a different kind of pop-up
At the mention of pop-up books, your mind may veer instantly to fairy tales and other magical yarns, stories in which charming illustrations spring to life with the careful flipping of each page. Such marvelous creations, in fact, had not been designed for children until Little Red Riding Hood made its pop-up debut in 1855. As far back as the thirteenth century, pop-ups had been engineered exclusively for adults: for historians, philosophers, and scientists in particular. They provided intricate, interactive teaching tools, utilizing functioning parts to illustrate concepts from the extraordinary--such as planetary movements--to the mundane tracking of holy days. (Think of the latter as one of the earliest apps for medieval monks.) Some stood upright like modern pop-ups; others boasted any number of dimensional features from spinning wheels to foldable layers that permitted the user to peel back the skin, muscles, and hidden inner workings of human anatomy.
If an ER doctor ever says to me, "Don't worry a bit, Ms. Fitzgerald; I saw this done in a pop-up book," I must confess, I'll be requesting a different surgeon--posthaste. But I digress.
Memorial Day weekend at the Fitzgerald residence was all about the pop-up, though not exactly a book. Not even close, really. Bear with me; there is a connection, albeit one that could be flattened, twisted, and bound into a compact, easier-to-carry size.
Dennie's work necessitates long hours upstairs, tethered to a phone. My work necessitates long hours and quiet but is otherwise flexible in terms of location. Maisie's job, on the other paw, requires only a comfy spot to nap, an abundance of belly rubs, and intermittent hand-fed delicacies, served, of course, with a side of kisses and cooing. The life of the cosseted canine is a tough one, indeed. Rest assured we do all that we can to encourage and support her throughout these deplorable daily trials.
Maisie has now reached the esteemed status of senior dog. We don't know how long she'll be with us. Forever would be our first choice, but, having raised dogs for nearly three decades now, we accept that it's an unrealistic one. We'd settle for many years. That may be unrealistic too, which doesn't mean we won't do our absolute best to maintain her health and instill in her a bountiful beagle bliss for as long as possible. This summer promises to keep me busier than a one-legged frog swimming upstream. The thought of Maisie cooped up by my desk throughout the region's only non-rainy season breaks my heart. She's not a fan of precipitation (unless it's snow), but she loves the sunshine, the outdoors, the myriad of sensory stimuli bestowed by our natural woodland environs. What if I could give her that even while I'm working? Dennie and I put on our thinking caps, and, without the aid of an educational pop-up book, we came up with pop-up gazebo.
We never send our dogs outside without supervision. Although our yard is fully fenced, that doesn't guarantee safety. Another dog could still bite Maisie through the bars of the gate, or smaller, disease-carrying wildlife could walk right through it. Neighborhood children could hassle her or unknowingly feed her something toxic in a misguided effort to make friends. Our girl could swallow a bee (she frequently tries), or disturb a yellow-jacket nest. She might even injure herself attempting to leap over the fence to see her "long-distance" boyfriend next door. And, while I believe Maisie is smart enough to get up and move to cooler ground if she gets too hot, I can't be sure she wouldn't doze off in the sun and suffer heat stroke. For the same reasons, I haven't relocated my work to the backyard in the past. Because it's impossible to see the entire property from one spot, I'd get nothing done if I was constantly worried about where my dog had run off to and what danger might lurk there. Thus, the gazebo. Its mesh sides will allow Maisie to "work" right by my side while still soaking up the tail-wagging benefits of fresh air and sunshine, plus play and exercise breaks are as simple as unzipping the door.
The leading characteristic of a pop-up is its propensity to--upon removal of its bindings--spring open with the startling ferocity of a jack-in-the-box. There was a video posted of this product being tossed into the air to set its full shape free. We, perhaps, should have tried that, though as windy as it sometimes gets here, it may have found its "freedom" a few streets over. Dennie's attempts to confine and control the process bordered on the harrowing (or hilarious, depending on where you were standing), but, after it was fully opened and staked down, we called Maisie over to check it out, then left the gazebo up most of Sunday so she could get acquainted and come and go as she pleased. She did return and settle next to my chair for a while, which gives me hope that she'll have no objections to spending a fair number of summer days in our makeshift backyard office. We can always retreat to the comforts of home, if she prefers. That is, after all, a writer's natural habitat, but this writer will do anything to put a carefree grin on one extraordinary pup's face--even if that means purposely positioning myself amongst the icky dirt and pesky bugs and that menacingly blinding, scorching yellow orb in the sky.
Like the gazebo, color, too, popped up in every direction, bringing renewed joy to the butterflies, the hummingbirds, and the bees, as well as to us. Hanging baskets and assorted pots welcomed the remaining blooms that Dennie had brought home on her most recent trips into town. Following two more days of planting, the porch, the deck, the patio are now dressed in their seasonal best, flaunting the playful hues of summer-cottage chic. While it's true that these annuals will eventually shrivel and fade, the memories of two full days of outdoor family time will not--not because the archives of our minds are as infallible as they once were, but because somebody who shall not be named took an awful lot of photos. We're talking ridiculous quantities of them.
In my--uh, I mean her--defense, that much love and silliness and beauty demands to be preserved.
And now, while my beloved companion watches, listens, and sniffs the air with childlike wonder and endless curiosity, I'll sit out here in my zero-gravity chair, designing marketing materials, clacking out blog posts, revising manuscripts, and--provided the only audible disturbance is the perpetual trilling and chittering of our vociferous wild birds--penning new chapters for any of the three novels I currently have underway. In the unlikely event I should write an entire book from within the confines of this pop-up gazebo, I feel certain that, despite its origins, the story still won't qualify as a pop-up book. That's fine by me. Let's face it--three-dimensional pictures are pretty cool, but, for a dog lover and avid reader, nothing compares to a loyal friend by my side and a whirlwind of words leaping right off the page.
update: a plan unfolding
Okay, so today's first weekday foray into the new al fresco work suite was not as productive as any of us might have hoped. First, I will confess that setting up the gazebo is notably less hilarious when you're barely over five-feet tall and attempting to unfurl a ten-by-ten foot hexagonal structure all on your own--notably less hilarious but not entirely unfunny. Like a gigantic, ravenous python, the thing threatened to swallow me whole, but the brute force of six springy walls can't compete with the quick wit and tenacity of a determined mom. My dog was going to be euphorically transplanted outdoors for the afternoon, and no glorified tent was going to get in my way. Some twenty or thirty minutes passed between the initial battle and subsequent staking and the numerous trips back and forth to the house to create an adequate working space and ensure that my furry queen was equipped with an all-you-can-drink beverage bar and ample room to lounge and sprawl. And, for the four-and-a-half minutes Maisie and I managed to stay out there, it was totally worth it. Or maybe not.
Though I am the family member most likely to crave the sweet indoors, it was Maisie who insisted we return to the house. I really couldn't fault her. When two-to-three-hundred-foot fir trees start swaying in twenty-mile-per-hour winds, the loud, undulating whoosh of it is inarguably unsettling. Naturally, there was hardly a breeze whilst I'd created this cozy canine cavern. The winds here seem inclined to swoop onto any given scene with questionably comedic timing, in this case blustering overhead, rustling our mesh walls the moment I'd zipped us inside. Based on Maisie's genuine excitement to join me out there (before the first gust of wind), I still believe the gazebo is a fantastic idea. It's just not an idea whose time had come today. Tomorrow, however--tomorrow feels like the kind of day popping with promise, the kind of day filled with good in-tent. As a meteorologist*, I'd stake my reputation on it.
*Not a meteorologist.
(A photographic footnote: While I captured many beautiful photos of Maisie throughout our gardening days, the two flower images above were among my favorites of her, despite no flowers being present in these particular shots. Flowers have been digitally added to illustrate this post…and also to make this dog Mommy smile adoringly and say, “awwwwwww”…a lot.)