Happiness is ...

Eight puppies at six and a half weeks

Lace and parasols

I opened my neglected diary this weekend and discovered a forgotten morning. 

This tree has grown at least a hand span

 down over the top of this burn scar.

We walked along the trail and saw scarred trees healing from the top down and burnt stumps growing from the bottom up.  

We saw the scrabble marks of possums on marri trunks from many a night's journey to feast on nectar. 

I imagined the pink possum tongues cleaning sticky paws and sticky whiskers. 

Fire loving plants were missing from the long unburnt bush, their seeds waiting patiently for a spark.

As always I was fascinated by lacy patterns made by trees.

 This was an old, gnarled and stumpy branched marri. 

Bees flew in and out of it's trunk, humming in its heart.

The green filigree above was mirrored by the grey lichen doilies growing on the bark below. 

Underfoot the damp earth smelt sweet, strewn with creamy stamens from the fading blossoms.

Intense red parasols unfurled between summers drift.

Overhead, shadow like crows drawled an intermittent duet while 

 frogs plucked strings in a noisy chorus from a depression beside the stream.

Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths

This morning Miske taught the puppies 'digging' and  'under the decking'. I watched as she jumped off the decking with a few puppies in tow and deliberately dug a few scrapes in the soft sand, nuzzling the puppies. She walked away then came back and did exactly the same thing again. Two of the puppies pawed the sand, following her example. 'Digging!! ... we could have lots of fun here ...' Next she led them into a bigggg hole she had dug earlier - 'this is what you can do with digging'. They rolled down the slope and kicked up sand as they scampered back up the sides. Minutes later Miske went to the end of the decking where the access to underneath is, again with puppies in tow and stuck her nose underneath as if to say, 'take a look in there its fun'. She was definitely on a mission this morning.

Under the deck has always been a place of fascination for the dogs. A few years ago we heard the sounds of digging, scraping and whining coming from under our deck. It was our neighbours dog going through the nesting digging stage of pregnancy.  There must have been some primal memory of a 'good den' that she locked away sometime during her 'holidays' here. We were so surprised. We hadn't looked after her since she was much younger and to get here she had to squeeze under our fence to get in to our yard. No mean feat when you have a belly full of puppies.

Miske did the same with her first pregnancy too - under the deck and digging for her life. Getting these pregnant diggers out was no easy task either - all they wanted to do was dig a lovely, well hidden den. It was a fight between their nesting instinct and obeying a higher ranking member of their 'pack' calling them out. Second time around we just didn't give Miske the chance to dig when she was in the nesting phase - we kept her indoors or closely supervised while outside.

Under is the newest game

The first excitement of 'under the deck' turned to squeals of panic as the puppies worked out how to get back out. Miske poked her head down where they were, while we had to cajole them out, digging even bigger holes for those that had ventured all the way under. Tiny tails waggled excitedly as they figured it out - then the intrepid pups went straight back under to test out their new found game.

By the end of the day the hole was a favoured sleeping spot.