A happy...

Today my friend Sonia gave me the happiest gift. This beautiful basket filled with succulent snow peas, crunchy carrots, radiant radishes, beautiful beet greens, delightful dill and fabulous flowers. Everything was MOST artistically arranged, and there were cute little notes attached. For instance, the bunch of carrots was fastened with a little oval tag that said "For Chanel (my horse) and friends. Eat your greens." (Too bad for Chanel, I am eating those carrots myself. They are sweet and have a huge YUM factor.) I did sacrifice one to the bunny, though.

This was a shining lovely bubble of a moment in a hectic sort of day. Thank you, Sonia. You are a treasure. AND an artist.

Pet Tech First Aid class

Yesterday I attended an 8 hour pet first aid class given by Pet Tech in Rockport, Maine.
This is a class all pet owners should take... and certainly one that pet care professionals should attend, as well. The instructors, Mary and Beth were great fun and very good at their jobs.

Each of us had a model dog to work on. We learned to do rescue breathing, CPR, and how to help a choking animal. There were lessons on stopping bleeding, splinting suspected fractures, and bandaging. What a great way to spend a day!

Impossible blue...

Even my good good camera cannot capture it... but the delphiniums are blooming--- impossibly blue.
Meanwhile the garden in general is riotous. My first attempt at growing broccoli is a huge success, and the lettuce has been delightful. The flower beds are all all rich in color... but this delphinium is perhaps my favorite.

I cannot look at it without thinking fondly of being 6, and lying belly down on the hardwood floor by the fireplace in my bedroom, reading AAMilne in hardcover. http://www.glirarium.org/bilch/literatur/doctor.html My ribs would ache from the pressure of the floor but I would remain there and read. This poem perplexed me... I did not know the blue of delphiniums, but I did appreciate the name and the idea of them.

And now they grow by the door, tall and luscious and a blue that makes my heart beat a little faster. Like a Dormouse.

Highly suspicious yard art...

My friend Liz gave me these funny yard art chickens. Smooch the Pooch found them highly suspicious. He gave them the once over more than once. There was a lot of muttering and grumbling under his puggy breath. The chickens remained calm.

Smooch still doesn't trust them.

Independence Day...

We had a quiet morning at home, sleeping in and enjoying our place in the world. Then we drove to Reid State park. The day was fine- sunny and warm. The beach was wide and sprawling and dotted with sand frosted children. Gulls wheeled in the clear sky and a family of ducks surfed the waves near the shore.

The sandy beach was long and curved, the tide was coming in. You may note that there are no people in the water. Well... there were a few, but they were hardy souls. The water was bone chilling. The three of us held hands and waded in about to our waists. We wanted to dive right in, but every splashing wave took our breaths away.

We walked and waded and sprawled in the sun. I took pictures, of course, and listened to the magical sound of the surf on sand and granite. The day wrapped around us, scented with wild roses and salt air, a gift.

Insert imagination HERE....

This is my first ever blog post that is not accompanied by an illustrative photo.
Please use my words, combined with your imagination, to create the appropriate image:

When our daughter was very small... maybe 3 years old, she and Chris and I went to a Sunday morning flea market at the fair grounds in Memphis Tennessee. We searched for an affordable treasure or two among the junk. One vendor offered plus sized men's tee shirts. Since Chris is a plus size, he checked the booth out. He came away with one ugly purchase. Something the vendor called a "Texas Tee." Size 5 x. HUGE. And beige, (not a real color!) A loose knit pocket tee, offering little in the way of fashion.

I rolled my eyes. Little did I know that shirt would become a family favorite. The fabric has a bit of stretch to it, the neckline is loose and giving, the whole thing feels like, OK, I'll just say it, it feels like wearing a hug.

Chris wore it a lot, banging around the house, cooking, mowing and enjoying leisure time. It was washed often. It acquired stains and a scent all its own. Even fresh out of the wash it looked disreputable.

I borrowed it a time or two. Tiny Rachel wore it, down to her little ankles, as a dress up ball gown, as a cozy nighty. The shirt acquired a patina of comfort. When I was sick, I wanted to don it. When Rachel was sick, she insisted upon wearing "the big Daddy shirt." It saw her through many a virus, chicken pox, much needed nap and a flu or two.

Eighteen years or so have passed. Rachel recently came home for a lovely visit. The first night home her car was packed with all her "stuff," and she arrived here too late to unpack. Looking for something for her to wear I asked, "Want to wear something of mine? Something of Dad's?" Her weary eyes lit up, "The 'big Daddy shirt?'" I dug it out, tucked deep in a bottom drawer. I held it to my face as I brought it to her, inhaling deeply. It smelled of sun and detergent and Chris and time and love. A good smell. A soft smell. I held it up, the generous neck dropped over our daughters head. The sleeves hung almost to her wrists, the hem danced around her knees. She sighed when the smooth fabric embraced her. A happy, coming home and feeling good sigh.

That shirt. That purchase I rolled my eyes at, has become a family icon. Something that offers fashion-less comfort and softness and familiarity. With stains. I suspect that long after Chris and I are gone, Rachel will have that shirt stashed in the back of a closet... that her kids will dance with its hem brushing their ankles. That she will hold it to her face and breath in the scent of times gone by. That shirt will be what memories feel like.

Slug slayer....

I took a break from gardening to refill my water bottle, leaving my gloves on the deck rail. When I went to retrieve the gloves mere moments later, one had fallen into the herb garden. As I bent to retrieve the glove, I noticed it wiggled a bit. I went to get my camera.

Under the glove was this small snake. Chris, an everlasting little boy, insisted on picking it up. I was glad he did when it flashed this red underbelly at us. I have never seen this type of snake before. It is a Northern Red Bellied snake, and I was overjoyed to read that they eat SLUGS.

Since we have a bumper crop of slugs here, and since slugs like to eat everything I grow, the thought of a glove hiding, slug eating snake in my garden makes me glad of heart.