the new normal

It seems that the new normal (for a while at least) is going to be rather bumpy, so it's time to adjust. Find the moments of calm and delight. 

Which is easy to do at breakfast time, what with the blooming flowers, and roses, and the fruits of the season and Millie...

Speaking of anxieties (were we doing that?), I have finally accepted the fact that my pup belongs to the class of dogs that hates, hates, hates with a passion anything out of the ordinary, Since it's decent weather, I decide to take her for a longer walk. Usually we just go to the end of the long block and home again. Or the dog park for exercise. But today I thought we should go for a proper walk. Along the bike path that is just a few steps from me and runs along the very beautiful wetlands (that also border the farmette lands). 

Well now. This is something new! I tug at her leash to encourage her forward. No. She resists. Tail's down. I coax and cajole. Nope. She refuses. But Millie, I want to see the backs of the houses across the street from me. I hear there's a beautiful garden there.  Nope.

I carry her so that I can view the gardens -- that's how scared she is of the new.

At home, I open the windows downstairs. I haven't done that in July because it's been so hot that the AC has had to be on most of the time. I do open the door (and let flies in!) so that Millie can go in and out sometimes, and so that I can refresh the air in here, but the windows have remained closed.

Millie does not understand. Is the outside world encroaching on her space? What's happening? Woof!

I propose we go to the dog park after her nap. I see her look at me with suspicion: that means a car ride, correct? She hides. I take her out. Again she shakes in this new vehicle. Yesterday I put her in my lap for the last minutes of our trip. Today I let her sit and shake riding shotgun. 

She doesn't really remember the dog park. We haven't been to it since before my trip to Poland.  Familiar, yet unfamiliar.

She's not exactly excited to be here, but she trots alongside (and occasionally rests in the shade)...

And importantly -- at least she gets some exercise, since long walks in the neighborhood seem to be... not her thing at the moment.

Oh, Millie! Sometimes I forget how young you still are! 

When she naps, I think about how to create a new normal for myself going forward. Here are some options: move to the coast of Maine and live on blueberries in the summer and learn to catch fish for protein. No, I'm not a fan of black bears and besides, old women living alone by a rocky coast -- that's asking for trouble.  How about this: pack the car with essentials and with Millie and head out to unknown destinations, staying in campgrounds or in motels with thin walls and soiled carpets. No, Millie would hate all that novelty.

Do you see "escape" written all over this post? Yes, daydreaming of it, but not really wanting it. My life is here, in lovely Steffi's House, with Millie, Ed nearby, and of course the roses.

Roses for today? Look at the shapes of these flower heads. I love the cupped ones, like this:

But also the rosette of this Honey Rose (it's edible!):

Nature gives us so many gifts... 

with so much love.. 

 

bumps and turns

We are experiencing a few bumps along our path here at Steffi's House. Let's start with this morning: Millie woke me up at 5:40. Lick lick, wag wag. For a second, I consider putting her in her crate, but decide that she is old enough just to wait until I'm ready to get up. She'd been out at 10 pm. She can wait until 6:30 or even 7. I roll over and fall asleep again.

I get up at 7. Millie is under the bed. Well that's okay! Good girl Millie.

Not so fast. When we finally do go downstairs...

 Millie in sunlight)

 

 

...I smell that bathroom smell and sure enough, she'd gone to the bathroom. On the bathroom floor. I have to smile. She'd seen me go there -- it's an obvious solution for her when mommy Nina refuses to get up and walk with her. Still, we start the morning with a clean up. I then canvas the rest of the house to make sure there are no other surprises. All good. We go out, she poops again. Ah, a tummy upset. Too much excitement?

Breakfast: I switch gears now. From Millie, to my friend who is not well. 

 

 

 

I need to stop by and visit, but when? I have a much delayed car maintenance appointment at 9. That means I have to take Millie to doggie day care earlier, even though I know she needs a good morning rest. Ah well, I'll pick her up as soon as my car is ready.

And on the way, I attend to my ailing friend, briefly. Big bumps there. Smooth road not visible yet. Will it ever be visible? Sure, unless we all careen off the cliff of life and fail to wear seatbelts in the process.

And speaking of seatbelts, I then go to the car place to leave my Alpine Blue car for servicing. And to put in an order for a seat belt replacement. Henry had thoroughly destroyed the back belt. Time to get that fixed. I am given a loner for the day -- a beautiful 2026 Subaru, with bells and whistles. I love that the side mirrors flicker when there is a car in the dead zone! Oh capitalism! How you like to mess with people's wants and desires! (No, I'm not getting a new car. You don't miss that, which you do not have. Except when they give you a loaner that's spiffy clean, has not a single sticky piece of food stuck in some hidden crevice in the back, and has a light that goes on when someone is in your blind spot.) 

For once I have a quiet day. I still have 6 plants (well, maybe seven) that need to go in, but they're not here yet, thus gardening is at a standstill. It may rain later, so I am holding off on watering. 

I feel drained. 

Ed asks to meet up for lunch at Tati's Yes! 

Then? More calls, conversations, consultation. I do pause to rip out some sod. Digging away at something tough can be good for you.

(roses in bloom...)

 

 

In the late afternoon, the car service people call to tell me that the car needs more work and the seatbelt wont be in until Friday at the earliest and yes, I can keep the loaner until then.

The thing is, I forgot to stop over at the service place to pick up Millie's car seat and so I arrive at Happy Dogz in this spiffy new car that smells like a car straight off the factory floor, without a familiar place for her to rest. The girl is not a fan of car rides under the best of circumstances. I put her in the front seat so that I could keep an eye on her and rub her ears with my right hand. 

She trembles the whole 18 minute ride home. Poor pup -- no soothing words help. It is all just too strange for her. 

At home, I make chili. I haven't been doing dinners lately and I'm beginning to think that I am not feeding myself well (except for breakfast!). A pot of chili, even split with Ed, will give me at least four or five dinners of solid food. 

Millie rests, and me -- well, I try to think about my roses. 

  

..And about Millie. All the way until I deem it late enough to go upstairs. She loves this routine: outside, stairs. bathroom, bed. So familiar! Not like a dumb car that has absolutely no familiar scent attached to it. Yes, Millie, but it has these flashing lights on the side mirrors! Millie looks at me seemingly with pity. They say doodles are very judgy. Maybe, but I see compassion in those lovely brown eyes...

with so much love... 

 

pause

(Millie, trying hard to use up the entire bed; she has quite the stretch!)

 

Another pretty August day!

However. When you have a close friend who is not feeling well, you put on hold thoughts about good weather, rose garden ideas, lovely moments of peace on a beautiful morning, outside. Oh, you still have breakfast. Outside in fact. With roses in a cup and roses in a pot.

 

 

 

 

 

But your mind is on logistics -- how to help here, how to deal with that, what's a good path forward under the circumstances. This is very different from yesterday's problem solving, where there were obvious solutions with strategies on how to achieve them. Change the drain pipe, build a swale. When a friend has taken a sharp turn for the worse, solutions aren't necessarily your primary concern. Finding good professionals, doctors, whatever -- yes there is that. They'll take care of the medical aspects of the situation. You have to figure out what your role can be outside of treatment. You'll tell me -- be supportive! Easy to say, right? Exactly how -- this is something you have to figure out, one day at a time. Making mistakes along the way.

I have many very long conversations on the phone today, consulting about all this. 

 

I booked a half day for Millie at Happy Dogz. Yesterday, the groomer said she was extremely playful with the other doodle who was there for a trim. She told me that this seems to be in the nature of all doodles. I would certainly agree that Millie's defining characteristic is that she wants to play. No, this does not mean she needs a playmate pup at home. Home is her place to pause and regroup, and attend to other things in life -- rest, eat, learn, cuddle. But she is a social creature and she is extremely active. A half day with her friends is a far better option than a quick trip to the dog park. It's worth the drive, right Millie?

 

 

 

In the meantime, I have work to do. Outside, inside and of course, there is all the stuff going on with my friend. Millie plays with Adie and Oliver (her two best friends at day care), I attend.

 

In the evening Ed comes over with fresh corn from Stoneman's Farm. That's a good thing -- I'm low on groceries, low on cooking enthusiasm, low on supper ideas. Corn, nuts, a salad. Good enough! 

with so much love... 

action!

You hate wasting your time fixing mistakes and pushing for corrections. You wish there had been no mistakes to begin with. You'd rather, oh, I don't know -- carry buckets of heavy stones maybe, anything rather than fix mistakes. For one thing -- you dump the rocks, they're gone. Mistakes and blunders have to go through stages of discussion, contemplation, negotiation and only then, maybe resolution. Nevertheless, this day belongs to fixes and I must say, I may be fortunate enough to have good resolutions to many of them.

First, the sweet corrections that have nothing to do with mistakes: Millie has her monthly grooming session (pretty much a requirement for poodle haired doodles). So, a wash and a haircut today, and she really does need a wash -- there's play grime in that coat! Too much mud licking and paw digging in a very wet yard! I'm excited to have her cleaned and trimmed.

Our breakfast, on the porch, lovely if a bit warm for her. Oh, and here's the thing about growing roses: I do not think there are many gardeners who grow these plants without intending to bring some blooms inside. Every once in a while.So, I snipped a rose for today's breakfast (even though most of my plants are babies and blooms this year are few).

 

Millie rests, then I take her to the groomers and do errands while Steffi's House gets her monthly cleaning. I'm excited about this as well. This is how it looks after the cleaning:

What? You do not see the difference?? No dust, no bits of grass, everything is sparkly clean (and it will remain thus until my pup comes home after a rain shower later this week)!

Now onto the real mistakes/corrections. And no, I dont mean the UPS return I take care of! That's a nothing issue. My big problem has been with the water run off from the new construction that is next to Steffi's House. I've written about it, so I wont repeat myself. In one short sentence, their water runs into my property and sits there. 

I called the city engineering guy and he listened sympathetically and promised to come over. I also texted the construction team rep and she promised to send someone from their buildings and grounds people as well. Both guys came and I spoke to each and here's the amazing thing: they both acknowledged that there is a problem and they both offered solutions. Relatively easy ones (moving the drain pipe and directing it away from my property), to slightly more complicated -- digging out a swale to catch the water before it pours into my yard. I still will have moved most of the roses out of the most troublesome spots, but this may indeed save the lilac and the hibiscus that are still there. Too, my moisture loving new plants for the area (don't laugh -- I ordered a Swamp Rose and also a Summersweet) may love damp soil but even those two are not fans of standing water.

So, maybe I wont need to sue anyone (and if you know me, you'll also know that I am the least likely person to sue because, well, I dislike spending time on fixing problems and do it only when absolutely necessary or someone is going to be hurt by my inaction)!

Here's another "problem" that I refused to fix: I wrote a book. I did almost no promotion for it. Actually, I did hire someone to work on this, but she came up with a goofy plan that I hated so I fired her and she gave me my money back and that was that. I did make one TV appearance and I attended one book selling event at the public library. I did not like doing either so I decided to just forget about promotion. If no one buys it/reads it -- fine with me. I'm not good at selling myself to anyone. (I don't allow money making ads on Ocean either for the same reasons.) Ed says I do not understand capitalism. Oh, I understand it alright. It's just not a good match, unfortunately, for my personality.

But then today I got an email with a book review of Like a Swallow. I don't know if it's AI generated. It likely is that. I don't really care who actually put these paragraphs together, I just thought it was a very nice synopsis, so I am going to print it for you here (skip it if you've read the book):

 

Like a Swallow: Looking Back at a Polish Childhood by Nina L. Camic is a compelling and deeply personal memoir that offers readers a window into a childhood shaped by two dramatically different worlds. Moving between postwar Poland and New York, where her father served as the Polish Ambassador to the United Nations, Camic recounts the challenges of growing up between cultures, political environments, and expectations while trying to understand where she belonged.

One of the book’s greatest strengths is its personal perspective on a significant period of history. Rather than presenting the contrast between Eastern Bloc Poland and 1960s America solely through political or historical analysis, Camic experiences these differences through the eyes of a young girl growing into adolescence. Her movement between a relatively closed and repressive society and an increasingly turbulent, staunchly anti-communist America creates an unusual backdrop for a story about family, identity, and growing up.

The memoir also captures the emotional complexity of adapting to constantly changing circumstances. Camic must navigate different social expectations, cultural environments, and ways of life while facing the ordinary uncertainties of childhood and adolescence. Her experiences with childhood fears, adolescent love, and the gradual disintegration of her family life provide an intimate emotional layer to the broader historical setting.

Another notable aspect of Like a Swallow is the way personal and historical change become intertwined. As the world around Camic changes, so too does her understanding of family, relationships, belonging, and herself. The story demonstrates how major political and cultural circumstances can influence the most personal aspects of an individual’s life, particularly during the formative years of childhood and adolescence.

The memoir’s journey ultimately leads Camic toward an unexpected place filled with new challenges and opportunities. This development adds another dimension to the narrative, transforming the book from simply a recollection of childhood into a story about resilience, adaptation, and the unexpected directions a life can take.

At its heart, Like a Swallow: Looking Back at a Polish Childhood is a story about growing up between worlds. It explores identity, family, cultural adjustment, historical change, childhood memory, and the search for stability amid circumstances that are often beyond an individual’s control. Camic’s personal account offers readers an opportunity to understand history not only through political events, but through the lived experiences of a young person trying to find her place within it. 

 

It came from someone who also invited me to participate in a book festival in Winston-Salem North Caroline this September. This was the reason given for showcasing it in one of those meet the author events:

 

We have taken a particular interest in Like a Swallow: Looking Back at a Polish Childhood and believe it would be a compelling title to feature at the Bookmarks Festival of Books & Authors, taking place September 26–27, 2026, in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

The festival brings together authors, readers, publishing professionals, booksellers, librarians, and literary enthusiasts, creating an environment where readers can discover books that offer distinctive stories and perspectives. Within that setting, Camic’s memoir provides a meaningful opportunity to introduce audiences to a personal account of childhood shaped by migration between cultures, political change, family circumstances, and the complexities of growing up.

Featuring Like a Swallow at Bookmarks would provide an opportunity to place the memoir in front of readers interested in memoir, history, family stories, cultural experiences, coming-of-age narratives, and personal accounts connected to major periods of social and political change.

The book’s appeal also extends beyond its historical setting. At its center is a universally recognizable experience: trying to understand oneself while adapting to circumstances that continue to change. Camic’s childhood fears, adolescent experiences, family struggles, and eventual encounters with unexpected challenges and opportunities provide emotional points of connection for readers regardless of their own backgrounds.

The contrast between postwar Poland and 1960s New York further gives the memoir a distinctive perspective. Readers are invited to experience these environments not simply as historical settings, but as places that shaped the author’s understanding of family, culture, identity, and belonging.

For these reasons, we believe Like a Swallow: Looking Back at a Polish Childhood would be a valuable addition to the Bookmarks Festival of Books & Authors and a strong candidate for Gallery Display consideration. Featuring Nina L. Camic’s memoir at the festival would provide an opportunity to increase its visibility, introduce her distinctive childhood story to a broader literary audience, and invite readers to discover a deeply personal account of growing up between two worlds during a period of significant historical change.

 

You might view my inclusion of these blurbs as a correction to the "mistake" of never promoting my book. Authors spend a huge amount of time traveling to places for book signings and such. I would see that as a painful way to spend precious time. As for participating in this particular book festival (which I have learned is the biggest book festival in the Carolinas) -- I would rather not go of course. I certainly wouldn't do it to sell Like a Swallow. But I have a tiny bit of me that is curious about such things. I give my attendance a 5% chance. Hey, that's better than 0%!

 

In the afternoon, I dig out yet another hole for yet another plant. But this is the end. There's not a new rose bush out there that I want. Nor any plant, for that matter. I actually drove by K&A Greenhouses and didn't stop. I do have 10 plants still coming from elsewhere -- some are replacements for shipping mistakes -- but I do not intend to look for more. Once those are in I'm done. [Well, until it's time to put in bulbs in October, but that's a whole other aspect of gardening. No one likes putting in bulbs. You do it for the reward of seeing color pop up in your garden come April. Not for the joy of gardening now.]

 

Millie is ready to come home in the late afternoon. There's my girl!

We have a quiet evening at home, thinking about other mistakes that take significantly more work to be corrected. Okay, maybe she isn't thinking about that at all. Hers is a simpler life of food, shelter, play, and love. She needs all four. Lucky girl -- she has all four.

 

 

with so much love... 

damaged?

The rains eventually stopped and though my bucket shows many inches of rain, and the weather people say it totaled to more than the whole rest of the month did, it honestly did not feel torrential or especially damaging. Just a summer rain. Farmers were cheering. As were most gardeners. 

I get up slowly to see what's what outside, though I already know what I will find: the front looks good...

 

 

 

The back? Less so. The squishy ground by the fence, holes filled to the top with water... 

  

 

 

... the newly planted roses moving around as if in raw cake batter if you stepped near them.

I sit down to breakfast, but do not feel the quiet serenity of the morning. Too busy studying my list of plants and trying to figure out what to move where.

New Dawn and Lady of Shallot are the two roses that are worst off. They really need to be moved quickly. Some of the others may or may not be damaged. I can't tell the degree of saturation. My new lilac and mockorange also need to be planted. I'll get to that today as well. And I have to rethink where to plant the Lark Ascending rose. She was supposed to go where I'm now moving one of the others. [You have to love those names! David Austin roses are all like that and some of the other breeders also tend toward the poetic. I'm looking, for example, at another rose that tempts me called "Lady of the Lake."]

I spend nearly five hours reworking stuff in the water-logged yard. The bigger issue is looming before me: the builders are responsible for directing water to the street or to drain ditches. Not to the neighbor's yard. All those years of teaching Property Law are suddenly coming back to me. It was always so theoretical -- other people's property problems. Water is a big issue as I'm sure you know. Too much of it, as a result of someone's manipulation, or too little -- also as a result of interventions. Yes, I can make a big deal of this, but do I really want to? And amass legal fees? Lawyers working on property claims charge by the hour. No contingency arrangements here because there are no big payouts. You sue to get the guy to stop flooding your land, not to give you large sums of money. Ed's advice is to start small. Try to mitigate the damage. Redirect the spout, that kind of thing. But I see that small adjustments will never give me a full resolution. Their property isn't saturated! It's graded to flow toward me. You're not squishing along if you step on their lawn (as I did, just to check it out). Ah well, I'll meet with the builders and see what they say.

(The less troubled roses outside the fenced yard...)

 

 

Millie comes home in mid afternoon. Julie tells me she played nonstop with the other dog there. I ask (with lots of ambivalence) if Millie would be happier with a playmate here. Julie answers with a hard no. Millie does best when she is focused on her person at home. She has a good off switch then and knows how to slow down when she is overtired. I wasn't really thinking of adding a pup. But it's good to know that both she and I are good this way -- together, just the two of us.

(at her watch post)

 

 

With so much love... 

August 1st

Most definitely, I'm living with the aphorism today "be careful what you wish for." Of course, farmers are happy. People who love deeply green lawns are happy. Gardeners who grow roses and discover that their plants are in a wet area due to a poor grading and compacted soil are not happy. It rained. And it rained. And it rained. And it's still raining this afternoon. I measured 3.5 inches (or 9 cms)  of rain (so far) in a heretofore empty bucket. The roses by the fence are squishy. Empty holes along the fence are completely overflowing with water. If I leave the planted roses in their place, they will die within a week.

I stayed up late imagining where I might transplant them, but today's inspection showed that some of that movement would be impractical. In doing frantic research on the internet, I also learned something about roses -- something I did not know. (It is always the case that if you embark on a new gardening plan, you are going to make some mistakes, even if you have been growing things, as I have, for close to 50 years.) Apparently there are three plants at the top of a list of ones that you should not place anywhere near roses: Tomatoes (I'm safe there), lilacs (oh oh...) and hollyhock (double oh oh). It's a question of nutrients and root competition. True, I did not choose the larger lilacs, but still, I'm taking this newly found wisdom  into consideration now as I draw up a new plan of what to put where. The hollyhock? It's a biannual anyway. I may have to shorten it's lifespan by a year and pull it out. I'll create more room for a moved rose. But just doing that wont do. I need to reimagine some of the beds and I need to do it quickly. 

*.    *.    *

I got up later today because of course Millie is not there to check on me. I noticed something: without a dog, I'm slow with everything in the morning. Slow to get up (not sleeping, but not rising either). Slow to fix breakfast. Slow to get on with the day. You could say that slow is good. What is retirement for if not for slowing down? But if you add to it the rain outside, you have yourself a very weird day, where you spend far too much time thinking and reading random stories on the internet. In other words, without a dog, I am a slacker who does not get things done.

Breakfast? On the reading chair, with only Millie's play pup for company.

 

*.    *.    *

We are celebrating my daughter's birthday today. It's always fabulous to do this (fabulous daughters call for fabulous celebrations), though I have to say, it's really disconcerting to have a kid who is 45 years old. Really disconcerting! 

 

(with her family and with sparklers which somewhat terrified the kids, who have seen sparks burn holes in surfaces where they land)

 

 

(time to bring out the tablecloth!)

 

 

Oh how I hope that her next 45 years are joyous, healthy of course, and full of love!

*.    *.    * 

Tonight, Snowdrop plays two characters in the Twelfth Night -- Antonio the sea captain, and Mary, a gentlewoman servant. The two characters make many appearances throughout and I'm impressed how quickly Snowdrop switches persona. And costumes! She has a total of seven costume changes to get through.

It's a wonderful and entertaining play and for me it brings back vivid images and feelings. from the summer of 1993, when both my daughters were in Twelfth Night -- same Shakespeare group, same Artistic Director in fact. The older one (who was then freshly 12) played Olivia, the younger one (then 8) played Feste. Lines came back to me throughout the evening ("some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them") and I was thinking how strangely exact a memory can be for some things, but not for others.

 

 

This is the ninth play for Snowdrop with this group and I marvel at how much poise this little girl has now on stage -- as if she were born to deliver the lines of Shakespeare (and occasionally Shaw).

(Sparrow used to be part of this group and so he feels at once odd to be on the outside now, at the same time that he is quite familiar with many of the plays; Sandpiper remarkably sat quietly for the duration. That's a three hour plus play!)

 

 

*.    *.    *

Millie, I am told, is having a wildly good time with her doodle friend. I'm glad. Tomorrow she returns to my quiet home. She'll need the rest! I will be so happy to see her!

with so much love... 

  

without question

Without question, the most significant aspect to this day is that it's raining. Was there even another July day this year with rain? July 2nd it stormed. I think that about sums it up.

The forecasters said the rain would come at noon. This means if I'm to plant, I better do it in the first half of the day. Millie and I were up at 6 and eating breakfast by 7.

 

Oh, puppy! You really are the most special little dog!

Because I have a very full day tomorrow, I'm letting Julie (from Happy Dogz, her previous babysitter) take her for the weekend. Were I to hand her over tomorrow, it would have to be early and I would have to drive out all the way to where Julie lives. But today, Julie can take her home straight from Happy Dogz, along with another doodle who is staying over for the weekend. Millie should be thrilled with having a playmate!

Me, I'm less thrilled at having her away from home. Yes, she goes to daycare three days a week, so I've surely been at Steffi's House (rushing to get things done) without her. But the knowledge that she is not coming home tonight weighs heavy on me. We do everything together, especially in the evenings, nights and mornings. Suddenly I feel the emptiness of a missing dog and it does not feel good!

Still, I have little time to think about it. I need to do my outdoor work because the drizzle is starting earlier than predicted. Ed comes over just to help with one especially tough hole and then I work the soils and put in two more roses and one mockorange.

You could say that the honeymoon -- where you think everything about your garden is absolutely brilliant and indeed perfect -- is fading. I'm starting to recognize the trouble spots. Yes, there's the rocky soil, but I thought I'd addressed that by digging out sizable holes to improve a large area around the root base. It appears that this will be insufficient. All along the fence line (where I planted half a dozen roses and two lilacs), the water from the rain is not draining properly. The holes still waiting for plants are filled with standing water from just a very light rain. This is terrible news for the roses. They hate waterlogged soil. (So do lilacs for that matter.)

I'm not sure why some areas of the parcel (but not others) are especially vulnerable to this, but I hate to think that my efforts to create a small rose garden will fail. (There's another spot by the garage that appears to have the same problem but there at least it's only a one rose issue.)

Ed points out that we've watched them level these parcels, compacting gravel and stone to make a buildable surface. So it's not even clay soil beneath some of the sod. It's however many inches (or feet for that matter) of construction matter. Stuff you put underneath roads and highways and apparently houses and their gardens. 

I may have to do some plant moving. 

 

(roses in places where water does not pool) 

 

 

Ed reminds me that for these graded parcels (I'm on a slight incline), having a solid base is important. The house wont topple even if some of my roses may suffer. 

By noon I'm done with digging and moving rocks. I still have six roses and two non-roses coming (some later today), but everything else is in. I come inside, bring out my sheep blanket, miss my little pup, and fall asleep. Yes, I am that tired.

 

In the evening Ed comes over. I make a light supper, we watch our show. I miss my dog, but Ed is an okay substitute for her. Or at least he takes my mind off the fact that she is not here! 

 

 

 

Tomorrow is August. How could that be?!

with so much love... 

Millie decides

It's a well documented fact that doodle dogs have a firm grip on the reins at home. They direct where the horse is going. If you think you are in control, let me gently suggest that you are delusional. 

Initially I thought it was a matter of training: doodle owners are dog-spoiled (their pups are loving and joyful) and they also tend to be preoccupied with their own lives, their jobs, their kids, so they don't attend to rigorous pup training. But then I took Millie to pup agility class. All dogs her age looked to follow the proper protocol. Their owners spoke to them, they listened. Not Millie. She was thrilled to be there so that she could chase pups and do high leaps in the air, exuberant, joyful. No treat in the world would rip her away from spirited play. I thought perhaps she had been with me too short a time. But she has now been with me for almost four months and she continues to delight in selective listening. 

Being a sweet pup who tags along happily after me at home, this doesn't lead me to despair.  I continue to insist on her sits and downs (it's a game for her and she likes games), and she comes running when I want her near me, not because she wants to obey my command, but because being near me makes her feel happy and secure. I can leave the gate open on the porch and she wont run off, because she prefers "next to mama" to just about anything else. But a run to my call does not happen because she feels compelled to follow my directives.

I'm learning to listen more to her conversation. A low rumble in her throat that sounds awfully much like a light growl is a typical reaction to things that are unknown to her. One might be tempted to get her to stop, since most people find even a quiet gurgle coming even from a small dog to be disconcerting, but getting her to stop is, I think, the wrong approach. Respond to the anxiety, not the offered pup language for it. If I cuddle her, her growly rumble becomes a low moan, dying in her throat. An explanation of sorts. Once reassured, she turns on her friendly switch, with a bark and a wag for emphasis. Do I like her chatty bark? That would be like asking if you like the fact that your child is passionate about learning to play the trumpet.

This morning, we had our lovely start to the day on the porch.

Two of the roses that came the other day are to be planted in the fenced yard (roses are not toxic to dogs), so I take my pup outside and set up the rose planting station: a bucket for soil debris, a bucket for mixing dirt with compost and fertilizer (opinions vary on whether to apply it at the outset; I'm going with the "yes" crowd), a bag of mulch (though still not the mint compost which has yet to arrive), a shovel, a pair of long gloves. In the early morning, it's shady back there, and Millie loves to simply luxuriously rest in the cool grasses. Being my pup, she is picking up a real flower love.

When she gets hyped for play, I toss her the ball.

All this works well and in one hour, I get the two roses in. But I do notice something: Millie is treating the fenced yard as her own play area. She loves going there, she loves pulling our her blankie from her little shade tent, she loves releasing her zoomies there. What she does not do is use this fenced yard as a bathroom. I thought it would be fabulous  to just open the door come winter and let her out to do her stuff. That's not going to happen. After playing there for an hour and a half, I have to take her for a walk to her favorite grassy strip where she routinely does her stuff. (She was quite distressed when we first moved to Steffi's House. She liked the house just fine, but the unfamiliar grass strips outside unnerved her. I almost wanted to take her back to Sally's block so she could relieve herself quickly, but I thought that might be too confusing, so we persevered and now she's fine here.)

Since the outdoor work is piling on (and I planted just two roses yesterday), I take Millie for a half day at doggie daycare. Playing with her friends is a better option than leaving her for a few hours inside. She would pout and protest the latter and she would let me know that I have messed with her equilibrium if I were to close the door on her crate and leave her there. Too, I have errands to run. A cake to pick up for the weekend. Compost to dump, soil to buy. The usual. 

I put in just two roses in the afternoon (but that makes for a total of four for the day!). I hit a rough patch with one of the holes -- yes it's dug out, to a degree, but I see nothing but stones at the base of it. I need to go further down and get them out. Hard work.

It takes a while and I definitely have a sore shoulder from slamming that shovel into the rocks. Still, it's progress!

I pick up Millie earlier today and I let her stay on the porch while I water all the front flowers. (She is okay with that!) I lost two plants to dry soil, despite the fact that I've been watering every few days. It's that hot and that dry here. I'm NOT going to lose more!

A day in the garden. A day with my pup calling the shots. A day of rocks and roses. All smooth you think? Yes, except for my dropping my dinner dish this evening, spilling everything on the floor. Would you eat a meal that landed at your feet a minute ago? No? You and I are different then!

Tomorrow is the last day of July. Typically I start to lose interest in gardening in August. Not this year! I'm still running at full steam out there!

with so much love... 

 

only two

I have the whole glorious day before me! Beautiful weather (though insanely dry this month), heavenly boost to the morning with my breakfast ritual...

A hug for Millie for surviving two weeks in her onesies...

 

 

 

And a trip to Happy Dogz, with Millie, leaping and raring to go play with her pup friends (I'm told she has many).

And now I have five roses that should go in. The holes are mostly dug out for them. Exciting!

But is it? For one thing, do I really have a whole day before me? I never have a whole day before me. If I looked forward to working with those roses, I must have been blocking the fact that I had a dental appointment at 9 (part two of this tooth saga and it will continue, because I come from a time and place where teeth were never given the stuff they needed to look American straight, white, and shiny. That appointment took forever! And I needed to do the weekly grocery run, because if not now, when Millie is in doggie daycare, then when?

Unpacking, putting away. So... maybe half a day before me? Not even. Working with roses is not like working with other perennials. You don't shake them out of a pot and slide them into place. And my roses are bare twigged but large. I learned to work with them wearing these.

And the holes need adjustment, and the soil needs to be mixed with the compost, and carrying soil back and forth and trimming broken twigs and finally placing them just so and then filling those very large holes, and finally watering them, very very slowly, for at least 15 minutes and yes, I see those drooping flowers nearby -- I really need to water those as well or I will lose them!

Two roses in. Say what? Its 3 o'clock already? Off I go quickly, so quickly, to dump compost, pick up dirt, dump cardboard, pick up corn and finally -- pick up Snowdrop. 

Well, I can look at it this way: two down and only twelve roses to go (not all are here yet). Well, and one lilac and one mock orange. So I guess the number remains stuck at fourteen. Make that fifteen. I ended up with another mockorange today. Maybe I'll work on putting them in on one of those days that seems so open on the calendar (but in reality, is really quite full), and maybe not even then because there's watering, which just sucks up any time I may have left over for gardening. 

We pick up Millie, I take Snowdrop home, Millie says hi to the boys, we go home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I take stock outside, and find that the soil is dry again two inches deep on plants that were just soaked yesterday, I have to wonder -- what did people in Giverny do this year, when temperatures repeatedly crossed 100F/38C? What did they do?? 

Flower growing is becoming a challenge. I am up for it, but only because I am retired and occasionally I do have a couple of hours to plant... two roses. Only two, but two it is.

with so much love...