Caleigh O'Shea's Blog, page 20

Spring Waits for No One

Spring is sooner recognized by plants than by men. ~Chinese proverb

Once again, I apologize for being AWOL from my blog, but things have become so hectic that I find myself coming and going in circles!

Regardless of what’s going on in my life, Nature continues her up-and-down march toward Spring, and on several gorgeous days recently, I managed to capture some of her splendor.

Please enjoy a taste of Central Illinois’s Spring:

Weeping Cherry tree manages to look enchanting, despite a cool and wet Spring

Pink Magnolia just beginning to bloom

Forsythia … one of our area’s earliest bloomers

I think these are Dogwoods, but I didn’t get close enough to make sure. If you recognize them, let us all know, okay?

Clump of White Daffodils

Row of yellow Tulips, with a few pink ones interspersed

Wild Violets emerging in the grass

Some kind of early-blossoming fruit tree (perhaps an apple??)

Field of purple something-or-other. It was so striking that I had to stop my car and capture it.

For the curious out there, my little tree made it through winter and is growing strong and straight (still with its snazzy red yarn scarf on!)

Squirrel, napping

A nap on a warm day, in the shade, with a breeze, is one of the great pleasures of being. ~Terri Guillemets, American quotation anthologist

Give

Me a

Nice nap on

A winter’s day

Nestled in the crook

Of a big maple tree

With the warm sun on my back

And a gentle breeze in my face

And no barking dogs to annoy me

A squirrel’s life is the best life for me!

Note: This form of poetry is called Etheree.

Owning Up … Again

A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong, which is but saying… that he is wiser today than he was yesterday. ~Alexander Pope, English poet

Sully, working on carrying a stick and leash-training

I’m not sure where I got the idea I was supposed to use Puppy Pee Pads to house train a dog, but I’m here to tell you … DON’T!

When I brought Dallas home many moons ago, he was practically house trained. No Pee Pads were necessary, and accidents were few. Right from the get-go, he understood “outside” was the potty place.

Not so with Sully.

His breeder hadn’t bothered with house training, so I opted to use Pee Pads left over from Dallas’s time.

I put them in his ex-pen and beside three doors.

They were a nuisance — poor absorbency, poor feel compared to the newspapers he’d gotten used to from the whelping box, and he refused to use a soiled one … even if it only had a teaspoonful of liquid on one corner.

At first, I thought it would be easy to train him to the pad — convenient in inclement weather, too — and then transition him to outside when the temperature warmed a bit.

Sully quickly learned that pottying on a pad brought a treat while going on the floor resulted in an angry “No!”

But the transition to outside puzzled him.

And why shouldn’t it? Learning it’s okay to pee inside on a pad, then having to relearn that it’s better to go outside in the grass could only confuse a wee pup.

Then my son Domer came home for a week-long visit, and all bets were off. Sully turned into a real brat, pottying anywhere and everywhere. And I was spending so much time on my hands and knees cleaning his messes that I felt I was ignoring Domer.

I called Sully’s vet to ask about him peeing so much. I was instructed to stop giving him unlimited water.

Huh?

A few days later, when he peed a tablespoonful at one end of the kitchen and, while I was cleaning it up, another tablespoonful at the other end, I hit the roof.

What was going on? Was I the village idiot for not being able to house train a dog?

This time, the vet wanted a urine sample. And this time, they told me the poor pup had a bladder infection.

Well, no wonder.

Here I was, fussing at him for his failure to follow the potty training regimen when he was sick and couldn’t help it.

I beat myself up over it, then got him started on antibiotics.

Finally, we’re seeing some progress.

But it’s been a LONG haul.

At least I’m learning he’s got a brain in that cute, fuzzy head of his!

Introducing…

Whoever said you can’t buy happiness forgot little puppies. ~Gene Hill, American columnist

It’s been a long, hard year, but things are finally looking up:

Breeder friend holding Puppy aloft

This is a Shetland Sheepdog puppy, the same breed as my previous dog, Dallas.

He’s one of a litter of five (four males, one female) bred by a colleague of the lady who bred for Dallas and is no longer breeding pups.

In January, my breeder friend and I went to look over the wee ones, and she said this was the one I needed. Something about bone structure, profile, and more technical stuff I didn’t really understand.

All I knew was, the moment she put him in my arms, he melted into me. Our hearts started beating in time together. And I was hooked!

Who wouldn’t be, looking at his sweet face?

Puppy melting into my shoulder

He was only two weeks old — his eyes were barely open — and he couldn’t leave his fur-kin for several more weeks. Besides, there was no guarantee he’d be mine.

AKC breeders have the final say on pet puppies. After reserving the ones they want to “grow out” for show or breeding, they examine their list and try to match a pup with the home that would be right for it.

I assured her I wanted one before we left.

Then came the long waiting period — trying to prepare heart and home for the new addition. I prayed it would be crystal clear which was the perfect pup for me.

And I felt confident we’d know. The pup would tell us.

In mid-February, after our latest snowstorm, my breeder friend and I returned for another look.

This same pup seemed to recognize me! He rose to his back legs in the whelping box, demanding I pick him up and hold him.

And once again, he melted into me. Claimed me. Fussed when I dared to put him down.

Dallas’s breeder suggested I hold all the pet puppies in case another one might fit me better, but not a one of them showed much interest in me. Putting them in my arms resulted in their squirming to get back down.

Even another litter from another mama-dog reacted that way.

I’d have had my feelings hurt if not for for the obvious — Puppy had picked me!

Several breeders had gathered that day for the assigning of pet puppies, and they all agreed — this was my pup.

And since he’d just turned nine-and-a-half weeks old, I was told I could take him home.

Here’s our “Gotcha!” Moment:

Gotcha!!!

I’m calling him Sullivan, “Sully,” which is based on an Irish surname meaning “little dark eye.” A strong and fitting name, I think.

We’re kinda busy around here, what with house training, teaching him manners and basic commands, introducing him to his new vet, and growing him into a good dog. I’ve been told the puppy you have at four months is the dog you’ll live with the rest of its life, so this is a crucial period.

On top of all this, my son Domer is coming home next week, so we’ll be even busier, if that’s possible. I’ll do my best, but I might be AWOL from the blogosphere for a little while, okay?

In the meantime, please enjoy some of Sully’s baby pictures:

Click to view slideshow.

Buried in White

Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories. ~An Affair to Remember, 1957, screenplay by Delmer Daves, Leo McCarey, and Donald Ogden Stewart

The weather experts said we got 11.5 inches of snow over Presidents’ Day weekend.

And, with temperatures not expected to reach 32 degrees until at least Sunday, it’s going to stick around a while.

So I decided to share some of it with you here (sorry I can’t scoop up a few inches and ship it to those of you who want some for reals!)

Please enjoy:

Click to view slideshow.

 

Critiquing a Painting

Let me ask you something, what is not art? ~Author Unknown

Take a good look at the following picture and tell me if something seems amiss to you:

Now I’ll be the first to admit I’m not an artist, but I have taken a few classes in art and history along the way, as well as done some studying of the Bible.

And this photo is just wrong on a lot of fronts.

Some background: I came across said photo while reading a book our Church makes available to parishioners to help guide us through the Lenten journey to Easter Sunday.

Titled “Summer with the Sacrifice of Isaac,” it’s a painting by Francesco Bassano the Younger, an Italian in the Renaissance period (for him, 1549-1592). I’m able to use it here because it’s in the public domain.

Poor Francesco had some issues with hypochondria and eventually threw himself from a window to his death.

Sorry, I digress.

Basically, this oil on canvas depicts the story from Genesis 22 where God tested Abraham’s love by asking him to sacrifice his only son Isaac on a mountain.

Do you see that scene? Look again. I had to use a magnifying glass to find it, way up there near the top left of the painting.

And that makes me wonder why it was titled that way. Shouldn’t the title of a work give us insight into what the work is about, rather than hiding behind what I’d think should be background?

Here’s another thing: Every writer knows you don’t set a story in the early 1900s and call your characters by today’s names (Zoey, Jaxon, etc.). And it would seem to me that a Renaissance painter working on a scene that took place more than two thousand years ago wouldn’t picture his people wearing clothing like the shirt and vest on the bearded man and boy in the lower left corner either.

Didn’t people in B.C. Israel wear tunics and such?

Now look at the sheep in the bearded man’s lap. I’m guessing it’s being sheared with what looks like a pair of oversized tweezers.

Have you ever seen such a dejected face on an animal? I realize early man didn’t have electric razors, but oh my. Shearing must have taken all day.

At least Bassano spared us having to look at the blood.

But my real problem is in the lower right corner, where a woman looks to be having a picnic with three small children.

Tell me this: Were people back then born with tails? Because for all the world, it looks like that small boy (wearing pants??) has a tail.

Did the artist err? Was the tail supposed to be on the sheep? Or did he know something I don’t?

Tangible Affirmations

Never deprive someone of hope — it may be all they have. ~Author unknown

Recently, it occurred to me that, rather than suffer through negative feelings over the lack of a puppy in my life, I needed to do something positive to prepare the way for a new wee one to arrive.

An affirmation, if you will.

So I went to the store and purchased these:

Now I realize some might question my sanity. Who buys a dog collar, leash, and puppy toy for a dog that’s not even here yet?

But one day he will be, and he’s going to need these things.

New things, not hand-me-downs from Dallas.

Because, in truth, I donated most of Dallas’s things — feeding bowls, toys, leash, and more — to our local animal shelter after he went to the Rainbow Bridge.

Donating to the “poor dogs” was something I did regularly when Dallas was alive. Despite not understanding it, he didn’t balk.

I see no sense in not continuing the practice. Just because a dog has the misfortune not to have found a forever home yet doesn’t mean he/she shouldn’t have toys to play with and warm towels to curl up in.

In all this, however, I’ve discovered something odd: I don’t have clear recall of Dallas’s puppy-hood some 14 years ago.

Oh, I remember his Gotcha Day; it’s the day-to-day housebreaking and feeding and training that escapes me.

Maybe it went by too fast. Or maybe it’s living so long with a senior pup, tending his changing needs for food and medication.

Or maybe bringing a new pup home is akin to childbirth, and you only remember the blessing of having new life in your arms, not the pain.

At any rate, I’ve been preparing my heart for a new furry friend; these items are a tangible way for me to prepare my space for him.

Do you make affirmations?

Wordless Wednesday — Ice

One kind word can warm three winter months. ~Japanese proverb

Ice coating on the branches of this bush

Holly bush covered in berries and ice

Icicles growing on this variegated plant

Different view of Holly covered in ice

For those interested in the fate of my baby tree (https://domermom.com/2020/12/17/tree-as-teacher/), you can see it’s still growing. How do you like its red scarf?

Seeking Some Advice

Parting is such sweet sorrow….~William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Saying goodbye is never easy.

Most often, it’s downright messy.

And painful.

Starting with last year’s loss of my beloved Sheltie to the Rainbow Bridge and continuing this year through the swift decline of a longtime personal friendship and the recent notice my publisher is turning me loose….

Wait, what?

Yep, the publisher of my debut novel Unplayable Lie just informed me that I and others in their stable of authors are being let go.

It’s a business decision. My book didn’t sell as well as they projected.

Probably they had higher hopes for it than I did.

Most debuts don’t strike it rich. You only hear about the ones who do.

And a fictional series often takes several books before it really gets off the ground.

But publishing is a business, and this global pandemic has hit it hard.

People might be watching movies and cooking while stuck at home, but reading books doesn’t seem to be high among their tactics for survival.

We writers tend to romanticize the publishing industry. It’s the thing enabling us to get our words out to the masses, the thing helping us cross a goal off our bucket lists, the thing we need before we can rest confident we’re really writers.

But it’s a business, and sometimes we don’t want to leave our fictional world for that reality.

Sigh.

Gone are the days when creative folks — writers, painters, musicians, sculptors — had patrons, who took them under their wings and provided for their living expenses, giving their Muses free rein to frolic.

Today’s writer must wear ALL the hats, from creating and polishing the work to marketing and sales.

Call me naive, but when this publisher and I connected, I took them at their word. They’d perform an intensive edit on my story, publish it in several formats (including print, electronic, and audio), then promote its availability through social media and other avenues.

Um, not really.

We bogged down so long on formatting that editing, cover design, and marketing suffered, never to recover.

I’ll take my share of the blame. After all, I’ve never been comfortable hawking anything, and sending out a dozen tweets every day to “Buy my book … please!” isn’t high on my must-do list.

Which brings me to a dilemma. What should I do now?

If you have any suggestions or advice — or just want to sympathize — my ears are open.

Thanks in advance!

Sunday’s Gem — Tourmaline

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. ~Albert Einstein, German-born theoretical physicist

Are you suffering from fear and anxiety? Need a dollop of self-confidence? Or maybe something to absorb the negative energy all around you?

Then find yourself some Tourmaline.

Some of the colors Tourmaline appears in. Image courtesy of the Jewelers of America.

Originally confused with other gems, Tourmaline encompasses a large group of boron silicate minerals that share chemical structure but vary in chemical composition.

Named from toramalli, meaning “mixed gems” in one of the Sri Lankan languages, Tourmaline wasn’t recognized as a distinct gem until the 1800s. Appearing in vibrant shades ranging from pink, peach, and red to yellow, emerald, black, and blue, Tourmaline also shows up in combinations of colors, the most popular being a blend of pink and green known as “watermelon” Tourmaline.

According to Egyptian legend, Tourmaline traveled from the center of the Earth through a rainbow, thereby claiming all those colors as its own. Shaman from African, Native American, and Aboriginal tribes used Tourmaline for healing and protection. Ancient Romans used Tourmaline to induce tranquil sleep.

Tourmaline is called the rainbow jewel of the gem world. These colored stones are courtesy of the Gemmological Association of Great Britain.

Brazil has been one of the world’s leading sources for Tourmaline for nearly 500 years. In the U.S., Southern California and Maine are the two leading sources for the mineral. Other sources include Afghanistan, Pakistan, Namibia, and Tanzania.

With a 7 to 7.5 on the Mohs Scale of Hardness (ranging from 1 to 10), Tourmaline is sufficiently durable for use in jewelry. Its popularity has soared since the 1990s — so has its price. In fact, a form of Tourmaline from Brazil called Paraiba (featuring vivid blues, greens, and violets) can command more than $10,000 per carat!

Faceted and polished Tourmaline from 0.39 to 1.46 ct from Brazil’s Paraiba State (photo courtesy of the GIA)

A popular stone, Tourmaline is readily found in jewelry stores. It’s a birthstone for the month of October and the traditional stone for an eighth anniversary.

Tourmalines are said to be excellent for balancing the Chakras. As you would expect, the varying shades correspond to the many colors of the Chakras: red-violet for the Root, orange for Sacral, yellow for Solar Plexus, green for Heart, and so on.

Likewise, Feng Shui experts believe different colors of Tourmaline utilize different forms of energy and should be placed accordingly.

Clean your Tourmaline in warm, soapy water. Ultrasonic cleaners aren’t recommended.

Note: The claims here aren’t meant to take the place of medical advice. They’re based on folklore and other sources, and likely “work” best if one’s belief is strong enough!