented themselves to come in. Barn cats ask for nothing, seek no favors, live to please no human.

It has been cold and wet and icy, first Minnie, then Flo. They appear at dusk, they sit by the door. The command us to open it, they gather around me and Maria as we read. I don’t permit the cats in my chair, they understand this, Maria accepts them, as if they were part of the furniture. The settle in around her, it is a powerful thing to see the three of them, gathered by a warm fire, the silent reader, Minnie curled up on one side, Flo nearby, watching and setting.

Flo makes Fate nervous, she avoids her, Red pays them no mind. In the morning, when we get up, the cats are at the door, ready to go out, to hunt, to vanish into the big barn. The cats understand these short dark days, they want to come in for the night.