Happy Mother's Day!

In honor of all moms everywhere, including the four-footed kind, I offer this encouragement: Mother really does know best! Pay attention to what she has to say. Even our little furry family members recognize mom's wisdom. The not-so-little variety are just as gifted. Case in point - when faced with a grass fire on the prarie in Eastern Montana, my brother's herd of cattle (around four hundred) gathered their calves and hurried home to the corrals where they spend the winter months. This area is free of anything that will burn. How did the cows know that? Because Mother knows best! Thank you dear Lord for all our mothers.

Life's Little Pleasures

Our new pup likes water. We walk on a leash, and it's a very good thing. She will jump into a body of water without warning. Twice now I've had to pull her from our pond at the end of her leash. She's completely wet, but she loved it. Other than smelling like pond water, there's no harm done. I hope I will always live like that. My last little dog, Gypsy, loved running around the perimeter of our pond at high speed, chasing the bull frogs into the water. Some of the bull frogs are huge. This continued for years until she got fast enough to catch them. One particularly large bull frog was slow enough that she'd almost run beyond him before he jumped from the bank. He hit her in the face just as she was passing. It was enough of an impact to make noise. It also had psychological impact. She quit chasing bullfrogs after that. It makes a funny story to share, but it's more than just that: "Just because you get hit in the chops with a bullfrog one time, never stop doing what you love!"

Good Dog...sort of

We have a new puppy. We're calling her Ladybug. She is a Shih Tzu cross. I had really forgotten how much work potty training is. Memories of short nights and groggy mornings with a new born child suddenly come to mind. Ladybug is a good little girl. Really, she is. It's not her fault that she can't communicate "I have to go pee" when the urge hits her. And she really can't explain why the bedroom is a much more desirable a toilet than our frost covered lawn at 2 a.m. It's up to her people (me) to convince her. I know it will happen. I just hope it's before a guest discovers her latest mistake before we do.

Dogs are incredibly smart. I've witnessed it time and again. When people label an animal as 'dumb', it's only because that person hasn't taken time with the animal. Our last little dog who just passed away was a little rescue dog that had been wandering the streets in town. She'd been abandoned about a week before we brought her home. She became very dear to us. But for years, as we walked together on her leash, when a certain model of pick up drove by, she would tug on her leash, totally adamant that we needed to follow that truck. It was extremely important to her. I can only conclude that she was dumped from a similar truck as a young dog when someone abandoned her. She remembered and the memory was a difficult one. It was a number of years before she gave up on finding the truck. This is not a "dumb animal." She was an incredibly smart one.

The animal shelters across our country are very in need of help. If you can't give a home to a shelter pet, please give your time, and if you don't have time, then please consider giving financially. There are hundreds of little friends with beautiful stories just waiting to share with a special someone.

My grandmother dreamed of owning and running her own bakery. She hoped to share a book corner in it as well. My mother made plans to open and operate a bed and breakfast, but she ran out of energy and resources before seeing her goal. I have inherited the love of cooking and baking for others. I also enjoy gardening and landscaping. God has gifted us with a gorgeous acreage beside a delightful creek. I have my grandmother's and my mother's ambition. Why not incorporate an area in our landscaping to serve tea and desserts to the public? What about a seasonal tea room in the garden? How about The Irresistible Blueberry Patch and Tearoom? 

Valentine's Day

     This past Valentine's Day was one that I hope I never have to repeat. I put my little dog Gypsy to sleep. She was with us 15 years. She went almost everywhere with us. We went ATV riding together, camping, visiting family and friends. She even went with us to visit my mother in eastern Montana. She was the type of dog that you could keep forever if she'd only lived that long. When she started losing her hearing, everything else followed: her bladder control, her mobility, her eyesight and finally her weight. Our last morning together, as she lie in her bed breathing hard, I had to ask myself - do I love her enough not to allow her to suffer? True love puts others before one's self. It is a hard question. Most definitely a different twist to Valentine's Day.

When the chickens come to roost...

   Our daughter came to live with us for a short while two years ago. She brought all her animals with her, which included a flock of chickens. She moved into her own home a year later but only took her dogs with her. That means that Rudy and I are keeper of the chicken flock now. And you know what? We enjoy it! Chickens have an incredible variety of personalities. They love treats just like the other pets. They leave little eggs in the nesting boxes each morning. They are always happy to see you, especially if you are holding anything in your hands. "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" One little black hen jumps for joy. My only objection is the annoying tendency to hang out on our front porch so they don't miss anything. Anyone got any ideas?

The Master Gardener

     This is my park bench.  It is purposely positioned under two large maple trees and surrounded by an assortment of hedges and bushes.  It is a place of reflection, contentment, peace and my prayer bench.
     I love spending time here with my Father.  It is shady on a hot day, peaceful when the world is a mess and has a spectacular view of the splendor created by my Father.
     I thrill in reading scripture aloud and listening to it come back to me off the canyon wall.
     I am fascinated by the canopy of leaves overhead that were spoken into existence, the number of shades of green and the variety of shapes.
   

      The view of my yard includes all the flowers, bushes, trees and hedges that we have planted since moving here.  All of it is beautiful.  Caring for it is rewarding.
     But none of it compares to the work of the Master Gardener Who laid all things before the beginning of time.  The Master Gardener Who put the mountains in place and ordered the creek to flow between.  The Master Gardener Who imagined the trees and said, "Let them be," and planned to bring us here at this point in time and gifted us with such beauty just because He wanted.
     The Master Gardener Who shed His blood so we wouldn't have to.  I want no other garden except what is planted by Him.