Camp starts tomorrow

Her name was Lola. She was not a showgirl. (Have you ever read the life story of Barry Manilow, the author of those lyrics?) She was a seven year old dog, looking very much like a black and white boxer. Lola has passed by our house during porch breakfast.

Today she and her owner paused. Lola likes small dogs but is scared of pretty much everything else. Millie is vocal in ways that you can't always tell if she is scared or eager to play. Lola came up the stairs to Steffi's House and I opened the gate so that the two dogs could meet and greet. 

And they did. And Millie was delirious with joy. Lola is the first dog in this whole neighborhood that Millie got to know up close and personal.

There are a lot of yappy barky growly big dogs around here and their owners try to keep them away from other canine encounters. Rightly so, I suppose. But this has frustrated Millie no end and it has encouraged her to bark in protest and wag every time a dog walks by. At doggie daycare, she plays with everyone (but especially her two BFFs). At home, she is allowed to play with no one. It's been a struggle for her.

And the neighborhood dog owners? Nice people, albeit closed off in their own lives. If I wanted social contacts, I'd go to any number of the neighborhood activities. Morning coffee every I dont know how often. Evening drinks, posted on Facebook. A monthly book club. There's even an annual picnic, coming up, on the "village green." But I've resisted most of these. No time and my head is elsewhere right now. I've now memorized the names of three neighbors in houses across the street. I'd call that progress!

This morning, a family with a dog and a kid in a stroller passed by. They're frequent walkers in these blocks, so much so that Millie doesn't bark her head off when she sees them coming. Only an occasional wistful woof. Today, the stroller child reached out and snipped off a rose as they passed Steffi's Garden. The mom gently told him "that's not for picking only for looking." Personally, I think that if I'm going to plant flowers so close to the sidewalk, I can expect some animal/child damage. I do want to engage people with my garden. You could say that this morning, I engaged!

Roses for today? The very bold and bright ones. I tended to prefer these when I first started including roses in my garden, back in late May or early June. Now, I'm much more interested in the very light pastels. Yellow, peach, pink, with cream overtones. Still, I'm glad I started with these vibrant ones. Nothing says "rose" more than a splash of bright burgundy-red in your garden.

 

 
 

 

 

 

Ed stops by to check up on stuff...

And then I am off to drop off Millie at Julie's while I drive to Chicago to pick up Primrose for Grandma Camp.

I have an afternoon and evening with the young family and it is just so good to be with them!

 

(my daughter is baking a clafoutis for dessert)

 

 

 (dad with a workbook and Juniper)

 

 

I ask Primrose to put together a playlist for the car ride back to Wisconsin. She takes my phone, moves her thumbs around quickly. and only toward the end does she ask her mom for some titles they like to listen to that she may have forgotten.

 

  

 

Take-out Thai for dinner, followed by the clafoutis.

 

 

 

After dinner, we watch an episode of Juniper's favorite show these days, Is It Cake? Humor is contagious. 

 

 

Funny how a mood can be helped by a few hours of this -- just being here, with the girls, their parents, the clafoutis...

I Uber down to my hotel for the night. Same one, in I swear, the same room, with the same city view.

 

 

with so much love...

 

authentic

To be your authentic self. I haven't entirely bought into that idea. My experience has been that people who seek authenticity full force, hurt others in the process.

And yet, I've known people who are a mask to the world, to themselves and that, too, is tough to deal with. I'll stay with this for now: no lies, no hurts, but stick with gentle honesty. the kind that doesn't hurt, to the extent that's possible. Sometimes it isn't. But you have to try. That, I feel, should be the goal.

Here's my own story then: Ocean has always leaned toward that goal: honesty, and I do try my damnest to tread carefully. Respectfully.  I'm not saying I've succeeded always. Well, with honesty -- yes I think I've done well there. With "respect?" That's always in the eyes of the beholder, isn't it... It's like asking someone "are you a good parent" as opposed to "where your mom and dad good parents."  You have to look at it from both sides. (Though to digress -- good parents are probably those who love their kids to pieces and have at least some confidence in their parenting, even if their kids think they stink at it.)

So here's my problem now: I have a set of challenging days. A close friend is not well. Respect calls for quiet on that subject. What do you care, after all, if someone I know is going through challenging times? Many people are facing supremely challenging times. The problem is that the spillover here is tremendous. It has far reaching consequences for me and will continue to do so for a long while. I'd say that since my divorce in 2005, I cant think that anything has shaken me as much as this. And I say this having buried two parents, one of them having had a horrible last year of life, and having had a mega crisis over two rescue dogs this winter, having had to adjust my living arrangements with Ed, incurring costs that I certainly had not expected in my long term planning, having friends with cancer and kids of friends with cancer -- all horrible stuff that I managed to swim through somehow, teetering a little but in the end, escaping without great damage. And now, here I am, trembling, and so I have to signal it here because, dare I say it, otherwise my writing on Ocean would be, well, sorry to revert to that word but... inauthentic. Perhaps not an outright lie, but as close to it as you can get without actually stating an out and out untruth.

I am okay because I have been bred to be okay, and because, as someone in a pickle once said -- what else can you do but cope and be okay? I mean, is there a choice? Also I have Ed, family -- small, but real, and great friends, and of course God or someone equally benevolent invented Zoom so it's not as if you can't have another warm body (or seemingly warm, given the heat of this summer) right in your living room.

And, I remind myself that this too shall pass and besides there's Millie and the roses, both of which were with me for breakfast on what is slated to be one of the last of the very nice summer days.

But here's the thing -- I am spending a lot of time on the computer -- on messaging and Zooming and the like -- so my day may seem rather bland in the retelling, even though I assure you, bland would be the last word I'd use to describe it. 

Worry not: tomorrow I am starting grandma camp by going to Chicago to pick up one of the participants. Camp will look slightly different this year -- longer, and with an appearance of some younger ones and disappearance of older ones and truly I am making adjustments as we speak, but camp it will be. (One of my youngest participants will be Millie who is not yet 9 months old. We will see how that goes!) But this I can say for sure -- it will not be a boring week!

In the meantime, I plant my Ruby Spice Summersweet and my Swamp Rose in Millie's yard today, while she assesses the impish possibilities the garden presents. Munching grass or bark are past favorites but she is ready to branch out.

And I check my other roses, admiring the varied blooms, delighting in the new buds forming everywhere.

And no, I haven't forgotten my other flowers, because there are a couple hundred non-rose flowers out there after all...

(the never photographed back corner of the yard)

 

(for a first year and a very late planting, the sweat pea and clematis are doing quite well, climbing up to the porch)

 

And I'm thinking -- how trite it is to say it, but it surely is a pretty world out there, what with the flowers and the birds and the fields and forests and your loved ones in it... A very pretty planet indeed. A shame we take it for granted and treat it with such disrespect. But then, our attitude toward the planet is much like me writing a post, or being authentic out there, or anything else for that matter -- sometimes you dont realize you're not at your kindest until you see the damage your carelessness has caused.

A rose bush arrives by Fed Ex. The good rose growers take off all the leaves before shipment. It's healthier for the plant that way. What they don't remove are the thorns of course, and today's rose is abundantly thorny! Big ones, little ones. I got sizable cuts before I even took the rose out of the box.  It's the Lark Ascending rose. Lovely peachy pink (it will be someday)! But so thorny.

Evening. I'm binge watching a Danish series (A Nearly Normal Family -- the title tells you a lot, doesn't it?). I'm on episode 5 out of 6. Oh the things a mom will do to protect her kid! Talk about family drama! And horrible boyfriends! This cannot end well for the good people in the story! (Millie chooses to sleep through it all.)

with so much love...

reconsider

Here is a sentence that would summarize my day: maybe I should move to the coast of Maine, black bears and and dark woods with strange, threatening noises notwithstanding.

The thing is, I used to believe that getting away, through travel, or even moving to a new place, removed you temporarily from the stresses of the day. from boyfriends who dont love you, from the demands on your time and on your mental bandwidth. But changing your environment offers its own stresses. If you move, the pain of that is tremendous. If you travel, so often you come home dead tired. Sleep deprived, weary from packing and unpacking. And of course, there are the black bears in Maine and Millie doesn't like new things.

But there's no denying it -- life is not rosy right now here in south central Wisconsin, despite the fact that I am fully entrenched in planting roses in Steffi's yard. When Ed asked me just now -- cant you lose yourself in some fun activity? You need to find one! -- I was exasperated! I have plenty to do with little time to do it. Kids, dogs, sick friends -- this is my life right now. 

("what's wrong with kids and dogs??!")

 

 

But, on the upside, the morning walk was misty-lovely...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breakfast was lovely...

And since Friday is Millie doggie daycare day, I was able to plant a rose. This was no small production. The rose is supposed to climb around an obelisk, but I chose to get a cheap obelisk rather than a solid heavy one and I have this terrible feeling that the rose (Polka, which is a heavy climber) will topple it. So I pounded it with a hammer to get it deeper into the ground and in so doing, the screws came off and the obelisk wobbled even more. Ah well, this is a problem I can postpone for another couple of years. It'll take that long for the rose to grow high enough to start messing with the dumb cheap obelisk.

Another gardening task for me today? Watering the front garden. We have 40% chance of rain in the forecast, but we've had that before and the rain never came -- why should it -- 40% means more likely it will not rain. Watering was actually very pleasant.

(a rose to admire)

 

Less pleasant was picking up my Alpine Blue car. Millie was definitely pleased -- she never got used to riding in the front seat of the slick new car. And I was too -- my music, my door opener, all there. But the bill for Henry's folly? close to $1000. And then of course there were the usual maintenance charges. I've always disliked throwing money into a car, but I do realize that Alpine Blue is now considered an old-ish car and the repairs will only start to multiply.

(Millie, happy do be home after riding in these awful cars!!!!!)

 

 

In the evening, since I could not step out and pick a bucketful of wild blueberries (that's a Maine thing, right?) I consoled myself with a hefty bar of good chocolate. Millie looked to see if I would share and when I didn't, she dozed off.

with so much love... 

the new normal

It seems that the new normal (for a while at least) is going to be rather bumpy, so it's time to adjust. Find the moments of calm and delight. 

Which is easy to do at breakfast time, what with the blooming flowers, and roses, and the fruits of the season and Millie...

Speaking of anxieties (were we doing that?), I have finally accepted the fact that my pup belongs to the class of dogs that hates, hates, hates with a passion anything out of the ordinary, Since it's decent weather, I decide to take her for a longer walk. Usually we just go to the end of the long block and home again. Or the dog park for exercise. But today I thought we should go for a proper walk. Along the bike path that is just a few steps from me and runs along the very beautiful wetlands (that also border the farmette lands). 

Well now. This is something new! I tug at her leash to encourage her forward. No. She resists. Tail's down. I coax and cajole. Nope. She refuses. But Millie, I want to see the backs of the houses across the street from me. I hear there's a beautiful garden there.  Nope.

I carry her so that I can view the gardens -- that's how scared she is of the new.

At home, I open the windows downstairs. I haven't done that in July because it's been so hot that the AC has had to be on most of the time. I do open the door (and let flies in!) so that Millie can go in and out sometimes, and so that I can refresh the air in here, but the windows have remained closed.

Millie does not understand. Is the outside world encroaching on her space? What's happening? Woof!

I propose we go to the dog park after her nap. I see her look at me with suspicion: that means a car ride, correct? She hides. I take her out. Again she shakes in this new vehicle. Yesterday I put her in my lap for the last minutes of our trip. Today I let her sit and shake riding shotgun. 

She doesn't really remember the dog park. We haven't been to it since before my trip to Poland.  Familiar, yet unfamiliar.

She's not exactly excited to be here, but she trots alongside (and occasionally rests in the shade)...

And importantly -- at least she gets some exercise, since long walks in the neighborhood seem to be... not her thing at the moment.

Oh, Millie! Sometimes I forget how young you still are! 

When she naps, I think about how to create a new normal for myself going forward. Here are some options: move to the coast of Maine and live on blueberries in the summer and learn to catch fish for protein. No, I'm not a fan of black bears and besides, old women living alone by a rocky coast -- that's asking for trouble.  How about this: pack the car with essentials and with Millie and head out to unknown destinations, staying in campgrounds or in motels with thin walls and soiled carpets. No, Millie would hate all that novelty.

Do you see "escape" written all over this post? Yes, daydreaming of it, but not really wanting it. My life is here, in lovely Steffi's House, with Millie, Ed nearby, and of course the roses.

Roses for today? Look at the shapes of these flower heads. I love the cupped ones, like this:

But also the rosette of this Honey Rose (it's edible!):

Nature gives us so many gifts... 

with so much love.. 

 

bumps and turns

We are experiencing a few bumps along our path here at Steffi's House. Let's start with this morning: Millie woke me up at 5:40. Lick lick, wag wag. For a second, I consider putting her in her crate, but decide that she is old enough just to wait until I'm ready to get up. She'd been out at 10 pm. She can wait until 6:30 or even 7. I roll over and fall asleep again.

I get up at 7. Millie is under the bed. Well that's okay! Good girl Millie.

Not so fast. When we finally do go downstairs...

 Millie in sunlight)

 

 

...I smell that bathroom smell and sure enough, she'd gone to the bathroom. On the bathroom floor. I have to smile. She'd seen me go there -- it's an obvious solution for her when mommy Nina refuses to get up and walk with her. Still, we start the morning with a clean up. I then canvas the rest of the house to make sure there are no other surprises. All good. We go out, she poops again. Ah, a tummy upset. Too much excitement?

Breakfast: I switch gears now. From Millie, to my friend who is not well. 

 

 

 

I need to stop by and visit, but when? I have a much delayed car maintenance appointment at 9. That means I have to take Millie to doggie day care earlier, even though I know she needs a good morning rest. Ah well, I'll pick her up as soon as my car is ready.

And on the way, I attend to my ailing friend, briefly. Big bumps there. Smooth road not visible yet. Will it ever be visible? Sure, unless we all careen off the cliff of life and fail to wear seatbelts in the process.

And speaking of seatbelts, I then go to the car place to leave my Alpine Blue car for servicing. And to put in an order for a seat belt replacement. Henry had thoroughly destroyed the back belt. Time to get that fixed. I am given a loner for the day -- a beautiful 2026 Subaru, with bells and whistles. I love that the side mirrors flicker when there is a car in the dead zone! Oh capitalism! How you like to mess with people's wants and desires! (No, I'm not getting a new car. You don't miss that, which you do not have. Except when they give you a loaner that's spiffy clean, has not a single sticky piece of food stuck in some hidden crevice in the back, and has a light that goes on when someone is in your blind spot.) 

For once I have a quiet day. I still have 6 plants (well, maybe seven) that need to go in, but they're not here yet, thus gardening is at a standstill. It may rain later, so I am holding off on watering. 

I feel drained. 

Ed asks to meet up for lunch at Tati's Yes! 

Then? More calls, conversations, consultation. I do pause to rip out some sod. Digging away at something tough can be good for you.

(roses in bloom...)

 

 

In the late afternoon, the car service people call to tell me that the car needs more work and the seatbelt wont be in until Friday at the earliest and yes, I can keep the loaner until then.

The thing is, I forgot to stop over at the service place to pick up Millie's car seat and so I arrive at Happy Dogz in this spiffy new car that smells like a car straight off the factory floor, without a familiar place for her to rest. The girl is not a fan of car rides under the best of circumstances. I put her in the front seat so that I could keep an eye on her and rub her ears with my right hand. 

She trembles the whole 18 minute ride home. Poor pup -- no soothing words help. It is all just too strange for her. 

At home, I make chili. I haven't been doing dinners lately and I'm beginning to think that I am not feeding myself well (except for breakfast!). A pot of chili, even split with Ed, will give me at least four or five dinners of solid food. 

Millie rests, and me -- well, I try to think about my roses. 

  

..And about Millie. All the way until I deem it late enough to go upstairs. She loves this routine: outside, stairs. bathroom, bed. So familiar! Not like a dumb car that has absolutely no familiar scent attached to it. Yes, Millie, but it has these flashing lights on the side mirrors! Millie looks at me seemingly with pity. They say doodles are very judgy. Maybe, but I see compassion in those lovely brown eyes...

with so much love... 

 

pause

(Millie, trying hard to use up the entire bed; she has quite the stretch!)

 

Another pretty August day!

However. When you have a close friend who is not feeling well, you put on hold thoughts about good weather, rose garden ideas, lovely moments of peace on a beautiful morning, outside. Oh, you still have breakfast. Outside in fact. With roses in a cup and roses in a pot.

 

 

 

 

 

But your mind is on logistics -- how to help here, how to deal with that, what's a good path forward under the circumstances. This is very different from yesterday's problem solving, where there were obvious solutions with strategies on how to achieve them. Change the drain pipe, build a swale. When a friend has taken a sharp turn for the worse, solutions aren't necessarily your primary concern. Finding good professionals, doctors, whatever -- yes there is that. They'll take care of the medical aspects of the situation. You have to figure out what your role can be outside of treatment. You'll tell me -- be supportive! Easy to say, right? Exactly how -- this is something you have to figure out, one day at a time. Making mistakes along the way.

I have many very long conversations on the phone today, consulting about all this. 

 

I booked a half day for Millie at Happy Dogz. Yesterday, the groomer said she was extremely playful with the other doodle who was there for a trim. She told me that this seems to be in the nature of all doodles. I would certainly agree that Millie's defining characteristic is that she wants to play. No, this does not mean she needs a playmate pup at home. Home is her place to pause and regroup, and attend to other things in life -- rest, eat, learn, cuddle. But she is a social creature and she is extremely active. A half day with her friends is a far better option than a quick trip to the dog park. It's worth the drive, right Millie?

 

 

 

In the meantime, I have work to do. Outside, inside and of course, there is all the stuff going on with my friend. Millie plays with Adie and Oliver (her two best friends at day care), I attend.

 

In the evening Ed comes over with fresh corn from Stoneman's Farm. That's a good thing -- I'm low on groceries, low on cooking enthusiasm, low on supper ideas. Corn, nuts, a salad. Good enough! 

with so much love... 

action!

You hate wasting your time fixing mistakes and pushing for corrections. You wish there had been no mistakes to begin with. You'd rather, oh, I don't know -- carry buckets of heavy stones maybe, anything rather than fix mistakes. For one thing -- you dump the rocks, they're gone. Mistakes and blunders have to go through stages of discussion, contemplation, negotiation and only then, maybe resolution. Nevertheless, this day belongs to fixes and I must say, I may be fortunate enough to have good resolutions to many of them.

First, the sweet corrections that have nothing to do with mistakes: Millie has her monthly grooming session (pretty much a requirement for poodle haired doodles). So, a wash and a haircut today, and she really does need a wash -- there's play grime in that coat! Too much mud licking and paw digging in a very wet yard! I'm excited to have her cleaned and trimmed.

Our breakfast, on the porch, lovely if a bit warm for her. Oh, and here's the thing about growing roses: I do not think there are many gardeners who grow these plants without intending to bring some blooms inside. Every once in a while.So, I snipped a rose for today's breakfast (even though most of my plants are babies and blooms this year are few).

 

Millie rests, then I take her to the groomers and do errands while Steffi's House gets her monthly cleaning. I'm excited about this as well. This is how it looks after the cleaning:

What? You do not see the difference?? No dust, no bits of grass, everything is sparkly clean (and it will remain thus until my pup comes home after a rain shower later this week)!

Now onto the real mistakes/corrections. And no, I dont mean the UPS return I take care of! That's a nothing issue. My big problem has been with the water run off from the new construction that is next to Steffi's House. I've written about it, so I wont repeat myself. In one short sentence, their water runs into my property and sits there. 

I called the city engineering guy and he listened sympathetically and promised to come over. I also texted the construction team rep and she promised to send someone from their buildings and grounds people as well. Both guys came and I spoke to each and here's the amazing thing: they both acknowledged that there is a problem and they both offered solutions. Relatively easy ones (moving the drain pipe and directing it away from my property), to slightly more complicated -- digging out a swale to catch the water before it pours into my yard. I still will have moved most of the roses out of the most troublesome spots, but this may indeed save the lilac and the hibiscus that are still there. Too, my moisture loving new plants for the area (don't laugh -- I ordered a Swamp Rose and also a Summersweet) may love damp soil but even those two are not fans of standing water.

So, maybe I wont need to sue anyone (and if you know me, you'll also know that I am the least likely person to sue because, well, I dislike spending time on fixing problems and do it only when absolutely necessary or someone is going to be hurt by my inaction)!

Here's another "problem" that I refused to fix: I wrote a book. I did almost no promotion for it. Actually, I did hire someone to work on this, but she came up with a goofy plan that I hated so I fired her and she gave me my money back and that was that. I did make one TV appearance and I attended one book selling event at the public library. I did not like doing either so I decided to just forget about promotion. If no one buys it/reads it -- fine with me. I'm not good at selling myself to anyone. (I don't allow money making ads on Ocean either for the same reasons.) Ed says I do not understand capitalism. Oh, I understand it alright. It's just not a good match, unfortunately, for my personality.

But then today I got an email with a book review of Like a Swallow. I don't know if it's AI generated. It likely is that. I don't really care who actually put these paragraphs together, I just thought it was a very nice synopsis, so I am going to print it for you here (skip it if you've read the book):

 

Like a Swallow: Looking Back at a Polish Childhood by Nina L. Camic is a compelling and deeply personal memoir that offers readers a window into a childhood shaped by two dramatically different worlds. Moving between postwar Poland and New York, where her father served as the Polish Ambassador to the United Nations, Camic recounts the challenges of growing up between cultures, political environments, and expectations while trying to understand where she belonged.

One of the book’s greatest strengths is its personal perspective on a significant period of history. Rather than presenting the contrast between Eastern Bloc Poland and 1960s America solely through political or historical analysis, Camic experiences these differences through the eyes of a young girl growing into adolescence. Her movement between a relatively closed and repressive society and an increasingly turbulent, staunchly anti-communist America creates an unusual backdrop for a story about family, identity, and growing up.

The memoir also captures the emotional complexity of adapting to constantly changing circumstances. Camic must navigate different social expectations, cultural environments, and ways of life while facing the ordinary uncertainties of childhood and adolescence. Her experiences with childhood fears, adolescent love, and the gradual disintegration of her family life provide an intimate emotional layer to the broader historical setting.

Another notable aspect of Like a Swallow is the way personal and historical change become intertwined. As the world around Camic changes, so too does her understanding of family, relationships, belonging, and herself. The story demonstrates how major political and cultural circumstances can influence the most personal aspects of an individual’s life, particularly during the formative years of childhood and adolescence.

The memoir’s journey ultimately leads Camic toward an unexpected place filled with new challenges and opportunities. This development adds another dimension to the narrative, transforming the book from simply a recollection of childhood into a story about resilience, adaptation, and the unexpected directions a life can take.

At its heart, Like a Swallow: Looking Back at a Polish Childhood is a story about growing up between worlds. It explores identity, family, cultural adjustment, historical change, childhood memory, and the search for stability amid circumstances that are often beyond an individual’s control. Camic’s personal account offers readers an opportunity to understand history not only through political events, but through the lived experiences of a young person trying to find her place within it. 

 

It came from someone who also invited me to participate in a book festival in Winston-Salem North Caroline this September. This was the reason given for showcasing it in one of those meet the author events:

 

We have taken a particular interest in Like a Swallow: Looking Back at a Polish Childhood and believe it would be a compelling title to feature at the Bookmarks Festival of Books & Authors, taking place September 26–27, 2026, in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

The festival brings together authors, readers, publishing professionals, booksellers, librarians, and literary enthusiasts, creating an environment where readers can discover books that offer distinctive stories and perspectives. Within that setting, Camic’s memoir provides a meaningful opportunity to introduce audiences to a personal account of childhood shaped by migration between cultures, political change, family circumstances, and the complexities of growing up.

Featuring Like a Swallow at Bookmarks would provide an opportunity to place the memoir in front of readers interested in memoir, history, family stories, cultural experiences, coming-of-age narratives, and personal accounts connected to major periods of social and political change.

The book’s appeal also extends beyond its historical setting. At its center is a universally recognizable experience: trying to understand oneself while adapting to circumstances that continue to change. Camic’s childhood fears, adolescent experiences, family struggles, and eventual encounters with unexpected challenges and opportunities provide emotional points of connection for readers regardless of their own backgrounds.

The contrast between postwar Poland and 1960s New York further gives the memoir a distinctive perspective. Readers are invited to experience these environments not simply as historical settings, but as places that shaped the author’s understanding of family, culture, identity, and belonging.

For these reasons, we believe Like a Swallow: Looking Back at a Polish Childhood would be a valuable addition to the Bookmarks Festival of Books & Authors and a strong candidate for Gallery Display consideration. Featuring Nina L. Camic’s memoir at the festival would provide an opportunity to increase its visibility, introduce her distinctive childhood story to a broader literary audience, and invite readers to discover a deeply personal account of growing up between two worlds during a period of significant historical change.

 

You might view my inclusion of these blurbs as a correction to the "mistake" of never promoting my book. Authors spend a huge amount of time traveling to places for book signings and such. I would see that as a painful way to spend precious time. As for participating in this particular book festival (which I have learned is the biggest book festival in the Carolinas) -- I would rather not go of course. I certainly wouldn't do it to sell Like a Swallow. But I have a tiny bit of me that is curious about such things. I give my attendance a 5% chance. Hey, that's better than 0%!

 

In the afternoon, I dig out yet another hole for yet another plant. But this is the end. There's not a new rose bush out there that I want. Nor any plant, for that matter. I actually drove by K&A Greenhouses and didn't stop. I do have 10 plants still coming from elsewhere -- some are replacements for shipping mistakes -- but I do not intend to look for more. Once those are in I'm done. [Well, until it's time to put in bulbs in October, but that's a whole other aspect of gardening. No one likes putting in bulbs. You do it for the reward of seeing color pop up in your garden come April. Not for the joy of gardening now.]

 

Millie is ready to come home in the late afternoon. There's my girl!

We have a quiet evening at home, thinking about other mistakes that take significantly more work to be corrected. Okay, maybe she isn't thinking about that at all. Hers is a simpler life of food, shelter, play, and love. She needs all four. Lucky girl -- she has all four.

 

 

with so much love... 

damaged?

The rains eventually stopped and though my bucket shows many inches of rain, and the weather people say it totaled to more than the whole rest of the month did, it honestly did not feel torrential or especially damaging. Just a summer rain. Farmers were cheering. As were most gardeners. 

I get up slowly to see what's what outside, though I already know what I will find: the front looks good...

 

 

 

The back? Less so. The squishy ground by the fence, holes filled to the top with water... 

  

 

 

... the newly planted roses moving around as if in raw cake batter if you stepped near them.

I sit down to breakfast, but do not feel the quiet serenity of the morning. Too busy studying my list of plants and trying to figure out what to move where.

New Dawn and Lady of Shallot are the two roses that are worst off. They really need to be moved quickly. Some of the others may or may not be damaged. I can't tell the degree of saturation. My new lilac and mockorange also need to be planted. I'll get to that today as well. And I have to rethink where to plant the Lark Ascending rose. She was supposed to go where I'm now moving one of the others. [You have to love those names! David Austin roses are all like that and some of the other breeders also tend toward the poetic. I'm looking, for example, at another rose that tempts me called "Lady of the Lake."]

I spend nearly five hours reworking stuff in the water-logged yard. The bigger issue is looming before me: the builders are responsible for directing water to the street or to drain ditches. Not to the neighbor's yard. All those years of teaching Property Law are suddenly coming back to me. It was always so theoretical -- other people's property problems. Water is a big issue as I'm sure you know. Too much of it, as a result of someone's manipulation, or too little -- also as a result of interventions. Yes, I can make a big deal of this, but do I really want to? And amass legal fees? Lawyers working on property claims charge by the hour. No contingency arrangements here because there are no big payouts. You sue to get the guy to stop flooding your land, not to give you large sums of money. Ed's advice is to start small. Try to mitigate the damage. Redirect the spout, that kind of thing. But I see that small adjustments will never give me a full resolution. Their property isn't saturated! It's graded to flow toward me. You're not squishing along if you step on their lawn (as I did, just to check it out). Ah well, I'll meet with the builders and see what they say.

(The less troubled roses outside the fenced yard...)

 

 

Millie comes home in mid afternoon. Julie tells me she played nonstop with the other dog there. I ask (with lots of ambivalence) if Millie would be happier with a playmate here. Julie answers with a hard no. Millie does best when she is focused on her person at home. She has a good off switch then and knows how to slow down when she is overtired. I wasn't really thinking of adding a pup. But it's good to know that both she and I are good this way -- together, just the two of us.

(at her watch post)

 

 

With so much love...