OK, I decided to take brilliant photographer David Perry‘s Challenge and go into my yard with my camera and look for signs of life and color. I have to admit that David lives up in the far Pacific Northwest and he was offering his suggestion (in addition to in a recent post) to gardener Dee who lives in Oklahoma, so, honestly, they might be both a bit snow-challenged at the moment. This didn’t stop Dee from taking some stunning photographs of her snowy backyard, but I do understand. Nevertheless, I had been maybe just a teeny bit gloomy about the garden this last week after being inundated with the heaviest storms in two years–all much-needed and welcomed water, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I am SICK OF MUD and add I am relishing that sun streaming in through my office window onto my keyboard right now. Yum. Such a sun bunny. It’s ridiculous.

Through the sog [I make up words, what can I say?] a glim ray of inspiration kindled my creativity so I gathered my camera and slushed out bravely through the M#*, actually forgetting about it for the first time in weeks, and lost myself in the following mind exercise: what would David shoot? (As if.) I honestly did not bear high hopes for my excursion, but went with the process. Film is back.
[Yes, I’m still using a 35 mm. camera–a good one.] And here were the surprising results!

Seeking color I jumped immediately toward the single large rosehip which I’d not cut off the roses on the arbor behind my vege garden. Here is it.

Is it not cute? Next year I will hesitate to cut them back. Why have I abandoned my Sixties roots? They are a rich source of Vitamin C and a lovely cup of tea.
And so decorative meanwhile!

Wait, there’s more! Keeping the rosehip company in the arbor is the birdhouse. Granted it’s more for looks than for occupation, but it has its place, especially in winter, apparently, where its bright colors offer relief.

Continuing my quest, I looked about for things I would not normally think to
shoot. Where is the color? Where is the color? The life. The beauty. Conner had his own ideas, so I went along with his perceptions for a moment. And what he loved most was a yellow ball he and Ruby got for Christmas which he’d dropped into a big washtub I’d left rightside up for Ruby, to collect rainwater, as one of her favorite things in the world is to jump into water front paws first, kaboom. So I let my camera look through Conner’s eyes, and this is what he saw:

What else? What else? Well, the most conspicuous splash of color in the yard at the moment is this birdbath I found in a Marshall’s in Scottsdale when I was still in the desert. When you are trying to garden in the desert you welcome such pieces, trust me! Here in California it blends into the foilage, but in winter, it does, indeed, pop!

Glancing around I certainly could not ignore the line-up of my European pots full of orphan roses I’d saved from (cough, cough) Walmart, all withered and overgrown and unbelieveably cheap! In summer they burst with those lovely single petaled pinks and whites and yellow saucer big roses. I love them. And now, refocus, it’s about the POTS.

Rounding out my Little Tour with New Eyes, I explored the last vestiges of the quince.

Maybe next year someone will teach me what to do with them. I fear they are a lost art/delicacy…

And, finally, a visit to the white lilac bush that graces the corner of my front yard, bearing the harbingers of spring–full of buds promising their sweetest fragrance and loveliest of blossoms that each passerby can enjoy.

Thanks to David for his invitation. May we all be inspired to look for beauty in the midst of our own winter seasons.

Love and blessings,
Kathryn

Posted on January 6th, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: Plants | 14 Comments »

Last year just about this time I got a hankering for another Border Collie. A female, I decided. And I would name her Ruby, after Ruby Pease, who is an early ancestor who lived in CT in the 1700’s. A charming thought. Why not? It felt like a nice way to honor her, and make my past an even more vital part of my present. I thought she might like that. About a week later my friend Marsha emailed me saying, “Guess what? That breeder up in Oregon is looking for a home for the sister of our Cooper. Her name is Reba.” Gulp. Close enough for folk music, as they used to say in the 60’s. That was fast! I downloaded her photos. Shoot. I was in love. She was exactly what I was looking for. Sweet and gentle and smart.

I would like to portray what ensued as really straightforward. It wasn’t exactly a direct path, but after a couple of swerves in the road where I actually considered MOVING so I could have her, things fell into their natural place and moved ahead smoothly and the next thing I knew the breeder was volunteering to drive her down to us. Very very nice. She arrived at night in a truck driven by a tall lanky drink of water [have I been watching John Wayne over the holidays or what?], an interesting woman, stylish with feminine charms in boots and jeans and a wide, easy smile. Ruby (nee Reba) was tucked in back and was ever so ready to disembark and find her way to her new life. Mind you she was moving from a wildly different lifestyle and design. She had been herding sheep for the previous year or so. She’d been tapped as “the one” in her litter. Her paper trail went readily back to Scotland to a line of excellent sheepherders and trial dogs. It was considered her destiny to continue this skill stateside. But, alas, if truth be told, she hated the sheep and the herding. Should no one have been listening (which they were) she bit the sheep to make her point. “Sometimes God has other plans for a Border Collie, Reba,” her breeder confided she had told her little dog, sad that her vision had not come to reality. And so she came to us in the dark of that evening, right at Christmas.

In excited anticipation, I had prepared for her coming. It truly was like a new baby, even though she was two. I bought the biggest kennel I could find and a new soft big pink blanket. When I’d shared this with the breeder she had ensured me the dog would “be too hot.” Reba/Ruby had up until this time spent her time out of doors, mostly in a kennel, with only occasional forays Inside, and even then, under strict supervision. Things were about to change. Bigtime.

We brought her into the kitchen on a lead. What would Conner think?? Happily,
he loved her instantly. He seemed to know she was one of his own breed, someone who would understand him, and he was right. It is a lovely thing to have companion animals who are on the same wavelength with very much in common. It creates flow. We should take note. Communication between them is effortless. They enjoy the same activities. They are playful together and take delight in each other’s company. They share nicely. They respect each other’s boundaries, support each other’s needs. If Ruby cannot find a ball for me to throw, Conner will pounce on one to help her. If she loses her ball in the woods, he will point it out. If she jumps over his head, he regards this as natural. He adores her and thinks she is the cat’s pajamas. (Where *did* that expression come from??) And I agree.

When she first came and I saw her size I was nearly appalled she had been working herds of sheep. So little. So dainty. So cute, I thought. Then I discovered one morning she had dragged her kiddie pool (she swims!) containing probably a hundred pounds of water half way across the yard. Oh, yes. With her teeth. I told a friend if I ever fall in the snow and can’t get up, this wee thing will drag me to safety. She is one tough thing, immune to bumps, to getting knocked about in play. She is fast, loyal, intelligent and good. And she can pull herself in and quiet herself in a heartbeat. She is inordinately affectionate and dear. All I’d hoped for and more. I live in continual gratitude for what her being, her mind, heart and energy have brought to our family. We feel rounded out now, more balanced. The pack is full and we are happy. And so is she.

Posted on December 25th, 2007 by Kathryn
Filed under: Animals | 10 Comments »