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 […]
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 […]
Categories: Gardening, Homeward Bound Memorial Garden, Nature Photography, Photography, Thought • Tags: Nature Photography, Spring Garden, spring is a picture postcard, Stanley Horowitz writer, Winter is an etching
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, […]
Thousands of Snow Geese on their migration along the Pacific Flyway take refuge from the hunters in the rice fields adjacent to the Memorial Garden. Joined by their ducky friends and grey geese. Good company, all.
“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.
I knew something had changed when I drove up. The unkempt garden signaled a passing. The sorrow was unmistakable in the moss and web-covered eaves, encroaching weeds, and empty chairs where once everyone gathered. For years, the eclectic garden by the ocean was shaped and tended by one of the two innkeepers. I learned that he had passed last spring. The grief was profound; the daily tasks too much – and the garden fell into disrepair. If our stay was […]