KAREN LAND

This summer I was excited to grow a small garden at my new home in Montana. But as things often happen, life whipped me around and sent me off on a totally different path.

I spent my summer in Indiana with my family, trying to do all I can to help my mom through cancer surgery and treatments. There is no place I’d rather be right now.

“Might as well just grow that garden while I’m here in the hot and humid farm belt,” I thought to myself as I filled my shopping cart with seed packets, tomato baskets, and plants.

Inside my journal, an old, overexposed, black and white photograph of five beautiful dogs, all lounging in the grass and looking up at the camera, acts as a bookmark. Every time I look at the picture, I’m so thankful that my longtime girlfriends and I decided to pause our hike that day for the quick family photo.

In the snapshot, Kirby, my Catahoula-mutt; Kara, Shannon’s German Shepard; Cami and Pero, Shelly’s two Italian Spinone’s; and Alex, Brenda’s Corgi all lay and stay, waiting for the “free dog” cue. That was over 15 years ago, a long dog’s life; all five have since passed on. We still speak of them like they’ll come running out of the woods at any moment.

When I study this dark photo, I don’t just see the sparkling brown eyes and goofy expressions and wagging tails of the dogs we adored.

The picture reminds me of everything: the cool little house along the river where Shelly raised a family and our dogs once explored, the veterinary hospital where we all worked. I think of boyfriends we’d rather forget - Steve and Rob and Lester and... you get my drift.