new month

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... 

 

saved, maybe

Had I known how hard this garden project at Steffi's House would be, would have I still been so enthusiastic about it? Probably not. I may have done it incrementally. Consulted with gardeners. Perhaps doing it entirely differently. But, here I am, smack in the middle of it, disgusted with the horrible base (I refuse to call it soil) that wont let me work a shovel into it. 

I want to take this morning slowly, but once again, I am sleep deprived and just a little worried that I'll have to throw more money on the whole thing, money that honestly just isn't waiting to be used for this, in the scheme of things, frivolous pursuit. 

Breakfast, outside, but I cannot read. I have pressing decisions to make, emails piling up -- so, a quick meal...

(farmette peonies: three types of pink, a white, and a yellow)

 

 

And just as I'm about to retreat to the computer, Ed calls and tells me he's ready to meet me at Steffi's House to help me dig.

I put Millie in her crate and head out. 

And once we dig in (ha!), I get this reaction from Ed: "you're right... this soil is impossible to break up with a shovel."

But he doesn't stop there. He goes back to the farmette to get his pick-axe. 

The upshot? In 3.5 hours we get the rest of the bed planted. Well, not entirely -- I still have some bulbs and roots of dayl ilies to put in and about a half dozen other plants that haven't yet arrived, but that's peanuts! Ed really saved this whole project for me.

There was a price to pay: I had to listen to him explain to me how I went about it all wrong. He would have, instead, gotten a truckload of chips and dumped them heavily on the sod and waited for it to die off. I nod sympathetically. There are a million things not to my liking in that idea, but he and I often choose different paths to a goal and having him explain the imperfections of my approach is a tiny price to pay for the effort and work he did for that flower field.

Ed did want to see if I could work the pick-axe. Short answer -- I couldn't. Not much was accomplished by my swinging it. I settled for having him stab at the ground, while I carried the rocky junk away to a vacant lot, planting the tiny plants with the help of farmette soil, and watering all of them. And by 12:30, we stopped. I had Millie waiting for me (and it was quite a wait -- at 3.5 hours, her longest one ever).

In the afternoon I attended to my girl and the plants on the porch, and of course, I prepped dinner. The young family is here tonight -- their last dinner at Sally's House!

I like the chaos of it all. For once I do not want to think about plants and garden work. The distraction is plain wonderful.

 

(Millie remains the star attraction)

 

 

 

(After a rough and happy play, the two dogs exhale...)

 

Evening quiet: I'll aim to post early tonight, with the hope that this will push me earlier to bed and to sleep. It's supposed to work that way, no?

with so much love... 

The Garden

The day's tagline would have to be "aim high, take chances." By definition a chance means that sometimes you succeed, sometimes you fall short. Ed would say that I do not challenge myself in places where I can easily succeed: hiking great distances, backpacking, promoting my work, traveling without reservations -- these are where he sees me exercise caution. Unnecessarily. 

But give me an exciting gardening idea, or a trip that has a blissful moment in a beautiful space, or a writing project that I care about, and I am all in. And I take chances, again and again.

I hired Beth from Bevalli Gardens (her baby) to do work in the (soon to be) gardens of Steffi's House on a whim and a lark. No one would hand over the job of creating flower fields on the basis of two phone calls: one to a landscaper who didn't have time for it this month, and the other to Beth, who came recommended by the guy about whom I knew nothing, except for that he didn't have time for my project.

Price seemed in the range. And she had a half day, today, to put her team to work.

 

I was so psyched for this that I couldn't sleep. Of course. I am very short on seep this week. 

It's a lovely morning and Millie and I have a fine few minutes on the porch...

And then I drive to Julie's house way on the other side of town. Beloved Julie whom Millie sees daily at doggie daycare agreed to watch her today. Lucky Millie!

I had preloaded all my plants yesterday, which was good, because I could then go straight from Julie's to Steffi's House, to meet the digging team promptly at 9.

(let's get to work!)

 

 

The next 8 hours are just crazy for me. I have no other word for it. 

The Bevalli team is large. Local kids, repeat employees, they follow her directions energetically and very very quickly. 

It takes them just two hours to dig up the sod in the entire front of the house,  to pull out the shrubs that I swear are planted in all developments, before all houses, to transplant the crab and the juniper, to spread some dirt and chips, and finally to plant whatever Beth gives them to plant in the one small corner of the emerging flower bed. 

And then they pack up and leave. 

 

 

And I am left with my 70+ plants to put in.

In garden work, the hardest is getting the bed ready. The funnest part for me has always been the planting. I thought I struck gold by hiring someone to dig up the place. That proved to be anything but true today.

Beth's team did remove the sod. And they did dump a scant amount of planting soil and of course the chip. 

However.

The planting soil was nowhere more than an inch high. Beneath that? Hell.

Yes, it's been dry, but that does not excuse the stuff they call garden space in these developments. Solid hard clay interspersed with rocks. I thrust the shovel into it and make no progress. It's like hitting a pavement. And of course, nothing will grow in that. I have to remove buckets of the stuff, incrementally, (and dump it to lot next door) and replace it with farmette composted dirt. (Ed brings over filled pails of it.)

It is such slow going! And it is exhausting! Hitting a hard surface again and again and taking out so little. This is not fun, It's miserable work.

I take two breaks: one to go to the farmhouse to get more sunscreen and a mug of coffee that I call lunch, and the second -- to go to the farmette for more soil.

 

So where do things stand now? By 5 p.m., I have to stop and drive over to get Millie. I managed to put in barely a third of what I wanted to put in. 

 

 

But will it look good eventually?

Maybe. And it's a big maybe. I used several plant suppliers and at least one of them is not a place I will ever buy from again (small plants, poor root structure). Beth's plantings are okay, but they are rather  conventional, both in species and color. In fact, the orange oriental lily was so garish that when they left, I moved it to a less prominent location. I may move some others next spring!

So, it's a work in progress, all of it. And this was to be just the beginning, I have the back garden waiting for me... next week, two days before my trip.

Yes, I took a chance. Aimed high. Worked hard. We will see what will come of it!

But guess who did have a great day? Millie!

Julie said she was perfect, had no accidents, and was sweet as can be. This was such good news, especially since Millie will be staying with Julie when I go away in June. Happy happy pup!

In the evening I crawl from one task to the next. I have zero energy left. Tomorrow? Oh, I'll go back to it, spend three hours and put in probably two more plants. 

with so much love... 

 

crunch

Millie and I are stepping into a period of a great big crunch. (Which is different than cringe -- a term that a certain granddaughter used recently when I tried to sound current in my use of slang.) I get up early not because Millie asked me to, and not because I had enough sleep (certainly not that!), but because I wake up remembering yet another thing that must be done today.

It's a lovely day once again, but I don't know how to organize it best. Should I take Millie to doggie daycare so that I can do my weekly grocery run? Or should I leave her at home for it, and come back straight away with my groceries? Except that I need a trip, too, to the Hardware store, and the UPS returns have been sitting in the car for several days now. I could take Millie along for that. But should I? Do hardware stores allow dogs? 

I bring my computer to breakfast, which is sheer blasphemy. My sacred reading time over my morning meal, outside... But who am I kidding? I don't have time to read.

Ed comes over in the late morning. I told him I need help with the hose reel. 

The what? Hose reel? You bought a hose reel? Whatever for?

It's for Steffi's House. I will be watering the new flower beds every couple of days in this weather, starting tomorrow, and I need a hose on each side of the building.

Why dont you get a standing metal hose hook? 

They're flimsy. This reel is solid! Here, look!

Unbelievable! Do you know what mechanical work went into designing this thing? It must have cost you a bit of money!

It was on a Memorial Day sale, and Wirecutter said... (Wirecutter is a NYTimes rating service of consumer goods. Of their choosing.)

You cannot take Wirecutter seriously! (Ed is not a fan of a place that urges you to spend more money on so called "better" goods.)

But they're right: if you don't buy a solid reel, the thing will tip over!

That's why you should just get a standing iron holder that you put straight into the ground and that costs one tenth the amount of a reel.

It's rare that I am convinced by Ed's opposition to a purchase I make, or want to make, but this time he is correct. A reel is unnecessary and expensive.

But I already unboxed it and it comes with all these variously shaped metal pieces... Which is why I needed your help in putting it together.

Let's go have lunch at Tati's and you can think about it.

 

 

 

Millie gets a pup cup. Pure happiness.

 

 

 

Home again. It's such a pain to rebox the reel. An incredible pain. But Ed is patient and we sit down on the floor and put this heavy duty puzzle (because it is a puzzle!)  back together again. An hour of work. And I tell him -- I'm remembering how fun it is to work on something with you. His calm becomes my calm. There is laughter. We have to redo it from the beginning about a dozen times. I vaguely recall that I have a huge list for this day. Millie is mystified by the boxes, the tubes, the wheels. But we persevere and finally it is boxed and ready to join my pile of stuff needing to go to the UPS store.

In the meantime, a couple more roses show up. Jackson & Perkins (the leading rose shop online) tells you not to plant them in the ground until Fall (but yes, put them for the time being in a pot, hence the need to go to a hardware store - they have cheap plastic pots). Spring or Fall, Not summer. By their estimation we are in full blown summer. Judging by the weather this week, I'd say they're correct. Other places say keep them covered up to two weeks but do plant them as soon as you can. So where did today's prickly bareroot  rose  come from? I do not remember. And which ones are supposed to be planted tomorrow and which ones are to wait until the back yard is ready for them? I don't remember. Give me a break, I have dug up or otherwise acquired close to 100 plants. I know where most are to go, but on the roses -- well, it's a puzzler.

I order groceries online. No time to go to the store.

And the trip plan I was working on for the past days? I've thought of changes I have to make. And wasn't I to decide on the menu for the dinner party I'm hosting 12 days from now?  

Oh! It's time to pick up Snowdrop at school. Millie, crate time.

 

My granddaughter is great at helping with the pup. She walks her...

... while I finally get organized: I drive Snowdrop to her activity downtown and from there go back to Steffi's House. The landscaping person asked me to soak the places we'll be digging up tomorrow because it's been so damn hot and dry that it's difficult to rip out sod and plant stuff. 

And in taking my hose to do this job, I see that it's not long enough. Darn. I order a new one. Meantime, this one will do. Just barely. 

Do I have time to dump the compost bucket scraps at the farmette? I do not. It's close to 7, Millie hasn't been fed, I haven't been fed, and there are these roses that maybe need to be soaked or maybe just wrapped up and left alone.

I dump the compost anyway. Oh, it's pretty here right now!

Supper? At home: a box of wheat crackers and an egg. Can't be bothered with reheating soup.

Tomorrow is the big day for my new flower fields. I've been anxiously looking forward to it for many weeks. I'll be working all day outside. And Millie? I rejected the Rover sitter in the end (when she said "please do bring the crate in case I have to pop out for a few minutes..." How do I know she wont keep my pup locked in the crate for most of the day? It's not as if I have a spy camera into her house! I also cancelled the new doggie daycare that is in fact open Saturdays (her current one is not), because they asked to keep her the full day, starting at 7 a.m. for observation. Millie has never been in doggie daycare for more than 3-4 hours and this is a brand new one. No way will I hand her over for the day! In trecounting my woes to one of the trainers at Millie's current doggie day care, I was stunned to hear her say -- oh, I'll take her for the day for you! Such good people! But this means I have to drive Millie to the small town north of us where she lives. Early tomorrow. And yet, here I am, thinking about the writing I still have to do tonight.

Okay, have I convinced you yet? I'm in a crunch. A happy one, but still, a time crunch.

with lots of love... 

 

yawn

When was the last time you pulled an all-nighter? Or close to an all-nighter? I suppose my transatlantic flights are unintentional all-nighters in that I rarely sleep on them for more than an hour, if that. But it's been a very long time since I was so fired up by something that I just couldn't stop, and before I knew it I was well into the wee hours of the next day. And then along came last night: I was working on a trip-related task and I could not stop. And then it was so very late that I forced myself to shut it all down for the remainder of the night. I vaguely remember walking Millie at some ungodly hour, thinking that perhaps it'll keep her happily sleeping late into the morning.

But of course, she didn't sleep late into the morning. She'd already slept a lot in the evening. She was twitching to go by 6:30. Yawn...

As I was fixing foods for the morning meal, I got a text from Ed saying he'd be over for breakfast. And so Millie an I waited, though I'm sure Millie felt displaced from her seat.

(morning song...)

 

Still, the girl likes Ed and of course, so do I.

 

I'm working still on my trip planning and I go back to it as Millie sleeps. She does go to doggie day care just after noon. I continue my work in the coffee shop, then pick up the kids and retrieve Millie.

 

 

 

It was an interesting Millie pick-up, because I ran into a friend whom I haven't seen since she adopted two of our farmette kittens! She now has a large white retriever dog. Young, huge, friendly. Quite coincidentally, another dog owner had just picked up her dog which, too was a large young white retriever. Two dogs, back to back, almost identical in appearance, and very different in temperaments. And there was Millie, wanting to play with both, even as they were nearly ten times her size!

(my friend and her Goose!)

I take the kids and my pup to the local farmers market where we meet up with Ed. 

Several little kids come up to us and ask if they can pet Millie. The answer is always "yes of course," but I am surprised how well trained these youngsters are around dogs. They know to ask first. They know to go slowly. Impressive!

A brief play and reading session at Sally's House...

(an unusually high interest in a computer game!)

 

... and then the kids go home and I work a little on re-potting roses, and then quickly return to my trip work. Late night again today? I think so! I'm on a roll!

with so much love... 

 

Millie would like to have none of it

That burst of summer air may be thrilling for me. I certainly do love eating breakfast on the porch and lingering there afterwards with my dog and my book.

 

 

 

(Wait, where's Millie? Oh, there she is! Um, that's my seat girl... I guess I'll take the other one..)

 

 

But as the day progresses, Millie spends more and more time underneath the couch. Who can blame her -- it's the coolest spot in the house. The outside world? It may be okay in the very early morning, but once everything heats up, my pup is wondering what the heck happened to lovely, cold winter? On our walk, Millie lets me know that she would like it if I chose a less sunny path. When she sees a patch of shade, she lies down in it. Our progress is very slow. And I scrap the idea of going to the dog park. What she does not need today is a run across a sun-baked field.

 

I put aside the garden planning for today in favor of trip planning. It's pleasant in the sun-less Sally's House, I have to hand it that. I work away until early afternoon, when I meet up with Ed (along with Millie) at Tati's. We were aiming for a lunch there, but the food preparer went home early so we satisfy ourselves with junk food (a cinnamon roll), the crumbs of which keep Millie happy. 

Afterwards, I do a bunch of watering, including at Steffi's House. When the temps hit 90F/32C, and you have 85 little pots with plants waiting to go in, and newly planted roses and a lilac in a garden, and several dozen potted flowers on the porch -- well, you're going to be lugging a lot of water to keep all of them alive. I'm not even trying for "thriving." Just strong enough to survive this heat wave.

Ignoring the heat, I cook up a pot of veggie soup for supper. I need a week of easy meals. Reheated soup sounds about right. Five nights of it, coming up! (Okay, with a salad, but that takes very little time if you are as swift as I am with washing lettuce.)

Evening: I hardly know where to turn. Work on planting plans? Make a list of what I should take on the trip that starts exactly in two weeks? I do neither. I play with Millie then go back to the computer to tidy up some trip details. The door to the porch is wide open, the night air cools the house. Millie is happy. And so am I.

with so much love... 

the world is brimming with toys

Today is plain hot. In September, days like this make you wish for a cool autumnal breeze, but for us, it's pure joy. Well, for Millie and me. I am sitting on the porch in my shorts and sleeveless t-shirt and I'm thinking -- my, this feels good. (Millie looks for shade: that fur coat is made of... fur.) There is construction noise, but it hardly matters. I have only 3.5 weeks of life left in Sally's House and honestly, for all my griping about its shortcomings (the noise, mostly the noise!), it's been a great place for my girl and me. Yes, the upstairs overheats, and I haven't turned on the AC at all, even though we are in the high 80sF/30C today, because the downstairs is sunless and therefore quite cool, so I searched the internet and found that the world of cooling fans has evolved since the days of those spinning blades behind a cage. I purchased a fan that is tall and so quiet, and so refreshing, and now our upstairs can remain AC-free and very livable, even for my furry girl.

Breakfast, with peonies from the farmette flower fields.

As I said before (and I am sure I'll repeat again and again), I am absolutely knackered from making lists (can you tell I've been reading too many British and Irish books?) and adding two items for every one checked off. Still, take a look at my rose waiting to go into the yard at Steffi's House:

How can you give up in retreat, when there is such beauty riding at your feet? 

But my day is full. I am now making lists as to which separate lists I need to check today, this week, this month.  

And still, Millie remains unconcerned. Oblivious to my lists, to my own disquiet (because what if I forget something?), she steps out each day with joy. And curiosity. I walk her along the usual path. She puts her nose to the ground and searches out every conceivable toy left there for her, on purpose, she is sure of that! The clump of grass, the wood chip, the stone, the dandelion puff, the piece of discarded plastic, the paper cup tossed carelessly -- they are all for her and the world is full of such surprises! Why I should take these out of her mouth puzzles her deeply. They're small, they're free and they're everywhere! And so she goes back to her search and always comes out of it with yet another newfound surprise. Some, I dare not investigate too closely. They look dark and ominous. Take it out, remember to wash my hands at home. (Should I put that on my list?)

Oh, Millie! 

(brushed and ready for play) 

I have a day of outdoor work before me this coming Saturday. Millie needs a dog sitter. I search Rover (a website of local pet sitters) all morning long for the perfect person, realizing of course that there is no such perfect person. This one doesn't have a yard, this one has too many cats, this one has photos of very large dogs with very large teeth, this one does not allow pets on furniture, this one wont take young puppies, this one doesn't respond to requests... Oh, I could go on! 

At some point I shut down my laptop, take Millie to doggie daycare and make it just in time for the long postponed dental visit. How good it is to have a fine dentist! And with a goldendoodle at home, so the hour passes with stories of all the trouble that dog causes. 

From there, it's the usual kid pick up, Millie pick up, and a return to Sally's House.

And in the evening? I work on some gardening plans and yes, you may wonder why why why do this now, and I'll answer -- this is why: read this article (gifted from today's NY Times). I find nothing more restful, more perfect, more sublime than a pretty and comfortable chair or bench, set in a beautiful landscape, with a view toward growing things. In this, the farmette was less than perfect. The porch was the only summer place for viewing the farmette's generous offerings. It had to be from behind screens. Too many mosquitoes to enjoy a restful moment gazing out at the flower fields. Ed liked to sit at the picnic bench (on the rare day that the bugs were less threatening). I wasn't a fan of it. First of all, the picnic bench is right by the trash bins and the compost heap. And of course, it wasn't comfortable. You couldn't totally lean back and release whatever weighs heavy on your. But mostly, as you will have read in the article, it's hard to sit still for long when your garden begs for you to step in and help it along. At Steffi's House, on the other hand, there will be less work. And I want an open front porch that looks out at the flowers. I want a bench in Millie's fenced yard that has the scent of lilac and rose coming to me. I cannot wait to accomplish this! 

So in between Millie care, and grandchild care, I work on my plans, for the move, for the garden, for the trip, knowing that each will give me the ultimate sense of contentment and satisfaction. I need do nothing more!

with so much love... 

 

Memorial Day birthday

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...