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Writer's pictureKelly

The Dog Days of Summer




The other day, I went to purchase the Farmer's Almanac. When I lived at Rose Hill and tended after large gardens, I had an old worn copy in my greenhouse. My, how I loved that book. It never mattered to me that it was several years out of date. It gave me a sense of identity, connection to those who came before me, and working knowledge that everything has its time. I referenced to it often as was evidenced by its water damage and soil-coated pages.


I ended up not purchasing it. I told myself it is silly to place so much hope into a small book.


I think about Rivendell's gardens a lot these days. Stuck, without a fully formed vision.


It has been important to Paul and I from the start that we build a sanctuary of lush serenity for those souls we will bring home and assume responsibility for. Knowing they will arrive traumatized, neglected, in ill-health, and at the end of life, I am consumed with building what they deserve.


Beauty.


Safety.


Peace.


The temperatures at Rivendell this past weekend, legitimized the dog days of summer. Though the fencing is not near complete, we allowed the dogs off their leashes so that they may seek their own shade and preferred locations to nap. Freya, our Great Pyrenees, always wanders to lay near the meditation garden. Lenny-Benny, our Chug, stays close, digs himself a hole in a small patch of wet dirt, and nestles in until I move and he feels compelled to follow.


The heat and lack of ocean breeze helped us to slow things down and spend some time in the much cooler Shire. It is a preferred place for the dogs - and us. Freya loves to roam up and down the creek, looking for something swimming in the cool waters; Lenny, taking position on a large rock, watches her.


Until you experience the Shire, it is difficult to fully understand. Its magic is in the old oak forest.


When I arrive, I feel my own noisiness. Noisy behaviors. Noisy mind. I plunk down my fold-out chair as we do not yet have seating in the Shire, and sit down hard. There is much pent up inside: hard-energy, stress, exhaustion...


It doesn't take long for this old forest to do its magic. Soon, I feel the noise quieting, the tightness loosening. While it is a sense of relaxation, it is so much more. It is release. I release what I carry into the forest, sensing the wise trees know exactly what to do with what is so freely given. They take in, cleanse, and send back out the one thing that often eludes me... peace.


Always, there is peace.


And, that is where, this weekend, during the dog days of summer, I found my inspiration for how to build Rivendell's gardens to provide serenity for its inhabitants.


Strange. The things you learn when you slow down, let go, and allow yourself to experience peace.

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