Category: Gardening

A Postcard

I have “met” many interesting people through this blog. Animal lovers. Gardeners. Photographers. Writers. People close to home and people from the four corners of the earth. But never the author of a quote I have shared. Until now.

Recently, a request came to the rescue from the author of the poem “Winter is an Etching.” It was quoted here. Sometimes, a quote inspires a photo; more often, I go searching for a quote to match an image. In this case, I was already familiar with the poem. Its 18 words perfectly capture the seasons that a gardener knows so well:

“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.” ~ Stanley Horowitz

As soon as I captured the image, I knew that Stanley’s words “winter is an etching” should accompany the photo of the mockingbird taken on a grey, foggy morning in the Memorial Garden.

Stanley wanted to know where, when and how the photo was taken. I was happy to share the details. Through our conversation, I learned that Stanley’s poem was published in the November 1983 issue of Reader’s Digest and that he is working on a new book of poems to be completed this spring. I was curious to read his other writings, so he hunted down a copy of a book he published in 1974 entitled “Behind the Glass.” It is a collection of aphorisms – 400 of Stanley’s observations on everything from nature to human nature.

From an article found online, I learned that Stanley was looking at paintings to inspire his new book of poems about the seasons. How ironic given that Stanley’s words not only inspired my photography but my gardening which – when done well – is painting with nature.

Stanley is a private man, but he allowed me to share our meeting here. And he has allowed me to share his writings from “Behind the Glass” – words I will treasure along with my new friend. Here is the first of many more to come:

“Spring is a picture postcard from heaven.” ~ Stanley Horowitz




A Change In The Wind

“In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four and twenty hours.” ~ Mark Twain


Friday, I played hooky for a few hours and snuck out to the garden. Within minutes, I was peeling off layers like an onion and thinking it was time to move the winter clothes into storage. A week of mid-70’s in early February gets me dreaming about planting spring annuals, but I have wised up a bit through the years.

The city gardens – tucked in and protected from the elements creating their own micro-climate – scream “spring!”



But the Homeward Bound Memorial Garden knows otherwise. A few brave bulbs, the rosemary, and the Ceanothus have appeared,



but the rest of the garden felt a change was in the wind – literally.

It blew in from the north on Saturday – 25 mph of cold in our faces and dropping our reality down a more seasonable twenty degrees. I know. Quit whining. You’re California-spoiled.

Truth be told, none of us are quite ready for spring yet. Spring means summer – and those 100+ degree days will be here soon enough.

So stay tucked under the covers little bulbs, and don’t quite unwrap yet tiny buds –


We’ll take a few more weeks of sweatshirts and Golden blankets.

And some rain would be lovely, too.

“The course of the seasons is a piece of clock-work, with a cuckoo to call when it is springtime.” ~ Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

The Return of the Ninja Gardeners

A few brave roses somehow survived frost, hail, and cold and were still attempting to put on a show on a foggy Friday. Such is gardening in Northern California.


But the arrival of crocuses and narcissus signal – it’s time for the roses to go.


Our gardeners are like ninjas; rarely seen – but they leave a trail of weeded and dead-headed beds behind as evidence of their stealth powers. Once a year, I am able to wrangle them together for our annual rose pruning day.

Ina and Dee cheated and snuck in a little early – graciously lightening our load a bit.

I think Ina was afraid that if she did not tackle the iceberg roses personally, we would see a repeat of this summer photo.

Still, with nearly 100 roses, the advance team was appreciated. There was plenty left to tackle. Arriving early on Saturday, we managed to complete all by mid afternoon, despite the impossible distraction of puppies in the yard next door!

And thanks to our ninja hauler – not a trace of clippings was left behind.

Wrangling the group for a photo is a whole different challenge. I have yet to capture the illusive Dee on camera, but the rest of them did not escape my lens – and that includes Nala, our gardening companion for the day.

Thank you gracious gardeners, for another successful prune day. Spring cannot be far away!

How Did It Get To Be So Late?

“How did it get so late so soon?
It’s night before it’s afternoon.
December is here before it’s June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?”
~ Dr. Seuss

The Calendar says “December.” I knew it was coming; even wished it so. But it arrived so quickly.

The valley fog has set in.


We had our first real rain.

The leaves have nearly finished falling; the beds are all raised; the bulbs – nearly 500 of them – are all planted.

The Dahlias are lifted and stored for the winter. And the best indications of the season’s close are my aching knees, the tired bees…

and the stack of garden magazines by my bedside for inspiration. For gardeners – winter is for imagining. Sometimes, our plans are larger than our reality. And sometimes, not.

Last October, the front entry was a barren stretch of dirt.

The weeds had been killed off. The ground covered with cardboard, leaf mulch, and dirt mixed with compost to “cook” for the better part of a season. Some tiny starts were installed late in the fall so their roots might grow strong before spring (Ceanothus, Lavatera, Smoke Tree, Lupine, Iris, Crepe Myrtle, Barberry, and Iceberg roses).

This was the design that I thought might take two or three years to reach maturity.

In the spring, I added Lavender, Asters and Miscanthus grass divides. And one season later, the bed exceeded all of my expectations.


The bed has created a perfect surround for the remembrance tree that our president and her father crafted with the original tags of dogs who have come through our doors on their journeys home.


In the garden, I have learned the benefits of patience. If you can clear a bed, fill it with good soil and nutrients, and let it rest for a season, the reward may be more than you imagined.


So it was with Ariel and Mason.

These two very special senior citizens – a bonded pair – have been waiting a long while for their forever home. They were both of advanced age and in need of medical attention when their human passed. Destined for a shelter, their odds were not good. An area partner intervened and recognized how much they needed each other. Placing this mismatched pair would take some time…something we could, thankfully, provide to them. We thought we found the right place once, but a little misunderstanding about the purpose of chickens put a quick end to that.

Still, they kept the faith and waited patiently. This week, they went home with a longtime volunteer. We could not have picked a better human for them if we had imagined one all winter long.

Happy lives to you two. We sure are going to miss you around here!

Autumn is the Hush

“I’m not ready for winter” is the refrain I hear as the fog sets in and the volunteers don their winter wools. But I am. Or nearly so.

The garden is putting on its final show – a glorious crown to a long, hot summer.

As if it saved up all its energy for a final encore, displaying its growing maturity in tall drifts of purple, orange, pink and gold.



By the end of the month, the raising of the beds will be complete,

the dahlias lifted, the bulbs installed for spring, and the remaining leaves turned to mulch. Then, the garden and I will both be ready for a long rest.

“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” ~John Steinbeck

Reading about wildflower seeds, I tried an experiment and set some packets of wild Columbine, heirloom Poppy, and butterfly mixes in the soil and simply stomped them into the ground. If nature can self-sow, why not help her along?

“Over everything connected with autumn there lingers some golden spell—some unseen influence that penetrates the soul with its mysterious power.” ~Northern Advocate

With so many “going-homes,” even the kennel is quieter with room in the inn. It goes in waves this way. Enjoy it while you can; linger longer with each pup until the next transport arrives. You will hear no complaints from them.

“No spring nor summer’s beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one Autumnal face.” ~ John Donne, “Elegy IX: The Autumnal”

If the tempo of summer is allegro – fall, despite all of its chores, is adagio. A slower pace. A gradual letting go. A last romp in grassy fields and golden sun before the rains and mud.

“Autumn is the hush before winter.” ~ French Proverb

We Now Return to Our Regularly Scheduled Program

For the first time in months, I have a weekend without a work project – and without a puppy. Little Journey has found her forever home.

Now named Charli, she greeted her new Mom with a smother of kisses and flat out stole her heart. But she picked the right heart, because this Mom is an experienced dog person and a good leader with kind instincts. Charli has grown kids to play with, a new Dad who is making her steps so she can reach the people bed, and a one-year-old canine cousin named Max who will keep her in her place. She has a big backyard, lives by the lake, and when she is old enough, will become Mom’s running companion. I could not be happier for her – or for her new family.

Another delight: my wayward gardeners have returned as fall has arrived.

Ina finished making the shed immaculate and moved the Lilac tree to a much happier home. Peggy and Steve were back with Mary who was being watched carefully having spent two days in intensive care for eating raisins!

And Maria set the stage for fall with her scarecrows and adorable pumpkin patch.

Anna is permanently excused (until Rose pruning day) for her work as an adoption counselor – and care of her latest charge, Nala.

The garden, meanwhile, is stunning.

Once towering stalks of budding Asters are now bent and beautiful mounds with their purple blossoms covered in bees and butterflies.

The Dahlias have never been larger or continued their blooms so late in the season.



They have thrived in their new home.

And Going Home photos are now staged in front of turning trees – creating loads of heavenly leaf mulch to lighten the clay soil in the beds this spring.



It is time for reveling in the colors of Autumn, raising the beds, and planting bulbs before putting the garden to rest for winter.



And hopefully, a brief hold on puppies!! Happy life, Journey Charli girl!

Return to the Garden

“Where will you begin?” she asked.
“At the beginning, I guess.”

This sign was posted over our shed door. The weeds are indeed laughing. Two hours after the last puppy of Irish’s litter was adopted, in rolled the van with six more! I can’t show them to you due to a promise we made to the kind human who brought them to us. She saw that they were in need and intervened. We won’t give her up as she may yet return with more.

Needless to say, my hoped for return to the garden was again delayed. And the weeds took full advantage. The blueberries were overrun, the paths were overtaken, crabgrass invaded, and the garden shed disappeared in a mass of cobwebs.

Maria refused to weed the herb garden bed; she said that it was all to be gone or she was washing her hands of it. I couldn’t bear to see it all dug up and sitting empty; we have months to go before the winter. So it has been reclaimed as a community bed. Let the whining begin.


As the last litter numbers dwindled over the course of a week, I was able to spend a little more time in the garden. Bit by bit, it is getting there. And with our last two little fluff balls now safely home, the garden is mine ours. And the weeds? Well who is laughing now?!

The Dahlias are beautiful.

The blueberries are once again peacefully co-existing with the California poppies and smothered in the pine needles they love.

The grapes are still producing…in September!

And as our rivers are still full from our long wet winter, I am watering, watering, watering to bring the garden back to life.


Now that the weather is beginning to cool, the gardeners, too, are making their return. Maria is planning her October display, Dee cleared out the daylilies,

Rob rebuilt the leaf mulch container for fall,

and Ina cleaned the garden shed!

Puppies are a joy – and they need what they need when they need it. Many of their new families stay in touch and I delight in seeing the pictures of them growing as fast as the weeds in the garden. (This is Mocha with his new big brother.)

I am so proud of them. I miss them a tiny bit. Still, I am happy to be back in the garden.

Beckoning Fall’s Glory

The Delta Breeze finally blew in off the Bay, bringing an end to the stifling heat and still air while providing welcome relief to the parched garden. The days are still warm, but the cool nights provide a long-awaited respite after the months long scorching summer sun. The ground holds its drink better; the wind breathes life back into exhausted plants.

Fall is my favorite season. Here, it is a second spring extending our flowering season from September through Thanksgiving. The vivid colors of summer give way to the richness of gold, crimson, and purple velvet.


Instead of the giddy anticipation of spring or the trumpeting of summer, fall is a time for soaking it all in as the sun turns gold and the season slowly turns another page.

“Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night; and thus he would never know the rhythms that are at the heart of life.” ~ Hal Borland


Which is not to say that fall is not busy in the garden. The beds must be raised in preparation for winter rains, the bulbs planted, and the leaves mulched. And then, there is all the catch up required after a summer of distracting puppies!

The garden work provides time for reflection while surrounded by the chirping of tiny frogs in fading rose blossoms,

the call of birds gathering by the hundreds, and the watchful eyes of a beloved friend.

The low asters beckon to their relatives towering above them – all started from one transplant from the Historic Sacramento City Cemetery.

They will soon create violet waves across the garden. And as the leaves change color and drop to the ground, the garden will remind us again of life’s impermanence.

“The days may not be so bright and balmy — yet the quiet and melancholy that linger around them is fraught with glory. Over everything connected with autumn there lingers some golden spell—some unseen influence that penetrates the soul with its mysterious power.” ~ Northern Advocate

Here’s to warm afternoons turning to sweaters, and green turning to purple and gold glory. Here’s to fall.

What Becomes A Garden?


I knew something had changed when I drove up. The unkempt garden signaled a passing.

The sorrow was unmistakable in the moss and web-covered eaves,

encroaching weeds,

and empty chairs where once everyone gathered.

For years, the eclectic garden by the ocean was shaped and tended by one of the two innkeepers.

I learned that he had passed last spring. The grief was profound; the daily tasks too much – and the garden fell into disrepair.

If our stay was longer, I would have asked for the tools to restore some semblance of order – as a tribute to the gardener who kept it so well.

I think about what will become of our beautiful Memorial Garden someday when I am gone.

I know that it is the cycle of life for nature to reclaim what is rightfully hers.
Whatever we carve out of this earth is only temporary.

Nature was here long before us – and will, hopefully, long survive us.

But a garden carries the souls, I think, of those devoted to it.

From dust it is born –
to dust, it is someday returned.

Late Summer’s Tiny Gems

After a blazing hot summer, the garden is in that in-between moment when the summer riot turns tiny and quiet until the fall steps forward in all its glory. You have to look closely in a sea of green for the garden’s little gems.

Hummingbird-loving Cuphea ignea.

Butterfly favorites Jupiter’s Beard,

Lantana,

and Butterfly Bush.

The purples and pinks of Pentas,

Penstemon,

Chives,

And Cosmos bespeckle the beds – their large drifts long gone.

Dainty Veronica tries to stand tall,

while bright Rudbeckia hides under the White Orchid tree to escape the hot sun.

Only the Dahlias and Sunflowers dare to be bold.

And if you look very, very closely – you might just find some other tiny little gems hidden in the garden.

But that is a story for another week. Stay tuned.

To Rule A Garden…Or More

“Anybody who wants to rule the world should try to rule a garden first.” ~ Author Unknown

I found this unattributed quote and it struck me as true. Nothing humbles like a garden – a tiny microcosm of the world where distinct forces work best in harmony, but are sometimes pushed into doing battle for survival and the chance to ensure future generations.

I’m not really sure that anyone ever rules the garden; to assume so would tempt Mother Nature’s scorn. But to tame and transform a garden calls upon many of the same qualities required of great leaders.

1. Collaboration
A successful garden requires a close union with nature. To be truly connected to the earth demands a genuine interest and care for the welfare of all who live there: the flowers and trees, the birds, bees, butterflies, and tiny toads. Each has a role in the lasting success of the garden. Learn to live and work together.

2. Vision
A gardener must be practical and grounded – making the best of what they have been dealt in wind, water, temperature, and soil. But a gardener also keeps one boot firmly planted in the future – looking seasons ahead in decisions about where to plant sun and shade, laying a good foundation with well-nourished soil, and considering the needs of all for space, habitat, and life essentials.

3. Observant
Mother Nature will not be controlled. But by studying with patience and watchfulness, she will share her lessons. A gardener earns her respect by being gracious and persuasive, but never controlling.

4. Empathy and Tolerance
We share our gardens with countless creatures – each simply going about the business of living their lives, feeding their families, and ensuring their survival.

This is their home, too. Share with empathy, compassion, and an appreciation for their unique contributions to the garden.

5. Innovative
A gardener’s failures are many. Learn to accept them with grace. To succeed means to be a perpetual student, tester, and inventor. What you can’t renew: transform. For the things you can’t (or shouldn’t) change: learn to adapt.

6. Ethical
We have but one earth. Treat it with care. Make sustainable choices and live by the motto: do no harm. The passerby in awe of that oversized, out-of-season flower does not know – but the earth does and carries any lie.

7. Passionate
A garden is built of passion and purpose reflecting the heart of the gardener who is blessed to work and walk among its inhabitants.

Without passion, a garden is merely a chore. Be motivated by passion, but lead with humility.

Slowly, The Evening Comes

It is a rare treat to be in the Memorial Garden at sunset.

After the feeders leave, a hush falls over the entire rescue as pups – exhausted from a day of play – bed down with full bellies for the night.

“Slowly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon, like a magician, extended his golden wand o’er the landscape.” ~ Longfellow

Instead of dogs barking, the air is full of the sounds of birds chirping, bees buzzing,

and wings fluttering while everyone gathers their own evening meal.

Bunnies come out of hiding and watch with curiosity as I go about my weeding and dead-heading; and you get the sense that eyes are upon you from everywhere.

Our president and co-founder owns and lives on the property that she and her husband purchased and lease to Homeward Bound. They moved to the county when their suburban house outgrew their rescue dream.

She told me once that the minute she laid eyes on what was then a barren field with only a house and barn – she knew she was home.

What has been built for the dogs is nothing short of a miracle requiring many hands and able bodies.

And yet, the best part of the day is when all the volunteers go home and quiet falls over the property like a blanket as the sun lowers on the horizon.

A perfect place to call home for those who are homeward bound.