We're starting the 6th day of January off with a soft snow, pretty but not really my cup of tea. I have always been and remain a "hot house flower" although I do think it's beautiful and I ventured out to take a few pictures. It's not like it's very much snow and next week it will have melted off so I am enjoying the beauty of it even if the temps are way too low for my tastes! HamBone is robust enough this year to scamper around and make his presence known by leaving his big paw prints everywhere. All the other smaller furbabies are napping inside.

The entrance to HamBone's house is actually in the back, the front door is just for looks. We must have charm, you know!

The stone chair above is still one of my favorite things. What a beautiful snowy throne it makes!

 Seize the Day!!!

This is one of the fairy houses, they're scattered all around. You can see HamBone playing in the background. 

Honey's doors. Honey is another one of our rescue dogs and she loves to sit under these doors.

My favorite HamBone story--about two weeks after he'd gotten home from the vet and was getting more comfortable with his surroundings we missed him one afternoon. I called and called and banged his metal supper bowl, that usually brought him running, but no HamBone. I stayed up late, still no sign of my sweet boy. I finally went to bed and right on the edge of sleep, oh, about 2:00 am, there was a baying that sounded like the Baskerville Hounds! It was not just a bay, it was a triumphant bay, a bay of celebration, a jubilant bay! I ran and slung open the front door and there was HamBone with a baby opossum at his feet, it was still and appeared to not be alive. I was upset, I hate hunting in any form or fashion but he was, after all, a hound and bred to hunt. And he was soooooo happy and ecstatic that he'd done what he was supposed to do, he looked as if to be saying, "Look, mama!!! Look, look, look!! They said I couldn't do it but I did, I Can! LOOK!!!" So I said, "Good boy, HamBone," and walked over to rub his soft ears. That made him happy and he went on into his house. I went to tell John he might need to bury little opossum the next morning and then went back to make sure HamBone was safe in his house. He was and little opossum was nowhere to be seen. He'd apparently been "playing possum" and gotten the heck out of there asap. HamBone has never done that again. He pays no attention to the squirrels or the deer. #ahoundthatdoesnthuntisthehoundforme
And this is my favorite picture of HamBone because it looks like he fell down laughing! At some point we officially made him HamBone Weedman. From the very beginning I said he needed to regain his nobility. He has and then some! He rules this roost and I love to see him racing around the pond and running to meet us when we get home. Last year he was so frail and stayed in his house most of the time, this year he has bulked up and loves this cold weather, he dances and frolics. Yes, who knew? I'm in love with a hound. A hound that doesn't hunt!

The story continues--A House for HamBone

So now you know how HamBone arrived at this destination or at least you know as much as we do. The next dilemma was his abode. You see, "Presentation is Everything" has been my motto for a very long time, I mean after all, that's what The Rose Garden was all about! So this big old UGLY igloo house repaired with gorilla tape to the side of my front door and even moved to the other end of the porch was not happening for me. I told John I wanted a dog house for Christmas. A house for HamBone. It had to be a house that would fit Over the igloo, I was afraid he'd gotten used to the igloo and would never utilize anything else and I didn't want to risk him not using it. Of course I wanted the house to be attractive, vintage rather, not just a regular run of the mill dog house. I saw someone's work and contacted her. Lori Rose built HamBone's house. And a very fine house it is.

HamBone wasn't too sure about all the construction going on around his igloo but he was a trooper and finally settled a short distance away, baying every now and then to let his presence be known.

#myhouseistoofoofooforyou

The crowning glory was the "HamBone" plaque that Gail and Ronnie Tyler made.

HamBone's Story

A little more than a year ago we sighted this pitifully frail hound on the property. It was around Thanksgiving and about to get really cold. We put food and fresh water out and started trying to get this skittish boy to come to us. {By this time I had named him HamBone. He was almost Beauregard but I just had a hankering for a HamBone.} He immediately came to the food as long as we weren't too close, he was so timid, but in a matter of days he came to us readily as long as no one else was around. To this day he still doesn't care for anyone else, just John and myself. With us he's playful and happy and carefree. With others he keeps his distance and bays with a bay that would wake the dead. Good watchdog.
Someone had donated some bales of straw and they were on the porch to keep dry. One night he dug into the straw and made a bed so I moved an old igloo house to the porch [ugly and repaired with gorilla glue] to see if he would go in. Thankfully he did and after a few days I decided I needed to get him to the vet, I wanted those family jewels taken care of. I hated to, I knew he would be terrified, but spay and neuter is the name of the game in rescue. I got him in the car, reluctant and scared, and got him to the vet for shots, assessment, neuter, the works and was there the next morning bright and early to pick him up. Well, I guess his spirit was crushed. He showed no recognition, no interest in me whatsoever, and his temperature had dropped dramatically. I think he thought he had found security and then was dumped again. [We have no idea how he got here but we feel like he was dropped off. He's not the type to leave his comfort zone, someone had to bring him here.] The vet had him on a heating pad and wanted to keep him a day or two, it was the hardest thing ever to leave him there but I wanted what was best for him. I called constantly and in a couple of days I just had to bring him home. [Yes, home. I knew this hound was never going anywhere.] On the way here he never looked at me, head hung low, the defeat was heartbreaking. I had moved his house to the other end of the porch to get it away from the west wind blowing in and he slunk into the house and didn't come out for almost three complete days, I thought he was going to die in there. On the day three I continued begging him to come out and I reached in yet again with a handful of wet dog food and this time he licked it. Oh, my heart. He licked it again and then seemingly painfully made it out of the house and finished eating from his bowl. Improvement started. He'd had a tumor on his back removed, benign thankfully, and it healed quickly. His brittle scarce hair thickened and softened. He started filling out and gaining muscle tone. Yes, I overfed him. Yes, I still do and will continue to do so. This old hound will never be hungry as long as I'm around. This is the first part of his story.

Those eyes! Those big beautiful trusting eyes!

 He had a spot under his neck that had been rubbed raw, guessing he was chained with a collar that was too small. Again, only a guess. It's not like that anymore.

Another New Beginning

Wow. 2017. It's been a while since I've blogged, years in fact. I've missed it but there's simply been no time. Reading that statement it seems ridiculous. How could there not be time enough to sit and write a few words? Yet it's true. I let my life take over in so many directions but this is the year to rectify. Rescue I will. Work I will. But in modification so that I can play in the dirt and do the things I've desperately needed and missed to be me, to bring the serenity I love and crave. I feel a sense of normalcy simply by blogging! So let me get you all caught up!

I've had a big room at Upscale Resale on the Covington Square for the last few years, I help periodically at Charlene's in Halls, I'm a core member of CARE [Covington Animal Rescue Effort], I still do custom florals, and that's besides gardening and all the regular ups and downs of life. We now have three new additions to the family since last blogging. Nora Ellen and now Twinkies, Graham and Griffin. My nieces have been busy!

Christmas was fabulous although rushed as ever and my goal is to get back to the point of having time to decorate, time to shop, time to do the things I love to do during that wonderful Season. I DO the things I want to do but in such a time crunch that I feel pressure, not enjoyment. I want to savor decorating the Assisted Living Facility, my nieces and sister in law's trees, my own tree, baking for friends, CARE events, etc! So its time to make a few small changes.

This year I made the decision to pull out of Upscale Resale, it's been fun and I've loved it but balance has to be regained. My dear Kimmie will continue to have an "Enhance" room there and I'm thrilled, she's talented and needs that outlet of creativity so I can play in her room and have the best of both worlds. I can still do Rose Garden custom work without the stress of filling an entire room. So that's one step to serenity, there will have to be several more but baby steps, baby steps!

We had a beautiful light snow last night and I hope to get my hot house flower self outside for a little photography later on. For now I've started to take the Christmas decorations down while keeping a wintry look. I hope you all enjoy reading and seeing glimpses of one person's idea of paradise.

Granddaddy's Pussy Willow

Granddaddy Tatlock had a pussy willow tree in his back yard. Unlike the newer strains his never got too tall and branched out ever so nicely. You could reach and gather to your heart's content. I was little and loved those soft catkins that grew up and down the entire branch. I rubbed them just as I would a kitten. No, my willows didn't come from Granddaddy although knowing how easy they are to root I wish they had. I do have offspring of his Fairy roses. But I do have several pussy willows and I still love the soft little catkins.

Aunt Lina's Grape Hyacinths

Aunt Lina had a huge old holly tree that had branches low to the ground. It was a lovely sheltered, shady spot in which I yearned to establish a "playhouse". However, the prickly dried holly leaves were vicious and I got wounded every time I attempted such a venture. The Most tempting aspect was the carpet of Grape Hyacinths that popped up every Spring. Mother and I both wanted to dig some for our "heirloom" garden but those darn holly leaves were a great deterrent! We did manage, with many piercings of holly, to get a few and mine still come up--not nearly as prolific as Auntie's but the sight of them bring her back to me in a second.