Spring Garden – Gardens For Goldens

Mama Always Said

Mama always said you cannot pair orange and pink. She was wrong.

The apricot and pink tulips in the Memorial Garden are a stunning combination.

The birds know…

spring has arrived. Our rose arbor is beautifully rebuilt, and the fruit trees are beginning to blossom.

What I wish Mama had told me was that the alpacas and goats – sent to new homes this winter after Jody’s passing – were the safety plan for the hibernating tortoises.

These beautiful, fifty-year-old creatures had been in Jody’s care for the past several years. When she could not care for them last summer, I looked after them with near daily runs of fresh fruit, greens, corn, and dunks in their pond.

One of their favorites: rose petals. There were four bushes in their enclosure – one for each tortoise. And I made sure that the petals were on weekend breakfast meals.

When they came to wake the tortoises and move them to a new home, they found them dead. I won’t go into it; the tale is too sad. Suffice to say that the hooves of the alpacas and goats protected against marauders. It was a heartbreaking discovery.

This weekend, I moved their roses to the Memorial Garden. I brought with them the four pieces of tortoise art including one heavy stone statue that had long ago lost its head. It was presumed lost but when I picked up the tortoise planter I found it had been stuffed deep inside there long ago. A little gorilla glue should take care of that. If only there were a fix for the dearly departed.

They will be remembered here.

On a happier note: an update on Jody’s garden. A team did come together and in two weeks, amazing progress has been made. The weeds have been beaten back, the raised beds cleared, and the orchard restored. With the jungle cleared, I was able to trace the irrigation system and reset the timers. There is more to do, but we are on the way.

It will be up to the team to determine what to plant: a vegetable gardener – I am not. We will look to donate the surplus to a local food pantry. A small offering of goodwill to the community that has been so supportive of us.

We’ll need that continued support as we are presently swimming in dogs! The expected impact from the pandemic has arrived and their faces are not just Golden, but red, white, brown, black and spotted. Hopefully, we will not see a return to the last recession years when we were taking in 800 dogs a year. But our welcome mat is out and we have LOTS of waiting families.

Launching Pad

My author friend met through this blog, Stanley Horowitz, has just completed his new book. Titled “Can You Read the Tea Leaves of Autumn: The Poetic Wisdom of the Four Seasons,” he shared a copy with me. I’m not sure of his plans for it, but I hope he finds a way to publish it. The book is a continuation of the theme established in his now famous quote with his keen and poetic observations of each month of the year. The final chapter is “The Poetic Wisdom of a Good Life,” written by a man who says he has been blessed with good friends – life’s perfect gift.

I turned instantly to April, and found this: “April is the launching pad of gardens.” And now the garden has brought those words to life.

The roses are in first bloom,

the trees (save one which is worrying me greatly) are in full leaf,

and the garden is exploding with purple,

lilac,

pink,

orange,

yellow,

and white.

Through the winter and early spring when people are kind enough to compliment the garden, I say “just wait.” Well the wait is over and it simply takes my breath away.

Now “just wait” until these little sticks on their own launching pad turn into summer Dahlias!

We launched a few more pups into new chapters as well, saying “happy life” to Gridley,

Odie,

Rusty,

and Norman this weekend.

Rusty went to a family that has been adopting from us since 2000, and Norman to a wonderful gentleman who posts a “happy life” comment on every going home photo we put up on Facebook. He was looking forward to his own photo when the time was right – and he hoped that he could help one of the dogs who came to us from China. He got his wish on both fronts today. Knowing the conditions from which those dogs are rescued, he is looking forward to giving Norman the life he deserves (in other words, he will be spoiled rotten!).

We also said goodbye to our dear Old Bud.

Found by a good Samaritan on New Year’s Eve, he went unclaimed – but a number of people noted that he had been seen wandering around for some time. He was microchipped, but the phone was disconnected and the people no longer there. He was at least 12, maybe older. A matted mess who could barely walk when found. His kind person took him to the groomer and to the vet. He had an irregular heartbeat, cataracts, and weakness in his back legs. And while his body would not do as he commanded, be thought he was large and in charge and had something to say to every dog at the fence! His “only dog” attitude is why he stayed with us instead of being scooped up by one of our volunteers or fosters: everyone has dogs – an occupational hazard. But he was cared for and spoiled during the time we were able to share with him. Safe journey, sweet boy. We’ll see you at the bridge…and play nicely up there please!! You were loved.

“Dogs leave paw prints on your hearts.”

A Postcard

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 case, I was already familiar with the poem. Its 18 words perfectly capture the seasons that a gardener knows so well:

“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.” ~ Stanley Horowitz

As soon as I captured the image, I knew that Stanley’s words “winter is an etching” should accompany the photo of the mockingbird taken on a grey, foggy morning in the Memorial Garden.

Stanley wanted to know where, when and how the photo was taken. I was happy to share the details. Through our conversation, I learned that Stanley’s poem was published in the November 1983 issue of Reader’s Digest and that he is working on a new book of poems to be completed this spring. I was curious to read his other writings, so he hunted down a copy of a book he published in 1974 entitled “Behind the Glass.” It is a collection of aphorisms – 400 of Stanley’s observations on everything from nature to human nature.

From an article found online, I learned that Stanley was looking at paintings to inspire his new book of poems about the seasons. How ironic given that Stanley’s words not only inspired my photography but my gardening which – when done well – is painting with nature.

Stanley is a private man, but he allowed me to share our meeting here. And he has allowed me to share his writings from “Behind the Glass” – words I will treasure along with my new friend. Here is the first of many more to come:

“Spring is a picture postcard from heaven.” ~ Stanley Horowitz

When All Is New Again

“April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.” ~William Shakespeare

The garden in April is both young and old. New friends appear…

Old friends are reborn.

The season was never over. It was just waiting for us to find it again.

From cold ground covered in earth and leaves, springs forth our long-lost friends looking new and refreshed; ready to write another season –

another chapter in our garden’s journey.

“Age is opportunity no less,
Than youth itself, though in another dress.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Gracie is finding a second chapter, too. At 10, she was found stray and sent to a local shelter. Her owner was contacted, but never bothered to reclaim her – as if this beautiful life was done.

Not done – just waiting to be found again by a lucky someone who will recognize that under this sugar face is a young and loving heart.

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” – Seneca

Gracie’s new beginning starts now – in April – when all is new again.

Chief’s Gratitude

We have been blessed and blessed and blessed.

And if April showers bring May flowers…we are in for quite a show.

Our five years of drought are officially over – and with the weekly rains, our gardening has been largely on hold;

called on account of cold, soggy ground.

Quick to forget, people naturally stopped counting our blessings and started whining, prompting one of my favorite nurseries to send out an email: “Don’t be a grumpy gardener!”

To complain about a planting delay after so long without water is to be ungrateful. The sunflowers will keep, or they’ll be started anew.

“He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.” ~ Epictetus

To complain about anything when I look at this face seems doubly silly and small.

We call him Chief, but he wasn’t always called that. He was probably called some pretty awful names – none of them repeatable here and best forgotten, anyway.

His journey to Homeward Bound was unexpected. Chief’s “people” took him for a drive out to the fields nearby, opened the door, and shoved him out. Then they closed the car door and sped away. Chief chased after them futilely – afraid of being left alone. A kind lady saw what happened and alerted the authorities. They suggested calling us as well as we were right down the road. It took three days for them and our president, Jody, to coax/trick Chief out of the field. Once gotten, she gladly welcomed him – saving him from the pound despite his obvious lack of Golden pedigree.

He was terrified and – naturally – untrusting. For a good period, Jody was the only one he would go out with. He sought refuge in his kennel and by her side. But gradually, he became curious about the kind people around him, and – bit by bit – started to let some of them into his heart.

Chief takes things slowly because he doesn’t want to be hurt – or left – again. But just wait until you get to know him! He really is just a puppy at heart.

And most of all, this half Great Dane, half Lab is resilient and full of gratitude and love that wants to be given in return for the smallest kindness.

“Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher

Gratitude is not relative, and it is not soon forgotten. It lives in the heart and is always available. If Chief can move forward from his past and wait patiently for his future, we can wait for the rain to pass.

With grateful hearts and hopes for sunnier days – for our little sunflowers – and for Chief.

Mac-aroni’s Going Home Day

You don’t have to look at the garden to know that winter is giving way to spring. You can sense it.

You don’t have to envision the flowers and trees in bloom. You can smell them.

You don’t have to behold the sun to know that it is shining. You can experience its warmth.

You don’t have to observe the birds to know their delight in fresh worms and tiny buds. You can hear them.

And 10-year-old blind Mac-aroni does not need to see the love of his new mom on their going home day.

He can feel it.

Congratulations and happy life, sweet boy!

Of Gardens and Rescue Dogs

What a garden needs is time,

patience,

love,

nurturing,

hope,

and room to grow.

What a rescue dog needs…

time,

patience,

nurturing,

hope,

and room to grow.

“One of the greatest virtues of gardening is this perpetual renewal of youth and spring, of promise of flower and fruit that can always be read in the open book of the garden, by those with an eye to see, and a mind to understand.” ~ E.A. Bowles

The greatest virtues of rescue dogs are the same.

Learning to Dance in the Rain

“A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten on the influx of better thoughts. We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

By accident, fate, or by design – life took some interesting twists and turns in the last few weeks. Some sad, some scary. But one thing I’ve learned: life just happens. When the storms come – you can let them drown you in sorrow and doubt, or you can learn to dance in the rain.

Dancing in the rain is what the garden did this weekend –

and the dogs. Nope. These are not Golden Retrievers. But that is another story.

I think the garden was a bit more appreciative of the puddles than Roger.

I know that many who read this blog are praying for an end to rain or snow, but we delight in the grey and gloom knowing that an endless stream of blue skies and hot, thirsty days await.

“Instead of complaining that the rosebush is full of thorns, be happy that the thorn bush has roses.” ~ Proverb

I’m grateful for the rain, just as I am grateful for the sunshine that brings warmth, and flowers, and light to life.

No point in wishing for one or the other. All we can do is live in the present, take advantage of each accident that befalls us, and dance in the rain.

Wordless Wednesday: January?

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.

Accidental Gardener

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.