Gardening – Page 3 – Gardens For Goldens

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.

Whoever Makes A Garden

To my wayward gardeners (one excused for her good work with the dogs)…

I understand your spring fever, but while you are away, the weeds grow wild and tall.

The garden and I carry on without you – because a garden doesn’t make itself.

The roses have been fed their poo tea and the narcissus tied back.

The paths have been freshly laid. The weeds ~~have been~~ are being pulled and the beds mulched.

And the new entry has been planted while the lilies and lilac begin to bloom.

But be warned – you leave me alone at your own peril –
lest the Dahlias find a new home…

and the poppies multiply…

and the new bed is planted too tight and too tall…

while that hideous shrub that you love is allowed to wither and die.

Don’t worry about me alone…I am in good company.

But be warned: it shall all be mine if you stay away too long.
Possession is, after all, nine-tenths of the law.

“Whoever makes a garden
Has never worked alone;
the rain has always found it,
The sun has always known;
The wind has blown across it
And helped to scatter seeds;
Whoever makes a garden
Has all the help he needs.”
~Author Unknown

Of Gardens and Rescue Dogs

What a garden needs is time,

patience,

love,

nurturing,

hope,

and room to grow.

What a rescue dog needs…

time,

patience,

nurturing,

hope,

and room to grow.

“One of the greatest virtues of gardening is this perpetual renewal of youth and spring, of promise of flower and fruit that can always be read in the open book of the garden, by those with an eye to see, and a mind to understand.” ~ E.A. Bowles

The greatest virtues of rescue dogs are the same.

In Its Season

I have reclaimed my refrigerator. As any West Coast gardener knows – this is not about household tips. It’s about spring bulb planting.

Daffodil bulbs can safely go into the ground in November at the Homeward Bound Memorial Garden. Many even return when left to “over-summer.” But tulips, hyacinths, and others require special treatment. In our warm Valley, there is no such thing as cold storage. So the bulbs are lifted in very late spring and stored in the refrigerator – much to my husband’s disgust. New additions join them for about six weeks of pre-chilling before planting (which means very little room for Thanksgiving leftovers!). Then, in December, as the nights approach freezing, they finally make their way out of the fridge and into the ground. Actually, pots above the ground.

We learned the hard way just how yummy tender tulip bulbs are to burrowing bunnies.

More than 500 Daffodils, Tulips, Iris, Hyacinth, Muscari, Iris, Chionodoxa, and Scilla – some gifted (thank you Lynn and Greg!); some saved – are now safely in their winter garden spots – leaving ample room in the fridge for Christmas cookie dough. A mission accomplished over a couple of beautiful Fall days.

As rain is (hurrah!) on the horizon, I accomplished most of the annual raising of the beds this weekend, as well.

Water is graded away from the kennels and toward the garden at Homeward Bound. Best for the dogs – but not so good for our drought tolerant plantings.

To keep them from drowning, the beds – which have been well dog-trampled throughout the season – get raised each Fall with a mixture of compost and soil before they settle into winter slumber under the untrimmed remnants of Fall blossoms and fallen leaves. Nourishment for a bountiful spring.

Fall is as busy in the garden as spring – only the chores have a deadline determined by cold and rain.

Work done. Eyes dropping. Back aching. Time for a hot bowl of soup and a snuggling dog.

“Every blade in the field, every leaf in the forest, lays down its life in its season, as beautifully as it was taken up.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

Finally Fall

The rain came – and with it fall. Finally, fall.

Signaled by merry frogs,

and colored by asters,

sage,

and Maria’s festive decorations.

We caught the tail end of the horrible storm wrecking havoc in the Pacific Northwest. The best part. Even the poppies are reborn with cooler weather and a fresh drink.

I’ve been hard at work on the creation of a new bed: an extension of our entry way gardens to replace a section of weedy grass and surround Jody’s beautiful metal tree – adorned with the dog tags of those who have come this way on their journeys home.

What is now:

What will be:

In the wind and rain, we even managed a few adoptions – including Sara – now renamed Breezy, and aptly so! She got lost – and no one found her. That won’t happen again.

I also had a visit from the one who got away – actually, the one that my Jackson passed up in favor of his new brother Yogi: Faith.

We have learned that her Megaesophagus (her inability to eat normally, which I wrote about here) is the result of a larger issue: Centronuclear Myopathy (CNM) – an inherited disease in Labrador Retrievers which causes loss of muscle tone and control, exercise intolerance, and an awkward gait. It generally appears between two and five months. We noticed it in Faith and her sister as they approached six months on walks – and then at play. Their legs began to shake and then simply gave way. With a rest, they are soon back at it. But their bodies won’t develop the muscle tone of a typical dog – thus her very elongated look and goofy movements.

It has been prevalent since the 1970’s – and frustratingly, is 100% preventable by simply testing the breeding parents to determine if they carry the gene. As usual, education is the key – so spread the word. Thankfully, she and her sister have the best care with Cassandra, the world’s best mom.

Fall is magnificent – too long in coming,

and too short in staying.

Maybe that is what makes it my favorite season.

Wind in the Willow

The Willow garden bed has always been a magical place. In the heat of summer, light north breezes blow in off the rice fields and into its deep shade, creating an outsize cool and dark refuge in an otherwise blazing landscape. Countless secrets have passed between dog and human on its bench, and a myriad of “going homes” celebrated under its canopy.

Over the past few years, its mighty branches spread beyond their natural border, blocking the light and turning nearby sun gardens into shade. But the sheer weight of its grace threatened to send the entire tree crashing to the ground.

With a heavy heart the arborist was called for a life-saving trim. By the end of the day, half its mighty size had fallen – and darkness was turned to light.

It’s a difficult week for our little plants to be so rudely awakened. With temperatures forecast in the 100’s, they are mourning the loss of the tree’s dappled kindness as much as the Mockingbirds are grieving the loss of their magnificent perch, and the butterflies their shade.

Was that a fairy that sent the warrior tree trimmers running and screeching like little girls? No, just a common snake that used to call its fallen leaves ‘home’.

By this time next year, it’s awkwardly exposed limbs will be covered once again. And the tree will be happier and healthier for its overdue pruning. Sometimes, a little light must be shed to appreciate what lies in the shadows.

“I hear the wind among the trees
Playing the celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.”
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Signs of Summer

Along with 100-degree temperatures are the season’s latest arrivals: Matilda Poppy,

Hollyhock,

Coneflower,

Lantana,

Coreopsis,

Daylily,

And very busy bees. 🙂

A Day of Solitude

“You need a village, if only for the pleasure of leaving it.” ~ Casare Paves

The rescue is my village – and often my haven. But between my day job and my volunteer work for the rescue evenings and weekends, I was reminded that it I have been working seven day weeks for a very long time. We’ve had some joyous times recently – and some very difficult ones. I woke up very much feeling under the weather: mentally- more than physically.

So I slept in very late … and then went where I am always happiest: the garden. My own this time.

“Home is a shelter from storms — all sorts of storms.” ~ William J. Bennett

If you look on the USDA map, the city of Sacramento where I live, and the rescue – which is in open country only 20 miles away – are both supposed to be in the same Zone 9. But any good gardening site will show you that the city has its own micro-climate which is much more Mediterranean. Protected by trees, houses and buildings, it can rise all the way to Zone 14. It is evident in my home garden, where things are still – or already – blooming.

It has been sorely neglected. So today – the roses were pruned, the last of the leaves were raked, and the soggy messes cleaned up as the next wave of rain settled in. In solitude.

Well … near solitude. The hummingbirds kept me company.

And when the work was done – there was, of course, a (wet) dog or two to return to.

“A village means that you are not alone, knowing that in the people, the trees, the earth, there is something that belongs to you, waiting for you when you are not there.” ~Casare Pavese

Tomorrow is Martin Luther King Day and a work holiday. I’ll likely return to “the village” and get my fix of dogs and memorial garden – with a more restored sense of self. Solitude is sometimes good for the soul.

“Inside myself is a place where I live all alone, and that’s where I renew my springs that never dry up.” ~ Pearl Buck