Dimensions of grief!

         It almost seems as if the house is hollow as I rattle around alone since Kaia died. There's the immediacy of the powerful presence of absence. She's not in the usual places doing the usual things. At every turn their is an emptiness. Our little routines are no more.

       A second aspect of the grief is the uncertainty of what it means for my future.  I can't imagine hunting without a dog. So, is it time to quit hunting? If so, should I stay in The Little House this fall, or return earlier to the OFH?  Often I said "She keeps me from being a slug."  Will I find the motivation to stay regularly active without needing to meet her needs?

     Then, too, there is the sadness for Kaia herself. It was reasonable to expect she'd have another three happy years. She was a happy dog living a very good life. I grieve that her life was cut short before she could have more good times. She will miss out on a lot.

   Takk for alt,

    Al

In addition to being very good dog, Kaia was smart and good looking.

Kaia's Demise!

       Eight plus years ago when I was blogging about my grief  at Joanne's death, I other referenced the pain of "the presence of absence. Kaia's death has plunged me back into that experience. Upon my awakening Kaia would place her chin on the bed for a chin scratch. As soon as I arose I'd let her out into the front yard so she could relieve herself. After our breakfasts I'd settle into the recliner to read the morning paper online and check emails, while she slept nearby. Once she decided it was time for us to move she'd sit and look at me. Whereever I was in the house she'd be near. So, the house is full of the presence of absence.

     There's another aspect of grief in her death other than the immediate absence. She was significant in the future I planned. Hunting season opens in October. Hunting with her, was the most important part of hunting. Hunting alone has no appeal, so, I do I quite hunting? If so, why stay in The Little House during the fall? The OFH is perfectly comfortable, perhaps I should return earlier than the typical Thanksgiving time?

   Grief; obviously I've been here before, she's the 7th of my dogs to die. Then, too, this grief is in no way comparable to the grief of Joanne's death. Grief has the same features but clearly not the depth as loss of a spouse. I'm very grateful to have had the joy of Kaia's companionship for five and  a half years, which explains the depth of the grief at her death.

Takk for alt,

Al

Kaia in front of the sliding glass doors in the OFH.

DEVASTATED!

      Kaia died this morning on the way to the vet. We'd gone to the field to cut cedars about 9:00, to beat the heat. Kaia quickly flushed a brood of half-grown pheasants. After about an hour of work we went back to the truck and headed to town. Uncharacteristically Kaia lay on the floorboards rather than her customary place on the seat. A few minutes later, in town, I realized she wasn't doing well. Immediately heading for the veterinarian in Brookings we'd gone only a few miles when she died. The vets' guess is it was heat related.

    Springer Spaniel, Kaia, born 2/25/2016, Pine Shadows Kennels, Brainerd, MN, died July 17, 2026, Brookings County, SD. Pine Shadows in a nationally recognized kennel and breeder. Kaia had great bloodlines and was to be a brood dog at the kennel.  Her estrus cycles were too irregular so they had her spayed and sold her to me in February, 2021.

    She was exceptionally well trained. When I released her in the park near the OFH she'd run while I walked. If I stopped she'd come to me. She avoided other people and other dogs. When I started toward the park entrance she'd run to the gate and sit, waiting for me to leash her. In the OFH she only went to people at their invitation, avoided other dogs, and didn't bark.   

    Kaia was my 7th Springer, going back to Christmas, 1976, when Frank gave me Thor. Our lives were totally intertwined. Scratching her chin before going to bed, when I awakened she'd put her chin on the bed. She kept me moving as I'd walk as she ran. Kaia loved the trees around the cemetery as I walked the perimeter road.

   Yes, I'm devastated!

Takk for alt,

Al

Kaia's characteristic pose asking "now what?"

Kaia qualifies!

 

A farmer went out to sow...mow...

         Well that was funny! Checking on my corn on Monday I saw the four acre pollinator plot next to the corn had canada thistles blooming. Today was the day to mow those thistles, so I lubed the mower and set forth. Imagine my surprise arriving at the field and discovering the purple flowers I saw were not thistles but Wild Bergamot. (See the picture below, which doesn't capture the full effect.)

     It's been about ten years since that pollinator plot was planted. The first year thistles abounded and were mowed, no spraying allowed because it would kill the forbs like Bergamot. Thistles returned the second year and were mowed. Fewer thistle returned the third year and again were mowed. Lo and behold, the fourth year; no thistles.

    Each year there have been some Bergamot appearing until this year's profusion. Why so many this year is a happy mystery. There are quite a few Black Eyed Susan and a smattering of other flowers too. Even dandelions qualify as pollinators

Takk for alt, 

al

This is just one cross section of the field.

Attracting Pollinators: The plant’s nectar-rich, tubular lavender flowers are a magnet for native long-tongued bees, butterflies, skippers, and hummingbirds.

The funnies again...

 

Annoying Thistles!

      That title, Annoying Thistles, is intended as double entendre. Thistles proliferating where they are not wanted is annoying. There are places in that field of grass pictured yesterday where there are bunches of annoying thistles. The fire burned untold numbers of thistle seeds above ground. But these perennial thistles already rooted survived the fire and burst forth. Very annoying!

    Today's task was mowing those thistles to keep them from going to seed. Thistle seed, like that of dandelions, is attached to fuzz that blows in the wind, spreading near and far. Such mowing doesn't typically kill the the thistle, though in some cases it does. Because the thistle plant usually survives the mowing, it seems what the mowing does is annoy them.  At least they will not produce seed this year. Now thistles are ubiquitous.

   When I was a boy thistles were just becoming established. Few enough so we'd stop the tractor, take a plier, they have spiny stems, and pull them. Now I know that, this too, was just annoying them, because they quickly regrow from roots left in the ground.

Takk for alt,

Al

Canada Thistles have at least one redeeming  feature, pollinators like them.