Real Soup

Things change. Little everyday pictures Pets go to heaven. Odd moments of silence occur. All the bearded irises suddenly multiply. The old cat catches and delivers to the door a very small, tired field mouse. A woman on horseback gallops straight and fast along the pasture's edge in the late afternoon light.

Finally, I have put the birdbath in place on a tall post in amidst the flowers and shrubs and friendly grasses. I have been meaning to do this for weeks.

Its first visitor, predictably, skulking up, full of masculine portent and presumption, is the huge heavy tomcat who resides with us.

This is a cat nearly the size of a year-old child, one who bears himself as supreme authority regarding most things in the domestic realm, a kindly monarch, macho, benevolent, savvy, nonetheless, and thorough in his patrols.

Everything is his business. If you are reading, he is the critic checking out your book.

If you are assembling a new set of shelves and are surrounded with nuts and bolts and pre measured pieces of wood, he will undoubtedly appear, and with a supervisory swagger, park his bulk on the center of your instruction booklet.

Simply by lending his presence on the sidelines, he encourages all family projects except family walks, because they invariably end up crossing the boundary of his domain, causing him to fall back out of the circle, truly out, and to shrink down to ordinary levels of grandeur.

If we persist, he follows, meowing piteously in a kittenish tenor, warning us not to go farther, entreating us to come home, howling with anguish until my cat-indulgent child agrees to carry him at which point he victoriously inflates to his normal size and considerable weight, dwarfing her as he dangles lengthwise, gazing into her face with gratitude, pleading for her to intervene and convince us, en masse, to return to sensibility and home.

This is a cat who knows the meaning of birdbaths.

He visits, apprises himself of the situation and is assured: this is for our feathered friends. How convenient.

As a gesture of scorn to all birds and to those who fill basins on their behalf, he makes an impossible stretch from a distant cat-proof rock and drinks daintily from it.

Deeply enmeshed then in plotting, furrowed and devious, unusually horrid, his shoulder blades pointing skyward, he elaborately licks the wet clover leaves next to my wildlife offering, slanting his eyes ever so slightly, coldly, left to right.

He slinks away to sharpen his fangs in the shade. His demeanor is all studied disinterest, excessively casual. The guerrilla engaged, in control of his turf.

He polishes his enormous paw with two swipes and begins cleverly pretending to doze in the dappled shade.

Soon - some would say too soon - a round red robin, dragging up long worms from the wildflowers to feed to her babies, spies, just over the big sloping stone, a tiny white flash from the water's surface and feels the need for a dip.

Such spine tingling adventures unfold for those who have the good fortune to work at home.

This sort of schedule also offers the opportunity to splice into the other aspects of the day, a bit of do-ahead cooking. Consider mixing up Classic Gingersnaps for your clan when the mood strikes you, then file the dough in the fridge or freezer for a worthy last minute treat.

For a real supply, enough to make up to 100 cookies, cream together in a large bowl:

1 1/2 C. butter

4 C. sugar

Mix together and stir in:

4 eggs

1 C. mild dark molasses

4 tsp. vinegar

Sift and add:

7 1/2 C. all purpose flour

3 tsp. soda

6 tsp. ginger, use some fresh grated if you like

1 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 tsp. cloves

Mix ingredients well. You can bake now in a preheated 325 degree oven. Use a small scoop or your hands and form into 3/4" balls.

Bake on a greased cookie sheet for 10-12 minutes.

Refrigerate leftovers in air tight packaging. The dough can be allowed to soften at room temperature and baked as usual, or it can be rolled into 2" logs and sliced off, cold, for immediate baking. If you freeze it, allow it to thaw most of the way, 30-45 minutes for a log.

Now. For ice cream sandwiches, and you might as well go to this extreme, bake two dozen larger cookies, about 2" across, for 10 minutes, which leaves them with the slightest yield to the touch.

Meanwhile, soften vanilla, peach or strawberry ice cream, orange sherbet or any frozen yogurt that appeals to you. Estimate about 1/4-1/2 C. per person.

Spread ice cream onto the bottoms of one dozen cooled cookies; top with another cookie and refreeze on waxed paper covered baking sheet until firm, about 15 minutes. Leftovers will keep 1-2 days longer if they are wrapped tightly, individually.

Serve to all newly released schoolchildren, to visiting surprise grandparents, anyone you love. This should cover the people who like gingersnaps and ice cream.

None, naturally, for imperious felines who yawn and stretch out like big rugs next to the cat dish whilst dream hunting. They are too tired and it might make them lazy