Morning has Broken

The dogs wake us up early. Often, I enjoy getting up at 5:30 or 6:00. It's cool then and I can take my
time, have a cup of tea, and slowly start my day. First things first, of course, the dogs need to be fed. Then I put on my sandals and go out for one of my many daily strolls through our garden. 

Our garden is on the wild side. It's a pollinator garden, meant to have only native plants, though a few non natives like mullein and Queen Anne's Lace have snuck in. I'm afraid I can't bring myself to pull either of them - Queen Anne's Lace is not considered invasive, anyway, and Mullein? It reminds me of my Colorado home.

My excuse for walking through the garden is I'm looking for various invasive plants - some, like oriental bittersweet which can strangle entire trees or multiflora rose which grows at an alarming rate and smothers out everything around it. For the most part, though, I've got these under control. I'm sure there are other invasives I need to watch for, but not everyday.

This is my time to observe and wonder. 

Morning has broken like the first morning

Blackbird has spoken like the first bird

Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world

I've loved this song since hearing it for the first time when I was in high school, but I didn't fully understand it until we moved to New England.

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from Heaven

Like the first dewfall on the first grass

Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden

Sprung in completeness where His feet pass

When I walk in the morning, the ground is soft and squishy. We mow the pathways, but mowing doesn't take away our lovely, soft carpet of creeping charlie, cinquefoil, and wood sorrel. My feet are soaked by the time I go in, not because it rained, but because there is dew! The growing has continued at a more reasonable pace now that it's summer, but spring was an explosion of growth everwhere! It's hard to explain how totally amazing this is to those who have always experienced this in the spring. It's even harder to explain this to our friends in the western part of the country where plants need to be gently coaxed into thriving in such a dry climate. 

To walk out in our garden in the spring is to see creation happening. Each day, there is something new. More birds singing. More plants springing up from the ground. Having a pollinator garden means letting go of preconceived ideas of how everything is going to look and where plants will be from year to year. This year, we have several boneset plants growing with the goldenrod and Echinacea has traveled to a few new places, sharing space with goldenrod and asters, partridge peas and wood sorrel, self-heal and broad leaf plantain. 

Even the names of the plants seem somehow magical - boneset, beardstongue, St John's wort, wild bergamot, golden alexander, whorled montain mint, rose milkweed, blue flag iris. 

We've had Eastern cottontails make their nest somewhere in the garden. They hid it well. A catbird often comes down and supervises my visits. Early on, when some of the old grass turned to thatch, prompting me to panic (that's not supposed to happen, is it?), I was comforted when I saw birds come and pull up the dry grass for their nests and search underneath for bugs. I've been saddened by the smaller number of bees and other pollinators this year. I hope it's just an off year and they will return healthier next spring. 

When we visit Colorado, I will find a place to walk and see wildflowers and plants there, too. Having spent my early years in Wyoming, I know how to look for life and beauty, even when it's not obvious, a skill I value now. What I have in my garden now is a place to rest. My mind clears. My whole body relaxes. We are stewards, but not the only ones. We share this task with the catbird and the cottontails... also groundhogs and skunks, opossums, and the occasional black bear. We share it with the bees, the black wasps, cabbage white butterflies, monarchs, frogs, and grasshoppers. 

It replenishes me and I feel like the spring. My desire to create goes a little off the charts, too, and I have about 10 craft projects in the works. Things are getting done, albeit in a scattered sort of way, because what I want to do most of the day is be in the garden - and just be. 

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God’s re-creation of the new day

* Morning Has Broken was originally written by Eleanor Farjeon in 1931. It was published in a collection of children's poems and sung to an old Gaelic tune called Bunnesan

Voles

Cricket caught a vole the other day.

Voles are not mice, though they are somewhat related. Voles are more closely related to hamsters, which means they are cute. Really cute. They also seem to be a bit slower moving than mice and, at least the ones we saw, were a bit slow realizing they should run away from our dog. The sun was out, it was warm, and the critters wanted to sit in the sun.

One got away. Fortunately for this one, the first of our pups to spot it was Bennie. He sniffed at it and backed up when the little fellow tried to makes itself look big. Bennie, I would guess, probably was wondering if this was one more puppy he needed to care for. The only danger this vole faced was the possibility of getting a thorough washing.

Cricket wasn't having it. She is a hunter and has spent countless hours stalking squirrels. The fact she has never caught one makes no difference to her. The minute she sees a squirrel or chipmunk, she's on high alert.

Despite our efforts to keep her away from them, one tiny vole met its demise. I took it away from Cricket and scolded her. She looked bewildered. I think she was expecting praise. The great hunter had been successful and was trying to decide how best to eat her catch. Though I know there are recipes online for fried vole and vole sauce, I refused to share this information with her. No way was I going to encourage her to eat them.

Most people probably would be thrilled if their dog proved to be an excellent vole hunter and would have encouraged them to develop a gourmet cuisine comprised of voles, mice, and other rodents. My reluctance undoubtedly stems from being a kindergarten teacher for twenty years and telling nature stories to the children. The stories were sweet. The mice and squirrels and fairies and elves in the story were cute.

I'm keeping watch on Cricket.

We have voles in our yard. They're cute. Maybe I'll give them names.

Happy Spring! Happy Easter!

Twenty-six years ago, on April 20, 1993, we were getting ready to go to church for Easter Mass and asked Patrick, then 9 years old, to make sure the animals had been fed. He went to do his chores, then ran back in quickly. Our goat, Bonnie, had given birth to two little ones just moments before he had gone outside.

It was a year of babies at our little urban farm. Bonnie's twins, Blossom and Buttercup, were the first arrivals. Then came chicks and ducklings. And in July, our daughter, Emma, was born. 

Those were busy years. We always seemed to have too much to do and too little time. Our lives were full. As our kids grew older and our parents grew older, we took on the task of hosting more of the holiday celebrations. There were always guests - family, friends, neighbors.

Now we have the opportunity to slow down a little and celebrate the holidays in a simpler way. We spent last weekend in Maine with John and Coco and the grandkids. Today, we'll have a simple holiday and celebrate our new life in Massachusetts by planting some flowers.

The Puppy that Meowed

"Oh, what a cute puppy!" my dad exclaimed. He loves animals, especially dogs, and loves it when we bring our wee fosters to visit with him. This time, however, it wasn't a puppy. Curly is our first foster orphan kitty. Dad couldn't remember this detail, however many times he was reminded.

"IT'S A KITTEN!" Mom shouted at him from across the room.

"Huh?" replied Dad, cupping his hand around his ear. He had hearing aids, but kept losing them. Now he has an amplifier. We speak into it and he can hear through the ear buds. Theoretically. If he'd keep it turned on. Most of the time it's off and when I reach over and turn it on, he jumps. I don't think he really wants to hear.

We're all getting used to having an orphan kitty to raise. Bennie has warmed up somewhat, jumping up to give her a quick lick as we're feeding her. Cricket is miffed. How dare we let that thing in the house!

Cricket, if you remember, was mama to the 5 adorable pups we fostered in July. The pups entertained us for 3 weeks before they were all adopted within 3 hours at an adoption event. We had already decided that Cricket was staying with us. She was fiercely loyal to me and followed me everywhere. She and Bennie got along well. She is quiet and easy going. Except when she sees a squirrel.

When we let her outside, she will stand on the porch and stare at the apple tree. She knows they are there. Before I notice anything, she'll suddenly run and jump right into the crotch of the tree. The squirrels dash off quickly. I suspect she thinks Curly is a baby squirrel. Cricket is now spending most of her time outside, guarding the back door. She's not taking any chances of having any more squirrels come in the house.

Curly, meanwhile, is growing bigger and stronger. And, miracle of miracles, she's pooping. Only foster parents of orphaned animals can understand why we get excited about this. Won't last long, of course, but we're still in the excitement phase. We know how quickly these little animals grow, so we savor this time as best we can.

We've got a new development as of today. Bennie has decided the kitten is his. He cleans the little one thoroughly when she wakes up and does the job of making sure Curly poops. He also cleans up after her.

For those of you picturing Bennie with a tiny wash cloth in his mouth.. go with it.

Okay, so now that Bennie has claimed the kitty, Suddenly Cricket is interested. Bennie was having none of it. I know he was telling her, "I said it was a puppy, but you didn't listen."

Cricket looked doubtful, but curious. If Bennie has something, she automatically wants it. Curly said, "Meow". Bennie smiled and cleaned Curly all over again.

We went back to Mom and Dad's apartment last night to have pizza and ice cream and cake for dad's birthday. Dad was mildly interested in the food, but he was more interested in our animals.

"How's the little puppy?" he asked.

Newest Puppy Adventure

New fosters! Cricket is a great little Mama dog and, as opposed to the Kaylee last year, she doesn't mind if Bennie plays with the pups. Anything that keeps them out of her fur is fine by her. She's letting us know, in no uncertain terms, that the pups are growing up and won't be needing her too much longer. 

Cricket getting to know us.

Cricket and Bennie got along from the very beginning! Bennie didn't even bark when we came home with another dog. We introduced the two adult dogs before bringing in the pups.

And the pups! No names yet, but 4 females and 1 male. They are full of energy.

Cricket is curious about the chickens.

The hens' look of dismay when seeing 6 more dogs in the family.

And Uncle Bennie is fulfilling his duty by playing with the pups and letting them climb all over him. He's so patient with the little ones! 

One More Try - new chicken nesting boxes

Well, we've got a couple of new nesting boxes made in hopes that the hens will not be able to reach their eggs. It's kind of hard to see, but those are paint roller pans in the boxes. The idea is that the hens will lay an egg, then the egg rolls down the slope to the tray. We'll see if the hens will use it! 

See! Under the board, there's an egg. Okay, this is a fake egg, just to make sure we got the measurements right and it will fit.

The hen is still setting on her golf balls and she was not thrilled with being moved out of the way for the boxes.

Chicken Hill

Cannibal Chicken Update

We've managed to get our daily egg tally up to 5 or 6, only when we're able to check for eggs every 15 minutes or so, especially in the morning. One day, we brought in 8 eggs because I checked so often, I practically caught them before they hit the floor.

Chris is letting the hens out of the smaller chicken yard so they can eat the weeds during the day. They love it and they repay us by laying eggs in places where we'll never find them. A few hens have stayed loyal to the nests in the chicken house and that's where we get our eggs each day. One black and white Barred Rock hen has become broody. She sits on the nest all day and, as soon as another chicken lays an egg near the nest, she tucks it under her. She's as loyal to those eggs as Horton the elephant was to his.

For better or for worse, most of her "eggs" are golf balls.

Yesterday I went out and heard the distinct cackle of a hen in distress. Our broody Barred Rock was running towards the gate, towards me, making all sorts of racket. I crouched down and she actually came up next to me and continued cackling. Huh. Our hens are not pets. They are used to us and know we feed them, but other than that, they can take us or leave us. I've never before had one come to report a problem. I figured I'd better check things out.

Sure enough, some rude hen had stolen her nest and was sitting on HER golf balls - I mean strangely shaped eggs. 

I thought about it for a minute and realized our broody hen was WHY we were able to keep some eggs from getting eaten each day. She was protecting them. Oddly enough, she doesn't seem to mind when I pick her up every 20 minutes and take the real eggs. As long as I leave the golf balls under her, she's happy.

I shooed the other hen off the nest and left Ms Broody happily hunkered down on her eggs again. We've got a good thing going with her and she deserves a little reward.

Landscaping and Gardening on a Budget

It's time to work in the garden and there isn't a better way to spend the day... until it gets too hot, anyway. Chris has the main vegetable/flower garden in hand and it's looking better than ever this year. We have dozens of buds on the rose bushes and almost as many on our columbine. We've been adding arugula to our salads and juices already. Arugula grows so well and will come back every year, too. Kale is coming up quickly as is our lettuce, and the seedlings are doing well. 

Our budget for gardening, landscaping, and such is essentially non-existent, but it's amazing what can be done without spending a lot of money. We've been fortunate to get free seeds and seedlings from Denver Urban Gardens this year. I added the link because I suspect many families who would easily qualify don't know about the program. 

In our attempts to tame the rest of the back yard, we've started adding some easy care gardens which will thrive even in our hot, dry summers. Sedum comes in many varieties and will grow almost anywhere. To fill in the new garden beds, we can simply dig up small bunches of what is already growing well in other beds. Hen and chicks, ornamental strawberries, speedwell, thyme, and other ground covers should fill in the gardens and, if all goes well, we can thin them out in a year or two and have more to plant in other spaces of the yard. 

We started on this last summer and our first garden is doing well. Two more are in the works. The landscaping materials have come via Craig's list and NextDoor.com - from their FREE lists. This is when we realize how many very generous people we have in our community. Granted, maybe it's easier to give away some extra landscaping stones rather than try and sell them, but it's still a nice thing to do. We try to do the same when we have something extra.

Two years ago, someone close by had topsoil to give away. We drove over for numerous pickup loads and the grandkids enjoyed helping out, too.

Last summer we made a pathway. I hadn't found the supply of bricks at that point, so the pathway was made with various odd chunks of broken concrete. Not the easiest thing to work with and the pathway is rather... rustic, but on the plus side, those chunks of concrete aren't going anywhere. It was mid summer by the time I picked up 200 brand new bricks from a house in Westminster. We wanted a patio and I knew 200 bricks wouldn't be enough, but I got them anyway. I knew we would use them.

A few weeks later, there was another ad for free bricks, this time from the renovation of an old 1888 home in Globeville. The man who owned the home took one look at our small pickup and he started loading up his huge truck with bricks, too. He not only gave us the bricks, but he made two trips to deliver them for free. I gave him eggs, fresh garden lettuce, kale, and arugula in return. Now we have a pile of over 600 old bricks in addition to the 200 new ones and about a dozen or so large retaining wall bricks. Time to get to work.

I admit, I went a little crazy on the free stuff. Chris finally gently suggested we had enough landscaping rocks and bricks to last us for any number of projects. Sadly, I had to agree. That was last summer, though, and yesterday I picked up some bricks which had been cut at various angles. The small garden cart they were in was also part of the free deal. I'll use them because this year we're putting in a patio.

The small brick pathway by the porch and the new brick porch by my studio have been our practice projects. We've already begun clearing the space for the patio, with the help of our grandchildren. They're moving across to Maine in a week so we all enjoyed spending the time and working together. Here's the new garden bed they helped with today. 

Somebody else is excited about the garden! 

***

*Just as I was finishing up this article, the thunder and lightening started and it began to hail. We can never take anything for granted in our gardens here in Colorado. I think we got lucky this time. Our plants look undamaged.

oh, hail

Cannibals, Golf Balls, and Mustard Eggs

We were naive when it came to keeping animals, almost as naive as we were about having children. This didn't mean we thought it would be easy, we just knew we'd be up to the challenge. It would be fun.

Nobody told warned us that chickens are cannibals. We learned it quickly enough, as soon as one hen cut herself on a sharp bit of fencing. We rescued her in time, but just. A feeding frenzy had begun to form around her.

Nobody warned us that chickens sometimes eat the eggs, too. Once they start, it's a hard habit to break, and ours started this summer. Finding an eaten egg now and then is frustrating enough, but to find only one whole egg in a nest of egg shells and sticky remains is maddening. It's not like we're not feeding them enough already!

It became a crisis the other day when I watched one hen pull another one off her nest so she could peck open the egg. I swore. Loudly. I chased all the chickens out of the chicken house and went in and swore some more. My husband decided it was time to consult the experts and get some advice. He googled it. These suggestions are supposed to work because, as everyone knows, chickens are really stupid.

We tried putting golf balls in the nesting boxes. The idea is, if they peck at the golf balls, they don't get anywhere and don't get the reward of eating an egg. It didn't work. Seems our hens figured out the difference between an egg and a golf ball and started their own golf tournament in the chicken yard. Smart asses.

We then blew out a few eggs and filled them with mustard. We let the hens peck them open. Supposedly, hens do not like mustard and this would clearly teach them to avoid eating eggs. However, the hens quickly figured out which eggs were stuffed with mustard, ate the other ones, and offered the mustard eggs for sale on Craig's list as a delicacy.

It was suggested that the hens might need more protein in their diet. I was wondering why they wanted to read the back of the chicken food bag. The advice given on the internet was to feed them some cat food. This will give them the protein they are lacking and they will not need to eat their eggs. They love the cat food. They like it even more with eggs.

The last suggestion was to eat the chicken who are eating the eggs. This would be hard to do. Literally. Ever butcher and clean a chicken and get it ready to eat? It's gross, smelly, and makes you want to become a vegetarian or at least continue buying chicken already packaged and ready to cook. Besides, we have chickens so we can get eggs. If we eat the chickens, we wouldn't get eggs.

We have one more thing to try. A YouTube video shows how to make nesting boxes with painting trays - you know, the trays where you pour the paint when you're using a roller. A 5" wide board was placed on the back side of the tray and this was further blocked off by a wall. The idea is:

Chicken lays an egg. Egg rolls down the tray and through a slot just big enough for eggs and into the deep end of the paint tray where they are kept out of beak's reach. Theoretically, this should work. It means spending the next few weeks trying to figure out how to build the new nesting boxes, but if it works, it'll be worth it.

Maybe. I won't count my eggs yet.

Puppy Family Reunion

Family Reunion! Two of Bennie's three brothers came to play yesterday and the pups had a marvelous time. They knew each other almost immediately, played, wrestled, came back and checked in with us every few minutes. They remembered us, too. I got very enthusiastic greetings from both Cooper and Simon!

These pups came to us in April of 2016 when they were 5 days old. They had been left as newborns in a cardboard box under a dumpster. This is the first time these three have been together since Cooper was adopted in July of 2016.

Thank you to Emma Reinhart for permission to post her photos.

What's a puppy reunion without the ritual butt sniff? 

Bennie gives Cooper some love.

Cooper sitting with Emma.

Bennie and Leroy wandering off while Cooper does a great photo bomb

Leroy still wears the same size collar as he did at 3 mos. He weighs 8 lbs, which is what Bennie weighed at age 3 mos. Bennie is now 16.5 lbs and Cooper is 12 lbs. I love Cooper's grin on this one! You can see Leroy's cleft paw on this one. It certainly hasn't slowed him down at all.

Greeting their human mama!

Cooper is a beautiful dog.

Cooper here, too.

Leroy giving me some love.

Chris and Leroy

The pups, age 2

They still sat very well and waited for their treat!

What good pups!

Cooper and Leroy

From our first week with the pups. Eyes and ears were still closed.

From this pile of puppies to those active smiling dogs.

My Shadow Pup

The wee beastie needed a foster home. Something about his photo made me email and say we'd take him. He's tiny. He's cute. He had hair that was begging for either some hair gel or a collar with spikes. He had short hair all over except for a long Mohawk which extended from the top of his head all the way down his back. It was a totally different texture, too, kind of like a horse's mane. We're almost positive he's part Chinese Crested. 

Clyde won our hearts by asserting himself and letting us know he was going to win us over. What could be more lovable than a pooch who comes to get you to show you he pooped in the hallway. "See, foster mama? There it is. If you don't want to clean it up, I'll happily eat it."

Thankfully, pooping in the house was one of his few bad habits. He followed me or Chris around all the time, sometimes leaping up so high, I could catch him in mid air. Occasionally he would get really excited as he followed me and he'd leap up and nip my bum. He was trying to be affectionate. 

Yeah, sometimes he could be a wee bit annoying, but then he'd curl up next to one of us and be so calm and so sweet. He was also easy to forgive. He and Bennie got along beautifully. 

I'm glad Clyde was with us for awhile as we were able to work with him on house training, sitting on command, staying when we opened the front door, and "you can't come in until you pee and poop. No, I didn't mean eat the poop!" I think it was my tone of voice which caused him to drop what he was planning on having for snack. By the time he was adopted, the bad habits were starting to fade away. With some work and a lot of love and attention, he'll be a fantastic wee pet. I already miss him.