Greetings and salutations, everyone; yes, once again it is I, your popular host, Mani the purebred border collie, here after a long absence, which I’ll explain later. You may remember me from such posts as “Sad Little Mysteries”, among so many, many others.
Here I am in a characteristic pose.
You can see that the ramp, built for aging purebred border collies, has seen better days, and now it’s kind of bouncy. The guy I live with said he might reinforce it, or even replace it, though I think replacing it isn’t very likely.
It was really cold last week. I mean really cold, with a high of like three degrees (F) on one day.
The guy I live with took this picture of our garden one very cold night.
There wasn’t any reason to make a post except to say how cold it was, which wouldn’t be very interesting.
And then it warmed up. It was over seventy degrees (twenty-one Celsius) the last couple of days, which isn’t all that unusual for winters here.
The snowdrops and other things enjoyed the warm weather. The snowdrops are over a month late.
This is Colchicum hungaricum ‘Valentine’, flowering in the bulb frame.
There’s still a lot of snow in the garden, even though it’s been so warm.
The guy I live with says it’s not melting, or evaporating, fast enough, because it’s supposed to snow all next week, and so the snow would just pile up, which he says is very tiresome.
He’s sick of the snow and ice, and hurting his hip sliding around on the ice in the garden and out in the field. We have one more day of warm weather before it gets cold again.
The cold has been hard on both of us. No gardening, for one thing. And of course, when people hear how cold it’s been, and for so long, inevitably some people tell the guy I live with that he should move, as though his main interest in life were gardening, which it isn’t.
And then there was someone, after they heard that he lives in the house in which his wife died, who also told him he should move.
Which brings me to the title of my post.
That made the guy I live with pretty unhappy, and also very angry. He said that offering unsolicited advice is very hostile language, and hurtful, too. On top of the almost constantly awful news these days, this was just too much.
Ever since his wife died, the guy I live with has been ultra-sensitive to the thoughtless things people say, and doesn’t know why people say things like that.
I certainly wouldn’t want to leave my cozy little house, and my big back yard with squirrels to bark at, just because someone had it in their head that this would be a good idea.
And I know the guy I live with likes having all these memories of his wife, and the happy times they had together, scattered throughout the house.
I’m going to show some of these, now. I’m aware that I’ve shown things like this before, but the guy I live with said it was time to show more, partly because he was so irritated by “brainless” advice that he should move, and I guess also to illustrate what it’s like to live in a house haunted by memories. Haunted in a good way.
I don’t know what all of these things are, and, in some cases, neither does the guy I live with.
This box is in our bedroom, and was made by the guy I live with’s wife.
I think these are medicinal herbs.
That’s Pooka, a purebred border collie who lived here before me, in the picture on the right.
The title of this (I had to ask the guy I live with) is “The little book of tropical wonders. In many colors.”
More books.
So these are some of the many, many mysterious things that are all throughout my house.
Oh, I almost forgot. I’m supposed to say this, even though it’s a bit immodest.
When it was really cold last week, mice started sneaking into the house. The guy I live with baited several traps, the kind that don’t kill mice but just catch them, with “expired peanut butter”, and, sure enough, we caught a few.
But several evenings ago, I thought I heard, and smelled, something in a trap in the downstairs bedroom. There was. The guy I live with had forgotten that there was a trap down there, and he said if I hadn’t alerted him to the fact that there was a mouse in there, it might have died. He released the mouse into the garage.
The guy I live with rewarded me with extra biscuits, because he said I saved the life of a tiny little mouse.
And we’re not going to move, no matter what. I’m so relieved.
Until next time, then.
the miserable gardener 
Goodness! People can be so unpleasant. I doubt that they ‘get it’. Well, if they did get it, and said the awful things that they say anyway, well, they would really be . . . well, you know. I remember that when Privet (a little terrier mutt) passed away a long time ago, people told me to go out and buy another dog. Well, you can imagine how infuriating that was. It implied that Privet was something that could be merely purchased, like a commodity. It also implied that he could be so easily replaced, as if any of his sort of commodity would be just as adequate. After all these many years, it still makes me angry. Well, you do not need to hear about me being angry. I was very sad at the time, but I was also okay with being sad. Well, not really, but I did believe that it is better to be sad than to not care. I can not imagine losing someone who was supposed to always be around. I knew from the beginning that Privet would not likely last as long as I would. That was part of the deal. However, some people are supposed to be around for much longer. Even if we know that they may ‘eventually’ leave before we do, it is very difficult when it happens, and extremely difficult if it happens much too early. Well, you know all this.
People say dumb things all the time.
Slipper, a purebred border collie who lived here before me, died 364 days after the guy I live with’s wife died, with Chess, his cousin, right by his side.
The guy I live with tried to get a companion, rescue dog, for Chess, but that didn’t work out, so Chess lived the luxuriant life of an only dog, like I do.
When Chess died, the last living link to his wife was gone, and he wanted to die, too.
But instead he went out and got me, eight days later.
Your people really should last as long as human people do, or longer.
I agree.
They should also be elected as presidents of all the most influential countries of the World. Canine people are so much more humane than human people are.
We both agree with that, for sure.
Rhody thinks that it is discriminatory to refer to his people as ‘canine’ people.
Probably so.
Mani, the saviour of little lives, please relate to himself: We have on several occasions here in our household had a discussion on our future, on a future where there will be only one of us left. After over forty years together life alone seems incomprehensible and the prospect is frightening and very daunting. We long ago ceased to be separate and life is something we live together. In the event of it happening, and it surely will, suggestions that one make a further wrench and part with the surroundings which we shared together would only compound the loss and sadness even further, indeed to an extent that it would appear an effort to entirely obliterate a life spent together. I think that would be unbearable. It might be worth saying such to those who make these suggestions but, then again, it might not as it seems they lack the insight and compassion one would hope for in a person. I suggest you continue to hold your memories and keepsakes and live your life. Mani, was your predecessor, Pooka, a ghost? The Irish word for a certain form of ghost is “Púca”!
When we had that fire here, last February (see the post “Still Here”), the guy I live with made me walk up to that street with him, but he said being on that street reminded him of the time he and his wife talked about losing each other, and how much it filled him with “stone cold horror”, and he didn’t like being there.
And then early one morning, the unthinkable happened.
He still cries, fairly often.
But he did meet someone a few months after I came to this house, and they still see each other, though not as often as they would like, thanks to Covid. (In fact, he’s been moving most of the named snowdrops here into to her garden. That says a lot, I think.)
The guy I live with’s wife named all the purebred border collies, except for me of course. (My name means “jewel” in Sanskrit.) Flurry, the first, and then Slipper, were named for characters in The Irish R.M., and Pooka was named for the spirit. The guy I live with said “Like the Pooka MacPhellimey in At Swim-Two-Birds” (one of the best books ever), but I guess she said not quite like that.
Moving the snowdrops is a significant move! There’s some promise in the future.
It is. Most of the snowdrops were being grown in pots, so that part was easy.
The garden they were planted in is under trees, so, sunny in winter. (Not so much this winter.) He also planted like a zillion Crocus tommasinianus in her garden, last year.
I think it’s obvious that he likes her a lot.
That’s good news!
It is; the guy I live with said he’s become so advanced as a human being that he’s only the tiniest bit jealous that the Galanthus plicatus subsp. byzantinus he planted in her garden flower almost two months earlier than the ones flowering here right now (they’re going to be moved to a spot sunnier in winter, later this year).
Snowdrop envy is very dangerous thing!
It is indeed.
I looked back on the account of the fire and I recall reading it at the time. A dangerous situation, scary and nerve-wracking! Good that it passed away.
Yes, that fire last February was fairly small, but it was windy that day.
Not nearly as windy as the day the fires up north destroyed all those homes, last December. (The winds that day were over 100 m.p.h. (161 k.p.h.).
It was enough to make one nervous all the same.
It’s become a serious issue, this century, with the prolonged drought we have now. Drought has always been a feature of the High Plains, but there would be rain to break it up, from time to time. Now that’s rare.
Guud for you Mani savin wee Mousie’ss life!! Yore pawsum you know?? An so is Guy to use ‘no-kill’ trapss!
Yore weather iss all over THE place! Wee LOVE yore Snowdropss; wee still under 3 feet of snow…iss apposta bee +6 Cellseeus tomorrow! Pawss crossed mee can go out inn Condo an catch sum Sun rayss…..it seemss Winter has been endless…..mee meowed to BellaSita Mum how long has it been since Autumm an shee counted on her fingurss (shee iss so cute!) an reeplied it has been *5 MONTHSS* of Winter here! That iss allmost half a yeer Mani!! YIKESS!
Wee AGREE with Guy 150%…if hee lovess being in THAT house~~his house~~their house, than peepss shuud reespect his choicess. An there are so many treasuress there. Those bookss an THE cabinent with ornymentss an THE Kitty statue (mee fave).
BellaSita Mum meowed to mee peeple ‘meen well’ butt sumtimess they like mee put their pawss inn their mouth!
An you are happy there with Guy. You look lovelee an reelaxed inn yore fotoss! Guy an Mani: youss’ due youss! 😉
**nose bopss** BellaDharma an {{hugss}} BellaSita Mum
Thanks; yes, we’re pretty content here, but you know how people are.
The house is just filled with all sorts of little things like the ones we showed.
It’s supposed to get cold here next week, and the guy I live with came to the realization today that we need a new car. This is kind of a wrench, since he bought the car for his wife, but it is fifteen years old.
The traps are called “CaptSure”, and they work really well. Though I think they smell a bit; he does wash them.
Noted…… Vishniac’s ‘A Vanished World’ on the bookshelf. Great book, timely.
Yes, it is.
My husband of 43 years died last June 30th.You are absolutely right.
On Fri, Mar 4, 2022 at 12:03 AM the miserable gardener wrote:
> paridevita posted: “Greetings and salutations, everyone; yes, once again > it is I, your popular host, Mani the purebred border collie, here after a > long absence, which I’ll explain later. You may remember me from such posts > as “Sad Little Mysteries”, among so many, many other” >
Oh, we’re so sorry. The guy I live with says it’s an indescribably terrible feeling.
Even though he has a friend he’s been seeing for over six years, he still does miss his wife, a lot.
It’s easier for him, living in this house, than if he lived in a trailer in New Mexico, like he thought about doing, maybe ten years ago.
Home is where the heart is and both of yours is where you are right now.
We both think so, that’s for sure.
There is a type of person who thinks you should behave or respond or think according to their standards and then you will be okay. They think you should always be cheerful and optimistic. These days the people who name behaviors call it “toxic positivity” and when I’m angry about it I am glad it is recognized and abhorred.
You’ve given us pictures of your house before and I’ve never seen such interesting belongings. The pictures must be studied, book titles read, items puzzled over. Thank you, and don’t let TGYLW go until they wheel him out in a gurney.
You’re right, it is toxic positivity. It does affect the guy I live with all that much, but he does remember it, and so it resurfaces all the time.
It does get tiresome to have to explain to people who should know better why we don’t move, despite everything (including neighbors).
There is a lot of curious and interesting stuff here, isn’t there?