Goodbye, Sweet Prince

We hadn't had a dog for a while and didn't know we needed one until we met Barley. And he needed us. He came into our lives just under eight years ago on what would have been the last day of his life. How could we have imagined the joy he would bring us?

Barley was four years old when he arrived at our house, and his first four years hadn't been easy. We loved him from the moment we set eyes on him. It didn't take long to become accustomed to the comfort of his companionship. Looking out for him became as natural as breathing. You notice such things when they are gone.

Walking toward the house today, I glanced back for Barley. It was a momentary lapse, then reality hit like a blow. Barley died at home Tuesday morning, most likely from an embolism. It happened quickly and it was a mercy that he didn't suffer long.

As words are still hard to come by, I'm adding some pictures as a tribute to the dog whose paw prints are written forever on our hearts.

Linking with Saturday's Critters

Whispers of Spring

After basking in the glow of the fireplace, 

winter has kicked off its slippers and cracked open the window to spring.

The ancient yellow daffodils are up a good 5 inches and there's new fuzz on the lamb's ears.

A few of the lilac buds have swollen and burst.

Inside their small purple packages, along with their bottled-up fragrance, is the promise of beauty and nectar.

From the pond, we hear spring peepers singing, and late at night, under the stars, coyotes join the chorus with their love songs.

Barley takes note, and is happy to curl up safe inside for the night.

Autumn arrives in the early morning,

but spring at the close of a winter day.

Elizabeth Bowden

First published on February 20, 2012

Linking with Saturday's Critters

Winter Dog

Barley is ten now, and this summer he retired from our walks through the neighborhood, preferring to lay inside in the air conditioning. But recently, the edges of the pond have frozen, and his old nickname, Lightfoot, fits him again. Today, he's on his feet as soon as he hears the front closet door open, and before my jacket is on, he's prancing at the door.

The sun is just up, and we head to the hollow, our favorite spot, about a half mile down the hill from our house. A side trail gives us an overlook before we get there. The broad valley of government land, about 160 acres, is still in the shadows; the sun hasn't made it to the hollow yet, but the frost has. Patches of standing timber and bushes and tall grass are all covered with white, dressed for the season. Recent rains have left a little water in the nearby creek, which joins another, out of our view, and flows across the valley to the lake.

As we leave the woods, we pause and listen.

 No roads access this hollow, and there are no sounds in this private place this morning;

even the birds are hushed. Then a slight breeze rustles the trees and sends it's whisper through the valley.

Deer trails criss cross the flat ground...

...and we follow one to the creek on the other side of the hollow. 

To our left, the lake is covered with steam, and sun gilds the distant hills. We head to our right, up the creek bed, walking over the rocks, where water is confined to small pools. A little fish flops in the receding water, and I imagine he will make a good meal for a raccoon before long. We move on, then, deciding that wasn't going to be a happy ending, I turn back and scoop the fish from his prison. Holding him carefully, I hurry back to the lake, willing him to live. When I lower him into the water, he darts away, out of sight behind a rock.

Barley runs ahead, and wades into the frigid creek, waiting eagerly for a stick to be thrown. When I comply, he swims after it, then scrambles up the bank and past me toward home, head held high. He stops to shake, and then he's off again, prancing like a puppy.

He pauses briefly before he reaches the woods, glancing back at me, and then he's gone. He'll be waiting for me when I get back home. By now the sun is up, and I hate to leave this place, which seems frozen in time. But the hands on my watch are still moving, and there’s a full day ahead, so I follow Barley back up the trail. 

I could have walked somewhere else today, but I'm glad I didn't, and there's at least one fish, and one wet dog, who are glad, too.

Linking with Saturday's Critters

Barley Loves Autumn

We were hardly ready for the cold that arrived Sunday, 

and the dusting of snow seemed strange while leaves were still on the trees.  

Monday morning, before dawn, long ribbons of geese made their way south over the distant hills.  

At night, we could hear them overhead complaining about the weather.

Despite what the thermometer says, it is still autumn, 

and I'd hate to let the season get by without Barley weighing in on it. 

Barley loves autumn.  

He loves foggy mornings when the world is quiet except for the crunch of leaves underfoot.

He loves the fresh, clear air, and the late afternoon sun on his coat, 

and living in a world of orange.

He loves being a blur of motion as he races over the ground in broad circles, 

scattering bright colors in his wake.

Barley loves winter, too, but he's not ready to let go of autumn just yet.  

And for that matter, neither am I.



Linking with Saturday's Critters
and Our World Tuesday

Sparkles

Christmas seems to be the season of sparkles.  Years ago, when I worked at Hallmark Cards, artists would groan when an assignment came to design a card with glitter, which appeared to be, at that time, so uncool.  It's quite in vogue this year, however, and is applied generously to a wide variety of cards.  Now we find glitter everywhere, as it spreads from the cards to the table and to our hands, our clothes, to Barley's hair, and beyond.  

Don and Tava and I sat at the kitchen table the other night, and while Don engrossed us with stories from his year in Vietnam, glitter sparkled on his face.

I love those sparkles that come on the inside, too, that sparkly feeling that washes over you, sometimes when you least expect it, that says, "This is Christmas!".  

This year, those sparkles started for me when I was at my desk working and listening to James Taylor at Christmas, and they came again at the Christmas eve service at our small country church. The pastor read the familiar story from the gospel of Luke about God coming to earth in the form of a baby.  In the dim candlelight, we shared communion as a reminder of why He came, to give His life so we could fully live.

In the wee hours of Christmas morning, I got up to put our traditional stew in the crock pot. Barley came padding in softly from the bedroom, so I plugged in the Christmas tree lights and petted him for a few quiet moments while we both enjoyed the sparkles. 

The music played again, this time in my heart:

What then can I give Him, empty as I am?

If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb;

If I were a wise man, I would do my part;

What then can I give Him?  I must give my heart.

James Taylor - In the Bleak Midwinter 


Linking with Camera Critters
Saturday's Critters
Little Things Thursday

First posted 12/25/10

Hunger

Click on any photo for a larger view.

After waiting 'til March last winter for a decent snow,

we got an early start this year.

Sleet came down most of the day Thursday,

covering the ground with tiny styrofoam like pellets,

and Friday's snow piled on top.

When the thermometer headed down, 

we found our appetites sitting on the high side of the teeter-totter.  

We weren't alone.  

The corn and sunflower seeds we feed the creatures 

disappeared almost as fast as we could toss them out.

Blue jays wore their heads on backwards...

and Cardinals perched near the feeders like Christmas ornaments,

waiting for their number to come up.

Fox sparrows thought nothing of the cold, knocking the snow out of their way with swift kicks.

The crows were emboldened to come close to feed, even perching on the deck.

Barley's appetite stays at its peak year round...

but his energy soars when the snow comes.

While all the creatures outdoors have voracious appetites,

so do we.

Pass the popcorn, please.





Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday
and Saturday's Critters

Squarespace

Lately I've geen putting together a website for Don's real estate business.  After examining several platforms, I settled on Squarespace.  I like their clean look and functionality, as well as the options they provide for displaying photos.

The set up process was fairly straightforward, with a short learning curve, although I did frequently avail myself of their customer support via e-mail.  Their response was always timely, friendly, and spot-on.

You can see it here, if you like.  Besides information on my husband and the company, and Don's property listings, there's also information on our area and a photo gallery, not to mention the shots you see here of Don with Barley.

We hope you like it.  Barley would love your feedback, as long as it's positive, of course.  We wouldn't want to hurt his feelings.

Waiting For Water to Boil

Titmice have been feasting lately on a sunflower seed head on a table on the deck.  

They come one at a time, 

harvesting the seeds in neat rows before they eat them or store them away.

Meanwhile, the monarch chrysalis continues to darken.

The caterpillar to monarch butterfly should take 10 to 14 days,

or so I've read;

this is day twelve, and it's starting to feel like waiting for water to boil.

 From the deck, Barley watches me as I watch the cocoon.

"Wake me up when it happens."

Linking with Camera Critters

Home Alone

Click on any photo for a larger view.

It was hot out yesterday, with the air still and humid.  Not far from the house, at the base of an old oak tree, a sleeping fawn was curled into a tight ball. Don had discovered it before light, and where it lay, we could see it from the garage window.  It was a tiny one, the first we'd seen this year.

I watched the little creature as the sun rose in the sky 

and the shadows moved across the grass.

Its white spots moved up and down with the rhythm of its breathing.

Mid morning, it woke and sniffed its surroundings

before laying back down.

Barley is one of the gentlest souls around, 

and he was was curious enough to take a sniff...

but as soon as the little one raised its head, Barley backed away.  

The fawn woke again in the afternoon, stretched its legs,

then folded them up like an card table and returned to its nap.

We've often heard that it's not wise to intervene on behalf of a lone fawn, as the mothers normally leave them in a safe place and go about their business, but now its easier to see why people do that.  As far as we could tell, this little fawn was left alone just about ten hours, and we were wondering how it could stay hydrated on such a hot day.  Apparently their moisture requirements are much different than ours.

Finally, late in the afternoon, the mama doe came back.  

The thirsty little fawn drank its fill, then followed its mama into the woods. 

We love happy endings.

In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.

Job 12:10






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