Virtual Quill

As I write this, Tree and the maple across the street are off on their honeymoon. Okay, they’re still rooted in place like always, but Tree has shut down her cognitive systems and left everything else on automatic. I’m not sure what that means, but somehow it’s tied in to some level of interconnection among the plant kingdom of which we’re not aware.
It all started early in the week when Tree announced that her root system was entangled with the maple’s so extensively that they were permanently bonded. That was her hint to stage a “tree wedding” and we played along.
Cassiopeia co-operated. Weddings among her species aren’t very festive and I could tell she enjoyed being part of the ceremony. We gathered under Tree and read passages from Joyce Kilmer. Fortunately, the Beige University hunting team co-operated by winning their match, and in celebration a crowd of students decorated Tree with toilet paper.
She looked beautiful in white.
Which gets back to the honeymoon. Tree said they’d be “gone” for a week and we must admit that we’re puzzled. There isn’t any kind of pollen exchange going on, and the photosynthesis and sharing of water at the root level go on all the time, so we can’t fathom what is so special. Odd, though...when the wind moves through her branches it sounds like Tree is contentedly sighing.

Once again, Kell surprised everyone. The last thing the feline cabal expected was for Kell to voluntarily resign, and they weren't prepared for it. By "prepared" I mean that they hadn't yet resolved who amongst them would be the one to rise to CEO, and when unexpectedly faced with that decision they turned on each other. No one knows what happened in that conference room, but one guesses that it resembled the final scene of "Reservoir Dogs" but with fangs and claws instead of dog drool.
None of the five felines survived, and Kell elevated their respective subordinates to their positions and placed Frank Mangle in charge of them all. The elimination of those most opposed to her strengthens her position to near unassailability...as long as RL and Angelique are happy with the price of Herd Thinners stock.
One wild card in the conspiracy was Madelaine Purr, who seemed to be part of the cabal until just months ago before dropping out for reasons that haven't been divulged. For some reason she was allowed to back out without consequence, while Frank Mangle endured much retribution for not joining in the first place. So, the book isn't entirely closed on this matter.

The parents went to Dragoncon last weekend, but not in costume. Of course, that didn’t prevent others from assuming they were in disguise anyway.
That fun day was a respite from the gathering storm clouds over Herd Thinners, as the conspiracy of felines against Kell is becoming more brazen. Frank Mangle has resisted joining them, and he’s paid the price for his loyalty. Things are rapidly coming to a head. Kell, who has made a point of reaching out to everybody, is up against an implacable group that cannot be won over through reason or negotiation. I hope she has a strategy; but then, she usually does.
Many people are doing 9/11 tributes today, including this one here. We had one on the first anniversary of those tragic events here.

After the storm passed, Tammy, Ray and Angstrom headed back to the coast on Monday. (Angstrom was disappointed to leave, as he’d been fascinated by the bees across the street.) While their lighthouse was built to withstand a storm as ferocious as Irene, many of their neighbors weren’t so lucky. Rebuilding has already begun.
This was all after Rudy discovered that herbivores actually enjoyed the vegetables he’d grown this summer to repay his debt to the rabbits. While I didn’t get a chance to try one, he’s probably correct in that their “taste” has something to do with having been grown by a wolf. Taste is a very subjective thing and can be influenced by qualities such as notoriety.
That meant some growers slapped Rudy’s name on their produce, and as a canine he was infuriated by such trespassing on his territory. The solution is even more disconcerting for him: He has to trademark his “brand” and then protect it by continuing to garden.
I suggested that he just grow awful-tasting food that no one would want, but he actually has too much personal pride to do that. In truth, I couldn’t either. Maybe my brother and I have more in common than we’ve thought.