On this Mermorial Day weekend, some members of my family attended a wedding, some attended a funeral. One of us has a birthday today. And I chose this day to commemorate Henry, my strong and beautiful dog whose life ended tragically I think in March.
I'll start with that, because in fact Henry began my day. I had his ashes with me (or in the garage since March) and I had decided that the best place for them would be in our favorite county park, by the old oak, because Ed had once said that would be a perfect place for his ashes, and I thought I would like to join him in that. Henry loved Ed almost as much as he loved me, so I thought it would be fitting.
After breakfast...
(morning book: sticking with the animal and nature theme: How to Be a Good Creature by Sy Montgomery)

I let Millie rest in her crate and drove over to the park. Teary eyed, with a head full of Henry images, I took out the urn, noted that it came with a paw print (that will go in my garden), and got ready to do the ritual of scattering ashes.
Except I couldn't open the container. I tried everything: prying it open, banging, twisting, yanking, prying -- no go. There I stood with Henry, firmly lodged in a plastic bag and in a metal container, which came with a velvet bag -- not able to get to his final resting place. Is there some symbolism in this? I cannot tell.
Decisions had to be made: I change the location to the farmette.
(the big bed... very green, but with peonies now starting to bloom)
Despite the early hour, Ed is out already, planting tomatoes.

And he, too, pried, banged, tapped the container -- with no movement. Finally we both carefully scrutinized it and decided that it must be a screw top -- one that is tightly shut. Ed has the grip and strength. I held, he turned. It opened.
Ed joined me for the scattering: I did it by the fir trees he and I planted when they were just an inch tall. Now they're twice Ed's height. I figured even if the farmette lands become a yet newer development, the trees will likely remain. No one likes to cut down huge spruces. Henry will stay here, in a place he knew, the home of people he loved.

* * *
I had errands to do immediately after. First, a visit to K&A Nursery. Last night I had got my very patient landscaping person to agree to pull up some more sod in the back yard (if you can call two squares of very sad looking lawn on the sides of the driveway a back yard) at Steffi's House on the day before I leave on my trip. Theoretically I could put in something in that space before I pick up the kids that day, and celebrate another birthday, and pack my suitcase. That would be the plan. But I didn't think a cottage flower garden was right. I needed something bolder that would take the eye away from all the garages and driveways in the alley. I had no idea what that could be. Leafing through pages of perennials late into the night, I found nothing to be quite right. So I drove to the nursery for inspiration, and I found it! K&A has a great selection of shrubs.

And a strong one of perennials too.
I chose some rather unusual shrubs -- or at least unknown to me: a native Sweet Cherry Tea Ninebark that has great foliage and interesting blooms that came back for a rerun. And then -- tall perennials and biannuals. Hollyhock. More lilies of the oriental kind. And a false sunflower or two. And malva. And just a few daylilies as the short guys of the bunch. I already have roses that would border the fence. I think that'll work!
From there, I drove to Madison Sourdough to pick up Sandpiper's cake. The boy is five today!! A celebration will follow!
* * *
Here's a puzzle for you: what do a very very late, way too late Thanksgiving dinner, a very dry set of potted flowers, and an untrained dog have in common?
Answer: they all belong to a person who does not have enough hours in the day to do what she set out to do.
It struck me that I pushed too much into the next weeks. The trip belongs there. And indeed, much of the work for that is done, because I insisted on starting very very very early. But honestly, raising a puppy, celebrating a bunch of birthdays, planting new flower fields from scratch, moving -- really, Nina? How is all that supposed to work?
* * *
In the afternoon, Ed and I drive over to my daughter's house. Sandpiper, the lively, joyful, affectionate, airplane loving boy (who sometimes calls himself Barkley -- when he feels like being part of the canine world) is celebrating his fifth!

I stay mostly outside. I need to keep Millie on the deck because she is totally untrustworthy with scattered toys and, too, this is her first visit to my daughter's place, and first time visits are always potty risks for pups.
So warm today! Breezy but warm.
Sandpiper plays with his toys, I sit back and take it all in -- the warm wind, the background noises of children enjoying themselves, the dogs, baiting each other with play.... It's all quite special.
As is the cake!
Though the wind is so strong that my son in law cannot light the candles. We suggest just one for now, for that birthday wish and even there, Sandpiper has plenty of help from the wind.
Happy, happy birthday, little one. Can I still call you that, even though youa re now five?
with so much love...








No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.