Goodbye, Daisy

65f/18.3C, light overcast and strong breezes.

Our Daisy left us last night. She was old for a yellow Lab, almost 18, but has always been healthy, even though she only had one kidney, apparently born that way. She had slowed down a lot in the past year, and particularly in the past month, Then the other day she didn't want treats, odd for her. Last night she laid down in her favorite spot, and this morning she was gone.

So poor Larry had to bury yet another dog, the hardest part of loving these lovable beasts. Over the years we have said goodbye to some good ones, most living, like Daisy, beyond their expected years.

Still, that doesn't make it any easier when they die.

Daisy was one of those quiet, undemanding dogs. She didn't clamor for attention even when she was young.  She scared visitors when she'd hackle up and growl, and we had to reassure them that she truly was a sweetheart and never hurt anyone. She actually loved company, although she wasn't crazy about visiting dogs. She knew her job as protectress of this place, keeping the wildlife away, but never chased any critters past our property line 

Even in death, she tried not to cause any trouble. She was a good girl,  and I am going to miss her deeply. 

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

April Evening

Listen.

The birds have gone to bed,

the last faint cheeps drop

from hidden roosts,

a bulldrog croaks, just once,

his big voice a drum

against descending dark.

Tree frogs are quiet, no chorus

from the branches tonight,

too cold for their tender throats.

The fire crackles, old dog

groans, shifts her aching bones,

the cat hunkers, watching sparks,

smoke curls upward to stars

that make no sound,

indifferent 

to this tiny fire,

this speck of green lawn,

this tiny blue sphere

we all--

the birds,  the bullfrog

the tree frogs, the dog,

the cat, me and you--

call home.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Tulip Festival

Sunday was a perfect day for a drive to see the tulip festival at Timbuk Farms, near Granville, Ohio.

Although the ads offered live music and other activities, I guess things were winding down by the time we got there in the afternoon. The festival was scheduled to end at 3pm Sunday, but when we left at 2, cars were still coming in, and there were many people still wandering the fields, eating, and browsing the greenhouse.

Little wildflowers (dandelion, Spring Beauty, and violets) dotted the lawn on the way to the fields.

The first display we saw was this red, white, and blue patriotic design. It was down over a steep hill, and above a field of daffodils, but I did not venture close enough to see what flowers were used to create this. Just not feeling too patriotic these days.

Buckets for picking were available, if you wanted to take a bouquet home. Price was $1.25 a stem, not bad but I did not pick any, since they would surely have been drooping by the time we got home.

The fields were busy, as you can see. There were 4 acres of flowers, about 500, 000 bulbs.

I think these delicately colored blooms were my favorites. I think. There were so many colors to choose from!

de

These peony-flowered yellow tulips were in many people's picking buckets.

As you can see, there was a large patch of them available.

Timbuk Farms also produces Christmas trees. 

The greenhouses offered a wide variety of plants. 

We didn't stay long, as we had our auction pickup scheduled later in the day, and it was getting pretty warm. But I got my flower fix, for the moment anyway!

PS: a while back I mentioned a book I am reading called The Assassin's Cloak. Apparently the title came from this quote by a poet who was well-kniwn in his day: “A diary is an assassin’s cloak which we wear when we stab a comrade in the back with a pen” – Willian Soutar, 1934.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.