Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

  This beautiful piece of art fell from one of the pine trees early this morning when the winds blew in as forecasted. I am mesmerized by the craftsmanship.

Today is Murphy's birthday. He is all of two years old. For the past two years I've had more than my fair share of laughs, all because of this little bundle of energy. I am a very lucky dog mom. To start our day, we trekked to Mello-Creme donuts to get Murphy a birthday donut for breakfast. He enjoyed an apple fritter and a plain old-fashioned donut. Of the two, the plain old-fashioned was his favorite, and I know this because he would take a bite of the apple fritter then put it down. He would then give me that look of "you're trying to give me something with fruit in it." After a few long seconds, he would turn and walk away. As soon as I offered a bite of the plain old-fashioned, he was right there and made no hesitation whatsoever. The entire donut disappeared in seconds. Most of the apple fritter is still in his food bowl. This afternoon we went for a hike along the creek and found the pond we spotted a couple of days ago on our hike across the bare soybean f

I am watching Robert Cabral talk about the tragic dog attack in Tennessee, the one that killed a 5 month old and a 2 year old. The mother ended up in the hospital in critical condition because she was trying to protect her children.  Just tragic. No words. None. When this happened, I sat and cried for those kids and that mom. I'm crying again because it didn't have to happen. Cabral mentioned he thinks the baby started crying and it was the crying that set the dogs off. That was my first thought when I heard about this. And it took me back to a moment in a dog park when Angel Baby was five. We had taken Max, our black lab mix, to the dog park to run and play. My kids brought their softball gloves and ball to toss around. Lovely Beautiful Daughter tossed the ball to Angel Baby. The ball rolled out of his glove, up his forearm and smacked into his nose. He started wailing. A high-pitched, my nose hurts wail. Blood streamed down, over his lips and onto his shirt. I was about five

Yesterday, Murphy and I went on an adventure. I've been thinking about new activities for him as we both have kind of gotten bored with our usual walk. The walks are fine, but Murphy's been giving me the side-eye as we walk along, like he's trying to tell me, "Hoomin, weze bin dis way zillions of times. Derz no nu smells. I's need nu smells." After a lot of thinking and researching, I found Dogwood Farms in Indiana.  So Murphy and I drove over to see if he would like to herd sheep. It turns out he kinda does. At first, he was just totally confused. Mary Lou, the shepherd of Dogwood Farms and trainer of sheep dogs, said the confusion is perfectly normal. There was a lot going on that Murphy was trying to figure out. Towards the end of the session, Mary Lou dropped the lead to see how Murphy reacted. I totally get why she didn't want to just turn him loose from the get-go. I would have been mortified if Murphy had gone all attack-mode. But he didn't. He

 

Dear JK, For some time now, really since saying goodbye to Ado, you've seemed a bit off, as if you're mooring line  untethered and you're just drifting about. He was your wharf and you didn't understand this until the vet sat next to you and said in so many words there was no fixing what was wrong with him. That day will stay with you for a long time. As will the day you sat on the floor beside Ado, whispering to him, petting him, watching the light dim then go out entirely. Those moments have played out over and over the last two months. One day they will fade.  And you will find peace. There will come a day the tears won't fall. Instead, you'll smile, thinking of all the wonderful that happened because of that little furry puppy who came into your life and marked out a spot in your heart that was all for him. Just for him.  For now, it's okay to mourn. It's okay to not want to do things. It's okay to miss your beautiful boy.

Yesterday, I had an incredible day. At one point, while I was on my way home from town after going to get a few houseplants to add to the small assembly I already have, I wondered if . . . in a month, a year, five years, ten years . . . I would remember what an incredible day I had. There are moments, and it seems like these moments are happening far more often these days, that I wish I could remember far more from my childhood, my teens, my 20's, 30's, 40's.  I want to remember. Yesterday: Saturday, October 8, 2022 early morning walk with Murphy, frost on the grass a neighbor asking where my German shepherd is and having to tell him I had to say goodbye to my beautiful boy the sadness finding me again as I thought about Ado a roaring fire in the new fireplace feet toasty warm in front of the fireplace as I graded papers sitting in the Adirondack chair and drinking a steaming cup of coffee, looking out over the back field the drive to town, the tree leaves changing colors,

The new fireplace is just wonderful. Having a fire on chilly evenings . . . there's something magical about it. A fire offers much more than simply warming an area. It whispers, "Relax. Slow down." The next few evenings and mornings are supposed to be much cooler, so I'm stocking up on kindling and firewood. I have several books stacked on the side table, just waiting to be selected and enjoyed. This time of year is my favorite because it's like I'm given permission to wile away the hours without feeling any guilt whatsoever, and now I can do it in front of a lovely wood fire. Today I cleaned the garden of the tomato, green pepper, and poblano pepper plants. And the basil. I clipped the basil stalk at its base then brought the bushy plant into the kitchen. Its aroma filled the whole house.  I left the lettuce, spinach, and kale in their bed as they are still going strong. Some carrots and beets remain as well. This weekend, I'll sow more carrots and beets

I finally did it. I took a deep breath and said just do it. So I drew out a wad of money and got my fireplace the way I really wanted it: with a wood-burning fireplace insert. A year and a half ago, I had a vent-free gas insert installed. I liked it, but it just wasn't what I really wanted. I figure I only get one go at this thing called life -- there are no dress rehearsals -- so I decided to remove the vent-free gas insert and go with a woodstove. I had initially planned to do a free-standing woodstove and tile the firebox a really pretty pattern, but that plan just wasn't going to work out. The chimney needed work I wasn't going to be able to do. So I called in the professionals, and after discussing the issue with them, they got me all set up. The work took about five and a half hours, and I enjoyed watching the entire process. I think the coolest part was looking up into the chimney after it was cleaned. All the nasty was gone. I could see the red brick instead of blac

I found this today as I was pulling weeds from my very neglected flower bed on the north side of the house. At first I was unsure if it was something that had been growing under all the weeds, or if it was a piece of plastic from a long forgotten toy, or something else entirely. It was just really strange to find amidst the weeds and wood chips. The more I looked at it the more I thought it was a fungus, so I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket and typed in "orange tube fungus" and the very first result was an image of this very odd-looking thingamajig. It is the mutinus elegans. I figured elegans meant elegant, and it does, so whoever named this certainly had a sense of humor. It really isn't all that elegant in my humble opinion. I read further and learned the fungus is more commonly referred to as the "elegant stinkhorn," the "dog stinkhorn," the "headless stinkhorn," or, and this is my personal favorite, the "devil's dipstick.&

I'm right at the edge today, fearing I might step off if the just-right reason shows up. What the just-right reason is, I don't know, but I guess if I end up dissolving into the tears that seem to be threatening, I'll know then. I'm trying to be analytical about the feeling pressing against the back of my eyes and through my nasal passages, hoping that analysis will help the feeling go away. It's not really working. Sleep eluded me most of the night. Once or twice a month I have a night sleep just won't come. I go to bed tired, but after an hour or two of sleep, I'm wide awake. Tossing, mostly onto my back and my left side. I don't sleep on my right side since my vertigo incident. I actually prefer my right but I'm afraid I'll trigger another bout of dizziness. Sleep laughed at me and slithered off to bathe someone else in dreamland. I'm pretty sure lack of sleep is part of today's slipping into sadness. That and thoughts of Ado. I miss h

Murphy and I have been keeping busy, trying to keep the sadness somewhat at bay. It's been tough. I find myself constantly thinking about Ado. And Murphy basically told me no when I put his dinner in Ado's bowl instead of the little one he'd been eating out of for the last nearly two years. When I put the food in the bowl, then put the bowl in it's wooden holder, Murphy looked at me like, "What in the world, hoomin. That is not where my food goes." He then barked his resistance. It took a bit of cajoling to get him to be okay with eating out of Ado's bowl. Last week we went to the lake I took Ado to for his first longer hike. Murphy and I walked the path, and I remembered so much of being there with Ado. Murphy enjoyed the hike and was one tuckered out pup when we got home. Yesterday, we went to another park I've never been to before. Before we set off on our walk, I pulled out the bag with two donuts and shared them with Murphy. I think he preferred t

It seems like a huge, dark hole has opened in the middle of my house. I skirt the edges, trying not to fall in. But then I see his favorite spot to sleep and I can't keep the tears back. Or I go to get Murphy's leash and I see his hanging from the hook, bringing the tears to the surface once again. His empty food bowl provokes yet more tears.  My hope above all other hopes is that he knew he was so, so loved.

I had a wonderful break from the blog. And from writing in general. At first I was upset with myself for stepping away entirely, but as the weeks passed I learned to give myself some grace about letting go. Letting go of old dreams. Writing/publishing are old dreams. I've done both. Then I found myself at the point of not enjoying the writing part, and the trying to publish part even less. I fought with myself for a long time, not being willing to give up, but my gut was saying it was the right thing to do. And it was. Now? I don't know . . . we'll see.  My summer was all about the greenhouse and flowers. Enjoyed every single minute.

Well, as you can see, I've not kept up with the photo a day. I have them. I've just not felt inclined to continue posting. Other things are keeping me busy. And I've been enjoying the time away from the computer.  So, after much thought, I've decided to take a break from the blog.  I hope you all are having a wonderful, beautiful spring.