Category: Thought

Seasons Pass

Fall blew in on a mighty, cold, north wind.

It toppled our beloved Willow tree, but left a trail of purple blooming asters in its wake.

Just a couple weeks ago, we were still brushing the century mark. Now it is sweater weather.

The two-day wind storm stoked anxieties about more wildfires. We were thankfully spared here.

I want to hide in the garden away from the news and the sense of dread I feel about the election ahead and the wildfire of hate that is sweeping across our land.

History tells me that we too often repeat errors from the past…

and…that seasons pass.

You should never wish away time, but I can only hope that this one is on its way out.

Seventy Eight Days

The world feels small. Not so much to the tiny creatures that inhabit it;

they are oblivious to our reality.

It is hard enough for them to live in the reality we have created for them – like the unprecedented heat wave that grips the west right now.

But for humans; our world has diminished. As the pandemic expanded, we all became more isolated. Our view narrowed, our differences widened, and our resilience has been tested.

Some of us are resigned to the times. Others resist, setting us back further.

Once, there was a time when adversity would bind us; we would weather storms together. Or am I misremembering? It seems so long ago.

“We’re all islands shouting lies to each other across seas of misunderstanding.”
~ Rudyard Kipling, The Light That Failed

When it comes to the pandemic, there is nothing for me to do but buckle down, ride it out, and make the best of a terrible situation.

On other fronts, it is time to go to battle and stand up for the things I hold dear.

There is a second storm brewing. One for truth and justice and humanity…a fight for the soul of our nation.

78 days. Less actually – to ensure that our voices are heard and counted.

It is an eternity, and a blink of the eye. And finally, an opportunity to come together and set something right.

“We don’t heal in isolation, but in community.”
― S. Kelley Harrell, Gift of the Dreamtime

Life Lives in the Gray

I have not written lately; I have not been able to find my words. I simultaneously feel like I have an obligation – and no right at all – to speak. I feel ignorant and naïve about the depth of the pain that has swirled around me. And I feel lost; I barely recognize my world anymore.

The endless drone of falsehood and hate; the path designed to wear us down.

Each day obliterating another norm of decency and democracy. How did we come to the point of such divisiveness? Or was it always there and I just did not see?

Life lives in the gray; I heard that phrase today.

The black and white heart is a dangerous thing. Forcing sides into unyielding chambers will always fail to reveal understanding and truth. The rigidity in our thinking is frightening; the encouragement to embrace this path, alarming. We cease listening, we stop learning, empathy is forgotten, and we arrive at a place where we are seemingly incapable of resolving our differences. If you are right, then I must be wrong.

I thought, naively so, that we were grounded in a belief system that honored truth, dignity, and fairness. That has been upended. For too many, it never existed. We have moved beyond the ideal of a melting pot to a boiling simmer.

This moment is full of danger and fear, but also a chance for change…if we can only listen. I hope it is not fleeting.

“That peoples can no longer carry on authentic dialogue with one another is not only the most acute symptom of the pathology of our time, it is also that which most urgently makes a demand of us.” ~ Martin Buber (1878—1965)

Choose Your Garden

You can create whatever man-made environment you want – just as you can build false societies.

But these artificial landscapes require strict restraints, constant oversight, and continuous, often heavy-handed, feeding to maintain control. Without it, they eventually return to their natural state – often in bullying or survival-of-the-fittest ways.

Natural gardens spring from what was always intended to be there.

True to their nature, they find paths of peaceful coexistence and mutual cooperation.


And they thrive.

Their success supports future generations of flora as well as fauna – the critters that depend on their good stewardship for food and shelter.



The natural garden is built on true foundations of sun, water, and earth.

A healthy society is built on foundations of mutual respect, tolerance and peaceful coexistence.
The choice is ours.
What kind of garden do you want to live in?

Vote.

Tend the Garden

Charlie came to us from the streets of China at age one. Just a puppy, really. He was adopted and returned months later for being an overly exuberant adolescent. With time and training, he would have grown into a well-behaved and loved family member instead of finding himself homeless again. (He is homeless no more.)

A garden that is not tended can easily fall back into disrepair.
All hard work and effort will be lost – swallowed up in nature’s challenge: survival of the fittest.

You have to cherish and care for the things you love.
You have to protect the things you value.
Not just dogs and gardens – but ideals and principles.

Dogs don’t raise themselves. They learn boundaries and how to live well with humans from us.

Gardens don’t tend themselves. Without attention, they return to their wild and lawless ways.

And our democratic values, freedoms and national treasures don’t defend themselves – they depend upon our vigilance to ensure their survival.

Apathy and inaction are the enemy. I don’t care which side of the aisle you are on – there are certain ideals and norms that must bind us if we are to succeed in this great experiment. And even as I write this, I wonder if it is still possible.

I attended the memorial service of my neighbor recently – the human father of a special dog named Rush. You may remember his story.

As I listened to the tales recounted, I learned that this man I knew only as a good neighbor was a fifth generation Californian, a former cowboy, a Horatio Alger story, a community pillar, and to my surprise – a staunch conservative. We would have had real differences of opinion in our politics – had we ever discussed them. But we did not. The things that united us were greater than those divides: concern for family and community, a belief that people should look out for each other, and – of course – our love of dogs. Common values. Common decency. Common bonds.

I know that our country has been tested over time. We have made many mistakes and suffered dark times. But we have endured and, hopefully, learned from our failings. From this, I find strength. I also know that this endurance did not come from standing on the sidelines, but from standing up for the things we revere: truth, decency, civility, and compromise.

A good man passed yesterday. A leader named McCain. Someone I frequently disagreed with, but someone who embodied our values and stood up for them. In fact, I found myself writing to thank him on numerous occasions when he dared to stand for those ideals.

The enemy is not without; it is within.
“America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.” ~ Abraham Lincoln

Tend the garden.

Teach and love the dog.

Guard the principles we share.

Love in a Mist

There are near daily tests for the rescuer woman: her will to heal against theirs to surrender.
Most battles are won, but not all; the rescuer does not always get to be the savior.
The beloved dog who so kindly shared his home, heart, and rescuer mom has gone.

Sometimes, it feels like the universe conspires against us –
When it is simply saying, “I’m calling you home.”
It is not compelled to explain its timing or purpose –
Any more than the flower defends when it sets and seeds.
Like the Love in a Mist – our physical presence appears protected –
shielded –

But, in the end, it is as fleeting as dew.
You soak up the bloom for as long as you are able –
And come to learn that even in its passing – it sows the seeds of more.
More beauty.

More seasons.

More ways to meet – differently – in whispers and shadows and mist – but again.

Carried with us – always.

“If I had a single flower for every time I think of you, I could walk forever in my garden.” ~ Claudia Adrienne Grandi

Life is Fragile


“It’s only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth – and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up, we will then begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had.” ~ Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

This is how our friend B lived his life…each day to the fullest.
He passed suddenly – unexpectedly – a few weeks ago.
‘Have a good day’ turned into ‘goodbye’ in an instant.

He did not mean or want to leave. Departing a wife, two children, and countless friends with broken hearts. He touched so many lives.

If you saw a Super Bowl, Olympics or even a PGA golf tournament in the past 15 years, you saw his work –
his eye for drama, courage, and pursuit of excellence witnessed through the lens of his video camera.

B got to live his dream – on the field and slopes of some of the world’s greatest sporting events.
He had a rare gift: the ability to anticipate exactly where the action would end up.
Every action but his own.

“Life is fragile, like the dew hanging delicately on the grass, crystal drops that will be carried away on the first morning breeze.” ~ Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche

In life, you’re lucky if you have one or two really good friends; B was one of my husband’s two best.
Everyone knew him for his love of life, his laughter, his ability to light up a room.
My husband knew this about his friend, and more. He knew his struggles, his pains…his darkest days.
Through adversity, the strongest bonds are forged.

It pains me to watch him struggle with the loss of his dear friend. It will take time and tears until he remembers what B would tell him now…

“Count the garden by the flowers, never by the leaves that fall.

Count your life with smiles and not the tears that roll.” ~ Author Unknown

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




Winter Comes

Winter comes. It arrives in its own time – sometimes early; sometimes late.
Winter has finally arrived in the Memorial Garden,

first, with the return of cold and wind…



and then,

much-needed rain. Nothing like the winter that family and friends are experiencing east of us (brrrr). Still, it leaves more time for dogs – and one of my favorite “jobs” at Homeward Bound: going home photos.

Saturday, it was Rover’s day…

and Bandit’s, too.

And then, there was a different photo request: for Cody.

Cody is in hospice care. He has cancer though out his body. His people took him home to spoil and love. Now, he is three weeks past his expected winter – and still enjoying life, admittedly at a little slower pace.

It was my honor to fulfill his people’s wish for photos. And to watch him rest in the garden as he watched the world go by.



“Across the purple sky, all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it’s time for them to go?” ~ Sandy Denny

Winter comes – for all of us.

In its own time.

But not today.

Wishing you hope

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all….
~ Emily Dickinson

My hope for your holiday and the New Year:
Kindness. Civility. Generosity. Patience. Possibility.

Wishing you all the joys of the season. May they not be forgotten in the New Year.

This is What You Shall Do


I try to keep politics off these pages but, increasingly, I feel as if I live in an alternate reality.
The daily news confounds me.
Disavowing science and banning its words.
Ignoring clear and present dangers while creating divisions between us at home.
Setting our history back decades – maybe more.
Have we forever lost sight of who we are and the compass that guides us to common ground?

Words for our times from some time ago:

“Other states indicate themselves in their deputies … but the genius of the United States is not best or most in its executives or legislatures, nor in its ambassadors or authors or colleges or churches or parlors, nor even in its newspapers or inventors … but always most in the common people. Their manners, speech, dress, friendship…their good temper and open handedness—the terrible significance of their elections—the President’s taking off his hat to them, not they to him…

This is what you shall do;
Love the earth and sun and the animals,

despise riches, give alms to every one that asks,
stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others,
hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people,
take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men,
go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families,

read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life,
re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul,
and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”

― Walt Whitman, Preface to Leaves of Grass

Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

If the good deeds we have done together entitle us in any small way to call in a special request from above – we need that now. One of our own has fallen ill. She is loved and needed by her family, her extended rescue family, and by the dogs.

Because I am helpless to do more right now than to call for the prayers and good wishes of all, I send you flowers from the garden we both love.




And news that Chewy – one of your heart dogs – found his forever home today.

He fell instantly in love with his new little boy and will watch over him the way your family and we are watching over you. Waiting. Hoping. Praying for your full return to us.