I went to the basement just to check the two nesting boxes down there but momma had not taken the kittens to either the wicker basket or the blue crate.
Finally I got down on my poor old knees and looked under the wardrobe and there they were. Of course, they were just beyond my reach as my arms don't bend that way so I got down further and managed to gently retrieve 3 of the 4. No way could I reach the last one. So I struggled back to my feet and searched out the butterfly net I got at the dollar store. It worked wonderfully for the last kitten. Naturally, while I was retrieving kittens, momma was trying to move them again so she got shut in the box along with the kits as I snagged each one.
Once all four were in the box she settled in to nurse them and has been content with them in the box since. I expect she will try to move them again tonight and have warned DH to watch where he walks in the dark.
The following childhood memories were inspired by Linda who has a ramble on her blog today about what she did as a child (she also had some sad news about a family member).
We lived in "the country" when I was growing up. From 2nd grade thru high school we lived in a rural area that is practically the suburbs now. I remember tall grass and sunshine and sled riding down the lane and exploring in the woods. We had a garden that none of us kids appreciated and I wish I had now. Lima beans, corn, tomatoes, and a grape arbor. We only had a small parcel of land but there was so much undeveloped land around us it felt enormous. Mr. Johnson down the lane had cows that often got out of their field and ended up in our garden. He also had some mean dogs we raced past to get further down the lane to playmates. I remember his wife had lots of dolls all over their house. There were always animals at someone's house to go see. A girl along the lane had horses or ponies and there were pigs that got fed the sour milk from the dairy also on the lane. If we walked down over the hill along the road we could go down to the creek (a long walk back up though). We would go down into the woods and explore the ravine and think we were miles from home and then look up the hillside and see the back of the neighbors' houses. Winter meant the family from in town coming out to ride sleds down our lane (and past the Johnson dogs). Hot cocoa and red noses. Soaking wet clothes. Getting dumped off the sled when you didn't make the turn. We had a large kitchen window looking out over the road and down the hill toward a neighbor's farm. I remember the barn showing up as the leaves fell from the trees in the fall and disappearing when they came back in the spring. I remember sister Nancy coming back from a walk to the mailbox and telling us about the cute black and white kitty she saw and how glad Mom was that she didn't get too close to the skunk it was. (How much of this is memory and how much is the memory of the story?) I remember huddling in the little bus stop at the top of the hill waiting for the school bus to come. Freezing in winter so you tried to wait till the last minute but had to time it right because the driver didn't wait long for anyone. I remember snow a foot deep one Easter and pushing the neighbor's oldest son's car up the lane. I remember riding in that low-slung thing too. I remember sister Beth sitting in the closet at the end of the hall talking and talking and talking on the telephone. I remember Mom finding a family of mice making a home in the bag of dog food in the basement. I remember Dad going away for Naval Reserve Training and lightning striking the chimney. I remember the kitchen cabinets Dad built from scratch and how proud he was of them. I remember flying balsa wood planes out the garage door into the rain. I remember sleeping on mattresses on the floor in the living room when we all had chicken pox. I remember seeing Santa in the living room one Christmas morning when I was very young. I remember live Christmas trees that got planted outside when the ground thawed and Moms cosmos growing along the sidewalk wall in generous profusion. I remember .... I remember ...