Photography – Page 9 – Gardens For Goldens

Brown is the New Green

This summer, it seems the weather forecast is always wrong. Friday was 110. This weekend was supposed to hover near the century mark. Instead, someone ordered up a breeze and clouds. Rainless clouds. But clouds, nevertheless. We have been surfing temperature waves all summer. Peaks and dips. They are taking their toll on the garden.

The USDA declared a drought disaster for California, now listed as being in “exceptional drought.” Fires are breaking out everywhere. The forecast calls for a warmer than normal September through November. While our friends in the east endure soggy – we sizzle. And pray for rain.

In my favorite public gardens, you will find casualties of city-imposed water cutbacks.

Brown is the new green.

In our Memorial Garden, we have reduced our water use by nearly half.

We’re fortunate to have established trees to provide more shade…for the plants – and the dogs!

The soil contains a good amount of clay to hold the moisture in…and drought tolerant plants combined with heavy mulching have kept the losses to a minimum.

In sharp contrast to the brown, dry dog walking paths at Homeward Bound –

is this strange sight: the lush green of flooded rice fields which surround us.

Don’t ask me to speak with authority on this embarrassment of riches. Apparently, if you are a farmer high enough on the water rights ladder, you have the option of paying dearly for the water you use (up to ten times the usual rate) or letting your fields go fallow and selling your rights to someone else.

Those that are less fortunate are on long waiting lists to dig ever deeper wells – hoping and praying that the ground water will be replenished this winter with rain. If not – we are all in a world of hurt.

“When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.” ~ John Muir

Brown is beautiful and all of that. But please send rain.

Wordless Wednesday: It’s a small world

Wordless Wednesday: Duck, Duck, Goose

Seasons Pass

Winter turned the page to Spring.

By next week, it will feel like we are beginning Summer’s chapter.

Time passes much too quickly to wish away the seasons. Accept each moment as a gift knowing that tomorrow we will say goodbye…and in another time – and another way – ‘hello’ again.

My soul is full of whispered song;

My blindness is my sight;

The shadows that I feared so long

Are all alive with light. ~ Alice Cary

Wordless Wednesday: WPA Garden in Spring

Something Remarkable

Have you heard this worry expressed before: “I want to do something remarkable in my life?” I take it to mean, “I want my life to matter.”

Some, in history, are remembered for a single contribution – but to those closest to them, it is the sum of their life – the tiniest things, not the most celebrated, that are most meaningful and memorable.

The best gardens are not remembered for a single flower or seasonal display.

They are a collection of trees, shrubs and blossoms

– quiet corners and bold displays – evidence of contributions, large and small, made over many seasons.

“A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.” – St. Basil

In pursuit of the “remarkable” – sometimes we overlook what is truly meaningful: a life changed by a simple gift of time and effort; friendship extended; compassion displayed.

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

At Homeward Bound, I am surrounded by people doing remarkable things. Each seemingly small contribution adding up to so many lives saved, enhanced and transformed – human and canine. Happiness is found through our usefulness, the melding of our accomplishments – and the difference we make together.

“Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.” ~ Robert Brault

Wordless Wednesday: White

Wordless Wednesday: Home

My Nemesis

Anna’s Hummingbirds are common in our area and in our garden. If you’ve been a regular reader, you know they are my tormentors making me want to throw my camera in the trash. I hear their tell-tale flutter and I grab the gear. The elusive little beasts disappear. They just toy with me.

For my friends Rob and Maria – on the other hand – they sit on the fence and pose.

Rob’s:

They are happy to primp, showing off their iridescent feathers and shocking pink gorget to the two of them.

Maria’s:

I just get a long, cold stare and a terrible shot.

Native American legend supposedly holds that hummingbirds poke holes in the sky that become stars – or bring rain through their busy flight.

Rob’s:

That must be why I can’t stop them in motion. They are too busy trying to make water fall through the holes in the sky.
We have plenty of plants to attract them. They love this Grevillea with its red tubular flowers…and so many places to hide.

Rob again:

Anna’s Hummingbird. My nemesis. I’ll stick to sparrows from now on.

Mine.

Where Hope Grows

I took a trip to the river on Saturday. We sit at the confluence of the Sacramento and American Rivers.

At this time of year, the banks are usually under water. Now, there is just dried grass and thistle.

One of my blogging friends said that nature has a way of protecting her garden. This week, she did. We had two days of actual water falling from the sky. When hope gives way, you rely on faith. When faith is not enough, even those with questions turn to prayer. However briefly, they were answered this week.

You could almost feel the budding trees and early spring risers saying “thank you.”

The groundhog saw his shadow and declared six more weeks of winter. We felt its shiver today, and will gladly welcome it if it brings some more wet weather. We may yet see some rain ahead, but not enough, unfortunately, for our ranchers and growers who have been told there will be no release of water this year. We forget that California was once desert.

Our garden is planted with many drought tolerant perennials. Their hardiness will be well-tested. In a supreme act of faith, Ina pruned the plums today.

Filled with fruiting buds – we all said another little prayer.

On the subject of prayer, could you say a little one for Ballou? This shy, scared boy has returned to us because his human mom passed away. It has been several weeks, and I have yet to see him smile. He needs a special someone who understands his worried heart and just wants to hold him close.