Kittie Camp

Arriving home unaccompanied after Rowan, Denzel and I had spent an afternoon with our daughters, I found Cecile on the coral sofa, a book by her side. She seemed happier than when Beverley and I had left her earlier in the day.

"Hello, lovebud," she smiled, "how was your Daddy Daughter Day? Is Beverley not with you?"

"We had a nice time," I replied. "She's at Denzel's and she'll be back soon; Lena wanted her to see the quads. But what about you?"

"What?" she said, dropping her gaze but maintaining an amused expression.

"From your happy face I'm guessing Brendan's back from Kittie Camp."

"He is. He's having a bath."

It had been the first time Brendan had spent nights away from his family, and Cecile had missed her little boy throughout the period. This had been particularly obvious when we had our breakfasts and evening meals and her reaction to laying out the table place settings. My lovely wife has been close to tears on one occasion.

I settled down next to her, kissing her cheek. "And he's alright, isn't he?"

"Yes. I know I've been silly..."

"No, my love. He's our little man and of course you care for him."

"You're being lovely, but I know what I've been like. I suppose it didn't help that Brendan didn't really want to go when he found Lucky wasn't going. I didn't like the idea of him being sad when he left."

"And now?"

"He enjoyed himself. He started to tell me all about it, but I had to interrupt him as he was absolutely filthy and stank to the high stars! He'd obviously fallen into something smelly. I sent him up to get clean."

I sniffed. There was a faint memory of his passage through the room.

"No doubt we'll get the full story when he re-emerges - in his role as Mink the Muckyless, do you think?" I commented, bathing in Cecile's happiness. "Come here and let me give you a cuddle."

We shared hugs a while, and when the sound of movement upstairs was supplemented with a front door click signifying the return of Beverley, we prepared for the family reunion. (Oh, in case anyone was wondering, Russell was asleep in his bed. He's always tired after spending time with his cousin Nugget.)

o 0 O 0 o

I realise some people won't know about Kittie Camp, so some background information will be useful. It's a comparatively recent event organised by a contingent of hill cats, and an opportunity for groups of Mellowdene youngsters to meet up and have fun learning new skills. They do this for four groups spread over the month so that numbers aren't too high at each meet.

These summer camps are located just outside Mellowdene County heading northeast, but before one would reach the hill cat community. One of the canal boats drops off the youngsters close to a small secluded valley in the foothills.

As I understand it, there's a shallow pond there for supervised swimming, and it's sheltered enough for camping. Having said that, a couple of years ago the Waters family were engaged to build a log cabin there as a more permanent base of operations. Helps cope with poor weather too, I guess.

It's pleasing how the feline quota has increased in Mellowdene as they are lovely people. For a long time it seemed that cats didn't want to live here. I remember reports of Cecile's great grandfather not really trusting them, which was totally unwarranted. I know historically cats are considered independent, and it seemed grandpappy Ivory misinterpreted this. It made sense that they didn't need to settle in our village when they effectively had their own small village in the foothills. The canals allowed trade, and that was how things remained until a dozen or so years ago.

My sister-in-law Eliza had good connections with the canal cats as she worked in Rocky Babblebrook's store. A couple of cats from the Harvey family used to tag along on these trips and they became good friends. It was a pleasant surprise when they decided to move to Mellowdene, bringing their entire family along. Bert Harvey and his wife started to work for Rocky too. So the Harveys were the first cats to settle here. Their relations, the Fishers, came a few years later. And we now have a family of Persian cats here who look after a number of small kittens. Maybe the hill cat village has insufficient space? Whatever the reason, the cats living in Mellowdene have resulted in stronger ties with the hill cats.

One theory is that the Kittie Camp - or Pussyfoot Scout Camp, to give it its proper name - was set up for the benefit of the young cats brought up in Mellowdene, ensuring that they are aware of their heritage. The reason doesn't really matter, since it wasn't long before the intake of the summer camps was extended so that it was available to rabbits, squirrels, beavers and any other young crittizens that lived here and were of suitable age.

When Brendan and his pals became eligible, they were excited at the prospect. Both Lucky Snow-Warren and Coco Chocolate were looking forward to going with our boy. We later discovered that Lucky couldn't go because he was going away on holiday with his family. Coco was assigned a different week - apparently the organisers want a wide range of critters at these meets and didn't want any particular race to predominate. Given Brendan's original excitement, we thought his subsequent disappointment wasn't a good enough reason for him to back out - and although Cecile was tempted to allow this, she relented.

With Brendan's joyous return, Cecile was happy she'd made the right choice. We now awaited our boy's account of his stay at Kittie Camp. Even Beverley was curious.

o 0 O 0 o

We were sitting around the dining table when Brendan made an appearance, clad in a towelling robe.

"No," explained Brendan when he had taken a seat and the subject of his pongy adventures were raised, "I slipped in some stinky mud when I left the canal on the way home. I didn't do it at Kittie Camp."

I expected some retort from Beverley but she was still revelling in her own memories of the day, culminating in ice cream and a visit to see her four cute baby cousins. I doubted her restraint would continue much longer.

"I'll tell you what I did do there; I caught three fishes!" Brendan exclaimed, delighted to hold centre stage with a list of his exploits. Beverley moved some peas around her plate with her knife, smiling at her brother's joy, gently shaking her head as he continued. "We had a special net and I used that to catch two of them. I tickled the third until Hughie scooped it out."

Hughie is Rickie Grunt's son, and a new acquaintance for Brendan since they were in different classes at school. I gathered they had got on very well and - together with Nollie Persis - they had formed a little trio of friends that, I suspected, was likely to continue long beyond the conclusion of Kittie Camp. Brendan wanted to invite Hughie for tea next weekend.

Beverley squashed a pea. "How did you tickle the fish? And why, come to think of it?"

"I can show you," said Brendan, wiggling his fingers at her. "And it's just a different ten kick we were shown."

"Don't bother," said Beverley, "And I think you'll find the word is 'technique', not 'ten kick'."

"Suit yourself," said Brendan, sticking out his tongue.

Cecile interrupted the exchange. "Tongue back in mouth, please. What else did you do apart from fishing?"

"We did some climbing. Nollie was really good at that."

"You were careful?"

"Aw, Mum. 'Course we were. The instructors showed us. We used ropes and everything."

"Fancy that," I said.

"It was good," nodded Brendan, and his eyes widened as another memory popped into his head. "And there was some caves."

"Were some caves," corrected Beverley, her eyes rolling.

"That's what I said."

Thoughts of Rowan's tales of magic tunnels came to my mind. "You didn't go too deep into them did you? You can get lost if you're not careful."

Cecile regarded me quizzically. I mouthed to her, "I'll tell you later," as Brendan responded to my remark.

"The caves were only little, Dad. But they had some swirly patterns from different kinds of rock. They were neat."

"Glad to hear it," said Cecile. "Perhaps you can make your room neat tomorrow."

"Huh?" said Brendan, not realising the connection with his tale.

"Never mind," I smiled, "Go on, son."

"The best was the hunt."

Cecile's eyes widened with concern but I forestalled her by speaking first. "What sort of hunt?"

"Well," Brendan explained, "Over the first two days Mr Keats had been showing us different ten ki... 'techniques' ...to track and trail things. On the last day we had to follow tracks and stuff to find clues and stuff. Then we used them to hunt Mr Sandy.

"We had to work together to find him, but he kept moving. It was great. Hughie and me found him first."

"Hide and seek?" asked Beverley, sweetly.

"No! Well, a bit. But better. You had to use your head," he said, tapping his forehead.

I caught Beverley's eye and gave her a stare as a friendly warning to prevent further teasing.

She chuckled. "That sounds great, Brendan. I'm glad you had a good time."

Brendan beamed. "It was great, sis. I wish you could've seen us."

"I'm sure I will," she smiled in return, "I'm guessing you'll be using your ten kicks in your games."

Our son frowned at her, momentarily confused before laughing. Cecile reached under the table and squeezed my hand.

In the corner, Russell watched the exchanges between his family, then giggled.

Life is good.

o 0 O 0 o

The Real World

It had been a pleasant day. Denzel, Rowan and I had taken our daughters for lunch at the Blackcurrant Café, and afterwards we had taken a stroll through Bluebell Wood - even though the bluebells had wilted some weeks ago - with a view to relaxing at the edge of the village green.

After her initial wariness, Aster had succumbed to the charm offensive by Lena and Beverley, and now they were running about the green in wild abandon. Beverley seemed to have shrugged off her recent "I'm too grown up to do that" attitude and she was again the little girl of two or three years ago.

"Look at them," said Denzel, "Were we ever that crazy?"

Rowan winked at me. "I am proud to be a fully paid up member of the CCC." He reacted to Denzel's confusion with mock surprise. "The Crazy Critter Club. Don't tell me you've never heard of it."

Denzel curled his lip. "It wouldn't surprise me. Who knows what you got up to on your travels? I'm more surprised that you agreed to this Daddy Daughter Day outing. When did that become a thing?"

I laughed but something in Denzel's words struck a chord. I turned to Rowan. "Denzel has a point. After traveling along the coast, you said you went inland, but didn't really give any details up until the time you met Angelica. What were you doing for that year?"

"Oh, I just bummed around."

"No," I pressed, "I can tell that there's something you're hiding. When you stopped writing to Cecile, where exactly did you go, and what did you do?"

Rowan delayed answering as we arranged some seating, chewing his lip before deciding how to respond. With a sigh, he met my gaze.

"I left Sylvania."

o 0 O 0 o

I stared at him. Denzel was looking at him, open mouthed, and he responded before me. He punched Rowan on the arm. "You really are the joker," he said, shaking his head in mirth.

"No, really. I left Sylvania, and couldn't get back for some months. It knocked a lot of the desire to travel out of me."

"This had better not be some practical joke," I warned, "and what about the Ring of Sylvania? How could you leave?'"

"Yeah, that was odd. I can only tell you how it was explained to me." He frowned whilst recalling what he'd been told. "It comes down to the connection that Sylvanians have with nature, the land, and all that stuff. In some places it can become a very strong connection, and that emotional/spiritual link can be almost physical."

Denzel nodded. "You're talking about the Snow Queen."

"I am. Most people raised in Mellowdene - especially those with long family ties - are told about the Snow Queen from birth. Whether or not one actively believes the tale, whether or not she truly existed, it is ingrained from an early age that our love of Sylvania is connected to the sacrifice made by the Snow Queen to provide a land purely for us. In our minds, we are bound here."

"Are you saying you wouldn't be affected as you weren't born here? You weren't raised with the same beliefs as the rest of us. You found out later."

"That's a fair point. Maybe that's why. I've met Sylvanians who hadn't heard of the Snow Queen - nor did they have any comparable belief - and some were able to cross the ocean to other lands. That said, I doubt that would be relevant. I think the reason I was able to leave was that I didn't know I'd left."

o 0 O 0 o

The girls were still fully occupied with their play, sustained by periodic visits to the drinking fountain. I watched them as Rowan continued his story.

"I did go inland. After a brief stay in Purrchester - lovely people there, by the way - I travelled roughly south east through West Woodland towards the mountains."

Denzel raised his paw to briefly interrupt. "The Greybear Clinic is somewhere in that region. Henry Bearbury did some training there."

Rowan nodded. "It's at the base of the mountains. Apparently the doctors there are in contact with the tribesmen in the valleys, and learn new techniques about alternative medicine. Coincidentally, that's why I went there." He chuckled at our reaction. "No - not to the Clinic nor for weirdy medicine. I went because I'd heard of the tribesmen. I was curious how they lived. The rumour was that they lived in caves."

This was news to me. I'd never heard of any tribesmen in Central Sylvania. More to the point, I didn't see how Rowan's journey there had anything to do with leaving our shores. He was going in the wrong direction for that. Still, his storytelling passed the time. I listened further.

"I probably didn't take the most direct route through the foothills but I did find some of these mysterious tribesmen. Or rather, they found me. I looked up and an imposing old woman was staring at me. Dressed in black robes and carrying a staff she certainly was a sight. Turns out she was the tribe matriarch."

Rowan shuddered. "I admit that I was a little scared at that point. Especially when I looked back down and saw that a group of tribesmen had surrounded me.

But I had no need to worry. They were curious about me but they made me welcome. Their fruit drinks were... unusual." He waggled his fingers and rolled his eyes.

"What were these tribesman like?" asked Denzel.

"Friendly. Oh, I see what you mean. They were cats. Grey ones, mainly."

"That's interesting. What with them living in the mountains. And us having the hill cats near Mellowdene."

"Funny you should say that. When I mentioned that fact, it turned out they were in contact with each other. The Mist Cats of West Buniyi Mountains and our own hill cats. I think this fact led to my journey."

"I was wondering when you'd get to that," I commented.

"Patience, Jackson," admonished Rowan, gently. "When I pursued the connection, Felixor - he was the tribe leader - explained how all the mountains in Sylvania are connected by tunnels. Special tunnels, he said. They made journeys shorter. He said that I could walk along them and reach the hill cats in less than half-an-hour."

Rowan saw our doubting faces. "I know. Until they showed me, I didn't believe it either.

But when I was standing on an outcrop looking down on Acorn Valley, I was convinced.

That evening, when I was resting back in their campsite, I was full of ideas on how I could continue my journey.

All those mountain ranges in Sylvania. And those on the neighbouring islands. How far did this network go? And then I thought about Cecile. A quick detour via the hill cat tunnel and a trip down the canal and I could visit my sister before resuming my travels one or two days later."

"But?"

"The tribesmen were happy to help, but it would be a week before they could spare a guide. But I was an impatient idiot. I set out on my own early the next morning.

I thought I remembered the way. I was wrong."

"You got lost?"

"I did, but didn't realise it until after I emerged from the tunnel. I looked about and the landscape was... most unusual.

 I was curious so thought I'd explore, just a little way. Within less than an hour I came to the crazy conclusion that I wasn't in Sylvania any more."

o 0 O 0 o

Rowan smiled at our curious faces and continued. "All the foliage was bigger than normal.

 I climbed down some rocks and had a good look around.

I made my way through the undergrowth...

...until I found a type of stone bridge.

I followed this until I could get down to more level ground.

This was easier to navigate...

...until I saw an enormous structure. I figured if I could reach the top I could get a better view of the landscape. There were some plants I could climb relatively easily, so I had a go.

At the top I looked out." He stopped talking, probably for dramatic effect. Denzel was entranced.

"Well?" he said, "What did you see?"

"It was an unbelievably big roadway. There were cars parked along its length, and gigantic houses at both sides, extending as far as the eye could see.

That's when I realised I was in the land of men."

"Oh, come on," I said, "You and your tall tales. They don't exist."

Denzel nudged me. "There's that dead one in the Snow Queen story."

"Precisely. A story. Rowan's making it all up, as usual. Sometimes he's not in the real world."

Rowan shook his head, amused. "You don't want to hear the rest, then."

"I do," said Denzel, fixing me with a stare almost as effective as Cecile's at her most determined.

Rowan shrugged. "Okay. Well, I was freaked out. I just wanted to get back to the tunnel and to the tribe. I retraced my steps to the bridge, found my way back to the rocks and climbed back up to the ledge by the tunnel entrance. Except that it wasn't there."

"What wasn't?" said Denzel.

"The entrance to the tunnel. I tried brushing some of the trailing plants out of the way, but there wasn't any opening."

"You must have been in the wrong place."

"That's what I thought, but when two tribesmen appeared, they couldn't find it either.

It was Felixor and another tribesman. They had gone there earlier to check whether some special sort of seeds were ready for harvesting.

They were not very happy when they found the entrance missing and seemed to think that I'd disturbed whatever it was that kept the tunnel open when I came through. We were trapped there."

"No."

"Yes, it's true. They said we'd need to wait until someone came to fetch us. In the meantime we'd need to find somewhere to conceal ourselves. That meant leaving the rocks again."

I stared at the two of them - Rowan in full-blown storyteller mode, and Denzel lapping it all up like a little kid at bedtime. It was actually quite funny. I started to laugh.

"Well, I've never heard such a pile of..."

"Daddy?" It was Beverley.

I turned and smiled at her damp little face.

"What is it, pumpkin?"

"I think we're ready for that ice cream now."

"What ice cream?"

Beverley nudged Aster, who edged forwards. Lena was in the background, suppressing a chuckle.

In a shy voice, Aster said, "My daddy said that we shouldn't run about too much, or we'd need some ice to cool us down."

Rowan smiled a tight little smile. "I did say that."

Beverley continued to press her point. "Well, we did run about too much, so..." she said, smiling sweetly.

Lena burst out laughing. "And I'd like a chocolate flake in mine, please."

Three fathers held out their arms, and three little girls gave them hugs before those same little girls went rushing off towards the woods chattering over each other's excited voices. I heard references to vanilla, strawberry and chocolate. We started to follow.

Denzel was the first to speak. "Rowan, what happened next? In the land of men?"

Rowan grinned. "I think that's a tale for another time." He strode off, trying to catch up with our daughters.

Denzel seemed genuinely disappointed. I slapped his back. "What he means, Denzel, is that his imagination hasn't covered that part of his story."

I looked ahead, and I could have sworn I saw Rowan look over his shoulder and wink.

o 0 O 0 o

Writing about Mellowdene

Some of you may wonder how I came to write about "life in Mellowdene". You can thank - or blame - Darcy Fielding, owner and editor of the Mellowdene Examiner. Quick minded and with an eye to the future, it's interesting to see how he has evolved from the quiet little mouse who attended English class with me at school.

I had been surprised when he had approached me to write an article on Timbertop Farm that he wanted in a special issue of his newspaper. I expressed this when I replied.

"I write tunes. Chris Snow-Warren is the word person. Why would you want me?"

He dismissed this comment. "Your family has been part of the village since its beginning. Your dad was interested in local history and I suspect some of that has rubbed off on you. I know you still have all his research. And I remember you at school. I enjoyed your stories best. I still have a hilarious memory of your 'Great Green Gumpy Globbit of the Grasslands' story."

I had forgotten all about that. Maybe Cecile had a point when she said Brendan had inherited his imagination from me. So perhaps it was this that convinced me to agree - either that, or the subtle manipulation by a sneaky newspaper-mouse!

I now suspect that Darcy had involved  me with the farm report as a test of my writing skills. He really wanted tales that encompassed deeper life in the village for distribution outside of Sylvania. He invited me to his office to discuss the matter.

"I have been given the means to send stories to other lands. This means you have free reign to write anything about Mellowdene, as it won't be published locally. And I wouldn't enforce deadlines on these stories - you'd have complete freedom. Surely that appeals to you."

That was how Darcy pitched the idea to me. When I asked how I'd explain my activities to my friends, he suggested that I write the occasional piece that would also be suitable for the Mellowdene Examiner, but stressed that I would be the one to decide. That's how - for example - I agreed for the Melting festival to be documented locally, but no-one in Mellowdene would see the revelation about the coral settee.

Speaking of the Melting, I had some feedback about Bernard Snow-Warren singing the song "Remain Here in Sylvania". Despite being an old standard that has been passed down in communities through the years, there are few recordings of Bunyan DuBois's tune that they could play on their gramophones. There were also requests for the lyrics to be published. How could I refuse?

o 0 O 0 o



We were so young when first we met
Our school days at their end
And love, like blossoms on a branch
Attached to her, my friend.
And colour came into our lives
And birdsong to our ears
Our lives became more vivid
And mapped our future years.

CHORUS
My love – she had a single wish
A wish that we both shared
And this desire burned with a fire;
Together we declared,
“Though wealth and health may change my life
One thing I vow to do:
Remain here in Sylvania
And end my days with you.”

The day our wedding was to be
We woke to find spring rain
At first we thought the day was spoiled
But it was to our gain.
Refreshed, the gardens bloomed anew,
The drizzle burned away,
A loving sun caressed our backs:
A Perfect Sylvan day.

CHORUS

Those early years, some times were hard
As sometimes life can be
But as young saplings brave the wind
We braved adversity
With hearts entwined like youthful vines
Our strength helped bring us through
And when at last I saw the light
It was because of you.

CHORUS

We made good friends and lived a life
That some might think was tame
But one can’t buy contentment
And in that there is no shame.
The fruit we grew from seeds of love
No greater joy we’d known
And as time passed they left to seed
And grow trees of their own.

CHORUS

And now we’re in our twilight years
The snow is in the trees
Our creaking joints like grinding ice
In hips and in our knees
We’re slowing down but haven’t stopped;
Don’t think we will reform.
We may need chairs but love still flares
And hugs still keep us warm.

CHORUS x 2

"Remain here in Sylvania
And end my days with you"

o 0 O 0 o

Note from Darcy Fielding

Perhaps you can hear this demo recording or download it to hear later? Click on the link below to find out!

Remain Here in Sylvania mp3