Tag: Nature Photography

Slowly, The Evening Comes

It is a rare treat to be in the Memorial Garden at sunset.

After the feeders leave, a hush falls over the entire rescue as pups – exhausted from a day of play – bed down with full bellies for the night.

“Slowly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon, like a magician, extended his golden wand o’er the landscape.” ~ Longfellow

Instead of dogs barking, the air is full of the sounds of birds chirping, bees buzzing,

and wings fluttering while everyone gathers their own evening meal.

Bunnies come out of hiding and watch with curiosity as I go about my weeding and dead-heading; and you get the sense that eyes are upon you from everywhere.

Our president and co-founder owns and lives on the property that she and her husband purchased and lease to Homeward Bound. They moved to the county when their suburban house outgrew their rescue dream.

She told me once that the minute she laid eyes on what was then a barren field with only a house and barn – she knew she was home.

What has been built for the dogs is nothing short of a miracle requiring many hands and able bodies.

And yet, the best part of the day is when all the volunteers go home and quiet falls over the property like a blanket as the sun lowers on the horizon.

A perfect place to call home for those who are homeward bound.

Summer Upon Us

Everybody in the pool! The dog days of summer are upon us.

We’re getting a taste this weekend of what promises to be a long hot summer.

In the morning, everyone is busy trying to get in their work,

play –

and tussles

before the heat calls for a long, lazy nap.

The good news: as the thermometer brushes 100-degrees, the searing sun kills the black spot fungus spores that have invaded our roses.

Never before have we been faced with this scourge. But never, in the garden’s history, have we had such a long, cool, wet winter. While its spread is, so far, limited, I wonder: remove the offenders now – or prepare to do battle as the seasons change?

This is a simple, inconsequential thing to ponder in the scheme of things. The decision for our new arrival, Eddie was a little harder.

A recent transport from a rescue group we work with in China, he had been hit by a car and his little leg – left untreated – was growing in crooked. With one growth plate progressing and the other halted, the leg would eventually adopt a 90-degree angle ensuring a painful break in his future. Our Doc decided it was best to say goodbye to the leg now – while he was young enough and resilient enough to recover fully.

It’s hard to see him go through this trauma at such a young age and so soon after his arrival, but we know that putting the worst behind quickly means a better and happier future ahead.

Ina suggests patience with the roses; so they will remain for now. Which is just as well. It is TOO HOT for another chore.

We opt instead for lounging on the grass.

A dip in the pool.

And lazing in the shade.

It is May. And the dog days of summer are upon us.

 

Whoever Makes A Garden

To my wayward gardeners (one excused for her good work with the dogs)…


I understand your spring fever, but while you are away, the weeds grow wild and tall.


The garden and I carry on without you – because a garden doesn’t make itself.


The roses have been fed their poo tea and the narcissus tied back.


The paths have been freshly laid. The weeds have been are being pulled and the beds mulched.


And the new entry has been planted while the lilies and lilac begin to bloom.

But be warned – you leave me alone at your own peril –
lest the Dahlias find a new home…


and the poppies multiply…


and the new bed is planted too tight and too tall…


while that hideous shrub that you love is allowed to wither and die.

Don’t worry about me alone…I am in good company.


But be warned: it shall all be mine if you stay away too long.
Possession is, after all, nine-tenths of the law.

“Whoever makes a garden
Has never worked alone;
the rain has always found it,
The sun has always known;
The wind has blown across it
And helped to scatter seeds;
Whoever makes a garden
Has all the help he needs.”
~Author Unknown

Our Cup Runneth Over

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They call it a Pineapple Express. An atmospheric river. A once in twenty-five year event. We call it water. And lots of it. This was the river just a year ago:

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This year, Winter announced itself, first with a hard frost,

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and now, rain. Lots and lots of rain.

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After five years of drought, the water is welcome – but the height of our rivers and streams is downright scary. This is a warm storm off the Pacific, so the water melts the snow in the Sierra, and just when you think you’ve been through the thick of it, the rivers swell further with runoff. Sacramento is second only to New Orleans in flood risk. I was here in 1986 as the the water rose so high it brushed the bottom of bridges and the levees failed. If you have any sway with the rain gods, would you kindly ask them to go easy on us this time? Our cup runneth over.

There will be no gardening even if we wanted to: the garden looks like a lake with floating islands.

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And there will be no dog walking today. The wind and rain make it unsafe to drive, so all but our feeders have been banned during the worst of it. Today, the dogs won’t mind. With the yards full of ankle-height water, and the relentless shooting of nearby duck hunters, even our water-loving pups prefer to be under cover!

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But even these storms bring their own joys: birds.

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Some are with us all year,

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but much easier to see when the trees are barren.

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Others – like the Snow Geese, make their way to our valley only in winter.

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And what a sight they are!

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Tens of thousands of them.

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I have been stalking them for a couple weeks. They are skittish; even the sound of a shutter click sends them flying off.

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But they have found food – and sanctuary from the hunters – in the flooded rice fields that surround us.

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I usually love the sound of rain, but this rain is worrisome. I should be grateful for it after so long a drought – and I will be – when this storm has safely passed.

Magical

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I took a little breather last week for a girls’ weekend in Sedona, Arizona.

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It is beautiful country – magical, really.

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Its towering sandstone formations glow red and orange against breathtaking sunrises and sunsets.

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At night, the stars fill the blackened sky.

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But gardening in that dark red, desert clay? While I think I’ll pass on that challenge, what blooms from the desert appears even more beautiful for the hardships it has triumphed over –

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not unlike one of our newest arrivals, twelve-year-old Jake.

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When I saw the blackened skin stripe on his back, I admit – I feared the worst. But it is actually all that remains of a horrible skin condition that stripped all the fur from his body.

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I’ll spare you the “before” photos, but thank the Wine Country Animal Lovers and the Calistoga Vet Clinic for the miracle they performed.

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Jake is with us now, for as many sunrises and sunsets as we are blessed with. The neglect that caused this condition, his worn down teeth, and his lumps and bumps is over. His new soft coat and his sweet disposition are appreciated all the more for what he has overcome. He’s magical, really.

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