This is Riley. She is 95 pounds of self-appointed yard protection. No bikers, joggers, walkers, or trash men are safe from her ire. She’ll race from one end of the yard to the other to get a good bark in.This is the war path. Nothing can grow along the fences where Riley chases her prey: not even weeds. I’ve had to get creative in trying to mingle my love of the pretty with Riley’s habit of crushing everything in her way. Here I built a little planter against the fence to reclaim a bit of earth.I have lots of these three-foot fence pieces (thanks, mom!) I use them to trellis pretty vines and to “steer” Riley away from areas I am trying to protect. Grouping works wonders. Here, the combination of the planter, birdbath, and hosta is just too much trouble. She’ll go around rather than through.Lastly, I’ve been able to train her to stay out of the vegetable garden. Unlike the rest of the yard, it’s an obviously defined space. The walls could never keep her out, but they do give her a visual boundary. So far, so good.
When I first read this quote by Iain S. Thomas, it made me cry. Not only did the quote describe the way I feel about my husband, but it reminded me of those first moments after my children were born: when I finally got to meet them. Then I cried again. Anyway, I made the quote into a sign, which I hung in our kitchen, just to give my family a warm little hug this February.