Category Archives: dog love

Plants, plants, dog

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This guy.

This morning.

Variegated Solomon’s Seal taking off in back area where I transplanted a few clumps — two years ago?

A dozen spread to a crowd! Dwarf Solomon’s Seal.

Just because something looks dead doesn’t mean it is.

The variegated iris is gonna bloom (it didn’t last year). New grasses. New succulent ground cover.

Color in the shade garden coming from annuals.

Nest feeder: sphagnum moss, cloth strips, tufts of wool roving. I’ve been watching a few robins gather nest materials for at least nine days now. This morning I found out where one of the nests is — in one of my next door neighbor’s tall cypresses.

The place where I get my garden discount (25%) has upped their spend-threshold to maintain the deal. I might have to buy a few more things. Ha! Neighbors — need anything?

Grey not green

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It is raining and supposed to rain all day. My sweater is grey too.

In honor of all things Irish, I’m linking to my post retelling the story of Deirdre from 2016. Some reader of my blog read it yesterday and, as I sometimes do, I went back and reread it as well. It’s one of my favorite posts. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Meanwhile, I’m in search of a turtle for the Smokestacks Quilt. The process has been fun but so far nothing works. The temptation to cut off the bottom of the quilt is growing.

Trump’s insane post last night in which he supposedly vacates Biden’s pardons of the J6 Committee members (and in which he lies AGAIN about how the Committee destroyed evidence) brings to mind MAD KINGS — and our recent viewing of a Lucy Worsley on PBS about King George III. Who knew a British king off his rocker would be so newly relevant in America in 2025?

PS I love Worsley with her cute barretts and charming speech impediment. She has such a great way of taking the viewer back into British history through interviews, site visits, and forays into the archives. It never feels like a rehash.

A little snow, a little sleep

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The snow was predicted but surprised us nevertheless. So often the forecast says it’s coming and then it just doesn’t. Four inches? Almost. It’s pretty.

Finally settled on a Christmas Eve menu. I waffled a lot. Not like me.

Our dog-sitter canceled last night for our December 30th trip to Denver. Last night! I didn’t panic however and found someone else on the Rover app within the hour. Super nice guy.

We met with him today. Now that Finn is ten and has settled down quite a bit, we describe him very differently than we would have even two years back.

Finn right after he came to live with us. Six months old. He was an anxious pup.

He has his habits. He likes to go in his downstairs crate before we go up to bed. At night, he starts in his upstairs crate near us and then goes from room to room. He loves sleeping in my writing chair. He loves treats (that much hasn’t changed). Here’s how we fling them around the backyard and tell him to Find It!

I’ll end with two things.

One: a night of sleep is an absolute godsend these days.

Two: the creating/blogging energy continues to lie dormant. It’s December, I tell myself. Not a bad time to be still.

Dogs, teeth, book, and more

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Last night I dreamt of dogs — is it any wonder with this sweetheart in our midst?

Also, I had a recurring nightmare: the loss of my front tooth. In this one, I tug out my mouth guard and the crown comes with it, drops to the floor, and skitters across the room. This is the fourth or fifth such dream. And you wonder why I’ve given up corn on the cob?

Responses to my book continue to be causes for joy. Private messages have been uniformly positive. Thank you one and all!

Also (and this I did not expect), there has been a smattering of grief about not having been able to get an agent or a small press interested in my work. I’m assuming this will fade over the next weeks.

Novel with an old quilt of mine made for a long-time mediating friend in Cambridge

Coming to you from Long Island with one of my Katrina quilts

The debate and subsequent drilling down on what Jamelle Bouie has called a “blood libel” has been just spectacularly grim. Dangerous. And you wonder, don’t you, how the Orange Menace’s rhetoric can be at once shocking and utterly predictable.

Apparently, he thinks Haitians come from Venezuela? Just a minor point in his stream of invective.

I’m doing another 25 Postcardstovoters.

My brother’s stroke anniversary is next week. Four years. There will not be cake.

C and his girlfriend come for dinner tonight and there will be cookies. And scallops. Shockingly expensive scallops. I shrugged and rationalized: this is our Christmas dinner.

Siri and Peonies

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I use voice-activated Siri for an obnoxious number of things now. Siri: set a timer for 20 minutes. Siri: look up when the new Congress gets sworn in. Siri: open the Rover app.

You get the idea. But! A new trick is thrilling me to bits. You can ask Siri to read something to you. Yes!

So today while walking Finn I asked Siri to look up an article on peony care. And then, so as not to become like all those dog people who look at their phones and miss canine clues in the environment, I asked Siri to read it to me.