Just A Bit Of Weather

My niece Lydia brought this cute little mug in the other day when she came and brought baby Clara Rose along for a visit.  It got me thinking about the jobs we do and how my life has been one filled with the love of dogs and an enthusiastic attempt to make everyone I meet love them too.

The photo above was taken the other night at around midnight Ohio time, by a rather bleary-eyed woman who was on her way back home after retrieving one of our puppy kids who had missed his late evening flight due to weather complications.  As long-time residents of coastal South Carolina, ones who went through a Category 5 hurricane (Hugo) I default into a sort of panic when the weatherman begins talking about tropical depressions and storm surges.

I had been assured when I handed “High Cotton” (I know, I couldn’t resist naming that fluffy little white bundle that) to the nice man behind the counter at the airport that in spite of what looked rather troubling on the radar screen, I was not to worry, that the plane that was to carry little guy was a jumbo jet and perfectly capable of navigating through “a bit of weather” as he termed it.

With a peek into Cotton’s crate where he was snuggled into his deep bed of white shreddies and chewing happily on a biscuit, I bid him safe journey and returned to the parking lot to navigate my own way back the hour & a half drive to the sleepy little village where we live.

Listening to XM and an episode of Radio Classics kept me entertained during the hour & 1/2 drive until I pulled off the interstate and threaded the last 5 miles home to where my DH & our cozy bed and a good book awaited.

My iPhone rang, startling me in the darkness: (note to self: don’t listen to Suspense Theatre when driving alone at night).

It was United Airlines, apologetically informing me that High Cotton’s flight had been indeed been canceled and would I please come posthaste and pick him up as they would be closing in 2 hours.  I asked if my baby puppy was OK and they laughingly told me that they wished they could keep him, that he had entertained them since I’d dropped him off and he was voted the cutest puppy of the day.

Yawning hugely, I regretfully turned my SUV around within a mile of home and soon found myself heading back the long drive to the airport.  I knew that little Cotton was fine, puppies are kept in the United office until they board their planes, the staff loves our babies and often take them out while they are waiting to depart and carry them around the office, taking turns snuggling and exclaiming over them.

Soon I was enroute home again, sitting at a traffic light with little guy tucked in the seat beside me, none the worse for wear after his adventure. I glanced over to my left and the dazzling display of lights on the airport runway instantly captured my attention and what was a rather dreary late night journey suddenly became touched with magic and a reminder of the beauty hidden in plain view all around us.

With my traveling companion alongside, I finished listening to another episode of Suspense and before long we were pulling back off that same exit ramp and I was tucking little Cotton into his bed for the night.  He gave me a look as if to say “Mom, what was all that about?”  I patted his sleepy head and told him he’d be in his forever home very soon but now it was time for all good puppies to go nite nite.

That’s what I do, take good care of my little charges, those small ones with four feet who make sure we never have a dull moment.  I love each one of them, they all have a journey to take, hearts to fill with puppy love, it’s my privilege to be part of making that journey a smooth one for us all.

It might occasionally get a little bumpy but we are always grateful to arrive home sweet home at journey’s end.

Blooming Where You Are Planted

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The heat and drought continue at Foxglove this summer but you’d never know it when viewing the brave show this heat-loving border of perennials is putting on.  They continue to “bloom where they are planted” and proclaim that sunshine in abundance is perfectly fine as far as they are concerned.

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Daylilies and echinacea, bee balm (which the bees of course adore) and blue salvia are flourishing.

I knew when we planted them about a year ago, that they would come into their own in the hottest part of summer when the rest of my flowers would be kicking up their heels in dismay over any prolonged heat.

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The hummingbirds and butterflies have been hard at work in these crowded beds, there’s a particular little hummer that comes down and stands watch over “his” flowers.

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Little mischief sits like a furious marble-sized guardian, oozing indignation at any bird or squirrel who dares approach the vast array of beautiful blooms (I’d say there’s more than enough for him to share but what would I know of the workings of that tiny brain?)

Totally fearless, he comes down when I’m out “scurrying through the beds” as Gertrude Jekyll that marvelous old-time Britsh gardener used to say.  He grudgingly allows Agatha & I safe passage but occasionally buzzes right over our heads just so I know he’s keeping his eye on us!

Hummingbird At Foxglove Farm

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Even Agatha, the comfort spaniel that she is, enjoys a short morning sunbath while pretending to help me with the weeding chores.  She lays in the grass and along with the hummingbird watches for possible squirrel encroachments as I work to remove the weeds that weedlike, always seem to flourish in spite of any lack of rain.

Agatha of Agatha's Apothecary

Soon, though, little miss remembers that she’s not had her breakfast and as the sun comes out in earnest she stares hard at me, clearing saying she’s had all the fun she can stand for one day and there are culinary delights waiting in the kitchen.

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I hope this finds you enjoying a few flowers and perhaps some delights in your kitchen as well.  I’m pondering the addition of a hammock, good garden help is hard to come by and deserves a perk now and then I’m thinking!

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The Waterfall Outside My Window

It’s been a long hot summer not only here at Foxglove Farm but across the country as well and I wanted to share some summertime refreshment for those who might be in need of it.

First how about a nice cool glass of lemonade to set the stage?

(I use my little vintage citrus hand juicer and add the juice of one lemon to a quart of water and ice, sweeten to taste with a bit of sugar or agave, and ENJOY!).

One of my favorite views is right outside the kitchen, past the cheery yellow curtains that frame the tall windows and keeps me entertained with a vista that like His mercies, is new every morning.

I’m completely mesmerized by this tiny pool, I found the plans in an old Handyman magazine years ago. I’m anything but handy when it comes to mechanics and complicated DIY projects, but this little gem was created with a minimum of fuss and the help of an enthusiastic teenager (thanks to my faithful garden helper Cody!). He and I managed to create what has been an utterly charming spot to watch the magic that fresh water brings to a landscape.

I told Cody as we started work, that I wanted it “to look like God made it” and while it may fall short of divine, I have to say this little spot is so realistic, even the birds are beginning to think He put it there for them.

(And perhaps He did : )

My small waterfall draws all manner of thirsty small folk in with the sound of its musical splashing. They say birds and wildlife can hear water from great distances and I’ve watched in amazement the vast assortment of winged and four-footed creatures who daily are drawn to enjoy this little Eden.

The creek down our lane is the usual spot for bathing and thirst-quenching, but this long heatwave has literally dried our little stream up completely and I’m happy that dozens of creatures have found that there is still fresh cool water free for the taking.  I waited a long time for the first visitors who seemed incredulous that such an oasis existed in our parched landscape.

Much time was spent peering worriedly at the new water feature, I wondered how long it would be before someone was brave enough to take the plunge.  The Bluebird looks longingly at the cool water, I hold my breath hoping she’ll take a chance and enjoy some of that wet wonderfulness!

Remember this handsome cardinal?  I wrote about him during an early spring ice storm when he seemed to do a lot of pondering as well.

Ever that lover of water, the Robin stands and gazes happily at the icy cascading torrent.

A Titmouse lands cautiously and does his best to take a drink without actually getting his feet wet.  (Does anyone begin to wonder how much of my time was occupied with all this drama?  Honestly, it was hard to leave the window the first day the weather turned warm and thirsty birds began to arrive in droves).

I’ll leave you with a picture of one of our first happy bathers, and a promise of more photos of the little-feathered folk once they began to settle in and really enjoy their new pool with abandon.

In the meantime, I pray that you take joy in all the small beauties that surround us.  

♥️ Be blessed!

Spring Snow & Bluebirds

Early spring arrives in Ohio in a rather erratic fashion, winter-worn and weary, we are teased with a morning of brilliant sunshine.  The birds sing the daffodils and crabapple nod flowery yellow & white heads.

Ah, but lest we think it's time to get out the lawn chairs, noontime brings a surprise snowstorm that catches us all unaware.  The birds are especially bewildered by the snowy blast, many have started nests and have tiny eggs hidden away in the bird boxes, thankfully this will be a brief wintry event, snowy as it seems.

The sun will reappear shortly but in the meantime, there is a flurry of activity and the small folk of our place seems chilly and yet hopeful. A tree full of House Finches looks like rosey red ornaments in the little maple tree.

We have rather an amazing rapport with the birds, especially a resident small flock of Bluebirds that have come to call Foxglove home.  I'll share their stories in upcoming blog posts, they've become quite tame and follow me around the farm hoping for a handout of their favorite snacks. I'm only too happy to keep tidbits for such beautiful visitors.  It's a gift to live in such a beautiful setting, to have close daily contact with such a delightful cast of tiny characters, even the small Red Squirrel who has come to consider our farm his own personal source of all peanut-flavored snacks!

Snow at Foxglove Farm

He closes his bright eyes as the snow comes down and frosts his furry coat.

I tap the window glass to send him scurrying, it's time the Cardinals had a chance at the feeder too!

Daffodils bend low as the temperature dips below freezing, ah but this is Ohio, and fear not, the sun will return.  By this afternoon, the birds will sing happily as they work on small nests and begin laying plans for summer with winter past for another year.

A Plea For The Dandelion

The neighbors have a new small addition to their place this morning. I look out while having my coffee and see him. Adorably round and still wearing his winter woolies, is the smallest of brown and white ponies. He’s wandering a bit bewildered through his big paddock. Horses are funny creatures and I can tell this little one is wondering why he’s been left all alone and when someone will come and see him and bring a nice breakfast of oats to help ease his arrival in this new home.

Agatha watches him with interest, she fancies herself quite the equestrian, there have been horses at Foxglove Farm since she was a puppy.

I call a hello to the pony and he lifts a friendly face and comes striding happily over to meet us. He’s a nice fellow and Agatha and he are soon fast friends.

Remembering my coffee, I tell him goodbye and promise to return with an apple at lunchtime. Walking back up the hill to the house I’m astonished at the view, thousands and thousands, no, perhaps millions of the yellow flowers, and I’m glad we do no battle with these cheery guests. The sunshine has brought a veritable ocean of dandelions to welcome us this sunny morning.

You know, I read the other day that scientists are finding Roundup in the rain.  In this often bewildering world we live in, they’ve genetically modified tomatoes by adding the genes of the flounder fish to make them last longer on the grocery store shelves.

(No wonder there’s not a bit of flavor left in the poor tortured things.)

Our pets are slathered in chemicals, the long-term effects of which I shudder to contemplate.  I saw an ad the other day showing a Beagle racing through a plastic tube in the family yard. The announcer boasted of how the monthly application of their flea & tick preparation would alter the reproductive systems of fleas that simply walk on your pet.

Doesn’t that frighten anyone else?

When my sweet Agatha developed cancer almost 6 years ago, unbelievably when she was only a little over 4 years of age, I determined that I would do everything I could to help her survive. Many of you know that journey to healing, my search for the supplements and natural products that would build her immune system. She’s the inspiration for Agatha’s Pet Wellness and the canine poster child to help encourage other dog owners to use the products that can help their own pets live healthier lives.

And so as my good dog and I head back to finish my waiting coffee, I’m thankful.

I’m thankful for the new pony and his handsome pony face.

I’m thankful for the lovely yellow, untidy but cheerful dandelions, who always bring a few violets along for the show.

And I’m exceedingly grateful that God heard my prayers for my dear Agatha, that He helped me find the things that would help her, and that she’s here with me to enjoy another year.  That she’s full of life and still runs like a puppy up the hill ahead of me.

After all, she says, we don’t want to be late for breakfast!

A New Little Visitor At Foxglove

There is a baby fawn who lives down by the bottom pasture with his mother just a few feet away from the pony paddock. He comes out in the evenings much to his mother’s dismay and bounces around legs all akimbo, awfully curious about that grey pony that lives next to his woodsy home.  

The picture above is what I typically capture of him, though the moment I see that tiny spotted form, I fly to get my camera.  I usually arrive back just in time to catch a shot of his white flag of a tail as he sails back to the safety of the deep woods where his mother stands stomping her foot impatiently at him.

He grows braver every day, he’s quite interested in Fairlight our little Welsh pony mare.  She’s also noticed our small visitor and comes up and gazes at him over the fence wanting to make friends which really puts his mother over-the-top.  

I catch glimpses of the doe obviously not happy with the antics of her precocious offspring.  She sensibly stays hidden at the edge of the woods where the wild purple phlox grows.  She makes a beautiful photo and one much easier to capture than any of her much too busy baby.

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The fawn gets a bit braver every day, I can tell he wants to speak to that pony and see if they can’t be friends.

Fairlight, our Welsh Pony (or the pasture pet as she’s called by my husband) says she’d be happy to oblige, we all are a bit smitten with this beautiful spotted baby.

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Even Agatha looks bemused when he comes out with none of her usual blustering (she saves that for the evil rabbits and the neighbors exceedingly harmless Golden Retriever Max).

Agatha of Agatha's Apothecary

Part of what tempts them out of the cover of the trees is the abundance of clover and wild daisies that abound free for the nibbling.

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There are blackberry bushes that will soon be loaded with ripe fruit as well, no wonder they spend a lot of time down at the edge of the meadow.

Mother must have given an especially insistent call for with a flash of his tail our little visitor slips back into the woods for bedtime.

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He gives a reluctant last glance over his shoulder as if to tell us all goodnight and disappears.

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Back home sweet home and time for all small folk to be tucked in bed for the night…

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The Small Joys Of Our Faithful Four-footed Companions.

I just finished bathing Agatha, the small Cavalier King Charles Spaniel pictured above.Not her favorite pastime, but the good-natured little person that she is, if it makes "mom" happy, she cheerfully submits (though if she could talk I know she'd say she could do without all this beautifying stuff)!

That's her, prancing down the drive from the house, probably following me down the get the mail and check to be sure that her nemesis the rabbit who lives down by the front gate, hasn't forgotten that she is the guardian and protector of this place we call home.

That quite simply is the sum of her days, following me on my rounds, tail cheerfully wagging, ever content to be at my side and yes my friends, that is the crux of the matter.  

Agatha the faithful one.

These canine creatures who inhabit the nooks and corners of our lives ask very little but to be allowed to complete us in whatever small ways they can. If you ever really get to know your dogs, to study them to learn what makes them tick, you'll find that for the most part, every single one of them will make a life's work out of exactly that, studying you.

They watch our every move, listening to words and language until their keen doggie minds make sense out of dozens, even hundreds of words. They observe our coming, our goings, they gaze out of the window, waiting however long it takes until OH JOY they see us coming back to them from afar.

With tails wagging with mad glee (oh what welcome like that of our dogs?), they do their utmost to convince us that we were gone such a terribly long time, that they feared we might never return (and had to chew a bit of magazine while they pondered that wrenching thought), but all is now right with their small world.  Their most loved one has come home and now they can get back to the business of helping us make supper.

One never knows what morsel might find it's way into one's dinner dish!

Agatha The Babysitter

Agatha says she's had better days.  A rather energetic little person made a visit the other day and decided that Agatha was indeed one of the nicest doggies she'd even seen.

She took a realllllly close look just to be sure.

Agatha is a good sport though, in spite of been inspected minutely from end to end. And, having to wear a blankie because surely doggie was cold! (Note the happy wagging tail ; )  

Agatha thought that having a little person to play with was wonderful. There was much handing out of snacks and happily, cookies made an appearance much more often than usual.

(Agatha says why can't we have cookies every day?).

In her other life, "Clara Rose" (don't you love that sweet name?)  is a bit of a diva in her own right.  She helps Aunt Terry & Agatha with picture taking and on occasion has been known to dress up looking very much like an honest to goodness little red riding hood and help show Agatha how to walk nicely on the leash.

Agatha realllllly enjoyed that one believe me. Clara Rose fancies herself quite the little dog trainer already.  I'm thinking she takes after someone else we know.  I had to laugh, she's a bit of a natural, look at her holding the slack in the lead properly at all of 2 years of age!

Since I'm sharing, I can't resist a few more beautiful photos, one of my niece, baby Clara Rose's mother Lydia DeVoe (more name love!). Be prepared, this is such a delightful photograph... I see my daddy's grin in baby Clara Rose...  Isn't she precious?

I always wished I had a lovely romantic name, I was supposed to be named Faith,,, but three days arguing in the hospital when I was born, resulted in nurses proclaiming I couldn't leave without my young parents agreeing on a name and my daddy who had I'm sure wanted a BOY finally prevailed and Terry Ellen was the result. Can you imagine?  Faith Cross  I'm not sighing...

And here's another of little miss, she's such a little old lady.  

Yes, all in all, we had a lovely day and after the little whirlwind went home Agatha spent some time going over the floors for me dealing with stray cookie crumbs. She say's she's always glad to help with the vacuuming. 

The Angel With The Broken Heart

Small broken things. I should have thrown them out years ago I suppose. They graced our tree for years until one frail creature after another took an unexpected tumble to the floor, suffering just enough damage to wound and leave scars, a broken wing, a golden shod foot now missing. My favorite, with her blue scarf, is missing one of her wings, a sad loss to a creature of flight.

Those of you who follow this much-neglected space know that I keep the window sill above my kitchen sink decorated in an ever-changing parade of characters. Now, these three little angels who’ve taken up residence there, give solace, and I haven’t the heart to discard them, imperfect as they are. Somehow, they provide an odd sense of comfort as they faithfully keep watch.

Even though wounded, still bearing gifts.

I’ve fought writing this post for far too long, dreading being the bearer of sad news because even though most of you only knew Agatha through my stories, many of you have fallen in love with a small dog you never met. Even though you never felt the velvet of her small muzzle pressed into the palm your hand or stroked her beautiful long ears, for some of you, this will bring pain and I am foolish enough to think that even another small measure of sadness in this poor world is just too too much to bear.

She has been gone now for just over a year. I’ve started it a dozen times only to have my eyes overflow with tears and my throat gripped in such desperate sorrow that further words are impossible. My beautiful beautiful Agatha is gone… There it is, written and the tears flow, my throat aches with the anguish of it even now. I’ve rejected writing those words as if by actually writing them, her loss becomes real, and I cannot shove the grief away any longer with busyness or focusing on puppies or her namesake company.

I've started it a dozen times only to have my eyes overflow with tears and my poor throat gripped in such desperate sorrow that further words are impossible. My beautiful beautiful Agatha is gone... There it is, written and the tears flow, my throat aches with the anguish of it even now. I've rejected writing those words, as if by actually writing them, her loss becomes real, and I cannot shove the grief away any longer by busyness or focusing on puppies or her namesake company.

(Oh, her face is everywhere, sweet Aggie, you’ll never truly be gone). I look back at the posts I’ve tried to write, and they are filled with such anguish they gather dust while I try to put this pain-filled task behind me.

It’s time I got back to living. Though grief that has torn at my very fiber, my Inbox overflows. Calls not returned. My kind-hearted Puppy People, the few who know about Agatha those who rang in the first days after she was gone, I was unable to speak, shocked at the depth of anguish that choked every word. It seemed like the crumbling of the foundation of all my daily routines. Letters neglected and I steel myself to open my neglected laptop and sit down and methodically work through emails that should have been answered days and weeks ago.

Fall has come my favorite season, the one that I normally spend hours dragging bits and pieces up from the basement, pumpkins, and mercury glass containers all waiting for golden leaves and glorious autumn mums to fill. Dusty tulips lean forlorn where golden-leaved glories should be standing. 
I must must must get busy again, work is good medicine. My dear great Aunt Clara knew that and it’s a legacy that I know will help me through these days that still hold healing as well as tears…

This morning while doing up the breakfast dishes I was struck with the thought that His heart breaks for us, and perhaps even the angels who watch over us are broken-hearted with us when sorrow touches our lives. Every prayer was answered for my dear girl. She was her same utterly beautiful self until the end. She did not suffer. John and I were with her when she took her last breath. She was not alone, the last words she heard were ours, and as she crossed into eternity I believe with all my heart that my Father welcomed that small dog that I adored, safely, Home.

With tears oh, the oceans I have cried, I look at the small faces of my little angel trio and am reminded that not even a sparrow falls that He does not notice. When my darling girl left us, I believe He wept too. Our dogs live pitifully short lives, the day comes all too soon that they must leave us.

She was the closest thing to a child that I’ll ever hold on this earth and when she left she took part of me with her. She went to be in Heaven where the two other little ones that I never got to hold also wait for us there.

Oh, dear Puppy People, I must write this, I must finish it, though the pain it might cause makes me hesitate yet again, I cannot heal until I do this. She was "only a dog" is what many would say, but not you, I know you will understand.

Goodbye, my darling girl, I know you're waiting faithfully at the gates of Heaven, velvet muzzle pressed on those snowy white paws, eyes watching, plumey tail ready to wag with JOY at the first glimpse of those you loved coming home...