A four-piece dog pack...
I've been having fun looking after the four-piece dog pack. I've gained confidence, and relax while working in my garden, since my black dog visitors (Rosie and Bear) are well-behaved and stay close by. Their noses don't lead them into temptation, nor do they seem to get bored easily. But Rosie, the chunky food-fixated Labrador, has discovered the delights of munching on fallen hazelnuts in the orchard and snuffling through the egg shells in the compost. Imagine if I sent her home without a waistline! Eek! C'mon, Rosie, time for another walk...
Black Dogs Rosie and Bear
Bear the labrador/mastiff cross is much less of a foodie and more of an athlete. He leaps high into the air to catch his moon ball - as long as it's in front of him. Compared to the collies he has one-directional vision, and rarely looks up into the sky, or back over his shoulder, to check the ball's flight.
And then we were five...
Big brown Escher came to visit on Sunday. There we were, the famous five, romping around playing (even Rusty), and leaping into the pond. I spent ages watching the two biggest dogs Escher and Bear dog-wrestling. I can tell you that there are three basic styles.
- Classical front paws boxing.
- Four-footed mouth wrestling.
- Freestyle roly-poly 'it's all on' wrestling.
Definitely something that you needed to know. A great topic for a thesis, perhaps?
All five, led by Escher the Great Brown Protector, barked warnings at the neighbours whenever they drove up or down their driveway. Thank you, dogs, for looking after me. No gardener has ever been so safe whilst weeding in the Stumpy (AKA Willow Tree) Garden.
Throw the Balls!
Today, Monday, I finished clearing the paths in the Dog-Path Garden, and barrowed more mulch onto them. I weeded and trimmed ferns and removed a sulking rose. Then I did quite a bit of weeding along the water race, pulling out grass pieces and clover. Not a problem, Grubby, grubby fingernails, though.
Next Morning...
As a quasi-writer (?) it interests me how different one's scribblings are when the day is finished and one is tired. The phrases are short and dour : 'I did this, then I did this, then I did this. I didn't finish this. I'll do that tomorrow.' Deep thoughts about the meaning of gardening life just don't seem to flow through grubby late-afternoon fingernails.
This morning I am socialising with my small relatives - at their swimming lessons. And pushing the swing one hundred times at the playground. Yeay! Directly related to this, there must be a squillion grannies out there with sore shoulders at this very moment... When I get home I should go gardening. I should keep doing what I was doing and should have been doing more of days ago. Ha! That pretty much covers it.
Later...
Oops. I took my dog pack to the dog park instead. Our friends were there, and we ambled around and around chasing balls and talking about nothing.
Maigold Rose
Since we've been home we have leaping into the pond, watering parts of the garden, and taking more rose photographs. But next door has been cooking up a bit of a dust storm, heavy machinery scooping and shifting (shouldn't complain) piles of dirt around. With the wind direction pointing this-away, it's been unpleasantly dusty outside in my garden. But now the noise has ceased and I'm off to do some more weeding. My furry friends are snoozing. It's hard work being a dog.
Thursday 27th October
Right. Today is a day of semi-action. We have already done our orchard walk, thrown the frisbee, and been to the dog park. A non-furry friend is coming to do some gardening with me. We are going to scatter mulch on the Wattle Woods paths (last done four years ago), after the quickest of weedings. The dogs can snuffle around, not too near the orchard - so Rosie the munching machine won't be tempted with the hazelnuts. To give her some dietary credit, she does munch the shells up really, really thoroughly. No need to tell you how I know this...
Later...
The new paths look great, and I've pulled out lots of Alkanet, which is ending its blue forget-me-not flowering season. The bees are spoilt for choice, anyway.
Goodbye to the Black Dogs
Goodbye, Rosie and Bear, two of the loveliest big black dogs (their mother has just returned from overseas and collected them). I have so enjoyed looking after you. I think I will miss you both. Will I? You see, now I have ABSOLUTELY no excuse not to be gardening, morning, noon, and even night.