Barn cats are mystical and spiritual creatures to me, they are fiercely independent and resourceful.

Every morning, Flo goes and drinks from her own special water bowl, our blue bird feeder.

The birds know better than to come near it. Flo sleeps in a little nest above the wood in the woodshed, or on top of a hay bale in the barn, or if there’s no wind, on the front porch.

The farm is hers, really, she makes use of it, and never goes near a road or the front of the house. She hunts in the pasture at night, but never goes far, she has a keen instinct for survival.

We get her shots every year, feed her twice a day, and make sure there is freshwater in her bowl. She is the first cat I can say I have truly loved, Minnie and I get along, but there is not as much connection between us.

Most of our red Dahlia’s died during the weekend frost, but Maria saved some and tossed a few into the bird feeder for color. They did look sweet there. I think she knows it will catch my eye and end up in a photo. Floe likes to pose herself.