I’m in the process of adopting a dog. He’s incredibly sweet and loves affection. He’s my personal trainer, getting me to walk farther and more often. He’s a goofball antidepressant and a good boy.
Clyde came from Brooke Haven Bullies in Barbourville, KY.
These folks trained him to walk on the leash like you wouldn’t believe: there’s always slack in the leash. He is a love.
Brooke Haven Bullies has more dogs for adoption, including Clyde’s sister Bonnie, who is a little smaller at 42 pounds.
I find mid-century modern fairly vile; however, this concrete planter I’m using to keep the garden hose from trashing the ferns called for something striking, sculptural, weird.
I found it yesterday: a Kniphofia, I believe, perennial known as red hot poker.
Added Black dragon sun coleus and chartreuse Angelina sedum, and also some chartreuse Guacamole hostas at risk of being crowded out. I’ll look forward to seeing how well these plants play together. All except the coleus are perennials here.
The saying sub rosa meaning in secret is thought to have originated in descriptions of pagan rites carried out in places sacred to The Goddess: under trees where roses grew.
I guess I should invite all the pagans I know to come over and enjoy mind-altering chemicals — Coffee, anyone? Tea? CHOCOLATE? — here in this obviously sacred space.
Tobey doesn’t actually work in the yard except to murder the odd shrew. She has more of a supervisory role. Her taste is impeccable.
Sitting out here watching the light come through the leaves. As the sun comes over the trees across the street, it lights up different details, different plants.
This is Peggy Martin, seen from the front porch, in a kind of DIY panorama
I have coveted these natives of the Pacific Northwest for many years, and now finally have planted some — insanely late, but I was a gambler with a Van Engelen gift card burning a hole in my pocket
I look forward to seeing them naturalize.