Gathering clouds made the late summer afternoon feel cooler, so I decided to take a walk. Glancing into the dining room where my eight-year-old and twelve-year-old daughters were sitting at the table, I invited, “Would you girls like to go for a walk with me?” Obviously bored, they eagerly jumped to their feet, but obediently turned back to pick up their drink glasses when I suggested, “Why don’t you put your glasses next to the sink?”

In the driveway Tammie, my younger daughter asked, “How far are we going to walk? Is it going to rain before we get back home?”

“No.” I assured her. “It won’t rain while we’re walking. I only plan to walk one mile. That’s to the top of the hill and just a short distance beyond the oak tree that stands there.

The air was still and felt slightly muggy. Thinking of the dry soil in the garden, I reflected on how we needed rain. Unseen late summer insects hiding in the tall grass along the road and tree tops buzzed. I commented, “The sound that late summer bugs make always reminds me of the sizzling of bacon when it fries.”

Niki, my older daughter chuckled when I added, “The fat of the summer is melting away whenever you hear those bugs.” Both girls groaned when I cheerfully pointed out, “Your school year starts in three weeks.”

All family walks taken along our road must include a stop on the bridge, found one tenth of a mile from our house. We look down into the water and count minnows and crayfish. Pebbles from the road get tossed into the water to see them splash. Leaves are dropped to watch how fast or slow the current of the Little Eau Pleine River takes them away. Without the sun that day, the water looked dark. Tammie complained, “I can’t see fish today.”

Niki suddenly exclaimed, “I see Flicker! He looks like he’s ready to pounce on a mouse.”

Wanting to catch a glimpse of our faithful tuxedo tom cat, too, Tammie demanded, “Where is he?”

I instructed, “Look on our side of the river. He’s in the tall grass near the big lightning-damaged pine tree.” Our cat, who we allowed outside whenever he wanted, successfully pounced and captured his prey as we watched.

We continued walking until we reached the top of the hill a mile from home, then turned around and retraced our steps. Pausing again at a small, bridged culvert in a low, marshy area, to examine cattails growing in the flood plain. Leaves on nearby poplars and smaller bushes rustled as a breeze passed through them. As we stood there enjoying the afternoon, we heard a kitten meowing. My daughters and I called for the cat. The ditch was shallow along this part of the road. Tammie stepped into the shrubs, leaned over and picked up a half-grown black and white tuxedo kitten. Apparently used to being handled by children, the cat comfortably dangled over my daughter’s arm, back legs and tail on one side and head and front legs over the other. I laughed because the cat looked so long but still so comfortable in that ridiculous position.

“This is going to be my kitty.” Tammie stated. I shrugged and then nodded. Our cat Flicker was about ten years old. He was such a good cat and an important part of our family. I wanted this kitten to grow up to be just like him. Tammie inquired, “What should we name it?”

Looking at the ditch where the poor abandoned kitten was found, I noticed elderberry plants. I suggested, “We could call the kitten Berry, because you found it under an elderberry bush.”

I often think back to the walk my daughters and I took on the muggy, late summer afternoon we found our cat, Berry. We were so fortunate to find him. Someone had dropped him off like a piece of garbage along our country road.  He turned out to be a perfect family cat like Flicker. My daughters and I never knew what blessings would come our way while doing such an ordinary thing as going for a walk on an ordinary day.