lost in mind clutter

Everyone knows that old people tend to be selectively forgetful. (I'm thinking of those without a diagnosed onset of dementia or Alzheimer's) Some things are sharply etched in your brain. I still remember my childhood best friend's phone number, even though I was 13 years old the last time I called her. But remembering what I absolutely had to do this morning can slip out quickly -- sort of like a freshly peeled mango: one second it's in your hand, the next minute it's not.

But I do remember that early this morning, my landlord is stopping by to put in a screen where one had apparently blown away. (Not that I noticed! But he did, making me wonder if he regularly patrols this place.) As always, I want to keep the place tidy. I put away unattractive Millie toys. I make sure the flowers are properly positioned on the table, the counter.

I needn't have bothered. My landlord comes in promptly at 8. Millie barks her head off at him (and he takes no notice of her, which only makes her bark more). He goes upstairs, puts in the screen, then proceeds to have an argument with me about whether or not he had entered the garage without notifying me. I claimed he did, because of the sudden appearance of something that wasn't there before. He claimed it had been there all along. 

I suppose it could be that my memory failed me. Not likely, though possible. But why bother trying to arm wrestle with an old lady with a barking puppy over it? People are strangely insistent on convincing the world that they are unfailingly correct. About everything. Weird.

 

It's cold. Breakfast is in the kitchen.

 

Millie appears to be in her usual spirited morning mood.

I nearly forget that she has a vet visit in the late morning for a booster of something or other. Mornings are such an auto pilot for me and once I start reading, there is no guarantee that I'll reenter the real world in a timely manner. Today, I spring out of my trance on time. 

Back home, she gets her usual morning comb through...

And then I tell her to rest. She will be having an afternoon of play at doggie day care while I pick up the kids -- Sparrow, then Snowdrop. Now is the time to exhale. And she does. Millie doesn't shy away from long morning exhales.

 

The two big kids come back to Sally's House with me. And it's great -- they love the visits here. Snowdrop is absolutely committed to her time on the couch with snacks and reading material. Sparrow always puts in a good many minutes playing with Millie. He is, in fact, the only one who does that; the rest of us will throw her a toy maybe, but mostly, we like the cuddles. Not so much the fetch games on repeat. The irony is that Millie has such a friendly personality and she certainly is the right size for a prolonged cuddle with her humans, but she does not lean toward being a lap dog. Henry was far more inclined to rest on me or close to me. Sadey, too, would insist on chunks of time right by my side. Millie, on the other hand, is happy as a anything to be rubbed and petted and held close for a minute or two, but her rest is almost always on the far corner of the couch, or equally frequently -- underneath the couch. She likes the safety of being enclosed. I suppose it comes from being crated for the night. Once she is fully potty trained, I can let her sleep where she really wants to sleep -- in the waiting dog bed. Right now I dont trust her not to have an accident there.

As usual, when we pick up Millie from doggie daycare, there is the "discussion" as to who should hold, feed, walk, carry Millie first, longer, on repeat. They leave them to sort it out.

In the evening, I remember to bring in the most vulnerable plant that seems to wilt every time there is even a slight chill in the air. And yes, they're warning of scattered frost once again. The last threat for sure! Oh, to put away the sweatshirts already! Maybe next week.

with so much love.... 

a night with beeps

I'm curious -- what would you do if your smoke alarm, the one right in your bedroom, started beeping in the annoying way that it does to let you know that the battery is failing? Replace it, of course. But what if the noise started in the wee hours of pre-dawn, and you did not have a spare 9volt battery, and the ladder was downstairs, and your dog was sleeping and would need a potty walk should you get out of bed, but why would you get up, given that you know there's not a 9volt to be found in the house? Take out the battery? That would still require a ladder and a dog walk, but okay, you might try that (I did not), though to warn you -- these newest alarms still beep after you take the battery out. Magic. And annoying.

In my mind, I could do nothing at all. Just stay in bed and play games of the type where you challenge yourself to hold your breath, or remember the names of all your neighbors in the Polish village, or count down from 100 by 7 before the next beep.  Meanwhile Millie sleeps on.

 

It's a pleasant enough morning, once we do get going (and I shut the door to the noise). Millie is bouncy today, leaping from one toy to he next...

  

 

 

... the skies are lightly blue, the temps are cool, but not unpleasantly so. True, breakfast is indoors, but I have my book and my favorite morning foods and I am in my bubble of contentment.

(Porch flowers, admired, from inside)

 

 

Of course, the priority for the day is the acquisition of a battery. Turns out Ed has plenty spare ones so I head out to the farmette. With Millie of course.

I can restock on the lilies of the valley -- it's their turn to shine!

Ed, Millie and I walk the farmette lands. To the nut trees, the peach orchard, and the new orchard, still in full bloom.

We pull out some weeds by the blueberries, I remove a few more from the flower beds. Superficial stuff, but every bit helps. I hope.

And the lilies of the valley? It's one of those flowers that I truly do love, but only when they're cut and put in small vases, indoors. In the flower garden it becomes a noxious, spreading invasive. Thankfully the farmette has plenty of space for this lily proliferation, so long as I remember to pluck it out of the flower fields when it pops up there. (Yes, it has already killed my Siberian Iris field, but that one was a gonner anyway because of the nut tree that spread its shade producing wings over everything. Oops -- did I say my Siberian iris field? I suppose I'll always think of these flowers as mine... Sigh...) 

At around noon, I bring Millie back to doggie daycare. The girl is no longer coughing and I swear her digestive issues will never be settled anyway, but they aren't caused by anything contagious, so back she goes, happy to mingle with her own kind!

I pause for coffee, then pick up the kids. Sparrow first, running high on enthusiasm because "guess what gaga, we were talking about America's independence, and the Declaration of Independence, and the American Revolution, and I made up a country, and a bunch of kids signed up to be in it and here, I'll read you their names, and each one will get a stripe of the color of their choice, and it's called the Kingdom of Kids, and I am the president, but only until the end of the school year. I have to make up some laws!"

Snowdrop has lost some of that youthful zest for the fantastical, or at least she keeps it more to herself, or maybe saves it for her friends, who are by now so important to her that she gets up a whole half hour earlier so that she can get to school a good chunk of time (45 minutes)  before classes start. Clearly not to sit in the library and study, but rather to hang out with kids, who must also drive their parents nuts with these demands to get to school hours before the first bell.

(She tells me it was cultural something day, where you get to bring in something from your cultural heritage; I wasn't there in the morning to properly help her with her old, dating to younger years, Polish costume...)

 

 

It's a slightly different schedule today since Snowdrop has a Girl Scout meeting at an hour that makes it too early for us to do a trip to Sally's House (and back). I have to smile at this girl and her scouting: she has worked her way from Brownie to Junior and just last week -- to Cadette, even though she has yet to do anything that I would regard as girl scout-ish -- like have a hike and campfire with a night under a tent. Still, I admire the women who run this group. I did it for my daughter for one year and it was an effort to finish the year, so undedicated was I to the idea of coming up with projects for a bunch of independent (or rebellious, take your pick) girls once a month. We did do a campfire and a sleepaway weekend though no tents were involved. A shame. 

I pick up a happy Millie. My silly pup. The kids had called her Silly Millie from the get-go, even before they got to know her and it turns out that the nickname suits her perfectly. (I suppose the nickname Sexy Sadey was more whimsical and Henry was so serious that he did not need a nickname. God, I miss that dog. So much.)

To me, a dog's eyes set the tone of the relationship. Yeah, Henry with his deep gaze hitting me right into the depths of my soul, Sadey with her determined look, and now Millie with her gently questioning eyes that are almost hidden in her furry face. [For those who track these things, I should note that Sadey is back with her foster family -- they had an aha moment and decided they wanted her after all. I got a photo of her lovely face -- she looks, well, determined! Beautiful big girl, saved from Henry's fate, thank goodness.]

It's a quiet evening for Millie and me. 

 

 

 

Ed comes over for a few mins, I eat leftovers for supper, yet another good book is in my Kindle, waiting for me, and it's blissfully quiet upstairs, in the bedroom. No beeps! May it stay that way...

with so much love... 

 

beautiful

I wake up to a frightfully beautiful morning. The kind that has you worried, because something so perfect has to come with a catch. And yet, it continues, splendidly, with no sign of trouble.

From the get-go Millie is impish and playful. I can see that her energy level is high. Her appetite is back to normal. Could we really be off to a good start with her too? 

We've been promised a perfect day, weather-wise. Just this one day -- sunny, warm, beautiful. Of course I take breakfast on the porch. Of course I do!

I want to linger here with my book for hours, but Millie has decided to say distant hellos to every person that is in her field of vision, and since we have ongoing construction everywhere, there are plenty of little woofs coming from her. Personally, I find them kind of sweet. High pitched, excited. But perhaps I should give the neighbors a break. We go inside. 

 

In the afternoon, I take Millie to the farmette. I have some food for Ed and a compost bucket to empty. And of course, we take a walk.

Ed has mowed down not only the usual paths and spaces, but, too, the prairie fields around the nut trees planted in the back. He continues to pull out buckthorn in the old orchard. The place is looking so... tidy. I tell him that it took my moving out to get him reinvested in keeping the farmette in order. Funny how that works.

It's a very windy day, but so very warm. I take Millie to the small dog park, where she runs wild with the pups there, including a Polish Sheepdog (who isn't exactly within the 18 inch size limit, but none of us mind). What's her name? -- I ask. Pijanka. It means... Oh, I know what means! Are you Polish? No, we just thought we'd give her a Polish name because of her breed. (FYI, pijanka, pronounced Pee-yan-kah, means a female drunk, or a drinking binge -- take your pick!)

(Penny, Millie, and Pijanka)

In this smaller park, the custom seems to be for the dog owners to sit and chat at the centrally positioned picnic table and for the dogs to play. Yes, the pups do get their exercise. And socialization. The owners comment that this is the only dog park they know where all the owners seem to be responsible people with non aggressive dogs. I think of my two big guys who came to this park and loved the dogs here, but could not accept the strange people who walked the trails.  Oh, and there seems to be a small dog regular group that gathers here every morning at 9. The people socialize with each other, the dogs play. On the one hand, meeting other dog owners seems like a pleasant enough thing. Sort of like meeting new parents at your kids' school. Some of them become friends. But I also see the problem here: I like the walk as much as Millie likes her run. Sitting at a picnic table? No, I can't do that. I excuse myself and at least do the one loop with my girl. This is the time we practice recall too. Training doesn't stop at the schoolhouse gates!

("Millie, come!")

 (Good girl!)

 

 Tired girl. She sleeps from supper til bedtime! And then? Night is young!

 with so much love...

 

May Sunday

Not out of the woods yet.

You're thinking I'm going to complain about the weather? No. It's not that I haven't something to gripe about there: we're in May and it's too cold to eat breakfast outside. Indeed, after tomorrow, the entire week will be cold, though at least the threat of night frost is behind us. But this isn't on my mind. I'm getting used to a May with my hoodie.

My attention, however, is on Millie. Here we are, starting the fifth week of life together and the girl has been presenting one health issue after the next. I have no reason to think that she was poorly treated as a little pup. And I know her parents are healthy. And of course, she's been mollycoddled here. Lots of vet visits, good food, appropriate exercise and socialization. 

She was again sick at night. If I had to take a guess, I would say it's the fault of her meds. She's finishing a round of them, and the last time she was finishing the same meds, she was also very sick. Can't be a coincidence. So no, I'm not freaking out. Nonetheless, I have to place limits on her activities. I'll skip agility class once again. It should be a calm day for us. One of these weeks we will wake up strong and carefree, ready to sail through without vet consults and diagnostic speculations, but clearly that week has not yet come for us. 

Millie is not a rescue and most pups that you pick up directly from a litter come with health guarantees. In other words, I can return Millie, since at least one of the problems she has had dates back to when she was with her litter still. I'm not even tempted to do that. Frankly, small dogs that have health problems are easier (though not cheaper!) to take care of than big dogs with behavioral challenges. And I can't say that I don't have time for all this (though she has already preempted my travel to Chicago last week, and will likely do so for this entire month: you can't board a pup who wakes up with issues and who still has potty accidents). Though I am in a good position to help her get strong, still, I am so looking forward to having at least a few weeks where all I have to deal with are her playful bouts of naughtiness and silly antics. We are not there yet.

Breakfast, sigh, inside. But with emerging lilies of the valley from the farmette!

In the early afternoon, Ed shows up on his bike. I had asked him to help me start up the new lawn mower. I'd never had a battery operated one and although I am perfectly capable of reading instructions, with Ed there I can shortcut the stuff that I do not need to read. (The machine comes with three booklets.)

Mowing the lawn here is one of those odious chores that does not thrill me, but honestly, the yard here is so small that it takes me all of five minutes. Ed and Millie watch. 

Since the day suddenly turned magnificently lovely, we opt for a bike ride, and since Millie slept the entire morning and is now bouncing around, rather than to leave her in the crate, I pop her into the bike seat and we set out.

It is one windy day! Heading out, the wind is on our backs. This is not a good thing. You tend to go too far and then struggle to get back. Notably too, Millie is not yet comfortable in the bike seat and so I have to cuddle her to calm her down. 

Should we do the full loop? Our usual 45 minuter? Or a variation on the above? Should we stop at the dog park? Go to the lake? See the turtles? So many possibilities! 

In the end we do indeed bike the full loop, with pauses at the park to see the turtles...

And by the lake, because this is our favorite contemplative moment.

(wait, don't we usually do a selfie here?)

 

 

And then Millie and I bike to the farmette with Ed. Because she likes it there, and because I could use some fresh lilac branches.

In the late afternoon we are home again. And to her credit, Millie does not throw up until we pull into the garage! I can hose down the mess! The wind, the motion, the bumps and her fragile tummy today are not a great combination.  But I am convinced that she grows stronger when she overcomes these challenges. I see that in her reactions to our outings.

I have to hurry then to fix dinner for the young family. They are here with the usual high energy and enthusiasm. And Millie love.

 

  

 

(Goose, getting his share of attention) 

 

 

(dancing)

 

 

(Polish boy's folk costume cap, discovered) 

 

 

(dinner)

 

 

It's a beautiful evening, on top of a beautiful day. To be outside, to do the bike loop again, to open the porch door fully on a warm evening, kids, dogs, going in and out  --  this is what we wait for. Millie, this is what spring is all about.

with so much love... 

 

 

all over the place

Strange weather. Frost this morning. (I'm glad I brought the plants in.) By Monday it will be 80F/27C. Then on Wednesday, my plants will be shivering again as we hover at night just above freezing. Sweatshirt and jacket today, t-shirt and shorts Monday.

Millie is feeling much better. Her cough seems to be there no more. She finished her parasite meds today. She should be good to go (until her next round of whatever). Because it's a weekend, I weigh our options. Over breakfast, which looks like something out of a flower shop or greenhouse (all those plants, waiting for the air to warm up out on the porch).

My pup rests and plays -- the usual morning sweetness interspersed with naughtiness, just to see if I'm paying attention.

 

 

 

As I think about how to structure our day, Ed calls and it strikes me that maybe a walk in the small dog park would be nice. I offer to pick him up (the farmette is on the way) right after I stop over at Steffi's House, where one planted rose is showing no sign of growth and the other is drying up from lack of water. It's hard to garden at a distance, even a small distance!

As I pour some water over these struggling plants, the neighbor comes over to chat.

Do you live here?

Actually no. There's a renter in the house until the end of June. After that -- yes, I will be moving in.

Oh, that's good to know! Cant wait to tell my wife -- we've been so curious about this house.

Have you ever seen the guy who supposedly lives there?

No, not at all...

A mystery to be sure. No one comes in or leaves, the shades are always drawn. Weird.

 

(picking up Ed, I take a minute to admire the last days of the blooming crab apple)

 

 

At the dog park, Millie meets up with like-minded and like-sized pooches and jumps all over their owners thinking them to be her friends as well, otherwise why else would they be there?

Her run is so different from a big dog's, but so fast and sweet!

 

 

 

(comparing notes with a new friend, a white poodle) 

 

 

(classic Millie jump)

 

 

It's a great day for a walk (and a run for her), but I have to say, this is small stuff, compared to the laps we used to do with the big dogs.

Ed comments at my diminished exercise over the past month. Isn't there anything you really enjoy doing?

Well lots, it's just not very aerobic.  

 

The three of us go to Tati's for lunch. She has grown so much in the last week or two! -- this from the barista there. It's so cool to be recognized for your dog! Millie, of course, is happy as a clam to be here. The familiar is always wonderful for her. Uncertainty? Her worst enemy. When I tell her "we're going for a car ride!" she runs away and hides under the couch. Car ride to where -- she wants to know. I've been feeding her words to remember: farmette, Ed, doggie day care, vet, dog park, Tati's. Over time, she'll feel the reassurance of knowing it's nothing like "some strange place where I will be abandoned never to see another friend or my mama again!"

At home, I put the four bare-root plants into temporary homes. They'll have to wait until the end of May for their space in Steffi's garden.  I'm hoping they wont mind this month of transition.

 

Evening. Just Millie and me tonight. We watch a movie, she plays. And as usual, barks at her reflection wherever it may appear. Dogs do not have visual self awareness. If they develop indifference to themselves in a mirror or reflection, it's because there is no scent associated with the image. Millie has not developed that indifference ("habituation") yet. And of course, us humans think it's funny that a dog would bark at herself. Me -- well, I was convinced for a while that I could teach her, by allowing her to see me, alongside the reflection of me. See Millie? That's me and this is me! But of course, I'm working against nature here. I've abandoned that now and just listen to her yap away at herself for a short while come evening. 

Hey, no frost tonight, or any night in the remaining spring weeks! I am grateful!

 with so much love... 

cold

A chilly start to a beautiful month. Last night, I brought in the one plant that hates this kind of weather most and left the rest outside. We stayed about a degree above freezing. I can't breathe as sigh of relief because this night will be the real challenge -- the last of the frosty ones until September or October. The weather people are saying it'll drop to 31F or 32F. Either way, that's bad news for my annuals. Millie or not, I'll have to bring some plants in and cover the rest with a sheet. Or two sheets. (You can also buy plant sheets specifically designed for frost protection, but you have to wake up to this several days before you actually need them.)

Cold, blustery, not at all something you'd like to wake up to on May 1st.

Well, never mind -- it's another "Millie and me" day. 

With yet another breakfast inside.

It was a late night for me, but I checked off my list the big photo job that has been weighing on me (an overdue photo book that had to be done before June), so I think it was worth it. I say this with very sleepy eyes that find it hard to stay open in a cozy warm house with soft jazz music playing.

 

 

Today, my errands are many and they are scattered, so once again, Millie will have to cry herself to sleep in the crate for a couple of hours.

Order of operations? I make a list: rent payments, delivered to proper landlords (when you sublet out, as I did at the Edge, you still have to pay the difference between the true rent and "the incredible bargain!" you gave your tenants). Bags of oranges, delivered to Ed. Soil for perennials that need a transition time before I can plant them at Steffi's House -- picked up from the farmette. And a visit to McKay Nursery, because Beth from Bevalli Gardens told me they have the best selection and organization of perennials in the area and I'm curious.

Almost always, I start with the most boring and work my way up to the delightful. So, payments to landlords and only then, a drive out to Oregon to check out the nursery. (Yes, the next town to the south is called Oregon. Pronounced differently than the state of Oregon. Very confusing to new-commers!)

I am the only shopper at McKay's. The place is huge and much of it still needs plants. They're coming in, but slowly. 

 

The staff is small, the guy who seems in charge of the plantings is pleasant and reasonably knowledgeable (I grade them by how well they know the world of daylilies). But it doesn't have the vibe and the variety of the Flower Factory. I did pick up four pots of perennials for Steffi's yard (to be planted on May 30th). And I suppose now that the Flower Factory is closed, this has some okay plant possibilities. But wait, why am I looking for planting options??

As I drive back to where we live, I pass another nursery -- K&A Greenhouses. I'd just heard an ad for it on Public Radio: they appear to be really dedicated to growing natives and all their plants are locally sourced. And they seem more populated, both with plants and with people. 

They have a very limited collection of daylilies.

I see that the plants are being loaded and moved away from outdoor tables. "We're taking them into the greenhouses, because of the frost tonight." I'm surprised. Perennials? "Well, some of them are tender and they'd been in warm places until now. Though this has not been a warm spring." No it hasn't.

I pick up two plants. 

 

I drive over to the farmette. 

 

 

 

Ed is outside, working away at clearing the old orchard. He is despondent (though with Ed it's hard to tell, since his mood is always very steady).  What am I going to do?? 

With what ? -- I ask.

With all this -- he waves his arm over the flower fields. It'll soon the a jungle of weeds. One bed, okay -- I could take care of that. But five beds?? 

I interrupt him. There are 11 beds. 

It'll just be all weeds! I dont even know what to take out and anyway, it's a full time job to take care of all of them!

Yes it is, Ed. I tell him -- I'm sad too, to see it all bursting with vitality, ready to bloom all summer long!

We're both sad about it, for different reasons!

I smile at that. He's not incorrect of course. There is so much to be done here and I left it all behind. 

 

 

I turn to the beds. Millie is at home. I have some time. I'll help you. I have been spot weeding each time I've come here. Let me do a deeper weeding job on at least some of the beds. 

We work together. I show him the most pernicious bishop's weed, the creeping charlie -- he digs some out. I've never been able to eradicate these, nor the creeping bellflower. But I have found that pulling them out even without the root arrests the growth enough to permit the perennials to fully develop.

 

We take a walk through the new orchard. He asks me where to mow. There was a meadow here. Should he cut it back? Yes, now's the time...

 

 

 

After a while I leave. Millie has been in her crate over three hours. That's about the max I can do with her. She is a social girl that suffers terribly (you should hear her howl!) when she is alone.

I drive home and take stock of everything: what exactly have I done with my gardens? I left the farmette, but I'm back there "helping out." And additionally, I'm managing (and paying for) the garden at Steffi's House. And I have to mow the stupid lawn at Sally's House. How exactly have I made my load lighter this season?

And yet, I liked working with Ed outside. And I liked walking away from it so that it wouldn't feel like a huge burden. I also liked designing a new garden of limited scope and proportions and without trees shading it! 

I keep the new perennials in the garage, bring in a half dozen fragile plants from the porch, and call it a day. Phew! Happy May 1st to you too!

with so much love...