The World According to Sarge

The mom-woman. She writes sap. She doesn’t tell the truth. She hates beetles and slugs and never plays with them. That’s dumb. 170905 Kristin Sarge blogShe sprays water on plants but I do that too, so she is wasteful.

170905 Sarge tongue 2I never pee on her, but I do stick out my tongue. She doesn’t know how things really are. I tell you how it really is.

She goes into the woods and doesn’t take me. She says it’s because I kill chipmunks. And rabbits. And snakes. So what? This is good. I do good.

These are the people I live with.

170905 Sarge family

The big-girl-I-love-the-most went away during the sunshine days. Then she came back. She spoke Italian. At least she said it was Italian. I don’t know what that is. The other dogs don’t know either. I was brave enough to ask them because I really wanted to know. I don’t think they like me.

 

The big-boy-who-makes-me-pee went away. Then he came back. He still makes me pee when he comes near, but I bite his ankles so he won’t know that I’m afraid.

The younger-boy-who-used-to-make-me-pee is now allowed to pat me. I’ve known him for 35 dog years and now it is time for him to rub my belly. But I still bite his ankles. I must make him afraid.

The man-I-bite-the-most still feeds me breakfast and cookies. I think if I bite him more, he will give me more. This is how it works.

They are all getting ready for the cold time. I know because they all have new shoes. The new shoes taste good. Pretty soon, life will be like this:

 

I can’t wait.

Advertisements

Where the Wild Things Are

It’s almost back-to-school time for me. I know I haven’t posted much anything about the Garden of Envy this summer, but trust me, it’s still there. It’s got flowers and bugs and other pests that both sting and bite, I mean surprise and delight.

There are my new friends, who come by to visit with I least expect them. This guy landed on my knee to chat about I don’t know what. He was darling but not very articulate: 170904 bees knees

I also have a regular meet and greet with a red squirrel whose picture I do not have due to an irrational fear of squirrels that developed suddenly when I was 5 and I was bitten by one. (I feel the same way about jellyfish thanks to an unfortunate run-in that same year, but I am less likely to run into one of those in my woodland garden.)

Anyhoo, here are some other new friends that live with me but do not pay rent. I’d call them squatters, but I’m not sure they even understand about mortgages and deeds and property law.

 

And even if you don’t get to meet them in person, the wild things let you know that they’re nearby.

170904 feathered friends

Though I love my little animal friends, it is the flowers and plants that give the garden life. The last two years out in the woodland have been about building the garden. This included lots of digging, planting, mulching, scratching unidentifiable rashes, and crying about the heat and the mosquitoes. I persevered, and the rewards I reaped this year were many.

 

And, as it turns out, I’ve got a veritable vineyard of wild grapes back there, as well as several blueberry trees that I had never met before.

 

After carving some walking paths into the brush, I found some white birch trees that make an excellent tea, and a bunch of blackberry bramble for tea and for snacking.

I also found a nest of bald-faced wasps and a bee hive, both of which I have left alone. I’ve grown wiser in my years as a budding gardener. This summer, for me, was about sitting and relaxing. Maybe next year I’ll get back to work.