Make Way for Lupines

In Maine, early June brings many delights, but few are as beautiful as a field full of lupines.  Every year, I look forward to their tall purple and pink spikes in the deep green grass. Lupines look lovely in gardens, but to me they are best in masses, in a field.

Here is a closer look. It doesn’t hurt to have some yellow buttercups in the mix, either.

Closer to home, in my gardens, everything is thriving. The hostas, not yet chewed to green lace by snails and slugs, are thriving and whole.

The chives are nearly in bloom. I like their spiky pinkness.

On a sadder note, yesterday we sprinkled Liam’s ashes in the backyard that he loved so much, by the ferns by the fence. We have a memorial bench in honor of my mother, Clif’s mother, our previous dog Seamus, and now Liam. The Buddha was purchased in memory of Clif’s mother, who was drawn to Buddhism. The cat was for my mother, who had a special fondness for these independent creatures. Now we need a stone dog to complete the set. A collie, if we can find one. We figure that will be close enough to a Sheltie. (Seamus was a Sheltie, too.)

This bench does not make our backyard a morbid place. Far from it. Instead, it is a place of peace and delight, where the memories of those we have loved come to visit us. They are always nearby.

 

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Galloping Spring

Spring has galloped into Maine, and she is nearly out of sight. The leaves are full sized, and the early flowers have become a sweet memory. Gone are the tulips and the daffodils, but the irises, daisies, and lupines are in glorious bloom. We are on the edge of summer, lovely summer, so welcome after the long, frigid winter we had.

On Sunday, Clif and I went for a bike ride along Maranacook Lake. A couple of hardy souls—children, of course—were swimming in the cold water.

Whenever we go on this bike ride—our everyday route—we are thankful to live in such a pretty little town that has so much water. Maranacook is only one of several lakes and big ponds in Winthrop.

In between gardening and biking, I have been working on my YA fantasy Library Lost. My first readers—my family—have commented and have made editing suggestions, which I am now implementing. I am fortunate to have a family of such good readers. Their advice is invaluable, and without them, my books wouldn’t be anywhere near as good.

By the end of this week, Library Lost should be ready for copy editing. This is a long process, and while Library Lost is edited, I will begin the third book, Library Regained.

No rest for writers, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

 

 

Comfort Me with Gardening

It has been a long, sad week without our dog buddy, Liam. I keep listening for him, wondering where he is. I save him bits of toast.  Is it time for him to go out? Very foolish to think these things, as I know he is gone, but old habits are hard to break.

Fortunately for me, the weather has been oh so fine, and I have worked in the gardens all week. Such a consolation, and I can only be grateful that Liam’s decline did not happen in the winter when we were stuck inside. Instead, like a terrier, I have been digging and moving hostas to fill in empty spots left by less hardy plants that didn’t make it. Finally, after nearly thirty years of gardening in this dry, shady yard, after spending too much money on plants that either died or didn’t thrive, I have given into hostas. Now, in our yard, hostas rule.

However, amid the calming foliage of the hostas, there are some budding irises, my favorites..

And front or back, everything is green, green, green. Our yard is held in the palm of the forest.

Amid the green, I love the dash of blue of the little fountain, given to me by “the kids” on my sixtieth birthday. When Clif and I sit on the patio, we can hear the gentle splash of water. So soothing.

And then there’s this dash of orange, which always livens things up.

Believe it or not, wild Sherlock is a comfort, too. He and his gentler sister, Ms. Watson, bring purring life to our evenings, settling beside us as we watch TV.

And so it goes into June. Soon the heavy gardening will be done, and after that, it will be on to bike riding. We’ll probably never be able to keep up with my blogging friend Tootlepedal, who recently biked seventy-six miles in honor of his seventy-six years, but we are going to step up our game, so to speak.

Biking, flowers, time on the patio. Come, summer, come!

 

 

 

In Memoriam: Liam, January 15, 2005 – May 25, 2018

The title of this post pretty much says it all. While Liam rallied a bit midweek, it became clear that by Friday something was terribly wrong. He hadn’t eaten since Sunday, and nothing, not even ice cream, could tempt him to take a bite.

We brought Liam to the vets on Friday, and he had an ultrasound, which revealed that he had cancer that had metastasized. The time had come to have him euthanized, and Clif and I were with him at the end. For those of you who have had beloved pets put down, you know how heat-wrenching this is.  But to us it was clear that this was the right thing to do. There was no hope of Liam getting better, only more suffering.

Oh, the house is quiet without Liam. Even in his decline, he had a bright spirit, so luminous that when we posted Liam’s death on Facebook, kind friends who knew him mentioned it over and over. How lucky we were to have this energetic dog who filled our days with joy and pizzazz. Until he went blind, Liam was always ready for a lark—a trip to the beach, a walk in the woods, an ice cream treat at the Dairy Queen.

One of my favorite memories of Liam was how he gleefully raced around the backyard. Soon after we got him, we fenced in our entire backyard, about half an acre, which gave him a good sprint. Liam raced around so much that his pounding paws wove a groove around the perimeter, and our friend Claire dubbed it “The Liam 500.”

When a motorcycle went by, this was especially exciting. Not only would Liam run, but he would stop to twirl once, twice, three times, barking madly. Friends who witnessed this would laugh and shake their heads. Our Liam knew how to liven things up.

What makes Liam’s death especially poignant is that there will be no more dogs for us. Our books keep us busy as we go to various events. Because of Liam, we could only go an hour or so away from our house. Now, we can go two hours and even, on occasion, three hours. While we gladly accommodated our schedule to Liam, we decided that after he passed, our energies would be devoted to our books.

One of the many lessons we learned from our vibrant dog is this: Life is short, so cherish the ones who are dear to you, be they family, friends, dogs, cats, horses, or whatever. This cherishing brings a richness to life that cannot be purchased, no matter how much money you have. At the end of things, there will be grief, but to be mourned is to be loved.

So farewell, Liam! You were certainly loved, and our lives won’t be the same without you.

A Liam Update: Better but Still Not Eating

Here is an update on Liam. On Tuesday, he had a very bad spell, lying prone on the floor for hours and hours. His breathing was labored, and we thought we were losing him. What a long day!

But then, when night came, Liam perked up. He was so weak that Clif had to carry him down the front steps to the backyard. But once in the backyard, Liam walked around, sniffed a bit, and even woofed when he heard the snorting of what we think was a deer.

Wednesday, he continued to gain strength, even though we had to help him get up from a lying position and carry him up and down the front steps.

Today, he is getting up by himself, but Clif is still carrying him up and down the front steps.

Liam is drinking water aplenty, but unfortunately he is still not eating.  I’m hoping he’ll soon turn the corner on this. If not, I’ll give the vets a call.

Because Lian is not eating, the pills must be pushed down his throat. How I hate, hate, hate to do this. I’d gladly clean up any stinky mess rather than force pills on him. But, as Clif pointed out, without the medicine, Liam would surely die.

Yes, he would. And so I do it. Actually, it takes two of us. Despite being so sick, that dog has mighty strong jaws.

We are feeling encouraged by the progress Liam has made, and to celebrate, here’s a close-up of one of my lovely irises.

Bloom on, flowers and dogs.

 

A blog about nature, home, community, books, writing, the environment, food, and rural life.