Digby

The winsome face in the photograph above does not belong to Edward, although the resemblance is uncanny. 

No, the furry boy sitting beneath the tree in his garden in France is Digby.

Digby, along with his brother, Wilf, is a Polish Lowland Sheepdog whose daily adventures are charmingly chronicled by his master, Angus, in a blog entitled Wilf and Digby Discover France.  Both brothers share enough of Edward’s valuable DNA that they have felt like family from the moment of my very first visit.  Their delightful blog is my first stop each and every morning.  Shockingly, Digby passed away today, the result of a voracious tick bite disease, and I now find myself grieving for a dog I never even met.  

There is a soul connection one makes with one’s dog.  It is as if they hand you a lifeline to another world, a world of goodness and understanding, full of comfort, acceptance and joy. My favourite quotation has always been this one by C.S. Lewis: 

 “Man with dog closes a gap in the universe”.  

I have heart knowledge of what he means.  And I know Angus does as well.

But dogs, it seems, are born to break our hearts.  If only their boundless love, always unconditional, always pure, could be matched in kind with the years they are alotted here on this earth. Such precious few years, flying by like the wind.

I have followed Digby’s short, and horribly sudden, illness these past two weeks, seeing his furry face in my head every hour, getting up in the middle of the night to check and see if perhaps there was a welcome update, hoping and praying for the sweet chap to pull through.  I was heartbroken to learn he had not. So I hug Edward a bit tighter today, I encourage him to hop up beside me, to place his big furry head in my lap.  The depth of feeling that I have for him is worth the pain eventually to come.

There are those who think the notion of heaven is nothing more than a fantasy to soothe a fearful soul.  I am not one of those people.  I believe in an afterlife of goodness and peace.  But my heart does not long for a heavenly mansion.  I have no desire to travel down avenues cobbled in bricks of pure gold.  All I wish for is a small little cottage, perhaps one near to the sea, where I might eternally dwell with all the dogs who have shared my time here on earth, from the devoted little terrier of my childhood, to big, kind, wonderful Edward, each one at play on flower filled hillsides, each one resting beside me beneath the gentle rays of a holy sun.

And I believe Digby is there at this moment, waiting on his family, waiting on Wilf.

It is a unique pain to lose a dog, a visceral pain like none other I have experienced.  It is because I am well acquainted with what Digby’s passing has brought to Angus and his wife, that I find myself grieving alongside them through so many miles, wishing there was something I could do, some small comfort I could give.

I know my readers to be a kind and generous group.  Please take the time to go over HERE and see what a marvelous fellow Digby was, meet his big brother, and send your love to the family.

This is one of the sweetest poems that I know.  

I send it out to my friend Angus, with my love and deepest sympathy.     

Man and Dog

Who's this—alone with stone and sky?

It's only my old dog and I—

It's only him; it's only me;

Alone with stone and grass and tree.

What share we most—we two together?

Smells, and awareness of the weather.

What is it makes us more than dust?

My trust in him; in me his trust.

Here's anyhow one decent thing

That life to man and dog can bring;

One decent thing, remultiplied

Till earth's last dog and man have died.

by Siegfried Sassoon

A List of Spring Magic

Here in the South, for about ten days every Spring, we are trapped like a flies in a yellow jar.  Like a duststorm of dry mustard, pollen descends from the pine trees, coating everything, everything, with a dusty layer of brassy powder.

We close our houses up tight, we brush the dogs every night.  Apple’s black coat still turns rather green, so baths are more frequent.  All the cars become the same undesirable colour, and exhuberant sneezes are heard in every quarter.

And then one day, the rains come.  On a still afternoon we hear it, that sudden crack of thunder, the bugle call from a calvary of raindrops that fall from the skies to wash away all our gloom.  Windows are flung open, happy sighs are heard, the dogs shake off and smile.  It is now well and truly Spring and we walk down fresh streets newly bathed and glistening with all the primary colours of May.

There is newness all around us.   The garden is a avian nursery,  baby wrens are just waking in the pink birdhouse on the porch,  and a pair of ruby-feathered cardinals are tending to their brand new brood in the rose bush.  The Songwriter rescued, and relocated, seven baby opossum from the eager curiousity of Edward only last week... a drama that took up an entire day... and at dusk the garden is wiggly with baby rabbits.  And, in the really true spirit of Spring, friends had a brand new baby only last week.

So, I decided it was high time for a new favourites list.  Ten little bits of magic and wonder to compliment the season, to bring smiles and set imaginations aglow.

Enjoy!!

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1.  Garden  Statuary

There is a large stone frog that guards a flowerbed in my front garden, seated like a prince beneath blue sage and pink foxgloves. Whist deep in the back garden, a large copper frog the size of a boy scout nestles under ancient oaks and poplars, seated on a stone toadstool, reading a book he’ll never finish.  Every garden should have such creatures.  Here are some truly magical ones.  They're by artist, David Goode.  

Aren't they wonderful?

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2.  The Whimsy of a Finger Puppet

I thought this would be perfect for a child.  But the more I consider it, I think an adult, like myself perhaps, might love it even more.

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3.  Jewelry

In the movie To Catch A Thief, Grace Kelly’s character said she never wore jewelry, explaining, “I don’t like the feel of something cold against my skin”.   

 I say this necklace is worth the risk.

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4.  Sunhats 

I always were sunscreen, with the highest SPF I can find.  It’s the best skincare advice I can give.  But to be safe, I also wear hats in the sun.  Big, floppy hats worthy of Cannes.  

This one is divine, don’t you think?

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5.  Happy Books

There is something about May that makes me want to read books that make me smile.  Or perhaps to reread old favourites from days gone by.  

Here’s two of the best.

Mitz and Merry Hall.

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6.  Frocks

I adore the clothing of wintertime.  The suits, the shawls, the boots, the gloves.  I feel more inclined to dress like an adult, more polished, more sedate.  But with the warm weather I find that I dress mostly in play clothes.  Linen shirts, pink trousers, a strand of pearls and bare feet.  When I do have to dress up, I want to wear somthing floaty, something enchanting, something more apt to be called a frock.  Like this dress by David Ellwand.  I can just imagine it, with flowers in my hair and ten bare toes, perfectly polished in red.  Sadly, Mr. Ellwand only designs clothes for the wee folk amongst us.  But his work is marvelous.

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7.  Tiny Purses

I tend to carry large handbags.  In summer they are ususally woven straw bags that I have to confess, I adore.  I’ve tried to fit everything into tiny bags, really I have.  But between wallets and lipstick, journals and dog biscuits, a hardcover book and a wee bit of knitting, it just never seems to work.   However, these lovely handmade purses make me want to give it another go.  I think they are perfect for an elegant spring dinner at an outside cafe.

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 8.  Ships and Birds

Every now and then I come across an artist that rocks me back on my heels.  Someone with a unique eye, who creates things marvelous to behold.  Take a look at this chap.  Handmade by artist, Ann Wood, he and his fellow owls sell out the moment she places them into her shop.  I know, I’ve tried to get there before they’re gone.  I am partial to this diabolical black gentleman, but here are owls of all colours, as well as magnificent handmade ships that you just have to see to believe. Wander around her shop and her enchanting blog and see if you don’t agree that she’s a real find.

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9. Fairy Shoes

Years ago, in one of my favourite antique haunts, I spied a pair of tiny little shoes.   Very old, covered in green suede, their tiny toes pointed upwards with feathers on the end.  Entranced, I asked the proprieitess about them.  She was as intrigued as I.  Were they for a child, or an elf?  An infant, or a fairy?  All I knew was that they had to be mine.  They have rested atop a stack of books on a table near my fireplace ever since, a source of wonderment each time I gaze on them.  Below is their photograph, and I’m so pleased to say that now I just might be able to create a similar pair - brand-new,  for someone special.  Artist and blogger Annette Emms has provided a pattern for the enchanting fairy shoes that she makes.
  What a treat!  I’ve ordered mine. 
 Go get yours HERE.

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10.  Babies in Fairy Hats

As I stated above, a couple of friends such had a brand-new baby daughter. 
 The ultimate celebration of Spring.  
Here she is, just a few days old, modeling the knitted hat I made for her. 
 Doesn’t she look like a little fairy herself?

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So.  

What are your favourite things this spring? 

Do share!

Shouldn't We?

Shouldn’t we all feel younger in May?

Shouldn’t this, the prettiest month of the year, erase worry lines from our faces and gift us with smiles?  

The spectre of frost no longer lurks all around the white roses.  They drape over my window like an extravagant strand of pearls, illuminated at midnight by a creamy May moon that spreads silver shadows over the lime green of new moss. 

Shouldn’t we all be amazed?

After such a harsh winter, a company of foxgloves now stands tall in the garden, the most colourful totems of Spring.   The morning air, sweetly redolent with the smell of wild azalea,  is carried along by gentle winds that bear no resemblance to their raucous cousins of March.  They are welcomed in through open windows, softly blowing the curtains into the quiet rooms, playing with the fur on the white dog’s head.  

Shouldn’t we all be grateful?

The woolens are all packed away now, the linen is pressed and crisp.  There are sunhats lining the hallway and the first white gardenia blossom sits by the bed.  While stretched out before us, like a river of gold, are all the sun-kissed days of summer, as far as my blue eye can see.

Shouldn’t we all be happy?  

Shouldn’t we follow the traditions of old and place bouquets of spring flowers on the doors of our friends?  Shouldn’t we wind beribboned garlands around a tall wooden Maypole in the center of town? 

Shouldn’t we dance? 

Wash our faces in the morning dew? 

It is May. 

Shouldn’t we all feel younger?

Painting above by Honor Appleton