Category: Nature

The Lost World

The failing 40-year-old fence had to be taken down before it fell down. Shared with our 92-year-old neighbor of 20 years, it took some convincing, first – and then it took some major clearing.

While our side was relatively clear of vegetation, her side had become a jungle of tangled, massive ivy that had swallowed what was once one of the most treasured and admired gardens in the neighborhood.

I’m now sure exactly when her husband passed; I knew that she had already been living alone for at least ten years before we moved in two decades ago. The garden was her pride and joy. She would spend hours tending to the magnificent azaleas, rhododendrons, ferns and hidden treasures. This is the view of one of them from our side.

Until about 10 years ago, she would bring in gardeners to do major clearing, pruning and tending. But as time went on, that ceased and the ivy began swallowing up the garden and the fence with it.

When our Yogi threatened to bounce it to the ground in his hunt for critters, it was time to address it.

And just about the only way she was going to allow it to be cleared for the replacement was if someone she trusted did it. So the task fell to me.

She is of surprisingly good, but frail, physical health. Especially considering that she has smoked her whole life and had heart bypass surgery 10 years ago. But the years of living alone have taken their toll. While she can recount stories from decades ago, her short-term memory now fails her. If I work when it is cool in the morning, she keeps watch from her patio, calling me over every few minutes to ask the same question again and again. I am happy to abide her, but found that my most productive time is after she has “gone up” for the night…at 3PM.

Part of the offer was to do a kindness to a long-time neighbor on a fixed budget; part was to see if I could recover her lost gem – something I knew she would appreciate and a gardening challenge for me. I got more than I bargained for.

The first task was to ensure the required clearance for the fence work so it could get underway. It began with providing a clearing from which I could branch off left and right, and a way out when returning all of the cleared vegetation – some alive, some very much dead.

I uncovered mature trees that were never planted – they just burst their containers and found ground for their roots;

a tree limb, the weight of which was the only thing holding an entire section of fence in place;

and ivy trunks as thick as trees.

So far, three towering piles have been taken away. And that is from a single small section of the yard required for the fence project.

While the fence was able to be replaced and Yogi secured, the project of reclaiming the garden will continue as time allows. I am careful not to prune too much from her treasured shrubs and trees, but as the light can now enter, the structure and beauty begin to show through again.

The lost world, rediscovered. And with it, a treasured memory will hopefully be restored.

Spring Tuning

There is a magical moment, just before the orchestra begins, when the oboe gives a note and the instruments are tuned in a chaotic staccato of strings, horns and reeds. A short, breathless pause follows as the conductor raises the wand – before a symphony explodes in synchronized waves of sound. The gardener knows this as early spring.

A tulip appears,

then an iris,

an apple blossom,

and tiny Clematis buds unwind –

as if the whole garden is standing tall and ready – preparing to come alive.



We are firmly in that magical period of early spring now.

The heart can literally skip a beat in anticipation –if only the back didn’t ache from the thought of the overwhelming work ahead! Roses and fruit trees to be fed – weeds to be pulled – lawns to be seeded – paths restored – mulch laid. The list is endless. But attacked with joy.

“Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.” ~ Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

There is another sign of early spring – even more miraculous. More to come.

Special Delivery

Saturday was puppy going home day. While all the preparations were being made, and Chubbs received his morning massage,

another pup (of sorts) was getting ready for his arrival.
On Tuesday, Ms. London gave birth to baby Paris.

Yes – rescue animals come in all shapes and sizes at Homeward Bound. On the private side of the fence, our president provides refuge to geese and ducks and roosters – and the biggest, oldest pig I have ever seen.

Most recently, goats and Alpacas appeared.

Just a few days old, baby Paris is already taking the world by storm.



But it’s no fun being the only little one. So while she, the elders, and the goats looked on, Ms. Autumn prepared to deliver a playmate.

It’s hard to focus when you have such an audience.


But sometimes, it’s a good thing there are others standing by to lend a hand.

With a little assist, baby Gabriel entered the world on a beautiful and unseasonably warm Saturday morning…a gorgeous rose-grey Alpaca boy was born.

Welcome to the world, Gabriel.



And happy lives to all our going home puppies, too!

Chperwerksek: “I remember”

We made our way back to Klamath, CA again this year. It has been a lifelong annual trek for my husband who is from the Yurok tribe. He spent his summers there as a boy and teen at their family run, “Dad’s Camp” – a long span of beach where the Klamath River meets the Pacific Ocean.

Dad’s Camp was acclaimed up and down the coast for the huge runs of chinook salmon – and his grandmother’s famous blackberry pies.

The resort/campground owned by the Williams family was a summer home to hundreds of family members, friends, and visiting fisherman for decades until the river changed and wiped the campground out.

Up until a few years ago, we camped on the beach with enough extended family to ward off bears and mountain lions. There is nothing like the rest you get in a tent on the beach as the rhythm of the waves lulls you to sleep.

When the patriarch of our group passed away, people scattered, and we moved to the river. Beautiful and peaceful in its own right – but different.

All things change in time – but this year saw the greatest. A record low number of salmon were forecast to return to spawn this fall. Despite the winter rains, five years of drought and restricted flows due to upriver dams had a devastating impact. The lowered and warmer water birthed a deadly parasite that infected up to 90 percent of the juvenile salmon in the river while warm ocean conditions reduced the fish’s usual food sources.

With severe catch limits in place, fishing was curtailed about as quickly as it started. The fisherman who once lined both banks, battling shoulder-to-shoulder were replaced by empty beach, seals, and pelicans.


At least their catch was good.



In between meals, the seals sunbathed – finally at peace on their beach as nature intended.

The emptiness was a stark and sad reminder of our man-made impact on this magnificent place my husband once called home.

We found solace among the redwoods that still tower. Such majesty.

There is hope for the Klamath salmon. The owner of four hydroelectric dams on the Klamath has applied to remove them by 2020 which may improve the river’s year-round flow. But we are unlikely to return as a family to our beloved camping spot on the beach.

We hold those memories in our hearts. With a few small mementos that carry the sound of rolling waves.

Chperwerksek: “I remember.”

 

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.

The Truest Things

I had a friend I thought I would grow old with, but the friendship was false.

I had a title that I thought fit me until it did not.

I thought I knew the heart of my country – but lately, I am less sure.

Life unfolds in mysterious and unpredictable ways.

The truest things I know are found in what comes forward from the earth,

in the miracles of the natural world,

the connections of two souls adrift, and found –

in the innocence of a child,

deep in a dog’s eyes,

and in the wonder of joy restored. From this:

to this.

Eddie found his forever home this weekend.

“As change is the order of Nature,
And beauty springs from decay,
So in its destined season
The false for the true makes way.”
~Alice Carey, “The Time to Be”