Upper Mellowdene

Mellowdene. The name was well chosen. A valley with a mellow climate and people. A wonderful place to live. Moderate rainfall, snow that rarely reaches the village and a mountain range that offers protection from the north wind. And yet, our friendship with the Polaris family has made us aware that some Sylvanians are more comfortable living in a cooler temperature.

The friendship has grown over the past couple of years. We periodically invite Pete or Paul Polaris with their families to socialise and have a meal at our house. We've dined out at the Mousehole (formerly the Seaside Restaurant) on occasion. Initially we hadn't been to their home because of travel practicalities. They have transport. We don't. And their home is... well, I will explain.

The distribution centre for their business - the Polaris Cold Store - is within walking distance. One has to follow a winding road through the foothills up an incline to a small plateau, but it isn't too stretching a journey provided that the weather isn't too extreme. As already mentioned, that is rarely a problem. (*See Hot and Cold - July 2021 - if you want to read of the time I visited the Cold Store.)

However, their home is further up the mountain. I had once been taken to see the nearby coolsalt processing plant but never to the Polaris's home. The road continues until it reaches a larger plateau where there is a community of crittizens who like the colder weather. We still consider these residences part of Mellowdene but for clarity the community has garnered the name Upper Mellowdene.

o 0 O 0 o

Cecile, the children and I were trundling along the mountain road towards Upper Mellowdene, driven by Sven Beaufort in his taxi.

"So you haven't been to the 'Upps' before," said Sven. "It can be a bit of a journey by foot. It's one of the reasons that we bought some cars. We hadn't thought of starting a taxi business back then but it sort of evolved."

"But Mellowdene Cabs are based in the village, aren't they?" said Cecile.

"Most are, since we expanded," Sven replied, "but we still have a couple in regular use for boogying up and down the mountain. It's enough since the Polarises have their own car and their delivery bikes. My brother isn't averse to providing lifts in his ice cream van, either."

Beverley's attention was grabbed by the mention of ice cream, of course.

"Do you make all your ice cream in Upper Mellowdene?" she said, attempting but failing to seem nonchalant. 

"They do," said Sven, "although I prefer the fruit snow cones personally. Vincent can't understand it!"

"We sampled some of those when we visited the Cold Store, didn't we Brendan?" I said.

"Yeah," said my son. "They were yummy, Bev."

"Hmm. I'd have to sample both to make an informed choice."

Brendan winked at me. "My sister is all for the facts."

Cecile glanced at him briefly before speaking to Sven.

"What do you do about post up in the mountains? Letters and parcels?"

"Well, Pete Petite used to cycle up to the Cold Store and leave post there, collecting any outgoing mail at the same time, but we now have the Snowdrifts living up here. Cheery is a delivery driver and she is associated with the Post Office. She gets about. With her motorcycle she started carrying parcels between the main office and the Tall Trees branch, but it made sense for her to deliver mail to Upper Mellowdene. She will carry our mail down to the main office too."

"Polar bears and reindeer. A proper little community," said Cecile.

"Don't forget the penguins. And the Husky family recently moved up from the main village. I think they missed the snow. They used to live in the snowfields of the South Atlandian Mountains, you know."

"So I believe. Tara Lapine-Frost mentioned it. That's right isn't it, Jack?"

"Certainly is."

 

"She's been a passenger in my cab a few times," said Sven. "Coming up here to collect rocks or plants initially but she has her own garden now." 

He was slowing down as we reached our destination - the Polaris's home. "Right. Here we are. Let the Polarises know when you're ready to drive back down and they'll contact me. I'll be at home until then."

We thanked him and left the taxi. He drove a short distance to some cabins nearby. Looking towards the Polaris residence I saw tiny Beth waving from the window.

We had arrived in Upper Mellowdene .

o 0 O 0 o

Barbara Polaris has prepared us a wonderful meal. A tasty brocolli and blue cheese soup for starters and for the main course a pastry lattice with a vegetable and mixed nut filling. Perfectly seasoned with just a hint of spice to give extra warmth.

Cecile complemented the chef and how she enjoyed that touch of warmth.

"Home grown spices," said Barbara.

"Yes," said Pete Polaris, wiping the last morsel of sauce from his plate, "it might be chillier up here but that touch of heat even suits we psychrophilic critters."

"Psycho what?" asked Brendan. Trust my son.

"Psychrophilic," explained Pete. "Critters who thrive in lower temperatures."

"Unlike psycho bunnies like you, Brendan," commented Beverley. "Thriving in being daft."

"Thank you, Beverley," said Cecile, glancing at me. "I think the cold has gone to our daughter's head. Maybe that ice cream dessert isn't a good idea..."

"No!" Beverley interjected hurriedly. "I was just joking. Brendan knows that, don't you?" she added, eyes pleading with her brother.

"Hmm. Let me see..."

 

There were chuckles around the table. During the hilarity, I happened to notice a secret signal Barbara gave her husband. Pete nodded and Barbara responded by raising her voice. Some sort of announcement, perhaps?

"Speaking of ice cream desserts," she said, "I'm afraid that must be postponed. We have something planned..."

"It's not my fault, Bev," whispered Brendan. "I've got some sweeties at home; you can have a couple afterwards."

Barbara smiled at our children. "You won't miss out. What you need to do is go and wash your paws, freshen up and check you are warmly dressed, for you are going to be taken on a short walk towards the Ice Lake."

o 0 O 0 o 

The Ice Lake is at the far end of Upper Mellowdene. The region gets progressively colder as one approaches the lake. It is an unusual body of water. You might expect a thick sheet of ice over the water - ideal for skating - but it isn't like that. There is a place nearby where critters can and do skate...

...but Ice Lake is different. The water is very cold, and penguins frequently swim in its depths. There is an element of ice - millions of tiny ice spheres - each roughly the size of a pea - covering the entire water surface to a depth of four or five peas, all refusing to stick together. It doesn't hinder the swimmers, slipping through the ice layer to the water below.   

The ice pellets form when some of the water from an adjacent mountain stream overflows and feeds into Ice Lake. The stream is one of many that joins to reach both Sweetwater Lake and the waterfalls that feed our river. 

I don't know all the details, but it wouldn't surprise me if the unusual ice properties are caused by passing through a hollow that is an outlier to Coldmount Peak. This rocky structure attracts the worst of the weather from the north and dissipates it. I suspect Coldmount Peak is another reason Mellowdene rarely gets storms and truly bad weather; something beyond the physical barrier of the mountains. Coldmount Peak captures the lightning, attracts the hail, and channels it elsewhere. 

I didn't know that Ice Lake held other secrets. Paul Polaris took us up to meet the Waddle penguins and they were happy to explain. It seemed our Polaris friends had arranged this surprise tour.

"It's like a garden down there," said Ozzy Waddle. "We don't dive too low, unlike our DeBurg neighbours. They go really low, tend the water plants and harvest their bounty."

"You mean you get food from the lake bed?" said Cecile.

"Oh yes. Together with the produce from the Snowfluffs at Polarstar farm I'd say Upper Mellowdene was about eighty per cent self sufficient with regard to food."

"That's amazing", said Cecile, "but don't you suffer frost damage?"

"Heated beds, sheltered growing units. The Snowfluffs are excellent winter horticulturalists."

"But the Beauforts will need some lactolia plants for ice-cream," Beverley commented. "The Buttercups have the best crop in the county. We went on a school visit."

"Violet Beaufort has some lactolia rootstock they use as a catalyst but surprisingly that amounts to little. We Waddles provide the alternative. Beaufort's ice cream primarily uses chillweed."  

 

"Chillweed?"

"It looks similar to some seaweeds but is the palest blue. It keeps naturally cold and it takes on the flavour of other ingredients in a recipe. In some cases it enhances the flavour. That's the reason why the Beauforts don't eliminate lactolia completely. With only a small amount of lactolia added to the chillweed, the Beauforts have optimised the flavour."

"Is that why the ice cream from their van tastes different to that bought in shops?"

"You noticed that?" laughed Ozzie. "You must be an ice cream aficionado. The Beauforts create a top quality product. We taught them all they know about processing chillweed. They don't have our range but they are experts in what they do."   

Beverley's interest visibly increased. "You make more flavours of ice cream than the Beauforts?"

"We certainly do. Not just ice cream, though. We do snow cones without lactolia. Some others will taste creamy but use other plants to give it a unique flavour."

Brendan piped in. "I think Beverley wants to know what particular flavours you make."

"Does she, my lad?" said Ozzie. "Well, young lady, we've done the usual vanilla, chocolate, honey and fruit flavours. The Snowfluffs' farm and the cold gardens increase our options. Some recipes you may like - such as carrot ice cream, I suspect. You may not find our range of fish ice creams as palatable."

Brendan laughed. "Sounds horrid. Can I try it?"

Ozzie gave Cecile a questioning look. Not me, I noted. Our new penguin friend had assessed my wife correctly as the boss in our family. Cecile answered with a short nod and Ozzie gestured to his smiling wife nearby.

"Sapphire, my dearest? Would you take these two lovely young bunnies for a tasting of our latest batch?"

We watched our two oldest children follow Sapphire Waddle to a nearby cabin. Regarding the landcape around us, I was glad Russell remained at the Polaris home to play with Beth.  

Cecile turned back to Ozzie.

"You mentioned cold gardens. What are they?"

"They are what they sound like. Like some others in the rest of Mellowdene, there is an attraction to grow plants or home-grown food in small allotments. It requires different skills in these temperatures, but it's a popular hobby up here. We've even got some Lower Mellowdene gardeners maintaining plants here. That chemist lady, for example. I think she grows some medicinal plants."

"Tara?"

"Yes, I think that's her name."

"Cultivating blue feathermint, maybe," I commented, remembering our friend's story of a trek to the ice fields on a neighbouring island. Yes, she would be practical in such matters.

"I don't know about that," said Ozzie, "but it might explain why she's chosen to locate her cold garden at the end of Upper Mellowdene  nearest to Coldmount Peak. If her plants need even lower temperatures, that's the place to be. Good job she has a friend with a skidoo to help her when needed." 

o 0 O 0 o

Our time in Upper Mellowdene had been quite educational. A community within our community, working together up there in the cold.

We had learned of one our friend Tara's projects. We had been surprised at their level of self-sufficiency. An actual farm. We had discovered the origins of the Mellowdene Cab Company. Realised there were now links to the Mellowdene Post Office. Peter Polaris had pointed out a passage beyond the family home that led to his place of work - the Coolsalt Processing Plant. I had seen DeBurg Penguins enter the waters of Ice Lake, the pebbles parting easily so that they could dive to the horticultural treasures below. We had seen the changing landscape affected by Coldmount Peak.

And we had seen Brendan's face after eating a fish flavoured ice cream.

o 0 O 0 o

   

  

Cats in the County

This time I thought I'd tell you about some of the cats in Mellowdene. One reason is that I still find it incredible that, before I was born, there were absolutely no cats living in the village or, to the best of my knowledge, the county. 

In a previous blog post, over four years ago (is it really that long ago?), I featured my brother's description of the disaster that led to the hill cat community of Hawkshade living in Mellowdene until they recovered.

The cats eventually returned to the general area of where Hawkshade was destroyed and with our help a new village was built and named Catsholme. The shallow watercourse connecting us was developed into the canal we now use for trading and transport towards Acorn Valley. However, not all the cats were content to remain in Catsholme. Some had enjoyed the interactions with other critters to the extent that they decided to migrate and settle in Mellowdene.

The Harveys were the first, and the Fishers soon followed. 

Joyes, Bert and Macey Harvey

Albert Fisher

The Keats and Persis families also had their roots in Catsholme but came here. 

Milton and Louise Carol Keats

Wilhelm and Maud Persis with grandson Septimus

Some of the McCavity clan thought they'd like to come but, whilst they wanted to associate with other critters, they were more comfortable with other cats around them. This effectively led to the building of the Mews - streets that are effectively a cat district within Mellowdene. Mungo McCavity enjoys the best of both worlds; some of his family live in the Mews but he captains a canal boat that allows him to maintain regular contact with the branch of the family that remains in Catsholme - including his Uncle Artimus.

Mungo and Mary McCavity with Myrtle Catamaran

Not all the Mellowdene cats have their origins in Catsholme. We have a contingent who have connections with the sea cats. Mungo McCavity's wife is Mary Catamaran, and her family were famous sea cats. Similarly, Cecile's friend Atlanta Marlowe is descended from a long line of nautical felines. She married a cat who was in the business of boat building, leading to their moving here. 

Maybe the news filtered out because of the satisfaction of our hill cat settlers, but soon other cats started to appear in the county. The Golightly and Silk families were amongst the first but they are far from the last. Some cats are attracted to the Mews, but others take homes in the village enjoying close proximity to other critter races. Some live in other parts of the county, reveling in the open spaces.

Jacob Silk

In the relatively few years I've lived, cats now rival the dogs for their number of residents, second only to the rabbits. Maybe that's why I used the term incredible; so many over just a few decades. Their presence has enriched our community and it's difficult for me to conceive of Mellowdene without cats.

There we have it. An overview of our feline population. And yet I suspect some of you may wonder what prompted me to choose this as a subject to discuss.

It's Cecile's friendship with Atlanta... no. Let's not limit this to my darling wife. I enjoy the Marlowes' companionship too. Melvin is a scream. His dry, honest, unfiltered humour is refreshing and our conversations are always a treat. It's our friendship with Atlanta, Melvin and their children. Yes, that. That is what gives us an insight into aspects of the cat community. And that's how we heard of Felix Cheshire and his group; that and the tale he told Melvin a couple of years ago.. 

o 0 O 0 o

We were on our way from Acorn Valley to Mellowdene. By we, I mean my brother Nolan, my wife Kara, our daughter Naomi and our foster children Dion and Auden Catwood. It was a visit to see my cousin Adam and his family, prior to a likely decision to settle there. A small bit of land to be self sufficient but close enough to visit my relatives. Maybe even teach part time in the school. 

The journey had proved uneventful until we were roughly halfway through the break in the mountain range that led to the rest of Sylvania. Three young cats ran from the foothills, panicked expressions on their faces.

"Our home has collapsed!" cried one.

"They're buried alive!" wailed another.

The third grabbed my arm. "Please help!" she said, pulling me back towards the narrow pass from which they'd emerged. 

Of course we followed - but when the three youngsters came to a halt we saw no sign of a house, damaged or otherwise. When we asked where the house was, the first cat pointed to a mound of earth.

"It's not really a house," sniffed the second.

"We live down there," sobbed the third.

Eventually we extracted an explanation from her whilst the others returned to scrabble ineffectively at the ground. We discovered she was called Floella Tuxedo and her companions were Axel and Anton Golightly. They were part of a larger family of cats who lived in an underground chamber with "Papa Floyd".

We set to, trying to remove the earth as best we could, but we were making little progress. We didn't have any tools to help us and it was looking desperate, not knowing the degree of the collapse below.

   

We paused when Dion called, "Mum! Dad!" and we turned to see what he wanted. 

He pointed to another mound a short distance away - a mound that was moving. As we watched, the clay and stones fell away and a head poked out of a hole.

Axel and the others ran to the critter who hauled himself out from the tunnel he'd dug. "Papa!" they cried. It was a badger with an injured arm. He'd done well to create an escape route from the compromised chamber. He acknowledged the three young cats with a nod and then he saw us. He nodded a greeting.

"I am Cyrus Floyd Underwood," he said. "There are others climbing up from below. If you could help..."  

With that he sat down heavily. It was clear he was exhausted, and Nolan drew me to one side, telling me that the badger's arm needed treatment.

"They must come with us," said Kara. "There will be medics at Catsholme."

I agreed, but none of us realised the number of cats that had lived in the subterranean chamber. Including Axel, Floella and Anton there were nine. Three of those were kittens.

They didn't have many possessions meaning there was little delay once they agreed to accompany us on our journey. The oldest of the cats - a young adult called Cressida Tuxedo - thanked us but shook her head when we suggested they relocate to Catsholme.

"I've been told that only cats live there. What about Papa Floyd?"

We weren't in the business of splitting up families so, once we were convinced Cyrus Floyd Underwood would cope with the longer journey, we resumed our journey to Mellowdene.

o 0 O 0 o

Cyrus chatted quietly with us as we travelled. 

"I'm not their actual father," he said redundantly, "and until just over a year ago I lived alone. Happily so. They stumbled across me when I was foraging and they needed help. I shared my home and they sort of became attached to me."

    

"Do you know where they came from?", asked Kara.

"I don't think they know. They say they don't remember anything before they were brought to a beach and told to find a path. I think they went the wrong way and got lost."

"What were your plans for them?"

"I didn't have any. I know they a need proper family and some sort of schooling, and I'm not geared up for that. I can't seem to convince them of that; it's as if they've bonded with me. They are nice kids but... I'm a single badger who likes solitude sometimes."

"Maybe your accident was a blessing in disguise. They'll get a chance to meet other critters in Mellowdene."

o 0 O 0 o

They did, of course. They especially got on with our children. Cyrus's arm was treated and as we waited we discussed placing his wards with other families. 

We wondered if Cressida, Floella, Gilford, tiny Lief and Snowdrop Tuxedo might warm to the Marlowes. We suggested Axel, Anton, Anouska and Arya Golightly might prefer to live with their namesakes or the Silk family. It was a resounding "no".

"The nine of us are a family. We're not splitting up," said Cressida. "We were happy living with Papa Floyd..."

"But is that fair on him? He's fond of you all but he didn't wake up one day and decide to be a father to nine cats. He knows you need school and somewhere safer to live."

"We like the open spaces," Cressida argued. "Mellowdene is nice but we're not used to living in a village. Even if I could convince my family to give up Papa Floyd, where would we live?"

It was a good question. They were good kids and we were growing fond of them. They deserved a happy home. My brother later made a suggestion.

"I know you and Kara were thinking of settling outside the village, finding a place for a small holding. There's good land. Would it be too hard to have Cressida and the others live with us? You could do some of their teaching. Cyrus could have his own cabin and associate with us as and when he wanted."

And that's effectively what happened. The school system supports me so that I can teach off site. Nevertheless I still insist on periodically bringing the children into the village to brush up on certain academic subjects. It also doesn't do them any harm expanding their social contacts. 

o 0 O 0 o

They are settled now but I had been unaware of their history. Felix Cheshire's tale of the nine cats interested me, and I noted similarities with the arrival of the Umberhounds and the Murr-Grand elves. Were these young cats brought to our shores by the Sylvanian Order?

It's not important, but it does illustrate to me how Mellowdene has attracted cats from a wide variety of places, including some I cannot begin to undestand.

o 0 O 0 o