It's hard to believe that May is behind us. How did that happen? Always beautiful, always bumpy, somehow this year it felt like I held on for dear life, with a grab bag of al the wonders and uncertainties that outdoor life holds for us. So now here we are, in June.
Last night, I did not go to sleep early because my headache (oh, I wonder where that came from?!) had grown to be bothersome enough that after tidying up the house, I went to the clinic to pick up some meds and if you do that on a Sunday evening, you're going to wait two hours for it. But it was worth it. I went to sleep late, but headache-free.
And this morning, I decided that all this worry about flowers is silly and exactly the opposite of how gardens should make you feel, so I shrugged and decided to fret less, do less, hurry less and enjoy the rest of the season without the burden of feeling like failure was just around the corner. That sentiment lasted for about an hour.
Still, I went out with Millie for our morning walk happy and relaxed.
And then we encountered dog number one. Actually, he was across the street. The size of Sadey or Henry, this guy was barking and lunging, and the owner, a strong and not too old owner had trouble controlling him. He wasn't lunging at me, or Millie, though I'm sure we would have, had he not been so preoccupied with growling and lunging at another human, a guy walking nearby. The quite innocent provocateur was forced to retreat and cross the street, and still the dog kept growing and lunging.
And then we encountered dog number two. This one is also large and she belongs to one of my neighbors -- a really nice middle-aged guy who has two other large dogs -- ones that are old and mellow. The new dog is a holy terror and the neighbor has apologized many times for his behavior when he sees us.
And then I thought of another neighbor's dog -- this one is just a couple of house down from me. The man who is the owner is young and he knows to sprint in the other direction when he sees us, because his big dog is also a fierce barker and lunger.
So I ask myself -- what's happening here? In all my decades of life, I remember only one dog lunging at me and my pup -- I was 14 year old and walking my poodle in Warsaw when a dog that was off leash ran to us and started aggressing against my poor frightened dog and before I knew it, I was trying to separate the two and of course, that's always an impossible task and yes, I got bitten in the process and had to be taken to the hospital. But that is one incident. Yes, I had two Henry and Sadey who behaved this way -- rescue dogs that had had a miserable young life and had genetic predisposition to guard and guard they did! I thought this was unusual behavior -- not one that we should see in a neighborhood full of people. And yet here we are...
I wonder if one reason for the exponential increase in the number of such dogs is that there are now many shelters fostering stray dogs that have had horrible lives for one reason or another, and these dogs melt our hearts, and so we want to give them homes, and love and they do give love, to us, but the rest of the world will always remain a threat to them. None of the dog owners on my block are ones who would want aggressive guard dogs. They just took in dogs that turned out to be uncomfortable around strangers. And I see the owners telling their dogs to stop, and I know this will do nothing at all, because it takes great training techniques, patience, and time to tone down the impulse, the very natural impulse of these dogs to guard and attack. And in the process, there is a great likelihood that the dog will bite, because even if you think you can control the animal, the reality is that there are too many opportunities for you to fail.
All this was rather disheartening. But here is my Millie, whose greatest guarding vice is that she will bark if the patio door is open and she hears someone outside. I am, therefore, very happy that there is no patio door at Steffi's House.
Breakfast, on the porch. New book about nature and gardens.
And there my leisurely approach to the day ended.
The trick for me is to create a chain of events that is geographically easy to navigate and to make sure the tough stuff comes in at the beginning, so that I can feel a nice big lift of spirit early on. I drive Millie to doggie day care before noon and from there it goes something like this: go to the dumpster to unload a bunch of recyclables that wouldn't fit in a trash bin, go to the Edge to pay my supplement to the subletter, go to UPS to send back the very heavy hose reel for a refund, go to pet store to buy training treats for Millie for when I'm away, go to grocery store to get cheese and berries and asparagus for a brunch I'm hosting this week, got to a nursery I haven't yet been to this year in search of false sunflower and tall phlox, coming out without either, but instead with a perennial sweet pea, which is something, go to the familiar K& A Greenhouse where they indeed have the false sunflower but not much in the way of phlox, but oh, a rose so fine.., go to the farmette to dump out my overflowing compost and pick up some good soil, go to Steffi's House to water the newly planted beds and to put in two roses except I ran out of soil so it wound up being one and a half of a planting, go to Sally's House to offload the groceries and the purchased plants, go to pick up Sparrow, go to pick up Snowdrip, take them to Culver's because by Monday afternoon these two are starving, go to pick up Millie and there the chain of duties -- many very pleasant, some meh -- ends.
So how is one to feel light and full of appreciation for nature on a day that is this full? Well, you smell the roses along the way. Including the one I purchased at K&A because it was so beautiful and I need an anchor plant for a bed yet to be created. This one:
With so much love...
