a break

South central Wisconsin gets a break from "very unhealthy," and even "unhealthy" air. By mid morning, we put "unhealthy for sensitive groups," and then "moderate" behind us, and hit "good!" I realize that this may change as destructive fires are still burning up north, but Millie and I are grateful for the break. Our breakfast out he porch? It lasts well over an hour.

(a few minutes of lap time)

 

 

 (what's blooming on the Steffi porch...)

 

 

Millie's incision is still bothering her -- she whimpers initially this morning. But then her meds kick in and she is like her old self. Indeed, too much so. I'm to walk her only for quick bathroom breaks. When I dropped the leash to turn off the hose -- something that is usually risk free as she always stays by my side, not being a squirrel chaser or especially outgoing toward strangers or their dogs -- this time she does a mad zoomie run around me, clearly enjoying her leash-free existence. (I discuss this with the clinic -- they suggest calming meds, as the girl really needs to abandon her friskiness for the next ten days.) 

I dont have the heart to leave her alone quite yet (except briefly, say to put in a plant!) but at the same time, I do believe she is feeling a little housebound. There's only so much excitement her raggedy or chewy toys can bring her. I schedule a lunch with Ed at Tati's. It requires of her a quietness and stillness, but at the same time it offers visual stimulation. (It's a shame she's indifferent to the TV set -- I could see us binge watching suspense series, or even canine movies. Unfortunately, she gives the set a glance and moves on to see what else in life is interesting and perhaps a bit more challenging, not realizing that there's wonder in doing nothing more than staring at the screen.)

(a tilted selfie)

On the way home, we stop by the farmette -- I have more compost to dump there. And of course, the lilies are breathtakingly beautiful. I snip off a few spent flowers, trying to hold back that feeling of wanting to fix something that just isn't under my care anymore. 

 

(nymphs and shepherds...) 

 

Now that the smog has lifted (at least temporarily), I'm itching to go outside at Steffi's House and Garden.  I have some more ideas -- endless ideas, because, well, this place has so much potential still!

It was a welcome reprieve. I know people who are dealing with the fires on a more personal level (instead of just the residual smoke) have so much more to worry about, still it was tough to go through a day of such smoke. Today, the skies looked beautiful again.

 

with so much love...

 

 

disappointment

Summer is fabulous. I love it, we love it, for the beauty, fun, joy, pleasure of being outside. Summer brings us close to nature. We need it to sustain us in the months when being close to nature is difficult, drab, unpleasant. At the farmette, summer was a little spoiled by the mosquito infestation. Deer flies as well, but really, it was the mosquitoes that almost forced us to move to a better location. They really affected out outdoor time.

At Steffi's House and Garden, mosquitoes are not an issue. Yes, you'll feel them at dusk, in very modest amounts. I can spend hours outside and not be bothered at all by biting bugs. 

But now we have the wildfire smoke. We had it last year too and it was awful. I blocked it from my memory. This year it's worse. Hard not to face the fact that suddenly outdoor time has been cut short. 

The garden is planted, so working out there is purely for maintenance, and plant adjustments. And watering, because we are in the thick of a very long dry spell. But of course, this is the time where we reap the joy of being among plants. Of breathing in their fragrance. This is when you take longer bike rides too. Morning walks along paths that lead you through prairie land popping with the colors of cone flowers, into forests with that gentle sway of heavily leafed branches, providing shade on a warm day. 

All of it has suddenly been taken away from us. And yes, I understand that for many this isn't just a question of pleasure. Kids go to camps. Adults go in and out all the time. Many work outside. Dogs need to be walked and they cannot wear masks. 

So go ahead and tell me that mitigating climate change is a bunch of hyped up liberal nonsense. I dare you. I may punch back at that one. I really may. (Or, go ahead and blame Canada. Always easy to point a finger at someone else. As if we ourselves have done "all we can" to arrest the overheating of our planet.)

 

Millie slept well and though she is very very far from being herself, her post-surgery slump is sweetly affectionate. It's hard to understand why dogs trust their humans so wholeheartedly, no matter what. I caused all this pain by taking her to the vet. The vet made her miserable: coming out she was (in terms of pain) far worse off than going in. And yet she completely believes that I am there to love her and care for her. That I am the one that makes it better, not worse. 

 

 

 

I eat breakfast inside. Of course I do. 

 

 

The porch is basically off limits except for necessary watering and of course, I need a mask for that. I already have the longest post-cold lingering respiratory stuff known to human-kind, I don't need to make it worse. 

Millie is on meds that make her a bit lethargic so it's not too difficult to crate her. I need to move one plant and water the tomato pots and cedar planter. I do it hurriedly and without great joy. The air is that bad. We are currently in the VERY unhealthy range -- first time ever for our location in south-central Wisconsin. And no, it doesn't make me feel any better to know that Pennsylvania has it far worse -- they're past the "hazardous" (meaning deadly) range. I didn't even know there was a post-hazardous point. What could be worse than deadly? 

 

The day is spent Minding Millie. I suppose that should be the title for the next ten days. 

 

 

 

I do keep an eye on her just so we can avoid the whole cone around her head thing. And frankly, she strives to be always within petting range. Whereas before, slinking under the couch was her place to exhale, now she is on the couch with me, asking openly for a cheek rub or a gentle cuddle. You have to feel sorry for the sweet girl. Dogs don't get explanations, nor do they understand time. "This will pass" is meaningless not only because they don't speak our language. There is no later. There is only now.

(girls in pink)

I use this opportunity to rest up. Weeks of craziness are catching up with me and in the absence of more physical labor today, I feel... tired. (Working takes your mind off of fatigue.) I doze off. I wake up and read. Reclining positions are very appealing. For her and for me. And I finally decide to buy soaker hoses. The weather forecast shows no rain in sight for days (weeks?) on end. I dont want to have to water by hand Steffi's Garden every day. At least not all of it.

 

In the evening I cook, Ed comes over, we watch our British farming show. There you have it -- an indoor day if I ever saw one. In July no less. On the upside, Millie is delighted to have me on the couch for long stretches of time. Within eyesight. No effort required to track me. She's not disappointed!

with so much love... 

just made it!

Most of my heavy lifting and energetic digging is complete for this year. This is a relief as we are one of the many states affected by the Canadian fires. Our air is thick with smoke. Worse than I ever experienced here (though we can't complain: some parts of the country are far worse off than we are. We are just "unhealthy," which is better than "very unhealthy" (Madison) or  "hazardous" (Chicago, Milwaukee, all of Michigan). "Hazardous" they say can kill you. Ours would be more like a punch in the gut I suppose. 

It is fortuitous that most of us vulnerables do have a mask supply. I went out with Millie in the morning without one and immediately regretted it. All subsequent outdoor time was with mask in place.

(sunlight through a thick haze)

 

 

It was not your typical morning in any event. Since Millie is scheduled for morning surgery, she is not allowed food. How do I explain this to her? I eat, she doesn't? "Doctor's orders" is not within her vocabulary. I don't take my granola bowl outside. And since I have to deliver her to the clinic early, it's all rather rushed. On a tray. Inside.

Millie thinks we should be out on the porch. Why am I wrecking her routines?!

 

I try to act normal. We're going to see the vet! -- I say excitedly. She looks puzzled. Is this a good thing? She's doubtful. 

By 8 we are at the clinic. My pup is shaking in my arms. I ask -- can't she have something to calm her down?! I act as if a dog has never come into their offices with apprehension. 

Millie is lucky in that she is patient number 1 today. I keep the phone by my side just in case and then I grocery shop (on the belief that I will be housebound in the immediate future). 

Driving home, I stop by the farmette to pick up more soil. I have nothing to plant at the moment, but it's good to have a bucketful for when a new plant makes a magical appearance because Nina could not resist a stop at K&A.  While at the farmette, I pause. It's the peak day for the lilies. And they are so vigorous, no plentiful even without my care, my weeding, and without any watering at all, they take your breath away! I take a few photos...

I have that wistfulness that comes when you look back at decisions you've made. Should have I stayed? Cleaned up, the flower fields would look better than ever before. 

Of course, you dont decide where your home will be based on a day of great lily beauty. Steffi's Garden has a way to go, but I surely worked as hard at in it as I did at the farmette and still it was easier -- I wasn't at war with endless weeds, mosquitoes, excessive shade. If I have failed plantings, I can replace them and try again. At the farmette, I really believed I was eventually going to lose that war. So much there that I could not fix. So no, I don't wish I had been there to help this garden of great beauty along. Still, that feeling of wistfulness is strong!

I bring just a few lily stems home with me.

 

Are you wondering about the clay jug (above)? That's an olla pot that came with the cedar planter. I thought I knew all the garden paraphernalia out there, but this one was new for me. Apparently you bury it in the planter and keep pouring water into it and that water seeps out and keeps the soil perfectly moist throughout. You just need to keep filling the pot  -- it does the work for you. (We speculated yesterday if there was any benefit to it, since it can't be a whole lot easier to pour water into the jug rather than sprinkling it over the planter. Still, it appears that these pots have been around (so they say) for 5000 years.There must be in some way be a benefit to them. I put it in, because it came with the planter. I'll let you know how great it is to work with.

Despite the smog, I do work outside for a couple of hours. With a mask of course. I plant my peas and basil and the olla pot..

And I water. Everything. It's hot again and there is no promise of rain in sight.

I also call the realtor selling the newly built house next door and ask her to please convey my sincere pleadings to stop flooding my yard and killing my roses with the constant sprinkling of their grasses. i understand new sod needs constant watering, but it all flows to my yard and Millie comes in from her outdoor play with a muddied coat. And two of my rose bushes are not surviving the deluge of water that cannot drain well given the clay soil under their roots. I'm told they'd cut back. Let's hope.

 

A break! a coffee at Tati's with a friend -- a former student; obviously many years have passed. It's impressive what professional paths these smart people have followed. She was a public defender, a judge, a mother. An activist. A concerned citizen. You don't know this about the people sitting behind long tables in class. All you know is that they work hard (most of them do anyway!) and have ambitions. Some are on their second or third career paths. You dont know any of it. And for most, you'll never learn their stories. But there are some who never quite step out of your field of vision and some who you actually encounter again and start a new kind of conversation. 

 

I finish watering just as it's time to pick up my pup She did "really well," which I suppose means she slept through the whole thing without giving them any trouble, and she did not bleed to death. I had brought in a onesie for her and she was carried out to my waiting arms in that onesie, looking so much like a vulnerable newborn! They also gave me a cone of shame to wrap around her head when "your eyes aren't on her." I do not understand how dogs can exist in that huge piece of plastic so I nodded, but then put it aside, opting for "keeping my eyes on her" all the time. 

 

(reluctant to move...)

 

Millie naps much of the afternoon and evening. When she is awake, I'm there to redirect her if her snout goes toward her wound. So far we haven't had to use the cone around her head, but this is only the first day. We have nine to go.

with so much love...

  

writing

You and I are always juggling facts, feelings, options out there, figuring out how to take on each day, each new situation, trying not to make mistakes, making them anyway. Life, in a nutshell. How we act is one thing, but explaining ourselves to others is quite another. You don't blurt out feelings and convictions to those you care about without paying attention to the impact your words may have. Those who feel free to spill out their views on everything suffer the consequences. My mother was a fine example of this. Everyone was scared of her. Well, maybe not Ed who is rather indifferent to the words of others. 

But then, in 2005 I began writing Ocean.  I don't owe anyone a complete recounting of my day and yet, at the core of my writing here is my belief that what I do write must be honest. Now, we know that "honest" is a broad term that means many things. My honest may not be your honest. The way I see a truth is of course born of my experiences and feelings, and mental faculties. Still, anyone who knows me will tell you that there is indeed a basic honesty about the stories that appear here.

How did I manage this without hurting, indeed shattering the feelings of others? There may be some skill in presenting reality kindly, but mostly I've just been lucky not to live through much personal drama in the last decades -- the decades of writing Ocean. There was my divorce and that was in fact dramatic in the way most divorces are, but my ex and I have remained friends and so the recounting of my days even immediately after the separation and then divorce could remain true to the facts as I saw them then. Obviously I did not and would not spell out all that happened, but I was able to navigate that period in my posts, without wrecking things along the way. 

It's not that my entire life has been without drama. I think I had plenty of happenings when I was a child, an adolescent, and then a full grown adult. Perhaps the most dramatic years were those just before I began writing daily here.  One reason why I did not provide a part 2 to Like a Swallow (people have asked) is because I don't think I have the ability to write about those years without making a whole bunch of people unhappy. Why would I ever want to do that! Some dramas are best left behind.

I'm thinking about this because the day is hot as can be, Millie and I braved our very early meal outside on the porch...

... and then I took her to doggie daycare, returning home to work like mad to get things watered and planted in Steffi's Garden. 

And then I had lunch with friends who belonged to those years of such great tumult for me. This chaos was not their fault, perhaps it was nobody's fault, but they, along with a group of very talented musicians, were certainly in my life during those years. I haven't seen the two of them in a very long time, but they are in town and today we had lunch. Then coffee.

Old friends, especially those who drifted with you from one crisis to the next, have a way of hanging on to the details of your life. From there, it was easy to expand on where our lives have taken us today. We will have to meet again to continue that conversation before they return to their home in Mexico.

 

I pick up Snowdrop from her Shakespeare program, we go home, she plays for a minute, we read.

And the day doesn't stop there. We pick up Millie, I drop Snowdrop at home, I pick up Thai food and I head for Steffi's House, where Ed is waiting for me, along with three of his friends from way back when. We are all, um, older. In fact, in this setting I may well be the youngest. We get together in this small group maybe once a year -- two of them live in Washington, the state. And yet, once more, it is like a gathering of people who really know each other well (I'm perhaps the outlier here, as I've known them for only about 15 years -- that's nothing for people our age!). One was Ed's college roommate. Imagine that! 

A day of bringing in the past to catch up with the present. Not that I can get Ed to reflect on any of it. And that's okay. I have plenty of space in my head to process all this on my own. And to sometimes write about it here.

with so much love... 

July 14th

Who plants vegetables from seed in the middle of July? Insanity. Futile venture. Unnecessary work. And yet, here I am, building a cedar wood planter quickly, so that I can put in some seeds today or tomorrow.

You know of course my obsession with perennial flowers. But where do I stand on planting fruits and veggies? I have mixed feelings here. On the one hand, I loved having cherry trees at the farmette, but oftentimes the birds would get to the cherries before we did. The peaches fared better. One pear tree I liked, one I did not. Apples? None were as good as the market ones. Ed's tomatoes have been useful for freezing. I tried carrots. Not good. Radishes? Too dense and too far down the property line. Easily forgotten. Lettuce? Ed's giving it a go, but not a very serious go. He scattered seeds on the old soil in the metal tins. The soil bakes in those and weeds compete with lettuce leaves.

So, mixed feelings.

But in Steffi's Garden I'm giving it a different approach: I planted a few tomatoes in pots (they're tall, abundant, fabulous, though none of the kids have been enthusiastic about picking them fresh off the vine. I planted fraises de bois also in a pot. Small pickings there. And on the porch, I have one of those bushy raspberry plants meant for a large pot. It's growing well, but the berries are... sparse. 

So what's with the cedar planter now? Well, on Independence Day, many businesses lured suckers like me into buying something after slashing prices by 50-70%. And so the cedar planter was pretty inexpensive. Still, really? Whatever for? 

It's because I love the look of sweet peas growing up a trellis. I also do like the taste of them, especially raw in a salad. And here's the thing -- now is the time to sow peas for a second (in my case first) harvest. In addition, I have some basil seeds which, of course, are always welcome.

You could speculate that if my veggie harvest doesn't work out, I can always put flowers into the planter, but I would protest that fiercely. In my mind's eye, cedar planters are for veggies. And I have room for it in the driveway!

Which brings me to the topic of "back yards." Steffi's House is not your typical suburban house. It's a cottage (the developer calls it a Mulberry Cottage"), on a very small parcel of land. (90% of the properties in this development are built in this way.) This suits me just fine as I am running away from lots of land management and especially lawn management. But I also believe in using every piece of that land productively. In the back of the house, I have a driveway and then strips of green grass on both sides of it. I converted one side to be part of Millie's fenced play area, with a planting of rose bushes around the fencing and a perennial patch at the end. The other side of the driveway is long and I've put in perennial beds in different portions of it. Here's where I also planted climbing roses, hoping for a good show of flowers in a year or two. 

I've spent just as much time on these backyard plantings as I have out front. In total, I counted today that I have (thus far) planted about 205 flowering plants in this past month. It's been fabulous to watch this nothing-lawned up piece of land develop into something more than that.

(one of the roses in the "backyard")

I must say, Millie was a very agreeable pooch when I worked on the cedar planter. My neighbor across the alley hired a team of some half dozen men who came with their machinery to do some landscapng work in her "backyard." Much of it is to be covered with pebbles and if you have never heard a truck dump loads of pebbles, let me warn youthat ear plugs are not a ridiculous idea. I suppose the construction noises at Sally's House taught Millie not to mind too much. Still, I was glad to be done with the cedar planter and to go in and close the door to the noise. 

Did I not mention that we had had a lovely early morning breakfast on the porch? 

There will come a time when major projects here, at Steffi's House and Garden will be a thing of the past. That time is rapidly approaching. But then, so is the next season!  

 

My big project for the afternoon is to start leaving Millie alone again. And it seems so easy. If I say, Millie, you want to go for a car ride? -- she runs and hides, usually in her crate. You're asking for it, my girl!  I close her crate door, tell her I'll be back soon and head out, listening for her barks and yelps. Nothing. Silence. This is good!

I take an hour to run errands. To the farmette, more soil needed. To the dump -- cardboard to recycle. Oh! I should stop at K&A on my way -- they having a rose sale!  I come back and cross my fingers, but here I run out of luck. She must have heard me open the garage door because I hear her barking plaintively now. Sweet, sweet pup!

 

 

 

Things are getting tight again: I have grandchild pickup today and tomorrow and I have no less than two social engagements tomorrow. And on Thursday, Millie is scheduled for surgery (spaying). That means she will be housebound for at least ten days. Let's hope she is  more amenable to being left for short periods of time or else I will not be able to breath fresh air for a week!

 

Ed comes over just as I start in on putting in two more roses (that damn K&A sale!). It is toasty hot! The backyard -- Millie's playground  -- is ablaze with sunshine (in most places) -- making it an ideal place for roses, but impossibly hot to work in today. We are hitting 100F/38C this afternoon, and that's a shade reading. And yet Ed offers to help dig. Roses are a big digging project as they need holes substantially larger than their pot. Actually, roses are a big deal project period. You need to watch for pests (beetles!) disease (black spot, yellow leaf drop), for canes running in weird directions. You need to prune, direct, feed (stinky fish emulsion works well, tough Millie loves to lick the stones that get doused with it), and at least initially -- water, just the right amount. Why take on something that requires so much effort? Well, because I can (all that sunshine!) and because roses are one of the rare plants that wont kill your pet. Most everything that I grow in the flower beds is toxic to dogs, and though Millie doesn't devour random plants, she has been known to nibble on stuff out of boredom or to test my patience with her!

Between the two of us, Ed and I get the roses in! And again I drink a gallon of sparkling water and Millie, exhausted from watching us work, slides under the couch and goes to sleep.

 

Very late in the afternoon I pick Snowdrop up from her Shakespeare program. (Twelfth Night in the mornings, R&J in the afternoon.) 

 

 

  

(Sandpiper picks up Snowdrop; he always comes up for a "car treat" - not to be shared with Millie!)

 

It seems so decadent to sit on the couch in a cool (but not cold!) living room and read together. Young kids, those who cant yet get a summer job yet, do not appreciate how great a summer vacation can be. Once work kicks in, that freedom to pick your pleasure disappears. Until retirement (at least in this country of very few vacation days handed to you during your working life). I still feel a guilty pleasure when I sit down in the middle of the day and allow myself an hour with a book. That hasn't happened in recent weeks, but I know that the reading corner is there, waiting for me once I slow down with garden work. A solid rain would help!

with so much love.... 

 

in the heat of the day

I feel like the person who goes to her cardiologist, gets a good reading on some heart performance test, and returns home to a steak and french fries. With mayo. And ice cream for dessert.

My calendar tells me I have an early morning appointment with my skin doc. These days I wouldn't have made it for that hour, on the other side of town no less, but it was booked at another time, when I lived at another address, with another dog, who possibly could have been left at home. Well, no matter. Millie never protests an early wake up. 

Despite the dictates of my schedule, we have a leisurely time on the porch, over breakfast. I feel the heat. She feels the heat. We linger anyway.

And soon after, I drop her off at doggie daycare. My doc is into gardening, so we talk plants while she examines every spot on my body under a magnifying glass. She's exuberant about finding nothing of note, possibly because on my last appointment I had had something of note. But she is a skin person so I feel the need to apologize for my deeply brown arms -- the result of spending so much time outdoors. She suggests more protective clothing. I suggest a good source for buying bubs on line for fall planting. We part friends. 

And then I zip through my list of errands (UPS, Walgreens, boring...) so that I can return to my "steak and fries." Meaning -- I spend the day in the blazing hot sun gardening. 

I move out the incredibly short lived and very non-cottagy lilies put in by the person who lifted out my sod back in May. I move in a lovely combo of yellow and blue -- a double cone flower next to a pincushion. Perennial growers are very particular about what flowers should grace their gardens. I take out some more sod to plant another rose later in the week. I put in some daisies. I mulch bare spots. And I water. Everything.

Inside again, I drink a gallon of water. It's hot out there! 

 

(a million day lilies are in full bloom at the farmette right now; here -- I take what I can get this year!)

 

 

And then I'm back at it, all the way until it's time to get Millie. A very tired Millie. Eat and slide under the couch. Millie, I know exactly how you feel! 

with so much love... 

Sunday dinner

Somehow July is moving along too rapidly. June sped by demonically fast. Intense months have a way of whizzing by and leaving you stunned at the end. What? That was June? I'm still panting! But there's nothing especially intense about my July. I moved, okay, there was that. But everything was in place by the 5th, so how do I explain the feeling of breathlessness now? As you can tell from my posts, it's not as if I am hurrying from one thing to the next. And yet -- it's the 12th already. Ridiculously far into the summer season.

I have to blame my gardening for this. We're moving through the height of summer blooms even as I'm still planting -- something I usually finish up in May. But this year, it all had to square with the fact that I wasn't living in Steffi's place in spring. The gardening bit began late and is not really done yet because I can see pockets of needed adjustment. Too, it's a new garden. This is important. I wouldn't have to water the farmette perennials more than once a week, and then only through a dry spell. Established plants are tough! Here, everything is new and fragile and two days of neglect can cost me! And of course, Millie slows things down significantly. For example, today I watered some and I planted one flower. All within her field of vision. And then we ate breakfast together.

Normally, I'd be digging until everything was in its place. Not so with my sweet pup who insists on being never more than 10 feet away from my side. 

 

So, some garden work today, but only in a few spots. Where is my focus then? Indoors, on cooking and baking. I'm back to making Sunday family dinners and since my daughter is adding a friend tonight, I decided to expand on the usual and bake something summery. My younger girl had made a strawberry slab pie that looked good in the photo, so I picked up several packs of strawberries and set to work. 

 

Millie finished her morning nap and I put aside food preparations to head over to the farmette. For more soil, and to pick up Ed for a Tati's lunch. 

Maybe you're curious about the farmette flower fields? After all, this is their best month -- the time of the maximal lily blooms. How might I describe it now...  Yes, it's overgrown. It's beautiful, but the weeds make it look even denser and some of the flowers are lost in the thicket of plant growth. And of course, I haven't been snipping the spent flowers, so the feeling of a garden going wild is intense.  Here are a few photos:

Oh, and a photo of the two new chickens for good measure:

 

 

 

I dont like to stay long there because the urge to clean it up is so powerful that it hurts. It never was totally neat and tidy, but right now, the plants are huge, the flowers come in waves, then fade, the grasses and prairie blooms fill in the gaps. I tell Ed that he should get a garden person to come in one day and clean it up. His response? I can't tell what's a weed. As long as it's pretty, what's the difference?

At Tati's Millie gets her pup cup, 

 

 

 

Ed and I talk about chicken issues and, too, about the week ahead. Maybe blueberry picking, maybe biking over to McFarland. But of course, it has to be squeezed in on days Millie is at doggie daycare. The girl has to let go of her anxieties soon -- which, I suppose is like telling a snowman not to melt in sunshine. Not his fault, not her fault!

In the evening, the gang is here -- family, friend, dog and all. Steffi's House isn't large, but there's plenty of room for everyone. 

Millie is all over the place. The little kids chase her, Goose chases her, doors open and close -- we are not a subdued household tonight!

 

 

 

But at the end of the day, I have to smile. It was great to fill Steffi's House with people I love.

(pre-dinner)

 

 

(dinner)

 

 

(post-dinner)

 

Such a beautiful evening!

I like quiet, interrupted by periods of intense exuberance. I had both today. 

with so much love... 

far away

A unique feature of this country is that its inhabitants haven't suffered in modern times the horrors of living in a war zone, where every night brings with it the fear of not waking up the next morning, or at the very least losing all that you've built in life -- family, home, work. Beautiful things too. Art. Gardens. As I write here about my intoxicating venture into gardening at Steffi's House, I am well aware that the luxury I enjoy today is something that a person cannot even imagine as being theirs in places like the Ukraine.

When I was putting up art work in my new home, I was very much aware of the source and story behind each piece. And it all fit, and the walls look good to me -- not too overwhelmed (like an over-planted garden!), but not too bare either. But I was missing something over the mantle. Or at least I felt that it would be fabulous if someday I would find a supplement to the one piece that is already there. A still life. 

In my spare moments (usually late into the night), I looked around on the internet to see if something pops out at me. And it did pop out -- paintings bythe Ukrainian  Miroslava Kuchura. I purchased one, wondering how the heck you mail a painting out of Kiev these days!

I texted with Mira today. I sent her a note of what I hope sounded like sympathy and encouragement. She wrote back -- I am currently painting in the mountains... We go on living, often sleepless, heading down to the shelters, never getting enough rest. 

If you cannot imagine conflict of that magnitude in your own life, then dive into the world of those who have to deal with bombs falling on their family homes every day -- it really does make your life, my life seem like one from another planet.

 

And here we are, in the thick of beautiful summer days. I suppose some would call it too hot. I dont see many people out and about in the neighborhood. Every building here has a front porch. Millie and I are always on ours, coming and going, and checking on plants and weather and birds and whatever else catches our interest. People have porch chairs, but they must be for decoration only. Maybe they're uncomfortable. No one ever sits in them. Sidewalks too tend to be empty on a hot day. The ones who do walk are people with dogs and parents with babies in strollers. Millie is learning to accept this as a fact of her new life: people and dogs will pass. They aren't coming to stuff her in a sack and send her down the river.  

(early morning walk: the sun  always throws lovely warm tones on my gardens then...) 

 

 

 

 

(breakfast) 

Before it really does get hot, or hotter, I take Millie to our local dog park. She is cautious once again, but at least she's accepting of the people there. The dogs? She's not sure she wants to run up to a perfectly strange large canine and strike up a conversation. She prefers to stay near me.

I'm mindful of the fact that she does get hot easily so we do one full loop... 

 

 

 

... then return home.

And she naps, and I water the plants out front, all the time scheming on how to get out to plant this evening. 

Well, maybe tomorrow.

A quiet night. A July night. A month of flowers and of peace, for the lucky few.

with so much love... 

It's still about Millie

If Millie were a school girl, I think she'd very much resemble me as a school kid. I was inspired! Sometimes. And I was bored -- other times. And you don't want to know how I dealt with that! I was lively and very much attuned to those around me. I kept my eye on them all -- perhaps even more than on what I should have been studying. Sounds like my pup! Millie gets inspired and then you think she is one whip-smart little pup. Sometimes. She gets bored and then she looks for trouble -- a common little ploy now is for her to go straight to the chair by the window and find something or someone to bark at. A raucous follows. She is indeed lively. Today's zoomies were epic! 

 

 

And yes, her eyes never leave me. Never. I will think she is sleeping and tiptoe to the bathroom and look up to see her standing in the doorway. And of course, if anyone comes here, or near here, she stares them down with an intense eye, until they're gone or out of sight.

But Millie does suffer now once more from separation anxiety and in this way, we are different. I suffered no separation anxiety. I never got homesick at camp, or sleepovers, or spending summers at my grandma's and I liked it when my parents went out and I could hit the TV (which was in their bedroom), not necessarily observing the limits imposed by them on watching sitcoms. But Millie -- she's back in panic mode if I put her in her crate and go out. For any amount of time. That means that today, while she is at doggie daycare, I want to fit in everything that needs to be done that I simply cannot do with her at home.

It's a loaded day.

Millie wanted to start the day super early. I did not. Once she bounced off the bed (at 4:45 a.m.! really Millie??), I put her in her crate by my bed and told her to keep quiet for another hour. And she did.

We ate breakfast, it was lovely, she barked hardly at all. 

(it's peach and berry season!)

And just after 9, I take her to Happy Dogz. And now comes my whirlwind: I go grocery shopping -- it's the first time I set foot in the store since coming home from the June trip. I do some returns at UPS. I give back the internet modem to the management of Sally's House. That's a lot of driving and Millie is not a huge fan of car rides. 

At home, I get out the lawn mower. I cant get it started. I call Ed. He come over. I show him the problem and miraculously, the problem has disappeared. He shrugs and goes home. I mow, thinking -- I ripped out so much sod and still, there's a heck of a lot of mowing to do here! I trim the edges. And then I take care of the plants to the west side of the house. I can put Millie in the yard and work to the east. I can put her on the porch and work out front to the south. But I cannot do anything at the west side because I am out of her field of vision there. This afternoon, I dump some wood chips, I pull some weeds, I put up a very beautiful trellis for a rose bush that wont need it for at least two years. I check all roses for beetles. I water. I mean, the list is long and I do not get through it until late in the afternoon. Lunch at 4. And then I drive to dump more cardboard at the city dump, and swing around to pick up my girl. Sweet sweet Millie. Someday her anxieties will be history! In the meantime, I adjust.

 

Ed comes over in the evening, we order pizza, I make a salad, we watch a show. I have to say, after a day out in the yard, it feels so grand to sit back and think about something other than plants. But tomorrow? Millie and I will be at it again. It's July! The flowering season. Beautiful, even in the small bursts of new plantings that I have  all around Steffi's House..

with so much love...