This isn't specific to Millie. I've seen it in other dogs. At around 8 months, just when spayed, instead of nicely settling into adulthood, your pup goes hog wild with a burst of energy you think properly belongs to sheep herding canines. Say what? -- you're thinking. What ever possessed you to go upstairs and start chewing on a kid book behind my back? Downstairs again, you hear a carpet being moved about. Millie? Is that you? -- as you look over and see her picking up the edges of your Turkish rug to see if little pup teeth could possibly undo the complicated weave.
Millie is on meds to keep her calm in this post-operative period. They're not working. She wants to be outside running. She wants to go up to other dogs and sniff their butts. She wants active play! Zoomie time! Over the couch and around the corner and away she goes! And she finds ways to get my attention. Negative attention to be sure, but anything is fine to spark up her day. My once velcro pup has discovered that she can keep an eye on me through the stair rails from upstairs.
I follow her up. She looks at me expectantly. Haha! You know I always go upstairs if I want to have "an accident!" Oh Millie...
Whatever happened to that quiet, morning nap??
Breakfast. Mine, inside. Air is unhealthy. Millie, you already ate!
I tell her to follow a treat into the crate. Which, to her credit, she does. But when I close her door and step outside to do some planting, I hear her unhappy cries and barks. I give it half an hour. She doesn't let up. I put down the shovel and go back in.
But here's a great gift for me: Ed agrees that the air is "good enough" to do some work outside. He offers to come over with his pick-axe and dig out some holes for a few roses (the soil is that bad!). This is superbly helpful. I take Millie out with us and tie her down (to the hose). Ed breaks up the soil, I carry buckets of it out toward the vacant lot. (How would have I planted my garden without that lot? I've offloaded hundreds of bucketfuls of clay and rock there.) We then move inside the fenced area. More holes. And while we're at it, he does a big one for my potted lilac (which will be much happier in the ground).
Definitely my hero today! It would have taken me many days to work a shovel into that hard clay. I put in just one rose -- the rest are still sitting somewhere waiting for transport.
Yes, I am a complete rose enthusiast this year. I've planted a few before, but it was always in an off-hand manner. Not only where they completely wrong for farmette fields, too, I'd always held that prevailing belief that roses require too much intervention. Disease, pests, beetles -- all of it. I don't want fussy flowers. I have enough work with unfussy ones. But of course, the world of roses has changed dramatically in recent decades. Much of the change we owe to David Austin -- the British rose guy who successfully bred the goldendoodle of roses. One after another. (Just like the goldendoodle or other poodle combos give us smart, affectionate dogs, which is what most people want at home, so too David Austin roses bring together what gardeners love: bushes that are disease resistant and importantly -- that offer a repeat bloom all summer long. Some never stop, some come in waves. But they do promise flowers way past the typical June rose season. (Very sorry to hear that the next generation head -- David Austin's son, died today. David senior had lived til he was 92. His son was not so lucky. Happy to hear that the family -- he had three children -- will keep the business running anyway. Such a legacy the Austin Davids have left for all of us!)
I've read a lot about these roses -- the floribundas, the climbers, and I've looked at hundreds of photos from greenhouses. There are flower shapes (for example "cupped") that are nothing short of enchanting. I have studied the colors too -- initially drawn to the vibrant ones, I am now convinced that the most beautiful are the pastels. Soft tones of pink and orange.
Roses do require patience in that they really need time to develop their full potential. Years of time. I splurged on a couple of three year old ones, but I haven't the budget for more of those. No matter. I'm old but not that old. I'll probably live to see all of them bloom their heads off! Gardeners are by nature optimistic. We always believe that the result of our efforts will be stunning and will improve the landscape considerably -- for us, for others too.
In the evening I leave Millie for just a few minutes. Ed is out and he needs my help to put away the chickens. At this sunset hour, the flowers are always at their finest.
That's true in Steffi's House as well, only Steffi's flowers are still babies.
We'll see how this all comes together by summer's end (here's that hopeful optimism again).
with so much love...
