dailyenchantments

Babs in her party hat…

Well, the boys were horrified no end. Donning funny hats, swishy skirts, and sitting at a little table with wildflowers, the roses that are in bloom, pretty little doggie biscuits and cups of tea embarrass the 3 boy dogs, pugs Sampson and Harvey, and Big Dog Moe, so that they all try to run and flop down and play dead, although after living with me for fourteen years, poor Moe is used to just about anything. He will stand there with a long dress on while I hem it (which is probably why my hems are always cattywompus…) but the boy pugs are just aghast. Coco the other little girl pug, doesn’t like anything that gets her out of her bed, on the other hand she will do anything for a treat.

Coco, before treat is mentioned…

Did someone say treat?

Hence the tea party commences and Babs is just thrilled. She just loves her party hat (which is actually a hat I made for a doll!). Saturdays are tea party kind of days, she told me. Well, you can imagine what the other dogs think of Saturday!

 Saturday also usually involves a fair amount of face cleaning (pugs get icky in all those creases…), Harvey gets ooky eyes, some of them get nasty ears, and then there is the matter of toenails, the monthly Frontline and Interceptor and the dreaded bath! Nothing like a bevy of furry sweet smelling bundles of joy bouncing about, I always say. They do not share my opinion.

Unfortunately, the parrots make matters worse. Maya, the blue and gold macaw mumbles under her breath a lot, spews a few unseemly words, and then cackles in a way that would put Vincent Price to shame. Solomon, the Blue Crown Conure, keeps saying, “Howsa duck go?” to which Blossom, the Greater Sulfur Crested cockatoo, shrieks out, “Wack, wack, wack, wack,” which excites Sol no end so he asks her again and she answers and this may go on for an ungodly amount of time.

Then there’s me in a torn and tattered caftan messing about in the garden to prune a little while the dogs go potty, and most glamorous of all is me swishing about, talking to myself, with the plastic bag to do “Poody Doody.” I just can’t imagine why the neighbors keep their distance and act afraid of me? Of course the macaw and the cockatoo screaming in high dudgeon the whole time we are outside sounding like people are being murdered in here doesn’t help, and you can hear them for a good three miles with all the doors and windows closed. We are a merry lot here and we are not quiet.

 This is an absolutely enchanting time of the year, I tell the dogs as I am pruning this and nipping back that and cutting a few roses to bring inside. And all manner of lilies and perennial hibiscus with flowers the size of dinner plates are coming up. 

The cottage pinks perfume the air,  and the iris are about to bloom. There is a gigantic patch of red bee balm that continually reseeds itself and in the middle of it all several lilies are coming up. I have been hacking back pampas grass which closes off the way to the Secret Garden where I must prune and check things out. The hollyhocks and foxgloves will soon bloom and today, Oh, joy of joys, the Bourbon rose, Madame Isaac de Pereire had her first big fat bloom begin to open up. Oh, I went week in the knees. Such a deep raspberry perfume, and the clematis is coming up her stems, creeping, creeping, soon to bloom. Madame Isaac reminds one that their truly is beauty in the world…

The first blossom is always
the most precious…

Perhaps most joyous of all is that my beloved Zepherine Drouhin, another old fashioned Bourbon rose, which has had an extraordinary number of blooms on the verge, burst into bloom overnight, taking my breath away and leaving me speechless. This is one of my favorite roses, and as a garden writer and photographer it’s hardiness and expansive blooming are a treasure beyond measure. This one is planted just outside my kitchen windows, and I love to watch the birds and insects come to enjoy her as well…

 
So yes, Saturdays are full of joy and wonder here at Dragonfly Cottage, my home, my love, that which completes me, with many animals, the garden, books and fibers everywhere, and a pug snoring on my shoulder as I write this piece.

Until next time, as Joseph Campbell wrote, “Follow your bliss.”