Yellow: The Color of Summer

Nothing says summer like the color yellow. The spring garden is full of pink, lilac, blue and white. In the autumn, I want depth: oranges, reds, deep purples, golds. But yellow is for summer.

This shaggy rudbeckia grandiflora thrives and returns each year where others fail. It is beautiful in a chaotic, messy way – as if it couldn’t be bothered to fully dress itself or comb its hair in the morning.

“Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.” ~ Sam Keen

I gave up on the drama of planting huge sunflowers. The jack in the beanstalk varieties required constant watering and staking for big floppy heads that wilted and dried almost as soon as they bloomed. So much work – and they seemed out of place.

The Helianthus annuus – or Delta Sunflower – is so carefree that you will find it growing along the freeways in our region. It loves heat, makes do with little water, is not fussy about soil, and it is poetic in its profusion of dancing stems.

It feels right at home in our garden. I’m sure the birds miss the giant seeds – but they have devastated the grapes again – so they can make do!

Helenium looks like little Mexican sombreros to me.

So happy and sunny – it should be a painting!

The daylilies spread their short-lived happiness – from sunrise to sundown.

Gaillardia blankets the garden from June until September,

while beautiful bulbine puts in repeat performances in spring and late summer.

Yellow flies and flutters through the garden. On dragonflies –

bees –

butterflies –

even this yellow bird has taken up residence in the garden.

I have not seen it before…a Western Kingbird, I believe.

“How wonderful yellow is. It stands for the sun.” ~ Vincent Van Gogh.

And Yellow Labs, too. 🙂 Meet Carter. He’s looking for home.

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

When Someone You Love Becomes A Memory

When someone you love becomes a memory –
The memory becomes a treasure.

Last July 4th, a miracle named Buster was delivered to us.
He stole everyone’s heart – but he claimed one as his own.
He stayed longer than anyone expected…
but it is never long enough.
To his heartsick human mom he would say ‘remember me with the smile and laughter that filled my days with love.’

“He took my heart and ran with it, and I hope he’s running still, fast and strong, a piece of my heart bound up with his forever.” ~ Patricia McConnell, For The Love of A Dog

When You Just Say “Try”

Every single person that contributes to our mission of rescue is essential and valued. Still, there are some donors whose extraordinary gifts over the years have created an essential foundation for our work. Many had not been to the rescue in a decade or more; so much has changed. Since or founding, our facilities and our programs for the dogs have morphed from buckets and tubs and potty breaks to a fully functioning, more modern operation with enrichment programs to support the dogs. To showcase all – and to show this unique group of donors all that they have contributed to – we hosted them last weekend for a Big Dog Brunch.

The morning began with Mimosas in the garden – made beautiful by the return of my wayward gardeners. It looked magnificent.

Despite an unwelcome heat wave, the roses’ second bloom appeared on cue

along with the Agapanthus,

Bee Balm,

Day Lilies,

Butterfly Bush,

Blanket Flower, Yarrow and Verbena.

From there, we took folks in small groups on tours of the facilities including the in-ground, heated swimming pool, senior yard and sanctuary, vet clinic, kennels, puppy palace, yards and training pavilion.

The volunteers were able to share how each resource benefits the dogs and invited them to demonstrations of swim therapy and playgroups.

At the brunch that followed, each received a small book capturing all of the special projects – a take-home reminder of the impact they have made.

Saying ‘thank you’ is one thing; giving people an opportunity to touch, see, feel – and be touched by – all that they support (hopefully) makes a lasting impact and demonstrates our genuine appreciation.

The garden – like everything they saw that day – was a labor of love. A volunteer effort. Created from dirt and weeds, it – and all that surrounds it – are a reminder of what can be accomplished when you just say “try.”

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.

Daisy’s Litter (My Excuse)

Apologies. I have been absent. Too many projects. One, a labor of love as you can guess.

This little girl is still with me, hanging out with the big dogs and the big man for a few more days until her people are ready to pick her up. They’ll find a bundle of love already on her way to house-training and sleeping through the night. And what a personality!


Her brothers and sisters arrived in March with their mom and (only?) dad at three days of age.
They were a lot of work for their puppy mamas – but what a joy to watch them grow. A brief video recap is below.

Happy lives, Babies. Lucky families – one and all. And now…back to blogging!

Knowing When To Surrender

The tree that I mentioned last week which was so concerning me – is gone. The arborist found root rot and no sap running through it. The property has a natural slope away from the barn which helps to keep the dogs drier in the winter, but it flows to the garden when we get big rains. With our clay soil, the water collects and stands in low spots – sometimes for a week at a time.

The center of the garden lawn is the worst – where the large Mulberry was. It was apparently, finally, too much.

To do rescue, you have to believe in miracles. And they do happen. But you also have to be able to recognize when to surrender. Sometimes, it is the kindest choice. The tree was not going to get better. Saying farewell to it now was for the best; another transformation will occur where it once stood.

Little Leroy’s human called it quits after just five days.

A purchased puppy – his human thought he was getting a Golden Retriever. The tell-tale double dew claw and spotted tummy and nose clearly indicate a Great Pyrenees mix.

The man said that Leroy was a little terror, costing him a week of sleep because he peed and poo’d everywhere. He must have had him loose overnight in the house, because this puppy sleeps almost through the night in a crate by the bed and lets out a tiny whimper indicating when it’s time to go potty. During the day and early evening, he plays hard with the big dogs;

in between – he naps – allowing plenty of time to get things done.

A simple joy to have around. But this man was not destined for puppy-fatherhood. Thankfully, he recognized it early on and asked us to find little Leroy a better home. Mission accomplished.

Emma was not so lucky.

At three and a half, she was largely left in the backyard. When she was inside, she was crated with little or no interaction with the family. She arrived with no vet records, no leash skills, and no training. Both Emma and her people would have been better off to recognize that things were not going to get better and to have surrendered her sooner. Emma’s most impressionable years were not well spent. It’s up to us, now, to ensure her transformation to a happier life – which we will gladly do.

The arborist recommended a Tupelo tree for the spot where the Mulberry was. It can withstand the water in winter and drought in summer. It will grow large and shady – and be stunning in fall. It was hard to give up on such an established member of the garden – but life would not have gotten better for our stately Mulberry. Sometimes, you just need to know when to surrender.

Thank you, big Mulberry…for the joy and shade you brought us as long as you could.

Launching Pad

My author friend met through this blog, Stanley Horowitz, has just completed his new book. Titled “Can You Read the Tea Leaves of Autumn: The Poetic Wisdom of the Four Seasons,” he shared a copy with me. I’m not sure of his plans for it, but I hope he finds a way to publish it. The book is a continuation of the theme established in his now famous quote with his keen and poetic observations of each month of the year. The final chapter is “The Poetic Wisdom of a Good Life,” written by a man who says he has been blessed with good friends – life’s perfect gift.

I turned instantly to April, and found this: “April is the launching pad of gardens.” And now the garden has brought those words to life.

The roses are in first bloom,

the trees (save one which is worrying me greatly) are in full leaf,

and the garden is exploding with purple,

lilac,

pink,

orange,

yellow,

and white.

Through the winter and early spring when people are kind enough to compliment the garden, I say “just wait.” Well the wait is over and it simply takes my breath away.

Now “just wait” until these little sticks on their own launching pad turn into summer Dahlias!

We launched a few more pups into new chapters as well, saying “happy life” to Gridley,

Odie,

Rusty,

and Norman this weekend.

Rusty went to a family that has been adopting from us since 2000, and Norman to a wonderful gentleman who posts a “happy life” comment on every going home photo we put up on Facebook. He was looking forward to his own photo when the time was right – and he hoped that he could help one of the dogs who came to us from China. He got his wish on both fronts today. Knowing the conditions from which those dogs are rescued, he is looking forward to giving Norman the life he deserves (in other words, he will be spoiled rotten!).

We also said goodbye to our dear Old Bud.

Found by a good Samaritan on New Year’s Eve, he went unclaimed – but a number of people noted that he had been seen wandering around for some time. He was microchipped, but the phone was disconnected and the people no longer there. He was at least 12, maybe older. A matted mess who could barely walk when found. His kind person took him to the groomer and to the vet. He had an irregular heartbeat, cataracts, and weakness in his back legs. And while his body would not do as he commanded, be thought he was large and in charge and had something to say to every dog at the fence! His “only dog” attitude is why he stayed with us instead of being scooped up by one of our volunteers or fosters: everyone has dogs – an occupational hazard. But he was cared for and spoiled during the time we were able to share with him. Safe journey, sweet boy. We’ll see you at the bridge…and play nicely up there please!! You were loved.

“Dogs leave paw prints on your hearts.”

Breaking Through Barriers

Grace and I have something in common. It’s called barrier frustration. My nemesis is the pushy tall Asters that have encroached upon their gentle neighbors. The thinning is endless.

Grace’s issue is the barrier that keeps her from meeting other dogs on her terms. Whether it is a kennel door, fence, or sometimes, the leash – the reaction is the same.

I know a little about this from my flying boy, Yogi.

The first time I took him for a walk around the neighborhood I realized I had myself a project dog. Every time we passed another dog on leash, Yogi literally launched himself – like a helicopter – straight up in the air until he was at eye level with me growling and snarling like a rabid animal. It took a few walks for me to see that his tail wagged and back end wiggled just before this reaction took place. What he wanted was to meet the dog – but he was completely lacking in proper dog social skills.

Dogs have a meeting ritual which was completely lost on Yogi when leashes were involved. The reaction he got from his excited stare sent him into a tailspin and earned me more than a few startled looks. If a dog is punished for this behavior, or not taught an appropriate alternative response, its reaction to another dog may change from excitement to frustration to fear and aggression.

Yogi and I worked for many months on “watch me” – earning a treat each time he focused on me instead of a passing dog. It requires that the handler be watchful themselves, combing the landscape for potential trouble. Once he had that down, the command became “look, dog…watch me.” Now, the minute Yogi sees another dog, he looks at me in anxious anticipation of his treat which he only earns after the other dog has passed without incident and he has assumed a watchful sit. He has been introduced to all the friendly neighbor dogs and has welcomed foster dogs (young and old) into the house. Part of this is training; part of it is growing up. He has rounded the corner to age three. But all of what I initially saw was about him telling me “don’t hold me back.”

Grace was found in Folsom State Park. No collar or microchip. No one claimed her.

The person who found her had her for nearly a week and was able to share that she was good in the house, good with kids, but horrible on leash when she met another dog. Her reaction was the same in the kennel, or in adjacent yards with a fence between. And it got her into trouble. But she had strong advocates who recognized that the trouble was not intentional and thankfully, it was not grave; a human had simply gotten in the way.

For the safety of all, she was assigned a special team with advanced handling skills and the physical strength to guide her.

She was gradually and carefully introduced to other dogs in play group – a barrier-free setting. Like Yogi when he first came to us – she is young: only one year old. And her social skills, like his, need work. Her play style is what we call rough and ready (or rough and tumble!). She is definitely too much for some dogs, but with the right dog match – she is a fun and exuberant playmate.

Roo is one of her very favorite friends. You might remember Roo from this post. Talk about two dogs transformed.

With all of her improvement, this week is about a “get Grace home” effort: creating a special video, updating her photo on the website – and most importantly – helping to change her internal “rep” demonstrating the progress she has made.

As for the encroaching Asters: they get no such break. They are simply out of here!
Think good thoughts for our Gracie girl, please. It’s her time.

Second Chances: Look Back

Working on a special project, I have been looking back at some old photos (if you can call them that) dating back to when I first began volunteering at the rescue. They are pretty bad. I can’t believe I had the audacity to post them. Just goes to show: I’m still capable of growth and learning at my advanced age!

Two volunteers, Chris and Steve, make repeated appearances as they were fixtures at the rescue at the time.

I have always had rescue dogs – but Chris and Steve had a whole different breed of rescue dog: some of the hardest, most unpredictable, and potentially dangerous cases if not handled correctly. The kind of dogs that don’t usually get second chances.

I saw Chris and Steve’s talents with Shelby. I wrote about her here (please excuse the horrible photos). Chris, in particular, spent years earning her trust including something as basic as the ability to touch her paw. Eventually, Shelby was able to go home with them, but hemangiosarcoma stole her just one month later.

They turned their grief and talents toward two dogs in particular: Goldie and Sammie.

Goldie was a bounce-back dog. Adopted and returned, she was described by some (including me) as bi-polar. She would seem fine one minute, until something set her off. She was wary with strangers, had a strong sense of “this is mine,” and was reactive around other dogs.

Sammie was a beauty – but there was something not quite right. She too had a quick on/off switch that went from play to battle in an instant. Like Goldie, she was reactive – but more obviously so – to the point of spinning herself into exhaustion in the kennel.

Only certain people who had earned their trust were allowed to take them out. I was ended up coming to an understanding with Sammie, but Goldie never trusted me – so I kept my distance.

Neither dog was adoptable. The only way they were going home was with a volunteer who understood them, and had the training to keep themselves, the dogs, and others safe. Chris and Steve had an average-size home that was already filled to capacity with rescue dogs. Kennels are not good places for reactive dogs and, as time wore on, I admit to wondering if it would have been kinder to let them go. If we had play groups back then, we might have seen a different side of them. But Chris and Steve had a plan. Unfortunately, it involved leaving the rescue. Fortunately for Goldie and Sammie, it involved moving to Colorado where a much larger home and plenty of outdoor space could be purchased for a fraction of California prices.

Goldie went home first.

And then Steve came back for Sammie. They were simply not leaving without her.

It has taken years for the “Golden Misfits” to find some sense of peace and enjoyment with each other. (Photos courtesy of Golden Misfits)

The significant issues of Goldie and Sammie are balanced by helper dogs, Missy and Tigger (now departed),

and the newest addition: Murphy.

Pork Chop adopted himself to the family shortly after they arrived,

and the ancient but adorable Jessie stayed long enough to thoroughly enjoy the snow.

It seems like each – with the exception of young Murphy – has had a brush with death and a miraculous recovery. It’s a testament to two people who just don’t give up.

Which is why I find myself, once again, nursing this sad, little orange tree back to health!

It was planted in Shelby’s honor years ago. It succumbed to frost in the first winter; came home with me for a year to be resuscitated; was coddled with a special cover in winter #2 to no avail; was reborn again; was replanted in another, more protected area; and was set back again in a late February surprise frost! I swear it has barely grown in all these years. We have lots of apple, pear, and almond trees – but citrus trees are not found in the rescue’s open country for good reason. Still, I am determined that it will live and someday thrive. A tribute to two people who taught me a lot about patience and second chances – and their love for a very special dog.