Hubby and I started out early this morning for a drive in the country, since both can’t walk that well at the moment. Not far from our house we saw a cat in the middle of the road and slowed as we approached because it wasn’t moving out of the way very quickly. As we got closer, we realized it was a wildcat of some kind, but nothing the likes of this part of the country—or possibly even the world. It’s coloration and markings were unlike any I’ve seen in the Americas; definitely was not a bobcat or a mountain lion kitten. We got a good look up close even if the pictures are fuzzy. It leaped up on the sidewalk and intently gazed at something up the steep slope under a footbridge. We stopped the car, and it didn’t seem to be bothered by us at all—very un-cat-like. It kept looking up the slope, not as if hunting anything but as looking for a place to go. We pulled into the parking lot of an adjacent park and walked over to the top of the bank where we saw it head up. Nothing. We got in the car and drove back around to where we’d seen it on the road. Nothing. We called the Virginia Conservation Police and emailed the picture to them. An office called us back a few hours later for more details. He was as intrigued and mystified as us, and thought it was pretty cool. He is going to consult with a wildlife biologist and get back to us. We all speculated that it was someone’s exotic pet that escaped. Watch this space.

We went for a short walk up the main drag of Middleburg, then back down the main drag, me on knee scooter and Hubby hobbling alongside. We remarked at some of the shops that didn’t survive pandemic and others that had sprung up since the last time we’d been there, which wasn’t all that long ago.

Hubby spent the rest of the day in the garden, doing some serious weeding. More of it is needed, but we’ve both decided to let things take their course this year and focus on other things, like getting through the remodeling and growing vegetables. I finally finished the last of the deep cleaning upstairs in time for our tenant to return tomorrow. I’m hoping the shower curtain rod doesn’t fall down on him again (these tension rods are hard to get right), since I fiddled with it.

This evening my sister’s church had an outdoor worship service with a jazz band. The choir sang as well (she and my bro-in-law are in the choir). I rolled up the hill on my knee scooter to the church, which is in my neighborhood, and sat on the grass on my picnic blanket. The final number was “Just a Closer Walk with Thee,” which was a favorite of my paternal granny. Sung in New Orleans jazz style, it was lovely way to wrap up the day, and I could just picture my grandmother in her light blue house dress and house slippers sitting on the couch listening to what we used to call “church radio,” which played on barely audible volume throughout their house intercom–radio system. My last vision of her was that of her little body lying in a casket, wearing a bright blue dress, arms folded across her chest. She got her wish.