Gardens For Goldens

Promises Kept

It wasn’t a lot … but it was something … and in our current state of drought, we are grateful for anything.

Just after all the dogs were walked,

dark skies turned to a quick downpour –

with the promise of more on Tuesday. Every drop and every cool day extends our hope for the garden (which looks lush and full in spring) to survive another California summer.

“We never know the worth of water till the well is dry.” ~ Thomas Fuller

Sixty five roses fed on Saturday before the rain … perfect timing.

And, five of our longer-term residents found their way home this week, including two pairs that we promised to keep together: Lucky … who I wrote about in January –

Dexter and Pogo …

And handsome Finnegan and Seamus.

Promise made. Promise kept.
“All that we behold is full of blessings.” ~ William Wordsworth

Do you suppose Saint Francis can request water on behalf of the dogs’ well-being as well as the garden?

Wherever Faith Finds Us

I find my faith in nature…

the skies, woods, meadows and garden are my cathedral.

I place my faith in something that has no name. All I know is that it greater than all of us.

I try to live my life by one rule: treat others as you hope to be treated.

“Make yourself necessary to somebody. Do not make life hard to any.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Spring is a time of rebirth, celebration and remembrance for people of many faiths.

Regardless of which faith guides you, my hope for all during this special time is to find beauty,

joy,

understanding,

acceptance,

and awe…

that the world might be a better place for all.

Symphony of Spring

As the season starts to turn, it seems to happen at a snail’s pace…literally.

It’s like the orchestra tuning to find that perfect pitch.

Things seems to unfold in starts and fits, and we keep saying…”just wait.”

And then, after an almost unbearable pause…the symphony begins.

Every tree is dressed in leaves and blossoms,

and every sleepy plant and creature awakens.

When I am away during the week, I miss the Memorial Garden. This weekend, the return took my breath away.

The earth is alive;

the creatures so busy;

and the gardeners so hardworking –

except for Yule, who just keeps us company.

“It was such a pleasure to sink one’s hands into the warm earth, to feel at one’s fingertips the possibilities of the new season.” ~ Kate Morton, The Forgotten Garden

Spring brings the dogs out in force,

and from their stories, we have learned this: symphonies have more than one movement –

and you can bury a lot of troubles by digging in the dirt.

Quick Quiz

Q: Why did the turkeys cross the road?

A: To stalk the obnoxious photographer on the other side.

Wordless Wednesday: Birds of a Feather

I am an accidental gardener. Come to think of it, I’m an accidental everything: gardener, photographer, blogger, and rescue supporter. These were not planned; I was just drawn to them and happened upon people who graciously showed me the way.

A fellow blogger, Helen Johnstone of the Patient Gardener’s Weblog, shared a new book: the “First Ladies of Gardening.” Normally, a title like that would put me straight off. But I admire Helen’s blog, so I ordered it. And I’m so glad I did!

I did not grow up with gardens or gardeners. I vaguely recall that my grandmother grew flowers to inspire her paintings, but I spent very little time with either. What I have learned has been the result of trial and error, as well as lessons from my gardener partners at the Homeward Bound Memorial Garden.

In “First Ladies of Gardening,” I learned names like Gertrude Jekyll, Vita Sackville-West – whose directive “cram, cram, cram” I already follow – and Beth Chatto, who believed that making a garden was like making a family.

But there is one gardener whose spirit I admire just as much as her garden: Margery Fish and her cottage garden at East Lambrook Manor.

Margery Fish did not begin gardening until she was in her forties. Quietly rebellious – the author shares – she allowed small plants to grow in the crevices of her husband’s perfectly groomed paths, and inadvertently stopped watering his “proper” plant choices in favor of her leafy, wild and rare perennials. New plants that mysteriously appeared were explained as “gifts” that simply could not be refused. The garden – once a jungle – was planted in abundance and self-sowing seeds were left to distribute unexpected surprises that kept the garden looking natural and unfussy.