In Defense of My Summer Garden…Again

Despite a LONG hot summer, the garden fared pretty well – until August, that is. The heat is partly to blame. Deadheading doesn’t help when 100+ degree temperatures shrink new buds into tater-tot size flowers. And it was certainly too hot to plant annuals as we usually do to keep the color going in the garden in between perennial blooms.

But there are eight tiny reason that the garden looks a bit ragged right now. They marched in with yet another heat wave at the end of July: eight adorable Golden Retriever, German Shepherd, and who-know-what-else mix puppies.


Irish – their mama – had been stray in the even hotter Central Valley. A good Samaritan took her in a couple of months prior intending to keep her, not realizing that she was already expecting. Three weeks into the care of eight puppies – they were ready to be done with mama and her litter.

A visit to the vet when they found her might have told them she was going to be a mom. They might have mentioned that her bent left rear leg – the result of an old break – was causing her great pain. They might have vaccinated her not knowing she was expecting. I guess things happen for a reason. The cost of her needed surgery might have led them to put her down or send her to a shelter. Vaccinations might have been deadly to the puppies. She was meant to come to us, but it was probably unsurprising – despite keeping her with the pups in our puppy-safe yard and house – that she contracted kennel cough and had to be separated from them after only four weeks.

Kennel cough can quickly become life-threatening for puppies. But with fast-action, meds and care, they came through it well and quickly.

We took over for feeding for mama – a slurpy mush of pulverized puppy kibble, cottage cheese, and baby food at first. It wasn’t long before the tiny pups were packing on the pounds.

I’m blessed to have flexibility in my schedule, so I signed on as morning Puppy Mama. You’ll remember that that role wreaked havoc with my summer garden last year when 12 Golden puppies arrived at the rescue. Morning Puppy Mama means showing up daily to clean, feed, bathe, and play with these adorable things. A straw happily drawn.

In these very hot days, they are out in their puppy-only yard in the mornings to have a chance to run and tackle before they are put in their air-conditioned shed for the afternoon. In the evening, Puppy Dad or Puppy Grandma free them so they can play in the cool night air. And when I need to take a day off, Puppy Aunt subs in.

Needless to say, it leaves little time for gardening.


But the garden will wait – and the bees and butterflies don’t seem to mind the weed mess below.


I will plant fresh fall flowers later when the scalding ends and something approaching fall begins – and all the puppies are home beginning their new, happy lives. Four down; four to go.

Mama Irish, meanwhile, has had surgery to eliminate her pain. The recovery will be lengthy, but her future is much brighter. She was a wonderful mom, taking such good care of her kids despite her own suffering. We will find her the perfect home and a happy life, as well. She certainly has earned it.

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.

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.

Puppy Reunion

Who says that we don’t get paid at an all-volunteer rescue? Remember my subjects from Puppy Truths?

Cici was adopted right away,

but you might recall that two of them, Timmy and Wyatt, came home with us for a bit last winter when we thought the rains and flooding would never quit.

My Yogi was happy to keep the little monsters company.

It’s still unclear who the bigger puppy was!

Recently, all three returned to Homeward Bound for a reunion.

It’s one of the bonuses for our unpaid work: welcoming back our charges to see what kind of canine citizens they have become.

And look how they have grown!

At almost 10 months now, they are still full of spit and vinegar…

still adorable…



and when you yell “Puppy, puppy, puppy!” they still come running!

Cici is Angel now, and Wyatt is Elvis (it suits him!). But Timmy is still Timmy – through and through.

They were surrendered to us because each had low-level heart murmurs – small enough not to change their quality of life or longevity – but just enough that three lucky families got to call them their own.

Lucky people.
Lucky puppies.
Lucky me for the chance to spend time with them.

“You make a living by what you get, but you make a life by what you give.” ~ Author Unknown

What I miss

What I miss…

Your barking at dog photos I am editing on the computer or videos on TV.
Chasing those TV dogs around the back of the set to see where they go.
Not having to get up every five minutes to retrieve the tennis ball that my beloved retriever purposefully rolled under the furniture (fetch is for humans, too, I guess).

Your schedule of demands beginning with breakfast barks and followed by lunch cookie barks, dinner barks, and bedtime treat barks.
Your refusal to be shut out of any room – ever – including the bathroom.
Your sneaky counter surfing. (No, I am not believing it was Jackson.)
Your love of butter wrappers.
Tug of war with Jackson (you always let the Little Man win).
Your sleeping body always under foot.

Your presence in the garden.
Endlessly pulling sticks, bark, and dirt clods from your mouth.
Holes in the drywall (I left one unpatched to remember you by).

Curling up with Daddy on the sofa.
Crawling into my side of the bed.
Your snoring.

Your sweet sugar face.
Your long, beautiful lashes.
Your fuzzy paws.
Your soft curls.
You.

I cannot believe it has been a year.
Not a day goes by that I do not say good morning and goodnight to your photo.
I still cry when I think of you.
But now I can smile, too.

I hold you in my heart because I cannot hold you in my arms.
I miss you, sweet Bella.
I miss YOU.