my sweet edgar has been ill. i came home from my evening with naomi last night to find edgar unwell. diarrhea that he couldn't control and couldn't get himself up and outside before there was a mess. this happened every half hour or so until 5 a.m.
although the mess was horrible, the worst part of the sleepless, stressful night was the worry about bloat. great danes often die from stomach torsion, a condition where gas and bloat cause the stomach to twist, cut off blood supply and create a gangrenous mess in their gut. all night i was checking his stomach, his color, his discomfort level. diarrhea isn't usually associated with bloat, but i'd never seen anything like this. and i didn't want him to sense my worry and stress. he didn't sleep. i didn't sleep. i called the emergency vet at 1.30 but since the hardness in his belly would come and go, i felt better waiting until my wonderful vets opened at 8 a.m. and although we showed up at 8 a.m. without an appointment, they were wonderful, bringing us right in, getting a bag of iv fluid into him, giving him an anti-gas treatment, and we were assured that he had a virus of some sort. so we are home. he is finally sleeping. heavily asleep. and i'm lying on the couch while we wash loads of laundry full of his soiled quilts and bedcovers. it sure is a sleepy house today. and relieved. happily sleepy and relieved.

the tranquility is returning. we walked along the lakeside path this morning, edgar and i. we met others wandering along in the perfect temperature, neither hot or cold, warm or cool. a temperature you don't notice. it gives you the opportunity to see whats around you, let your mind wander. i planned the little pillows i'm making with the gorgeous vintage quilt blocks i found last weekend. flour sack fabrics appliqued on muslin. butterflies. each one different and distinct. so simply and delicately beautiful. i do feel the energy from the woman who pieced these together so many years ago. the perfect marriage of form and function....the necessity to use the scraps and create a warm embracing blanket. but making sure it was interesting and beautiful and fun. i know she enjoyed doing it. the beauty drove her. and the knowledge she wasn't wasting her scraps.

when flynn was 2, edgar came into our world. that was when edgar weighed 20 pounds and curled into our arms to sleep. he quickly became bigger than all of us, but seemed to have a special understanding about his size when it came to little flynn. he is wonderful with children in general, but the long summer days with flynn building forts in the yard and swinging on the tireswing and the porchswing along with the winter days cuddled on the couch under quilts watching treehouse shows, forged a special friendship. flynn can sometimes be annoyed with his slobber, or his general bigness, but ultimately they are pals. video games on a rainy day and pasta on the couch.when flynn visits, edgar wants to be part of it all.

i have found a lovely, much needed, new perspective on my garden. my front garden is a polarizing spot. people either stop and tell me how lovely it is in all it's natural, herb-y, uncontrolled beauty. or they glare at me or at the garden and consider it sloppy and disgraceful. and for the last couple of summers i haven't spent much time in it. i've been busy in the studio and garden time came last. so it was even more overgrown than ever. i dreaded my garden and even felt the formidable weight of obligation. i didn't trim or weed and i started worrying that i may need to redesign my garden to be of the low maintenance variety.
but last week i found the truth about my beautiful expanse of green in front of our house. the truth i knew for most of it's ten years, but that had been lost for the last few. i love my garden. and it is my place. it is the place i go to spend 10 minutes or an hour or an afternoon. as much time as i have. as much time as i want. it's not a job. i am not trying to create something for others to admire. my garden is clumps of herbs and rows of lavender. the dandelions and baby trees that come along, i try to keep to a minimum. but if i don't have the time or inclination for one week or even for a month, it means nothing more than i just don't have the time. it is still my own version of verdant beauty. the process, the individual herbs and flowers, the scents, watching the queen anne's lace start taking over everything in late july, finding little vignettes that i love and having to run in and grab my camera, talking to neighbors and strangers as they pass........ it is all of this that makes it my lovely place to putter in the sun.

i just walked edgar through the harbor with my camera. it's hard to juggle my big lens and my big dog and the vista of lake and prison and limestone. there are so many photos i want to take. always there. after living here for 15 years, there are still limitless photos waiting for me everytime i go out. but i feel terrible if i go out for a walk without edgar. he loves walking through the neighborhood as much as i do. or more. so my photos get slipped in when i'm being pulled through the village behind a laughing panting 180 pound great dane. this one was from an hour ago.

the gray is flat and unending. the rain has been constant. but late last night edgar and i were walking through the puddle-y streets. he is sore and unsettled in this weather. so at 1 a.m. when he couldn't get comfortable, i tied a skirt on and pulled my big parka around me to keep out the damp air and pouring rain and we went walking. the fog was thick and the sky had a pink wash on the edges of it. there was deep silence to highlight the regular sounds that i rarely notice. the wind slapping the neighbors flag so it sounded like a slamming door. the lake moaning. the rain bouncing off the hood of my parka. the water rushing into storm drains along the street. the houses dark and tall and stoic with only 2 or 3 windows awake. and as we kicked through the rain, i felt the blanket of sadness tighten into the night. i had heard earlier in the evening of my friends family tragedy and i was filled with the sinking sorrow of it. we walked in our own little fog, edgar and i, the walls of the prison and the waves of the lake our companions.
a rain soaked april night that has rolled into another rainy gray morning.

i'm home and i'm happy. it's a little blustery outside....i'm still hoping for a warm bright spring to appear and stay for more than an afternoon. i worked at the bookstore tonight. and i came home brimming with all the energy it provides. i love the people who i work with. and the customers who are almost always funny & interesting & generous of spirit. tom works early in the morning. so although he waited for me to get home, he's gone off to bed, leaving me to watch tennis i dvr-ed from the weekend. edgar is on the couch with me. stella is curled up next to him. there is a little fire in the fireplace. the windows are dark. and i just had a snack of cherry tomatoes and tzatziki. there are dishes in the sink, but i'll put them in the dishwasher in the morning. right now i'm basking in a happy moment. it's important to recognize these moments and love them without distraction.

my sweet edgar. we are having a difficult evening. the rain is melting the snow, yes. however, it has turned our yard into an icy, wet, slippery trap for both edgar and me. i've had a few close calls navigating between the house and the studio today. but this evening, after his dinner, edgar slipped on a thick patch of ice as he was stepping onto the porch. his back legs buckled and he was terrified. we've been walking around the block on the street (thankfully no ice there) to stretch him out. and rubbing his neck. and we gave him a syringe full of pain meds. that wonderful warm musky wet dog smell is filling the room now. he's finally asleep. but i think i'll sleep down here on the couch beside him in case he needs me in the night.