Four days ago I agreed to foster a dog just released from a puppy mill. Today, four long days later, I’ll tell you it’s not a pretty picture. Juno. She is one and a half. She has NEVER been outside of a plastic crate. She knows nothing about outside. Or inside. Or anything else.
I’m not going into why I decided to foster–but I am examining my motivation closely. All that matters right now is that I’m in this situations, right now right here, with a very wounded, frightened, anxious scared creature. Until last night, she paced. Constantly. Non-stop. Back and forth. Room to room. Skittish as a deer. When we would meet, her feet would spin out on the hardwood. A blur of panicked flight or fight trying to about face and get away. Keeping my back to her helped. Crawling on the floor around her helped a little. She seems desperate to trust and starved for love. Wants it. But just can’t believe it’s possible. Lunges at my hand, a blur of a tongue kiss, and then she’s gone. Hit and run bonding on her part. And it’s all going to happen on her time table. Here she is. This is the view I get most often:
Hope and I were in the garden this morning. I cannot let Juno out just yet. The world is too big. Too scary for her. Too overwhelming. But she missed us. Barked when we came in. Sitting on the floor, I asked her to come. Hope makes that hard for her to do.
But Juno came a bit closer. Quick kiss. Then gone. 
Last night while I was flat on the floor trying to convince her I was just a bigger version of herself, she came closer. Not close enough to pet, but closer. She sat. Her eyes started drooping. They closed. And flew open again in alarm. She has not slept. But now, look. This is a miracle:
I’ve got to be very quiet. The slightest noise causes her to recoil. Jump. Become vigilant. The crates belong to Brother Wolf Animal Rescue. They’ll be returned at some point. But right now they’re trying to remind me of something. Something like “fencing in or fencing out?” I’m not sure. And this is the view from the room where I sit right now.
The garden sits up on a hill behind this house. Every week, Dirt Devas come and work in it with me. They bring things. Wonderful energy. Joy. Food scraps for the compost. Horse manure–bags and bags. Raspberry starts:
Bamboo:
During the week–I putter–anticipate needs like this low “Hope Fence” to protect the herb patch– tend the seedlings. Water. Watch.
But on the weekend I need to be prepared because the Dirt Devas want to work–and they work hard. Yesterday holes were dug for tomatoes. Deep holes. Dirt mixed with well-aged manure. My next door neighbor loaned us “water walls.” Plastic sleeves that have channels which can be filled with water–passive solar. He said we can set out the tomatoes now–it’s very early–but he swears he grew tomtoes in January–in Illinois–using these water walls.
A structure for training sweet potatoes
and new starts of Swiss Chard.
The rest of the pictures here are to remind me of what the garden looked like in April 2014. And to remind me that cabbage, lettuce and broccoli can survive 18 degree surprises.
the hugelkultur bed:
preparation for the winter squash bed
turnips planted 3rd Saturday in March. Waning moon. Frigid cold snap followed.
last year’s woad,
this year’s red bud,
and mullein.
But cloth? I almost forgot. The moon cloth has morphed again.
And a lighter one, romping in the light of the moon.
Neither any where near finished. Hardly begun. Because right now…just for now… just until… there are other things . . . .
following thread 
There are other things yes but the cloths at the end of this posting, balance the whole of this for me: The moon cloth “feels less heavy” maybe due to the blue bits which may have been there all along but I had not noticed. It is as if there is a warming coming, not just from the season, or the land but from within you as well and it all comes together in the last cloth, the blue circle, the frolicking beings that give me such a strong sense of spirit rising, a sense of freeing and it all makes sense to me and makes me feel hopeful…
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your comments–always so right on–and the evolution of moon cloth have me thinking that next winter, perhaps, i’ll try to find a warmer, sunny spot for hibernation. six months. that’s a long time. and no time. both. but my primal brain/heart is aching for warmth and sun. and i think the sense of spirit rising, of freeing up, parallels the rhythm of earth’s movement into her outward expression. new starts. new life. new possibilities. sure do appreciate your observations. they help me understand things.
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Hi Patricia. Loved reading about your little dog so in need of love–Bravo to you for doing the work to save this needy one. I can’t wait to read about the progress! And I especially like the moon cloth. Happy Gardening! Happy Loving and Teaching Trust.
The colors of spring are here and it is getting prettier every day!
Kathleen
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hi Kathleen! yes, the colors of spring–and next year i just may wait–and begin the garden as the old timers always did–when forsythia is in bloom. like it is now!
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Your post gave me the deepest look at what it must be like to be Juno and your work as a foster mom to her borders is so completely unselfish. I bet she will come around, since your patience and lack of demands on her is making reentry (entry?) so safe. I LOVE the winter squash log bed and I REALLY LOVE that last little happy cloth. It really strikes me how different it is from most of your other work in its celebration of color.
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i think Juno will come around–eventually–she’s young enough, hopefully, to recover. older dogs sometimes never do. it feels like this is all about acceptance. this is how it is. maybe not forever, but for now.
i’m trying to figure out how to keep groundhog out of the winter squash bed as it’s on the outside of the fenced-in garden. they’re wiley critters!
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wow what a beautiful post full of new beginnings!
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yes, new beginnings–as your world heads into autumn we’re awaiting spring. anyday now. i’m sitting here listening to cold rain, heavy cold rain, tapping my toe. not to the rhythm. there’s impatience afoot.
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I haven’t been able to visit here for a while…your clots remind me how much I love your work. It seems as if you are doing a very thoughtful and loving job with this scared pup. Beautiful all the way around here!
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HI Nancy. what a treat to see you here. hope all is well in your world.
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love the little moon dancers. my garden is no where right now.
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maybe the Dirt Devas could plan a field trip.
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it’s really still too cold and wet for a garden–here at least. next year, i’ll wait for the forsythia.
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the moon cloth has become a MOTH to me, a night moth, just before dawn. i love looking
back, seeing how this image has morphed…love….
and this dog. her eyes are like childrens’ in War countries. whatever comes of her time with you is heavy karmic release for her…maybe you too, who knows…you agreed to take her
the BEST is seeing her there sleeping. not far from Hopi….a very very good sign. and not Under something. like the couch. she might be Ready. she has a beautiful name
i have looked at all the garden pictures maybe 5 times already. i’m not finished. i study
them. imagine you and the Devas moving about. these are really wonder full, Patricia.
Really really WonderFull. thank you so much for each of them.
I love you….
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next week i’ll document the Dirt Devas at work. they’re dervishes really. it’s amazing…the power of community…visiting rethe idea of communal living. pondering that again. remembering what it was like…the good parts and the challenges. it made so much sense then. and maybe now. just wondering. love you too my friend.
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i will very much look forward to watching the Divas…..
and what a surprise…the idea of communal living! i would love to
listen to your mullings about that. i think it always makes sense if
you can mold it to specific basic needs…which first would mean
truly being cognizant of what everyone’s needs Are. as a community
and then each individual. it would be a huge undertaking, but
i love it that you would even consider it. But wow, has this given
me a great big smile….
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