isn’t the brightest thing to do. I purchased a considerable amount of small bedding plants with the hope of establishing a colorful, fragrant area, where little singing birds and little hummingbirds gather. There were times I truly felt the winds had ceased, but I was proven wrong. My little plants have held steady, a little fatigued, perhaps a bit shredded, but I’m confident I’ll get my blooms. How did the pioneers in their little sod houses cope?!
“The little reed, bending to the force of the wind, soon stood upright again when the storm had passed over.” Aesop
Yesterday at the animal shelter I witnessed a heart breaking scene. A patron returned an 11 month old female puppy which didn’t get along with his 9 year old female dog. The puppy had only been in the home for a little over a month, and she was crated for the entire day, most days of the week. When the patron walked out the door, the puppy’s gaze showed a despair that sliced through my heart. The only emotion the patron showed was a smirk. He had wanted to exchange the puppy for another dog, but I said he was over the 30 days for that option. Maybe the adoption staff would have obliged, but they were in earshot, and no one stepped forward to accommodate the bozo.
Many people don’t put a lot of thought into pairing their pets nor do they care to seek advice on animal behavior.
On a lighter note:
A couple of older women drove 10 dogs up to our area for adoption. They drove from Taos,NM, and they and their passengers were happy to reach their destination. I commented that I have a seven year old Rottie mix from NM and added that it’s so wonderful they [the women} take the time in giving the pups a better chance for finding a loving home. One woman said NM dogs have blue dots on their butts. I knew she wasn’t speaking literally, because I didn’t see any blue dots on the puppies nor does my Rottie sport any. I asked what she meant, and she said it’s an aura she sees; it’s sacred. I learn something every day.
A well-known dog trainer on Animal Planet, says people don’t get the dog they want; they get the dog they need. I can certainly testify to that. My pup, Dougal, who is now 10 months old, is a powerhouse of energy and love combined in a 58.4 pound (slightly overweight) frame. He’s a huggable hunk of ducky down and squirrelly movements. His gaze, when he’s in quiet time, can transmit the warmest feelings of adoration. When I adopted Dougal, I knew I’d have a good companion for walks. Little did I know I would discover how much I need this boy, this boy with a big heart.
raindrops on spring grass
grayness blending into blues
me and my shadow
enjoying nature’s canvas
feel warmth of companionship
Yesterday evening I sat next to my daughter at an artsy, Bohemian-type establishment in Cherry Creek, a lovely old area of Denver. It was Mother’s Day, and we were enjoying acrylic paints, 70’s music, and wine, not necessarily in that order. The instructor and owner of the shop was enthusiastically guiding everyone on how to execute the painting of the day. Even though the artist would insist we stop and watch how she placed the paint on the canvas, she’d always end by saying be creative, it’s your painting. I’m enjoying my fermented juice while mixing my colors directly on the table, listening to the happy voices of the fellow patrons, when I heard over the stereo speakers, I believe in miracles. Where you from, you sexy thing… It’s an old disco song from the 70’s. I chuckled from my memory of dancing at a club and wearing my very favorite polyester pant suit. I was way too cool, too cool for my date. I turned to share my silly memory with my daughter, but the words fell flat. She was engrossed with her creative endeavor, seriously contemplating the amount of white that she needed. In an instant, I was taken back 27 1/2 years ago to the time she was 2, standing at her little painting table that I had set up next to mine. At that time, as well, she was engrossed in her efforts, although a bit messier, perhaps. Now she’s a young career woman with her own successes and failures, her own heartbreaks and joys. I no longer direct her or even guide her. I can listen and offer suggestions, maybe even share some of my own experiences and unfulfilled plans. Maybe that is the reason it’s so difficult to complete the mother & daughter journal that she presented to me on Christmas, 2003. Times, continually changing, bring different thoughts, different ideas, different solutions. I’ll be making addendums to the journal for as long as I can put pen to paper, because…
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven… from Ecclesiastes and incorporated into Turn, Turn, Turn, a song by the Byrds.