Oy. Vey.

It’s been such a lovely little holiday around our quiet town. That is until Wednesday when the peace and quiet came to a screeching halt. With only three school days left until winter break, our town suffered a terrible blow coming from one insane 19-year-old — a double stabbing of both parents resulting in the death of one.

Wednesday began as any other day. For weeks, HHH and I had planned a day in the biggest little city to the west of us. We’d planned to visit the mall, hunt for meat at a mega grocery store, visit our jeweler friend, and enjoy lunch at Jersey Mike’s. In the evening, we’d take Miss B around town to “OOOhhh” and “Ahhhh” at the beauty of the Christmas lights around town.

Plans are great until they don’t quite work out. The largest retail store in the mall was a huge disappointment. With merchandise rumpled and thrown around, even finding a man’s shirt became impossible. It was surprising how many associates crowded around the fragrance counter, all shoving small papers drenched in cologne in my direction. Not even one smelled $100 nice, most smelling of rubbing alcohol. No wonder there’s not much dating going on with Millenials.

At the other large store the furnace and the escalator taking people to the Men’s department on the 2nd floor were broken. The elevator made strange groaning sounds as we went up. It seemed to be on the verge of breaking, as well.

Once upstairs, the men’s department was in total disarray, just like the other store. One week before Christmas at 10:30 in the morning! It’d be great to visit a clean store selling un-rumpled merchandise. At this point, I’m sticking with Amazon. At least the merchandise received is usually folded.

The rest of the morning went well, until we returned to a massive traffic jam. The school had just announced that after the day’s “lock-down”, parents could retrieve their children. There’d be no busing due to the manhunt for the 19-year-old murderer who remained on the run.

All night, helicopters searched a large open area. Periodically the killer’s phone would ping, prompting more police, drones, and dogs. As the temperature dropped into the low 20’s, there was no sign of the 6’4″ murderer. Barefoot, in red sweatpants and a dark shirt, it seemed he’d disappeared into thin air. All night, the community sat on the edge. On the police scanner, over 5,000 listened intently for updates.

A few rumors I’ve heard…

When 6, he tried to smother a friend with a pillow at a sleepover.

In 3rd grade, his favorite movie was “The Shining”. He named his dog Red Rum (turn the letters around).

Violent for years, his parents weren’t able to find appropriate help for their mentally ill child. Now, after receiving lethal stab wounds (too numerous to count) their son was running to save his own life.

Grief comes from all kinds of loss. Today, I grieve for the innocence lost at 11:00 am on Wednesday, December 17. I pray for the police, dogs, and pilots who worked tirelessly to find the killer and safely arrest him, restoring some peace to our town.

Yesterday, the hunt ended a little after 2 pm. The killer, (warming himself in a woman’s coat), was found hiding in the rafters of a local barn. Cold and spent, he was whisked away to the hospital for observation. Hopefully, he’ll never see another day of freedom in his life, the price that must be paid for his heinous actions.

Please pray for us in our little desert town. We’re small town folks reeling from the actions of a mentally-ill monster. In 2024, no one is safe from the insanity of evil-doers. Not even my dusty little town on a wide spot next to the interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

The holiday season is full of traditions, many woven into our childhood memories. One tradition that stands out, year after year, is the beloved classic A Charlie Brown Christmas. I watched this show every year as a kid and then shared it with my own children years later. This timeless special delivers warmth, joy, and a dose of holiday spirit to all who watch it.

When A Charlie Brown Christmas first aired on December 9, 1965, no one knew it would remain relevant for decades. There’s something magical about how it captures the essence of Christmas with such simplicity. The animation is charming while the story is refreshingly simple as Charlie Brown ponders the true meaning of Christmas. His frustrations with the commercialization of the holiday are relatable in a way that only he can express.

The absence of special effects or over-the-top holiday antics are part of its enduring charm. Instead, it leans into the quiet moments of Christmas. The warmth of family, the importance of community, and, the magic of a simple Christmas tree remain the focus here.

The music of Vince Guaraldi’s iconic jazz score is a key part of the experience. The soft melody is the perfect soundtrack to a cozy winter evening. This reminds me of simpler times when the holiday was about reflection AND celebration. The heart warming music allows me to settle into the spirit of Christmas.

The soundtrack holds another memory for me. While writing with my 3rd graders so long ago, the notes of Vince’s soundtrack would play softly in the background. One little girl reported that the music helped pull the words from her brain, through her pencil and fingers, and onto the paper. Oy. Vey. How I miss those days with my room full of brilliant writers.

In a world that often feels too busy and too loud, take a moment to pause and enjoy stillness while reflecting on the simple joys of the season. Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Linus, Lucy, and the rest of the Peanuts gang show us the beauty of finding meaning in even the smallest moments. As “Christmas Time Is Here” plays in the background and the focus turns to that sad little tree adorned with a single ornament, we’re reminded that even the most imperfect things can be transformed with a little love. That’s what Christmas is all about.

So, whether you’re watching it alone with a cup of hot cocoa or with family gathered around the TV, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” is more than just a holiday special. It’s a tradition, a source of nostalgia, and a heartfelt reminder of the values that truly make this season magical.

Grief is like the wind: invisible, yet powerful. It touches every part of us, sweeping through our hearts and minds, while shaping our lives in ways we never expected. Like the wind, grief is something that can be difficult to understand, yet it’s deeply felt. It can feel wild and untamed, or soft and silent, but it moves through us in its own way, often when we least expect it.

Just as the wind doesn’t announce its arrival, grief often comes quietly, without warning. One moment, there’s a sense of normalcy, and the next, we find ourselves caught in a gust of emotion not anticipated. A gentle breeze, barely noticeable at first, it can become a storm leaving us reeling. Or it may arrive as a sudden gust, strong and fierce, knocking us off our feet and leaving us in a tearful heap.

But much like the wind, grief changes, ebbing and flowing. This shifting nature of grief makes it hard to navigate. There’s no clear timeline or guaranteed path to healing. It takes its own course, sweeping us through moments of clarity and confusion, strength and vulnerability. We don’t GET OVER grief, but move THROUGH it.

The wind also carries with it a sense of connection to something bigger than ourselves. When we feel the breeze against our skin, we are reminded that we are part of something vast—an endless sky, an open field, an expansive ocean. Similarly, grief reminds us of our connection to what we’ve lost and what we still hold dear. Just as the wind touches everything in its path, grief touches everything in our lives, sometimes leaving us with a sense of emptiness, other times helping us find strength we never knew we had.

And like the wind, grief doesn’t ask for permission. It doesn’t wait for the right moment, nor does it obey our wishes. Yet, with time, we learn to understand its rhythm. Sometimes we welcome its presence, knowing it’s part of the process. Other times, we may fight it, hoping that if we can control it, we can avoid the discomfort. No matter how we respond, the wind will continue to blow, and so will grief. It will shape us, change us, and in time, teach us to move with it, instead of against it.

There are days when the wind feels too strong, too overwhelming. The gusts of grief seem to be more than we can bear. But like the wind, grief will eventually pass. We may never forget what it has carried away, but with time, we find new ways to live with it. And just as the wind can calm and settle into a peaceful breeze, so too can our hearts find moments of stillness after the storm of grief.

It’s also important to remember that wind can be a source of renewal. After a storm has passed, the air is often clearer, the world quieter, as if everything has been reset. Grief, in its own way, has this power too. In the wake of loss, we may find new perspectives, deeper connections, and a stronger sense of what truly matters. Just as the wind can refresh the earth, grief can renew our spirits, helping us grow in ways we never anticipated.

So, as we stand in the winds of grief, we may find comfort in knowing that, like the wind, it will change. There will be days when it feels calm and still, and others when it picks up again. And through it all, we will continue to grow, adapt, and find peace in the quiet moments between the gusts. Grief, like the wind, is a natural part of life—a force that, though invisible, shapes us in ways that are both challenging and beautiful.

As a child, I attended a small German church nestled in the middle of the bread basket of the world, Central California. Today, the stately structure still stands quietly amid a crumbling country town. Since the early 1900s, it’s been the center of every major family event of the Volga German Christians living in the area. My parents, aunts and uncles, and cousins were all married there. Babies were baptized. Families said “Goodbye” to loved ones.

The bell tower was always a curiosity, yet I never braved the narrow stairs to check it out. The early community knew what each pattern of dongs meant. One set of rings meant a wedding, another signaled that church was about to begin. This wasn’t a preprogrammed AI-generated announcement, but produced by the bell-ringer who was a very real person. Before the memorial service for my 92-year-old father, the bell rang 92 times, once for each year of his life.

Upon entering the church, I remember being greeted by the warmth of the space. The air smelled of old wood and candle wax mingled with the faintest hint of pine. Simple wooden pews lined the room, their surfaces worn smooth by decades of worshippers. Stained glass windows cast colorful patterns on the stone floor, their designs depicting nativity scenes that glowed softly in the fading sunlight. The room was silent, save for the faint rustle of wind outside and the quiet hum of something timeless lingering in the air.

Each Sunday, the service started with the first delicate notes of a familiar hymn. A small choir of voices rose in unison from a corner near the altar, their melody pure and hauntingly beautiful. When the Christmas season arrived, “O Come All Ye Faithful” filled the room, each verse swelling with a reverence that seemed to transcend time. I stood still, captivated by my mother’s beautiful voice. There was something wonderful about the way the hymn echoed in the room, wrapping itself around me like a warm embrace.

Singing old hymns today stirs memories from my childhood—Christmas Eves spent with my family, sitting together in the living room as the fire crackled in the hearth. Singing Christmas carols while my mom played the piano, the words connecting us to something far greater than ourselves. In our little chapel, that sense of unity and wonder was nurtured for years assuring that beautiful traditions would never fade away.

This church was built by Volga German immigrants decades earlier, a labor of love creating a new home in a foreign land. They brought hymns, customs, and faith, weaving them into the fabric of California’s cultural landscape. “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” was a hymn that crossed oceans and centuries, just as those early settlers had. My earliest memories are of the old Germans sitting in the front row while singing the song in their native tongue. Mysterious to a little one that could barely sing the song in English.

The last time I sat with my family, I quietly sang along. My voice was unsteady at first, but soon blended with others, carried by the same unseen force that filled the room. “O come, let us adore Him,” we sang as the words floated up to touch the heavens.

When the hymn ended, the silence returned, but the church was somehow thick with peace and the lingering echoes of something eternal. Sitting in one of the pews, I let the moment settle into my heart while time seemed to stand still.

As I left the church all those Christmas’ ago, I felt a quiet sense of joy, as though I’d been given a gift. The strains of “O Come, All Ye Faithful” stay with me, a reminder that some things—faith, music, tradition—can transcend time and place. Decades later, I still think of that little German chapel nestled in the vineyards of Central California and the hymn that connected me to a world both past and present. Every Christmas, when I hear those familiar notes, I’m transported back to that sacred space, where voices blended in perfect harmony.

December 16th is a date that sits perfectly on the edge of the Christmas season, where the festive spirit is undeniable, yet the full holiday rush hasn’t entirely taken hold. It’s a special day to celebrate a birthday—a day when the warm glow of the season adds an extra layer of magic. Or, in my case, a day where I politely dodge the pressure to party like it’s 1999.

As a December 16th baby, you’re naturally part of a season steeped in nostalgia, lights, and togetherness. The Christmas tree might already be up, twinkling in the corner. There’s likely a faint scent of pine in the air and the promise of hot cocoa or mulled wine later in the day. If snow graces the ground, it’s the cherry on top, turning the birthday backdrop into something straight out of a holiday card. But let’s be real: the birthday cake is already fighting for attention against gingerbread cookies, eggnog, and Aunt Martha’s inexplicably green holiday Jell-O.

Sneaking to the computer at dark-thirty this morning, how surprised I was to find HHH has other ideas about birthdays. Right next to the key-board, (where I spend hours each morning), he had placed the sweetest card and present, just for me. One of HHH’s great qualities is his ability to make every day special, but he went the extra mile to surprise me this morning!

After sharing time with HHH, I found a thoughtful card from a person I’ve known longer than anyone in this world. Miss Song Bird had sent a lovely birthday wish. With six months time between our ages, she already entered her last year as a sexagenarian. It will be strange to begin a new decade next year. I plan to suck the life out of the 60s while I still can.

As much as I appreciate the thoughtfulness of others, I’ve never been one to enjoy celebrating my birthday. Maybe it’s the timing, so close to Christmas that it feels more like a dress rehearsal for the big day than a moment just for me. Or maybe it’s the idea of being the center of attention that gives me flashbacks to every awkward childhood “Happy Birthday” song.

Whatever the reason, today I prefer to let the day pass quietly, finding joy in the little things rather than grand gestures. Later today, HHH and I will join others for our third Griefshare meeting. It’s hard to believe it was three weeks ago that we wondered who would join us on this journey. Last week, we were six. Hopefully, we’ll gain a few more people today. If you have a program in your area, check into it.

There’s a poetic connection between a December 16th birthday and the broader themes of the season. Winter often represents a time of reflection and renewal, a pause before the new year begins. It’s an opportunity to embrace the stillness, to appreciate simplicity, and to find beauty in the little things in life. Or, you know, to binge-watch holiday rom-coms with zero shame while eating an entire cheese platter meant for four.

So, if your December 16th birthday aligns with the holiday season, let it remind you of the joys that this time offers: the warmth of home, the kindness of loved ones, and the quiet moments that often hold the most meaning. Embrace the day—or don’t. Because whether you spend it wrapped in tinsel or wrapped in a blanket, it’s uniquely yours, and that’s worth celebrating (quietly, of course).

More tomorrow

On Christmas Eve, 1914, the Western Front of World War I was a place of desolation. Trenches stretched for miles, and the air was thick with cold and tension. Yet, as night fell, something extraordinary happened—a moment of humanity that has resonated through the ages. It was in this unlikely setting that the timeless carol “Silent Night” became a bridge between enemies, a song of peace that transcended the horrors of war

The Christmas Truce of 1914 stands as one of history’s most poignant examples of shared humanity. For months, soldiers from opposing sides had been locked in brutal combat. But as Christmas approached, whispers of a ceasefire began to spread. On that frosty night, the guns fell silent, and an unexpected calm took hold. From the trenches came an unfamiliar sound—singing.

“Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,” the German soldiers sang, their voices carrying through the frigid air. British soldiers, startled but moved, recognized the melody. It was “Silent Night,” a Christmas carol they recognized from home. Slowly, they joined in, their voices mingling across the no-man’s-land that had separated them. In that moment, music replaced the sound of artillery, and a profound stillness descended over the battlefield.

“Silent Night,” composed in 1818 by Franz Xaver Gruber with lyrics by Joseph Mohr, had already become a beloved Christmas hymn by the early 20th century. Its gentle melody and message of peace connected men from different cultures. That night on the front lines, it became a universal language. Soldiers who moments earlier had been shooting at each other now found themselves united in song, their voices rising in a fragile harmony against the backdrop of a fractured world.

The carol’s verses, speaking of a holy night and the hope of salvation, brought an almost sacred stillness to the battlefield. Men emerged cautiously from their trenches, meeting in the middle of no-man’s-land. They exchanged small gifts—chocolates, cigarettes, buttons—and even played impromptu games of football. For a brief moment, the war was forgotten, and what remained was a sense of shared humanity that defied the boundaries of conflic

It is almost impossible to grasp the emotional weight of that night. The contrast between the devastation of war and the quiet beauty of “Silent Night” must have been overwhelming. Imagine the stillness of that holy night, the way the carol’s melody might have stirred memories of home and loved ones. For the soldiers, it must have been a moment of aching clarity—a fleeting glimpse of what life could be without the ravages of war.

Reflecting on that night, we are reminded of the power of music to connect us, even in the saddest circumstances. “Silent Night,” a song born from modest beginnings in a small Austrian village, became a beacon of hope on a battlefield. It transcended language and ideology, speaking directly to the hearts of those who heard it. That night, it was not just a song—it was a prayer for peace, a yearning for the world to be whole again.

Today, as we sing “Silent Night” during the holiday season, it’s worth pausing to reflect on its legacy. The same melody that once brought peace to a battlefield still carries a message of hope and goodwill. It reminds us that, no matter our differences, we are all connected by our shared humanity. And perhaps, if we let its message linger in our hearts, it can inspire us to create our own moments of peace—moments that echo the spirit of that remarkable night in 1914.

As December days go by, we are patiently waiting for snow. As a warm weather transplant, the first snow of the year is always a special day. It just might be later today as it’s now falling on Donner Pass.

The very first year as a Virginia City homeowner, I hadn’t tired of winter snow. I was enjoying all the seasons, which were pronounced and definite. The Central Valley of California has two seasons — burning hot and fog. The skies are usually a dull grey, even on nice spring days. From late May until October, the mercury can hover in the 100’s and then the foggy season begins.

The fog isn’t just a light marine layer of fog, but dense Tule Fog. So dense that when driving in it, cars appear before you have time to hit the brakes. Every year, people die in the fog and feel like they are going to die in the heat.

This——

Or this——

Here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, the weather is pretty close to perfect for me. There are four distinct seasons. Spring can be sprinkled with late snow. Summer days are hot but the evenings cool down to a comfortable temperature great for gardening. The cottonwoods and aspens give a brilliant show in the fall. And then, there is winter.

Winter in the desert is nothing to fool with. Black ice can kill you if your taking a curve while hitting it. Almost invisible, it causes many to lose control of their cars. Then, there are multiple snow storms during the season. It’s one of those we’re awaiting. After all, what’s Christmas if its not white???

As for the gardens of Winterpast, I must admit, I haven’t been out to see what’s going on in a while. The rose bushes stand frozen in time. The last blooms fade in the Autumn sun as they were when the frost hit with a magical beauty all their own. Soon, it’ll be time to prune. HHH and I look forward to practicing skills learned this year while taking the Master Gardener course.

It’s time to assess projects for early spring. We need to refresh the decomposed granite walkways. Brickwork around the lawn and flower beds might be a consideration. We need a truckload of new rock to mulch our flowerbeds. (Yes, rock is considered a type of mulch in the desert — so strange this land where we live). Two trees may be removed. Any time one considers taking out a 20-year-old tree, there better be a good reason. Unfortunately, these are sick and not expected to recover. Hard decisions will need to be made.

This year Winterpast will get a facelift with some new paint. And then, the debate about fencing the front yard continues. When sharing the desert with wild mustangs, barriers are important. There’s no point in spending hundreds of dollars on new plants when wild horses show up in the night to eat them. The fencing debate continues.

A soft fresh covering of snow is the most beautiful look for Winterpast. Every day things take on a new and magical look. The inches of snow are measurable on the outdoor table. Last year, the biggest storm dropped 17″, all gone in a week. Snow in the desert is like that.

Wherever you are today, I hope you have clear blue Autumn skies. The winter solstice is just around the corner. Take some time to consider what changes you’d like to make in your yard next year. Fall is a great time to plan for a beautiful spring. It will be here before we know it.

Writing became my first love from the first time I put a pencil to paper. The pages of a new journal call out to me, and a few are waiting to be filled with the documentation of life. For me, writing is life.

In high school, I was blessed to be taught by two strong, beautiful, English teachers. At opposite ends of life, “hot pants’d” Mrs. Johnson encouraged (24) me to write my truths, while elderly southern belle Mrs. Gash (74) taught me to watch for grammatical errors. Both women were perfectionists who encouraged us to write with passion and precision. Under their guidance, I became a writer.

As a cub reporter for the high school paper, I was always looking for new topics for human interest stories. One week, we took a student around the campus in a wheelchair to find obstacles be in their way. Throughout four years, we memorialized the life of Central Union High School students. To this day, I still enjoy digging out ancient copies from time to time to remember the fun we had in school.

Throughout my 20’s, while raising two little boys, I lost my words. Overwhelmed by the life of a mom, every evening before sleep I fell into the words of others. Books took me to places I only dreamed about. Through all my reading, thoughts of someday writing my own book would run through my head.

In 1996, elementary teaching provided the perfect platform for growing new writers. As we wrote, there were days my kiddos would beg to stay in at recess because they were in the middle of finding their own words. We wrote, shared, critiqued, revised, and shared again. Through them, my love of words and the written language for purpose.

Almost five years ago, words again became very important in my life. Too young to become an unprepared widow, life became silent. In the middle of Covid, while moving to a brand new town, I talked very little each week with the quarantine in full swing. Neighborhoods were empty, while people I hadn’t met hid inside to avoid the deadly virus. Some weeks, the only one I talked to was Oliver, and sadly, he wasn’t very good at holding a conversation.

One September morning I woke up to the idea of writing a blog to help other widows. It was such a detailed vision that Grievinggardener.com was up and running in a few hours. Since September 24, 2020, there have been few days that I haven’t written or spent time considering future topics.

Through words, a shattered world started to heal. Writing gave me a reason to wake up before the sun to make contact with the universe. My readers let me know someone out there was checking to make sure everything was okay. To this date, if I don’t write for a day or two, I can be sure someone will call to make sure I’m alright.

Written words.

Beauty. Creativity. Reason for being. Sharing. Venting. Dreaming.

Yes-sir-ee.

Writing is Life for me.

Whatever you do today, consider documenting your daily activities. Then, add anything nice that might’ve occurred. If you perform a Random Act of Kindness to another, write about it. Every day, write down three things for which you’re grateful. Write about your plants. Tell a story about your dog or cat. Write from their point of view. Write about anything you like. Just write.

Give it a week.

You might discover Writing is Life for you, too!

More tomorrow.

Our church community is a place where bright minds think alike. Along with shopping for our loved ones, everyone decided the church would do something as a group. We’d adopt a family for the holidays—a delightful idea for another way to give at this lovely time of year.

The chosen recipient is a lovely young mom currently overwhelmed by the needs of two small children. Christmas has become so expensive. What does one do when paychecks barely cover the necessities, let alone presents under the tree?

When asked if we could adopt her family, this woman had an immediate answer. She didn’t want help for herself. In far-away Oklahoma, Her sister was in a far worse predicament.

Her sister, also a young mom, had just escaped an abusive relationship. She had a new place to live, but that had taken all her available funds. Someone had given her a small refrigerator, but other than that, she was starting from scratch with two pre-teen boys. Would we please help her sister?

And so, Operation Amazon is in full swing. Our friend made a list of everything her sister would need and listed the items on Amazon. It will be up to us to shop for those items, which will soon be delivered. From toys to soup bowls, this young mom who lives halfway across the country and her two sons will have a peaceful Christmas thanks to strangers they’ve never met. That is the true spirit of Christmas at work.

At City Hall, there is a Giving Tree decorated with personal ornaments. Each ornament has information about a Senior Citizen who won’t have Christmas any other way. Yesterday, we stopped by to pick ours but the tree had already been picked bare. I love our small town.

Whatever you do today, find a way to make Christmas a little brighter for someone you don’t know. Random Acts of Kindness are a gift to the recipient, but also the giver. Call your local church or Senior Center to find out how you can help. It will look a lot more like Christmas in your world.

More tomorrow.

The holidays are a time for rushing around and getting things done. Unfortunately, some of our church family have not managed to stay upright. Two have fallen, resulting in broken bones and the necessary medical care that follows. Two others are hospitalized with serious illnesses.

During crisp Autumn afternoons, we’ve enjoyed intense desert sunshine and clear skies however the mornings have been a different story. Every winter, we endure a few days of pogonip. Pronounced just like it looks, Po-go-nip is a Shoshone word for a dense winter fog with frozen particles in the western high desert plains. If you don’t need to go outside, it’s absolutely beautiful. On a clear morning the sky dancings with particles of ice resembling tiny floating diamonds.

Outside, things look desert dry. There’s been no rain or snow for weeks, yet the pogonip coats the ground with a thin layer of slick, invisible ice. Ice is any senior’s biggest fear. Falling often results in broken bones. What a way to end the holiday festivities!

Last week, we held our first Griefshare meeting with friends from the church. Neither HHH nor I knew what to expect. How could we lead a group of grieving adults when we’d never done that before? At that time, no one had yet signed up for the class. With a box of yummy snacks and our faith, we headed to the church to wait for attendees.

During the first meeting of four, we learned a lot about each other. With plenty of time for sharing, those who needed to speak did so. Personal experiences added to the lesson and the time flew by.

After hugs and well wishes, everyone seemed to leave with a lighter heart. HHH and I were both relieved that the first class was a success, although smaller than we hoped. Since then, two more people have joined our group. If we double each week, we’ll need more chairs by the end of the class!

Just this week, I was talking to a friend about the class.

“Well, I wouldn’t have anything to add to the class. I’m still really angry with my late husband.”

Anger. It’s part of the grief package. Along with every other emotion one might feel is inappropriate. With a little more discussion, maybe she’ll join us.

During Week 2 , we’ll speak of the unique nature of grief. I’ll be up early to bake a fresh Lemon-Blueberry pound cake drizzled with deliciousness. Add something salty and we’ll be ready for our group.

If you’re struggling with grief during the holidays, Google “Archive.org/details/Griefshare and watch a few of the videos you’ll find there. These videos were produced in 2014 and contain helpful and comforting information.

“It’s a God thing” describes an event or situation people believe was influenced or guided by God. The circumstances that surround what happened occur in such a way that only God himself could have orchestrated them, or that is at least how it appears. — _{Internet Definition}

Yesterday, before going to see the angel that makes my nails pretty, I had errands to run. Growing the grief support group has taken thought and time. So many people are grieving in the world. News of our group must spread around our little town. We have something comforting to offer. Support.

After gassing up the car, which seems to be on “E” a lot lately, I dropped off flyers at a local doctor’s office and the assisted living facility in town. Glancing at my phone, I noticed a message from a very old friend.

I met KayDee in high school. In the class behind me, we became best friends and did everything together. When I graduated, she became very close with my cousin, just a few years younger than me. KayDee and Auntie TJ became very good friends, spending quality time together.

On my phone was a picture of a Christmas stocking Auntie TJ had made for her in 1975. Her post was simply, “TJ made this for me in 1975. It’s been my stocking ever since.”

KayDee didn’t remember that yesterday, TJ celebrated was celebrating a milestone birthday.

Quickly, I asked if she’d like to call TJ and wish her a Happy Birthday! In the blink of an eye, two old friends were on the phone talking as if a day hadn’t gone by. TJ was elated to hear from KayDee. KayDee was over the moon to talk to TJ. Some friendships are just like that.

Later in the day, it was my turn to talk to Auntie TJ. She was planning to enjoy Filet Mignon and a baked potato for dinner. But, the real present of the day came in the form of a surprise phone call from her old friend.

Here’s the mystery of the entire story. I don’t talk to KayDee as often as I would like. She chose yesterday to send me a random picture of her Christmas stocking. It just happened to be TJ’s milestone birthday and I turned into the conduit between the two of them.

Almost as payback for helping the two get connected, I received a surprise phone call from my little 3rd grade student who has somehow bloomed into a 30-year-old beauty!! Laughing and catching up as two old friends do, I couldn’t help but smile at the loveliness of the day. Old friendships are the best part of a beautiful life.

The Christmas season is such a lovely time to spread love and friendship. There are so many ways to let someone know how significant they’ve been in your life. Don’t wait. Do it quickly while the tinsel still sparkles on your tree. You’ll never regret reaching out to an old friend while you still can.

More tomorrow.

With the first week of December nearly gone, Christmas is upon us. HHH has been spending his days on the ladder as he makes Winterpast sparkle. Warm and toasty inside, I’ve been putting out items while remembering Christmas’s of long ago.

Everyone in the area is gearing up for some old-fashioned Christmas fun. The little town to the east will hold its tree lighting tomorrow night. Some dear friends are going to join us for dinner and the fun. Down Mainstreet, the elves of this little town make snow in case there’s not much of the real stuff. This all leads to a magical evening of old-fashioned fun.

Saturday night, our little town can’t be outdone! After a day of pancakes and pictures with Santa, we’ll enjoy the lighted parade. Then, the town will light the town’s Christmas tree while the countdown continues.

Even though years have passed since that first Christmas of grief in 2020, special yet random memories pop up reminding us of loss. It could be a favorite Christmas carol or a silly ornament. Memories of those we’ve lost are always close by.

Here are some hints that might help.

1. Plan and Prioritize. There’s no rule that you must do everything, or anything for that matter. Pick 2 or 3 events that you don’t want to miss, or plan to miss them all. The big thing is to choose the look and feel of YOUR holiday season. Do You.
2. Pace Yourself. If you need help getting those boxes down from the rafters, for goodness’ sakes, ask for help. It might be the year to sort through your Christmas stash and donate a few things. If the boxes are just too much, skip them altogether.
3. People vs. privacy. Make a choice. It takes a lot of energy to entertain others. It’s okay to skip a holiday if the pressure is too much. Friends and family will understand.
4. What does the season mean to You? It’s a great time to think about why we celebrate. Take some time to consider the personal meaning the holidays have for you.

Take a deep breath and find a smile. Cozy up and enjoy a cup of hot chocolate. If you live anywhere like my town, it’s cold outside. Autumn is a lovely time of year to reflect.

More tomorrow.

I once met a girl I’ll call Vee who’d now be 23 if she’d beaten HIV-1 and lived. Fourteen Christmas’s ago, we were student, teacher, and friends in a most unlikely place. The Pulmonary Unit of a Children’s Hospital.

I met her in early October. AIDS had dealt her a pretty horrible blow. Her lungs were shot and even at 9, her body was not strong enough to fight for much longer. With an extended stay in the hospital, she joined school at the hospital. It was she that taught me so many important lessons about life.

During her time at the hospital, she became a living legend. Although not a child that demanded attention, her determination and vision about her purpose in the world demanded a second look. Her father had already succumbed to the AIDS virus. Her mom and brother weren’t as sick as she. She wasn’t interested in laying around when there was so much life experience. So, Vee really lived!

Pediatric Intensive Care is a strange place to teach 3rd grade subjects to a small girl. Each day, I’d look forward to my visits with her. At nine years old, she was a bit young to work on a computer, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming of having her own.

At the time, I knew a lady named Leslie Morrissette who sent free computers to hospitalized kids all over the country. My students were eligible if they 11 or older. I’d just received a beautiful laptop for a 12th grader who’d been battling leukemia. When her computer arrived, she was grateful but asked that I give it to another student more needy than she.

On the morning I visited Vee, I happened to have the computer with me. Missing nothing, she saw the extra and asked to whom that particular laptop belonged.

“Well, Miss Vee, it doesn’t have a home right now.”

“Wow, Teacher Joy. I could sure use one!” Her amazing hazel eyes and impish smile just melted my heart.

With a few calls, the computer was hers. On each bedside visit, she had questions about another subject that had interested her. My favorite memory led us underground and into an Egyptian tomb. With monitors beeping and nurses checking on us, we slowly followed the hallway deep into the ancient tomb without ever leaving her hospital room. Her curiosity was limitless to her teacher’s delight.

In the months I knew her she made and sold jewelry. Earning over $500, she sent the money to an AIDS hospital in Africa to help her internet friends across the world. She was interviewed on television. She made lots of computer videos as little girls do. She stole the hearts of everyone who knew and loved her. Vee was just that kind of gal.

We lost Vee on December 21, 2010. That day, she had gone downstairs to watch hundreds of Hells Angels Bikers drop off gifts for the children at the hospital. She was interviewed by the local television channel that afternoon. Before she fell asleep, she told her mom it was the best day of her entire life. And then, she left us for adventures in heaven.

I tell you about Miss Vee because even all these years later, she inspires me to be the best I can be. The strongest. The most tenacious. Inquisitive. Thoughtful. Generous. The brightest light I can be in a world of darkness. Miss Vee, as one of my angels, knows that someday I’ll get there. It’ll be time for school when the bell rings. She won’t be late. We have a lot more to learn together.

Whatever you do today, take some time to remember inspirational people in your life that beat all the odds to remain happy under the worst conditions. Inspiration can come from the most unusual and unexpected places. As for Vee, she’s walking on sunshine!!

More tomorrow.

Many agree 2020 was the worst year in their lives. The Covid quarantine harmed so many. It mattered not the age, from grandparents longing to see their loved ones to those dying alone in hospitals, grief blanketed the world. It was in that year that HHH and I became widowed.

During that horrible year, it wasn’t possible to receive comforting care and love from friends and neighbors. Those living away couldn’t easily book flights without the worry that they might contract Covid on their travels. Neighbors watched each other to make sure no one had more than six people in a gathering. Churches shuttered. All this under the watchful eye of the all-knowing government that blew this terribly.

Then, to add to the misery, funeral homes and churches were closed to funerals and memorials. While I resorted to using the gardens of Winterpast to memorialize my husband, HHH waited six months after his death to honor his wife.

To add insult to injury, seventeen days after my loss, I bought and sold a house. Little did I know that when I moved in, there was a gentleman living across town that I’d marry someday. My thoughts of someday were distant, dark, and lonely. During that year, I wasn’t’ sure there would be a “happy someday” for me.

Six miles away from Winterpast’s door, HHH’s grieved with one small difference. He’d lived in our town since he was five and it was already his home. A huge family was there to offer support during the black days he needed them the most.

During those days, we both needed the support of people who understood, like those journeying through the wilderness of grief. Those much-needed groups didn’t exist.

A few months ago, I asked our pastor a question. Why didn’t our town have a support group for those in grief?

To this, he suggested that HHH and I could start one if we felt called to do so.

And so, a new chapter has opened. Yesterday, we held our first meeting. Our group will meet for 15 weeks, ending in early March. During that time, we’ll learn about the stages of grief, changes that occur after a death, and ways to cope with daily problems with God’s help.

After much thought and planning, the afternoon was a success. Everyone enjoyed snacks and coffee while sharing their stories of loss and healing. It’s good to know these friends don’t need to endure the darkness of grief alone. No one should grieve alone.

Whatever you do today, if grief has you down, don’t wait. Find a support group to help you on your journey. Although everyone grieves in their own special way, the comfort of others on their own journeys can be a huge help.

More tomorrow.

There was a time when the malls of America were stunning at Christmas time. The perfect place to meet up with friends, it was exciting to go with a list and spend the day searching for just the right gift. Sometimes, the right gift didn’t make it on the list, but when you saw it, you knew. Well, the times they are a-changin”.

Many other traditions aren’t honored anymore. Beloved Christmas hymns are missing from many Sunday services, replaced by more popular selections. Even in our small town, christmas caroling seems to be a thing of the past. How sad to lose such beautiful songs tying us to even more beautiful memories of long ago.

Black Friday used to be on the Friday after Thanksgiving. On that very day, husbands were in a turkey coma while kids were running amuck. It was the perfect day to get away with friends and shop for the first bargains of the season. It was always on Friday, not the entire month before Thanksgiving. Hence the name black FRIDAY!!!!! Perhaps they should consider changing the name to Black November.

Today, we celebrate Cyber Monday. Rather than braving the cold, snow, and ice to shop, we can sip our piping-hot coffee while putting things in our cyber-baskets. In a few days time, boxes will arrive full of secret gifts. Just be sure you open the right boxes!!

There are some things to remember if you plan to do your shopping this way.

Make a list and stick to it. When ordering online, I suffer amnesia about the presents I’ve already purchased. If you have a budget and list, you’ll be happier in January.

Be careful and shop from trusted websites. On Amazon, many products are sold through “The Marketplace”. This isn’t our trusted Amazon, but 3rd-party sellers. The other day, I purchased a book on writing. When it came, it was quite old, dusty, and used. The worst thing about Marketplace is that these sellers make it nearly impossible to return goods. Avoiding Marketplace sellers is a wise idea in my experience.

If you can, try to shop local. Little Mom and Pop shops have such a hard time making ends meet in this economy. They need to forecast what products will sell, order them in the summer and hope for the best. The local owners are often the same people that work the check-out, stock the shelves, and keep the books. They are neighbors and friends. So, think about going out and buying things from local shops.

Remember to use the credit card with the best points or cash bonus returns. After a busy Christmas season, those benefits add up, so don’t forget about them.

Finally, monitor your card on a daily basis. Although this can be a pain, finding suspicious activity early is key in keeping your account safe from fraud. Choose a time of the day that works for you. If you’re not sure how to check your account online, find out.

Whatever you do today, it’s time to start your gift lists. If you are thinking about sending cards, pour yourself a cup of hot cocoa and get with it. Take some time and listen to some old Christmas hymns. You just might be surprised that you still know every word.

More tomorrow.

After a wonderful day with family and friends, HHH and I are ready to decorate for the holidays. The neighborhood outdoor lighting competition started last week. The men in our neighborhood have one thing in common. They LOVE outdoor Christmas lights and are going to make sure they have the BEST display on the block.

Just a year ago, HHH and I were the newlyweds on the block. It all started with the very first strand of lights placed on the eaves of Winterpast. The Marine across the street went for the bait and placed computerized lighting on his house. The contest was ON.

The lighted deer arrived two days before Christmas, completing our display. With a forest of lighted trees, snow men, deer, lighted dogs, and lights on top of more lights, our neighborhood never looked better. This year, I’m sure it will be even better while more homeowners are already getting out the ladders and lights.

I handle the interior decorations avoiding ladders and the cold. For the last ten years, Lowe’s has offered small poinsettias for $1.50 each. Cute and compact, the poinsettias can be grouped to create larger arrangements. It’s become one tradition I love. At 6 am, we’re off to Lowe’s to purchase the colorful plants which last throughout the season.

Those of you who celebrate a December birthday might understand. I love decorating early. I’m usually decorated for Christmas by Thanksgiving because I’d rather not overshadow my birthday with Christmas chores. Decorating is a big job. Any possible birthday excitement (of which I have next to zero anyway) will be spent if I wait. Decorations are up by December 1.

As the years have flown by, I’m less attached to decorations or the need to have every inch of Winterpast covered in red and green. My December birthday is insignificant when compared to something much more important. The REASON for the SEASON. The birth of Jesus.

Whatever you do this weekend, take some time to reflect on past holidays and the things that brought you happiness. Pick out things that make you smile and incorporate them into a wonderful new season. Try a new recipe. Make some cookies for a friend. Stay busy. Keep Calm and Carry on!

More on Monday.

Happy Thanksgiving 2024! I’m so thankful for HHH, friends and family, and life on the high plains of Northwestern Nevada. Since 2020, life has changed into something new and wonderful. Even though that’s true, I can’t help reflecting back on Thanksgiving 2020 and the first major holiday as a widow.

Enjoy……..

Happy Thanksgiving. This was penned last night. Tell those you cherish how much they mean to you. Enjoy………

I’ve had the most wonderful day. It started with my Ninja Neighbor needing ice for her brine-soaking turkey. Quickly filling a bowl, I hurried to her door, where her brilliant smile welcomed me. Her home, festively decorated, was as inviting as her giggles while we talked. Time stops when we visit, even though she is one of the busiest people I know. As we stood at her counter, I talked to her about womanly things that are best left between friends. Even though I am twenty years her senior, in some ways, our roles were reversed, with her knowledge so much more worldly than mine. I am grateful that when the moving van arrived, it was next to her that I unpacked. This loveliest of neighbors is friendly, funny, and wise. I love her.

Some days I am shocked at my ridiculous insecurities. The smallest details can put me in a tailspin, sometimes difficult to right. Having been brought up with feminine ideals founded way before the 1970’s when I was a teenager, wires are crossed with old-fashioned thought that was outdated before I set out on my own. Now, fully capable of fielding any problem in this new solitary life of a Senior Citizen, many decisions are still fraught with hours of personal deliberation. Debating one’s self is exhausting because whichever side is chosen, the losing side is right there complaining, as well.

I am grateful for the patience I’ve found dealing with emotions in my sweet new relationship. I appreciate, even more so, rationale thoughts about the “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” with which I sometimes flog myself. Remaining neutral and accepting of each new day has helped me to stay in the present and enjoy every minute. I am thankful for a peaceful heart.

As Oliver sleeps next to me, I’m thankful HE is my dog, sweet and smart. He puts up with my moods and nonsense, while knowing my sense of humor and what will make me perk up a bit. He loves me most sincerely, making sure I get plenty of hugs, as he presses his little body against mine. He listens to my requests and really tries his best to comply, except when garden lights or drip systems are involved, which results in doggie shame. His adorable little soul came to me on a bleak Christmas morning, when I had the ridiculous notion I might find him unsuitable, sending him back home. He was mine from the first hug; the silly puppy he remains.

My kids are slowly checking in with holiday wishes. How blessed I am that they were the ones to be placed in my care. Each one beautiful and sincere. I am so very thankful for their love and worry for me, their mom living so far away. It’s amazing to watch them reflect the parts of their dad and step dad that I miss this holiday, for the very first time. Miles can’t erase sweet memories. I am thankful for their love and concern.

I am thankful for Miss Firecracker, and her wit and wisdom. Today, she will be my dinner guest, as we share turkey and all the trimmings. Although both new widows, our luncheon will be defined by delicious smells and tastes, as we find lots to talk about this holiday. Dear friend that she is, she is such a blessing to me.

I am most Thankful for the woman I am becoming with the sunrise of every new day. I am thankful for every stranger that stepped up this year to hold my hand, or give me a hug when things were at their darkest. I am so thankful for my ability to forge my own path, although blurred through tears at time. I am so very thankful for the day in February when VST and I decided WINTERPAST was to be ours, and ultimately, mine.

I am thankful for the years of being a Wife to my lovable VST. I am thankful for all I have learned as I was forced into the position of Widow, which was not of my choosing. I am thankful for my present role as Woman, with many more experiences just around the bend. This is the best of times for us all to be thankful. Blessings do abound, we just need to stop and count them. Giving Thanks on this Thanksgiving Eve has set my brain in the right mode to find sleep and sweet dreams.

For you, my readers, please have a wonderful Thanksgiving Day. For my International readers, a day of thanks always lifts the spirit. Thank you for following my blog and helping my dreams become a reality.

Holidays. Everyone smiling while eating and drinking way too much. Families traveling long distances to get a hug. Love. Hope. Happiness. Togetherness. That’s the All-American ideal. How lovely it would be if everyone in the world could experience a perfect holiday just once. The reality is that there is no such thing as a perfect holiday or a perfect anything else for that matter. This is especially true when grief is one’s constant companion.

My first widowed holiday was not explainable to anyone else. The firsts are as unique as snowflakes. Each one has its own shape and beauty. It’s up to each individual to make the firsts liveable. That’s a tall order.

In December 2020, I was one lost soul. It had been nine months since becoming a widow and I’d managed to settle into a new home with one little dog. The newness of everything left me in a fog most days, while the slightest bump in the road could send me into tizzy.

Those early days, sleep was my only comfort. I prayed for angels to surround me each evening as the sun set, and then, I was out like a light. It mattered not that the clock said 5:30 pm. Suffering such a shock, my brain needed time to heal. Sleep cloaked the intense pain that comes with losing a husband.

That first Christmas, it wasn’t necessary to drag out all the decorations. I had no family that would be joining me for the big dinner I wouldn’t be preparing. All the decorations I’d used for years belonged to the bigger home in which I no longer lived. The thought of finding new spots for red and green was too overwhelming. That year, I chose to decorate with little poinsettias. That was the best I could do.

While preparing for this major milestone, each month I’d ordered a Christmas gift for myself. When they arrived, I’d wrap the unopened packages with monthly notes to myself. On Christmas Eve, I opened each one and read words reflecting a slow and steady healing. Oliver and I made it through that first holiday with the help of my one true friend, Miss Firecracker. It was her first Christmas alone, as well. Together, we made it through.

As you begin the holiday season, evaluate your traditions. Keep the ones that comfort you and ignore the ones that don’t. If you need company, invite people. If you need solitude, close the curtains and take a break. Only you know what will feel right.

During the sadness of that first year, one thing I could count on for comfort was my written words. If you want to know more about my first year as a widow, look back at my archives starting September, 2020. Firsts are messy. Firsts are tear-filled baskets of emotions. Just remember, they only happen once and that is a true blessing.

Whatever you do today, get out a calendar and start planning how you will survive December. Look for events that will provide comfort. It’s okay to boycott the holidays if they are too painful. Only you will know what feels just right. Personally, I’ve discoverd hot chocolate makes everything so much better.

More tomorrow.

Some days the news is great while some days the news can be quite sad. It’s with a heavy heart I must report that our colony of Saskatraz bees has died. We didn’t want to believe it was happening even though all the signs were there. In the end, they went without a whisper and we’re left with an empty hive.

In the beginning, they made the early spring trip over Donner Pass in the back of a pickup. They came as a nucleus colony (NUC) in a box holding five frames of eggs, larvae, and adults along with their queen. As they settled into their new neighborhood, everything looked swell. The queen, able to lay over 2 million eggs in her lifetime, was busy caring for her brood.

Neighbors and friends were quite supportive during our first year as beekeepers. We found new friends that went out of their way to give us helpful advice. Miss Queen of the Bees came over twice to treat our hive for mites. All the while, our bees never quite caught on to a good routine, becoming a bit confused about comb construction and brood distribution. As the days went by, the queen kept laying eggs.

Everything seemed great. The bees helped us enjoy bumper crops of cherries, apricots, apples, and plums. They loved our garden plants and we loved watching them.

Usually very calm and sweet, they did let us know when we crossed the line. HHH suffered over one dozen bee stings, being very lucky that he didn’t end up in the hospital. But through everything, the bees were wonderful neighbors who enjoyed a home in our backyard until they died.

In our area, we aren’t alone. Their death was not due to anything we did as beekeepers. I accept this as truth because many other “real” beekeepers suffered as we did. There was one big difference. We lost one colony. The “real” keepers lost hundreds.

In August, we learned 60 beekeepers lost over 600 hives for no obvious reason. These hives were placed all over Northwestern Nevada, some even living at Lake Tahoe. These were professionals whose hives failed this year. Miss Queen of the Beekeepers and her partner lost more than 30.

Before leaving on vacation, we noticed that the hive was under attack from hornets. A healthy hive will protect itself, fighting to the death. Just the sight of happy hornets stealing honey let us know the writing was on the wall. Our hive was on the verge of death.

Yesterday, I opened the hive without wearing my bee suit. It wasn’t necessary. Everyone was gone. Inside, winter honey had been neatly stored to get them through a hard winter. Starvation wasn’t the reason for their death. With no bee bodies present, it wasn’t a sudden poisoning either. And so, the mystery remains.

Many people have suggested reasons, but no one has come up with an answer. There are changes in both climate and the earth’s magnetic field. Plants bloomed at different times last year. A very early and long spring was followed by a cold snap. The fall was also very long. Some research is being done regarding the hours of cold weather a bee colony needs to survive. But, at this point, the mystery remains.

If you’ve ever thought about beekeeping as a hobby, do consider it. Although it IS one hobby that can KILL you, it’s also a hobby that helps the environment and garden health. For HHH and I, it’s something we plan to continue next year with a new queen and court.

More tomorrow.

So many stories to tell after a whirlwind Autumn of travel!! With our suitcases unpacked for the last time in 2024, it’s time to reflect on all we’ve seen. From the desert to the mountains to the sea, we’ve been immersed in the wonders of our beautiful world. What a fun time we’ve had.

First of all, after one year of marriage, I’ve discovered HHH (Hubba-Hubba-Hubby) is the best travel partner possible. If you need a guy that can locate a Yellowstone wolf in the wild, he’s the one. If you need a bodyguard on crowded Las Vegas Boulevard, Mr. Marvelous Marine has you covered. Even if you need an escort for formal night under the stars, HHH is right there, smooth as silk with blue eyes sparkling under his best Fedora. The perfect travel companion. It’s wonderful that he just happens to be my husband!

During our travels, we’ve managed to squeeze in some wild living while being surrounded by wildlife. We’ve seen bears, wolves, bald and golden eagles, owls, and plenty of ravens. We were entertained by wild sea and river otters. The bison and elk were fabulous. There were seal lions, dolphins, and one lonely sea turtle. Frigate birds, albatross, and seagulls. We were lucky to spot a mother whale and her calf working their way down the California Coast towards the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Did you know that as the sun slips below the horizon on the Pacific a green flash occurs. If you didn’t know, you’d miss it. The conditions need to be just right and one needs to be very careful not to look too early. Knowing all of this, we managed to witness the flash once over the ten days afloat.

Through almost 12 weeks of vacationing, HHH never spoke a cross word to anyone. My Marvelous Marine pointed out the humor when things got a little trying, as they do when a husband and wife travel long distances.

In September, we first traveled to the Land of Man visiting Las Vegas. Then, we drove days to the Land of God, Yellowstone National Park. There is not another spot I’ve seen that can hold a candle to Yellowstone. If you’ve not been, put the trip on your bucket list. There are Yellowstone cams that keep me connected until our return. The only thing those two destinations have in common is that we visited them in the Fall of 2024.

Two weeks ago, HHH and I boarded the Majestic Princess and sailed out of Los Angeles harbor to visit the Mexican Riviera. Cruising is luxurious. There were no worries about what to eat or drink. You want entertainment??? It was there at the theater. Heck, the boat even had a casino for some added fun. Time at sea stops for us and we can’t wait for our next cruise, which will be sooner than later.

Even after being surrounded by majestic mountains and beautiful star-filled nights on the high seas, one fact remains. No place is better than our very own Winterpast. It was good to get back home and settle into our comfy clothes. Winter weather has arrived with Thanksgiving just a few days away.

Traveling is a great way to learn about your mate. From cruising to driving, I’ve learned I’m one very lucky woman to have found just the right guy for me.

Whatever you do today, consider a getaway. We’ve learned cruise lines make accommodations for people of any age in any physical condition. We saw guests in their 90’s having the time of their lives. The crisp ocean air helped inspire new thoughts and dreams. If nothing else, watch a few episodes of “The Love Boat” on YouTube. Happy Sailing!

More tomorrow.

It’s happened.

I’ve been kidnapped and taken to a land far away.

HHH and I are working on a plan to bargain for my release. Negotiations are complicated and these things take a little time. My kidnapper’s are taking excellent care of me so please don’t involve law enforcement.

I’ll be back November 25th with stories to share.

Until then, please enjoy daily posts from over the years.

Keep Calm and Carry On!!!

Joy

‘Way out in the land of the setting sun,
Where the wind blows wild and free,
There’s a lovely spot, just the only one
That means home sweet home to me.
If you follow the old Kit Carson trail,
Until desert meets the hills,
Oh, you certainly will agree with me,
It’s the place of a thousand thrills.

Whenever the sun at the close of the day,
Colors all the western sky,
Oh my heart returns to the desert grey
And the mountains tow’ring high.
Where the moonbeams play in shadowed glen,
With the spotted fawn and doe,
All the live-long night until morning light,
Is the loveliest place I know.

Home, means Nevada, Home, means the hills,
Home, means the sage and the pines.
Out by the Truckee’s silvery rills,
Out where the sun always shines.
There is the land that I love the best,
Fairer than all I can see,
Deep in the heart of the golden west
Home, means Nevada to me.

Happy Nevada (Nev-AH’-duh) Day, celebrated every year on the last Friday in October. This year’s celebration is especially nice because it didn’t fall on Halloween. Some years they’re on the same day.

This state holiday commemorates Nevada’s admission to the union on October 31, 1864. The first known observance of Nevada Day (originally known as Admission Day) was by the Pacific Coast Pioneer Society during the 1870s. It became a state holiday in 1933. In 2000, for another three-day weekend, the observance was changed to the last Friday in October.

While others are celebrating, HHH and I will be preparing for the rare opportunity to host a guest! HHH is planning wonderful meals, while I’m thinking of ways to entertain our friend. Even though it’s not even Halloween, the guest room is decorated for Christmas. After all, we don’t get many guests out here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Around here, the mornings remain dark far too long. The crab apple tree is now dropping orangey-gold leaves. As the roses continue to bloom, their days are numbered for killing frosts have started. Autumn is giving us another show on the desert.

Whatever you do this weekend, celebrate something. Think about your own holiday preparations. Prepare for Trick-or-Treat-ers and test the candy for yourself. Stay up late and sleep in. After all, weekends are a time for pampering. Have a good one!

I’ll be back Monday!!

Oliver-

“Sometimes humans are confusing. If they only took better care of themselves, their lives would be less stressful, Wookie.”

Wookie-

“Yes, Oliver. Life’s difficulties would be easier to navigate. They could face life with courage while being content and connected. Mom-Oh should feature us on her blog more often, because we know some stuff.”

Oliver-

“Wookie, I like the way your paws are crossed. You sure look professional ike you know something important. My legs are too short for crossing.”

Wookie–

“Sorry about your legs, Oliver.”

People should be more kind to one another. Our mom and dad are really nice to us. We never need to sleep out in the cold or go without dinner. We get lots of cuddles at night. You sleep in you crate, while I like sleeping on their bed. They know this and are considerate of our feelings. People should be as kind to each other as they are to their pets.

Oliver–

If they would only live in the moment, like we do. We don’t get excited for dinner until its dinner time, enjoying our minutes as they come. We remember to breathe deeply and take naps when we need them.

Wookie —

And when we get in trouble, we try to distract them with smiles and tail ways. When people are distracted by something cute or funny, they seem to forget troubles or sadness. That’s why I learned to smile at Dad when he used to be sad. It brightened his day right up. Your tail wags make Mom-Oh smile. I’ve seen it.

Oliver–

Humans are just that. Sometimes they think they’re perfect. But no one is that. I wish they’d forget about trying so hard and just relax a little bit. It would be better for our pack.

Wookie —

Mom-Oh and Dad have done a good job choosing friends. It’s fun when nice people come for dinner. Oliver, don’t tell them, but sometimes the nice people drop food and I find it really fast. I love when that happens.

Oliver–

You, too? Wookie, I love when food is dropped. Sometimes, the nice people even sneak me a snack. Shhhh. We can’t tell.

Wookie–

I hope Mom-oh and Dad keep watching their health. They love being out in the sunshine while they garden. It makes them so happy to grow good food to eat. Oliver, try not to eat all the cucumbers next year. Mom gets stressed out and stress is a killer.

Oliver–

Okay, Wookie. Next year I’ll try to be better. Did you know Mom didn’t garden as much before we became a pack? Dad has helped her smile more. It’s good for humans to smile. You have such a great smile, Wookie. I wish I knew how.

Wookie–

It seems that journaling helps humans sort our their thoughts. Mom spends hours in front of the computer typing away. It looks like so much fun, I’d try it, but…

Oliver–

I know, Wookie…. I know…………

Oliver and Wookie——-

NO THUMBS.

That’s our advice for the day. We are two happy dogs that love being part of the Winterpast Pack. Remember — Spay, Neuter, and Adopt if you can!!!!

Dogs Rule!!

More tomorrow.

How can Halloween be one week away? In the blink of an eye, 2024 is almost gone and the holiday season begins next month. With that comes a mixture of excitement and sadness for many. Holidays can amplify the pain of loss. Careful planning is one way to navigate without getting our tinsel tangled.

2020 was the worst year of my life. Having become a widow after 32 years of marriage, I couldn’t begin to understand the journey I’d take. This much I knew for sure. The holidays would be tough. With a birthday the week before Christmas, the holiday season always overflowed with too many obligations. It would be up to me to carefully select new traditions.

Earlier in life, I often taught until December 23, with no worries about filling the holiday season with extras. Work and family filled my dance card and as the holidays passed, I was a year older. Each year, they came and went without much angst.

In 2014, with a move to Nevada, the holidays took on a different look. Virginia City, Nevada showered me with the first of many snowy Christmas Eves’. With an invitation to the next-door neighbor’s house, we slid down the driveway on new snow and walked the short distance into the next chapter of life. New traditions began that year with several retired couples joining together to make a family. The eight of us brought cheer to a rather quiet neighborhood and for six Christmases, it worked well.

Moving to a new town 17 days after becoming a widow changed everything. I knew two people and by the next Christmas, only one would remain. The holidays would arrive right on time along with feelings of loss, sadness, and loneliness. It was time for a change of focus.

Plan holiday activities before they arrive. Make a list of possible destinations and activities for the day before and the day after. Then, try your best to be a little excited about your choices. Attitude is everything.

Before that first Christmas, I wrote myself a monthly note about all the good things that happened that month. Those eight notes were a great way to recognize growth and accomplishments.

Each month, I shopped for one personal Christmas present for Oliver and me.

Attending a Christmas candlelight service while surrounded by new friends in God’s house, the world didn’t seem quite so dark. After church, I drove around town to see the lights while reflecting on the real reason for the season.

The next day, Miss Firecracker and I were invited to join a friend and his family for dinner. Just like that, we made our first solo Christmas un-lonely. It just took some planning.

While I was making my Christmas plans, HHH went home to his kids. Looking back, it was agreed, that Christmas was like no other. Not one we want to repeat any time soon. The first holiday season in grief is rough. No way around it, you just need to make it through. And, you will.

As the holidays approach, do what you can and leave the rest. It took a few years to go through the old decorations, keeping favorites while shrinking my stash.

The main suggestion is this. Start planning now. If you are not into it this year, plan a trip away. That’s okay, too. No one makes the rules but you. Change things up. Today, start thinking of your favorite celebrations and focus on those. The rest can be put aside for now. Just Do You with as many bells as possible.

More tomorrow.

Well it’s a strange old game you learn it slow
One step forward and it’s back you go
You’re standing on the throttle
You’re standing on the brake
In the groove ’til you make a mistake

You gotta know happy – you gotta know glad
Because you’re gonna know lonely
And you’re gonna know sad
When you’re rippin’ and you’re ridin’
And you’re coming on strong
You start slippin’ and slidin’
And it all goes wrong because

One day you got the glory and then you got none
One day you’re a diamond and then you’re a stone
Everything can change in the blink of an eye
So let the good times roll before we say goodbye

because

Sometimes you’re the windshield
Sometimes you’re the bug
Sometimes it all comes together, Baby
Sometimes you’re just a fool in love
Sometimes you’re the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you’re the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you’re gonna lose it all _{Written by Mark Knopfler}

Hmmm. I never met Mr. Knopfler or Mary Chapin Carpenter, but their lyrics are relatable. It’d be nice if, just occasionally, life would give us a “heads-up” for the “bug” moments. They sneak right out in front of us when traveling down the highway of life. Splat.

Last week, some church members needed prayer for family members. A son suffered a near-fatal heart attack. A grandson and his young family were broadsided by a semi-truck during a snowstorm. Two young men were not expected to live through the night. With prayers answered, it’s great to report they are both expected to return to their active lives after surgeries, rest, and healing. Prayer. It’s a powerful thing.

On these beautiful fall days, HHH and I are rippin’ and ridin’ and comin’ on strong, while enjoying every bug-free experience here at Winterpast. For now, our windshield is clean and it’s blue-sky days. Praise the Lord.

Whatever you do today, focus on your own bug-free moments. Each day is full of little wins that need celebrating. Find a blend between throttle and brake while you keep moving ahead. Slow and steady wins the race.

The time has come for everyone in our country to take a moment to think. Critical thinking is a lost art, but one we desperately need as the time for voting our conscience has arrived. It’s time to consider important issues from every angle.

In Nevada, voting began on Saturday with polls opening at 10 am. I’d hoped for a repeat of the primary. On that snowy night, the line of voters wrapped around the Senior Center as people stood outside in the cold waiting to cast their votes.

We’re a tiny town of 25,000 souls. Country folks are often conservative, but our town seems equally divided as the rest of the country. We arrived at the polls 30 minutes before opening to get a place in line. Even though we planned carefully, it still took two hours to vote.

Before we’d opened our car doors to stand outside on the crisp autumn morning, a random man started giving a dire warning. It seemed someone had hacked his voting information. He had already contacted the Governor, Sheriff, and the Mayor. For goodness sake, he’d even sent word to the FBI.

Having received voter ID cards in the mail with all the correct information, we weren’t worried. As much as we tried to politely ignore him, he stuck to us like glue. We’d better check. “THEY” were out to get every vote. “THEY” could change our votes, too. We never figured out exactly who “THEY” were.

Moving into line, it was amusing to listen to the chatter around us. Two very large heavy equipment operators at a local pit compared Caterpillar to Komatsu while my attention focused on a city-fied young man with a folding table. Just where did he come from and where was he going? What propaganda did he intend to set up on his black card table taken out of the car with California license plates?

In the middle of hundreds of people, we knew only one. HHH’s Spanish teacher from high school. Now, HHH is 70 (Sorry, HHH, but I must make my point.) His HIGH SCHOOL SPANISH TEACHER came out to vote. Bless her heart. As she bubbled with happiness, she told us she was there to meet a candidate’s wife who would be visiting waiting voters.

By this time, the man with the card table was identified as part of THAT candidate’s team and we sent her in that direction as the clock marched towards 10 am.

About 9:50, a few activists started spewing hate towards Israel over their bull-horn while the candidate’s wife passed out pamphlets about conservative issues. HHH’s Spanish Teacher was lost in the crowd as the clock struck 10.

The doors didn’t magically open as everyone had hoped. Twenty minutes more in the cold, the line finally began inching toward the polls. By the time we left, City Hall’s parking lot was overflowing. The lights of our friendly Sheriff flashed near the activists. Without knowing what happened, we hurried in the opposite direction towards the car.

My biggest hope for our country this year is that all voters are engaged. Carefully consider issues that matter in our lives. Personality, skin color, gender, or financial statues don’t matter. Political promises often prove hollow at the end of the day.

Search your heart. Are you better now than you were four years ago? Has your life improved? How far does your dollar go at the grocery store or gas pump. Study your sample ballot. If you are a person of faith, pray about your vote. Pray about the issues troubling our country.

Don’t wait until the last minute to vote. If possible, vote at your polling place. Be sure to smile at the poll workers and thank them for volunteering for theirs is a thankless job in an angry society.

Whatever you do, Wake Up and Stay That Way. That’s different than “Being Woke. Once awake, things become much clearer.

More tomorrow.

Our interests and commitments continue to multiply as time goes by. Yesterday, we drove an hour to the south to meet our county’s Master Gardener Coordinator. After filling out paperwork and providing fingerprints for screening, we’re on our way to completing this program. We’ll be certified by year’s end.

Master Gardener interns must complete 15 hours of additional instruction AND 35 hours of volunteer hours over the next year. We’ve been selected to teach hydroponic gardening to school-aged children at the local Boys and Girls Club in our town.

Along with the classroom gig, we’ve been asked to become caretakers for the Buckland Station community garden located 30 minutes from Winterpast. There we’ll find more raised gardens needing seedlings to be produced under our careful watch. In early February, the cycle will begin again, as tiny seeds will turn into beautiful flowers and vegetables.

There’s always a lot to do for a team of two active Master Gardeners interns.

Along with those two projects, the brand Healing Hearts comfort group will benefit from gardening. Of this, there is no doubt. There were many hours HHH (Hubba-Hubba-Hubby) and I spent time in our respective yards working the soil. The beauty of life in the garden helps heal the heart.

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God’s Heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on Earth.

Our new friends at the University of Nevada Extension Office also run the 4-H program for the county, servicing 120 children. This took me back to my early days of 4-H meetings, leadership, and animal projects. During my years as a member of 4-H, I learned to cook and sew. I also learned to raise rabbits, chickens, lambs, and Guide Dogs. My love for animals and all things in nature came from this club and I smile every time I see a child dressed in white and pine green.

Strolling through the autumn of life, there are so many ways we can enrich the lives of others. Help someone get through a dark time in life. Teach some littles about hydroponic gardening. Beautify a historical spot where pony express riders would stop for a nice meal and a fresh horse. So many ways to help, and we haven’t even scratched the surface of possiblities.

If the gigs with the children or the historical garden don’t pan out, many more choices await. Bringing gardening to the Senior Center or Assisted Living facility might be fun. With so many options, how on earth did we ever have time for work?

For the next six weeks, we’ll wait for our fingerprints to be processed. Autumn will be a great time to plan.

Whatever you do today, think about ways you can get out of your comfort zone to help. There are hundreds of volunteer opportunities in any town. By getting out and about, your days will brighten. It just works that way!

Have a wonderful weekend. I’ll be back on Monday.

In what seems like a lifetime ago, during a very dark time as a new widow, I never struggled with sleeping. When the sun set, fantastical dreams danced through my head while I slept. Dreaming helped my brain reset.

During one of those evenings, the words “Grieving Gardener” came to me. Waking to the morning sunshine, those words hung in my brain. Just what did the phrase mean? Was I to use the gardens of Winterpast to help other widows and widowers heal? For some time, I thought that was exactly the meaning. I was the original Grieving Gardener.

Then, September 24, 2020 came along and Grievinggardener.com changed everything. God always intended for me to use words to help others, not a shovel or rake. I hope that there are some in this world that have benefited in the smallest way. This insignificant human has spent 54 months sharing random thoughts hoping to help at least one widow.

Another idea was incubating in the back of my brain. Our dusty little town located on a wide spot in the road off an interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada lacks a support group for those in grief. Connecting with others in the same situation would’ve been helpful. Quarantined, that wasn’t possible.

In early summer, I mentioned this to our pastor. Why doesn’t our town have a support group? Grief exists in every corner of the world. The widowed need comfort.

As the conversation progressed, he agreed this would be great for our town. Might HHH and I consider facilitating such a group? Could we? Would we?

And so, we sit at the intersection of “We’ve never done such a thing!” and “We have some wonderful gifts to share.”

In the blink of an eye, a flyer nearly jumped out of the computer. December 2, 2024, HHH and I will begin a new adventure. Helping others in need, we’ll continue our personal healing journey.

Trying to think of a name for the group, I found some options on Google. I listed 20 of my favorites hoping HHH might help choose the perfect one. Just like that, tears came. One of the names had meaning that touched his heart deeply. Grief. The journey never ends. We just move through it one step at a time.

Healing Hearts is tedious and time-consuming work. HEALING HEARTS is the perfect name for the new group.

We aren’t counselors. No one has all the answers to make it through the wilderness of grief. We’re just two Senior citizens who’ve lived like everyone else and would like to help others. In doing that, our healing journey will continue.

Whatever you do today, consider how you might help one other person who might be a little worse off than you. There’s nothing better than sharing kindness and love. That can be as simple as smiling at a stranger. You never know how it might change someone’s day. You just might be the one to save a life.

More tomorrow.

There’s nothing better than canine kisses from our best friends. Unable to join us on our trip to a National Park, our fur babies enjoyed puppy camp. The excitement that overtakes them when they hear the name “Michele” is crazy. She’s the camp counselor they so dearly love. We’re lucky to have a safe place to leave them while traveling.

Yesterday was a typical first day back home. Dogs are so much like children. For the first half of the day, they raced around greeting us with happiness at every turn. Around 1 PM, they began to crash into afternoon nap time while HHH and I worked to catch up on gardening.

Today we’re expecting three consecutive freezes with highs in the 50s. Winter is just around the corner, and with that comes many chores. The biggest is turning off the irrigation water system.

When I moved to Winterpast, the water system was a huge mystery. There were the normal leaks that could throw me into tears. More than that, two electronic boxes controlling 8 stations watering twice daily took time and patience to learn. Drip irrigation is wonderful when it’s working and frustrating when it’s not.

These days, working with HHH, the water system is no longer a mystery. Winterizing the irrigation system is a systematic process that makes perfect sense. Turn off the main valve, and drain the system in for winter. In the spring, do the opposite.

The roses are giving us the last show of the season. With each passing day, there are more dying blooms. They’ve had the last feeding for the season and will soon fall into dormancy until spring. This year, we doubled the number of bushes in our yard. Next year will be even better.

Every day, more of the yard art and empty pots are washed and put away for next year. By mid-November, we’ll be ready to dig out the Christmas lighting and begin preparing for the holidays.

If you live in an area with severe winters, remember to empty fountains and store away your pots and tools. Make a list of tools needed for next year. Christmas is just around the corner. Gardening implements and decorations make great gifts. I’m already preparing my list for Santa.

Ollie and Wookie plan to warm themselves in the last of the autumn sunshine. Their coats are growing thicker, even though they wouldn’t know what to do if forced to sleep outside. So spoiled, they are back with their pack and ready to snuggle with us in the autumn chill.

Whatever you do today, take a few minutes to make of list of your autumn chores. Fall cleaning is always a great place to start. Take time to enjoy autumn’s night sky. If you’re lucky, you might just see the comet.

More tomorrow.

Of all the roads both east and west

The one that leads to home is best!

It’s official. One year has passed since HHH and I exchanged wedding vows in a tiny little church on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. The year flew by, packed with lovely adventures and two beautiful trips to Yellowstone National Park.

Yellowstone.

If you haven’t been there, you need to go. If you have, your heart is probably aching to return. (At least it’s that way for us.) It’s one of the most beautiful places in the entire world. In October, that is. At times it seemed we had a private viewing of this majestic place with the first snowfall arriving this week.

While in Yellowstone, we observed wild buffalo, antelope, elk, and mountain sheep from the safety of our car. We saw the elusive Big Horn Sheep, which rested by the side of the road. We even saw a lone wolf in Lamar Valley.

The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. Stunning. Something found nowhere else in this beautiful world.

Old Faithful didn’t disappoint. On our second visit there, a sister geyser blew up before her.

We walked along the Grand Prismatic and were mystified by the Dragon’s Mouth and it’s stinking steam.

Every day, we picnicked, talked, and laughed as the hours passed, enjoying another beautiful trip during the last days of our honeymoon.

To put a bow on the entire trip we stopped at Yellowstone Bear World, where bear sightings are guaranteed. (71 of them to be exact). There, I bottle-fed five “little” bear cubs each weighing more than the combined weight of Ollie and Wookie. The handlers told us about “their” cub which they’ve mothered for ten months. Everyone behaved well, as difficult as that was for five boisterous little bears and five equally excited tourists.

By yesterday’s sunset, all laundry was finished and suitcases put away until our next adventure. After enjoying a simple dinner, our anniversary melted into a lovely evening of star gazing.

365 days filled with love, God, gardening, and travel have come to an end. We’re on the road through Year 2.

Life.

Love.

Loss.

Grief.

New Life.

With one foot in front of the other, we move towards a beautiful new life. Although you might not see it yet, peace and beauty are right around the bend. Keep moving.

Just a year ago, as two newlyweds, we took off on the adventure of a lifetime. Marriage! Honeymooning in West Yellowstone, we were stunned by more intense beauty than one place should hold. Driving through Nevada, Idaho, Wyoming and Montana, we stopped to see everything time would allow.

As much as we tried, there were many things we missed.

The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone.

Lamar Valley.

The Grand Prismatic.

Of course, we plan to visit Old Faithful again.

We promise we won’t be Tourons…..

We’ll just go with the flow…

We’ll sleep in and enjoy picnics every day while we wait to see the stars of the park….

The days will end as we enjoy the night sky, something very special in a place called Yellowstone.

Upon our return, we’ll begin our second year as husband and wife. Although our year as newlyweds has been the best we could’ve imagined, life has so much more to offer! We can’t wait for the adventures that await us just around the bend.

Next week, I’ll try to sneak in updates if there’s time and internet service. If not, don’t worry. October 15th I’ll return with lots of new stories to share.

Until then…

Adventure to the Land of God.

An attempt to

Dive into something new

Veering off the normal path

Escaping to

New venues that

Tantalize the senses while

Uncovering sights never seen

Renewing the spirit and

Enriching our souls

Yellowstone

It just doesn’t get better than that! Happy Adventures to you!

In widowhood, every chore becomes the responsibility of the one who remains. In my case, car care wasn’t something I’d handled for over 32 years. Someone else knew everything automotive while remaining clueless about the washing machine.

Widowhood and relocation came within weeks of each other for me. About 45 miles away from my new home, 350 boxes waited in storage for retrieval, one load at a time. My first goal was to empty the storage unit in 30 days. Each day, I’d drive on the loneliest highway in the United States, crying a good portion of the trip. I’d load up and drive back home to unpack 20-24 boxes. I never gave the Dodge Ram a thought. Get in. Drive. Load. Drive. Unpack. Period.

After about two weeks of this daily process, I happened to look down when I got out of the truck. To my utter dismay, I saw BALD tires. Not tires with low tread. There was almost NO tread. I’d been driving 90 miles each day on a lonely desert road. Thank goodness there were angels watching over me.

If you aren’t certain about the life left in your tires, do this. Take a penny and put it between the treads. If the top of Lincoln’s head is covered, you have enough tread. If you can see the top of his head, it’s time to have your tires checked out.

Take a good look at the tires. If you have a tire gauge, check the pressure. As fall temperatures drop, so will the pressure in your tires. A small air compressor is a handy thing to have on hand. You can also drop by any tire shop filled with employees happy to help out.

Rotate the tires on the prescribed schedule. Replace tires and brakes when it’s time. Don’t wait until it’s more convenient or affordable. Tires and brakes are critical and can’t be ignored. The problem will only get worse.

With Google at your side, car care ceases to be a mystery. I wouldn’t advise tackling jacks and oil changes if you’re not fluent with wrenches and the workings of an engine. But, there are many things you should be doing at the change of each season.

Inspect the entire exterior of the car, checking for new dings or things that might be ready to fall off. Autumn is a perfect time for deep cleaning of the seats, floorboards, windows, and the mirror. Clean everything.

Test your blinkers, headlights, and brake lights. (This may require the help of a neighbor when testing the brake lights).

Wiper blades last for two seasons, at best. Google is a great place to learn how to change them. Be prepared for sticker shock. They are expensive. Sometimes, the associate will help you do the install. If not, just watch the videos on Google and proceed. Again, not a hard job.

Look under the hood.

When I first did this, I couldn’t get the hood open. There’s nothing more frustrating than searching for the final hidden latch. YouTube is your friend with videos on how to open your hood and check fluids. Remember, one size doesn’t fit all. Know your vehicle’s Year, Make, and Model before beginning.

Perform maintenance at the prescribed times. Don’t ignore the messages from your car. Many auto parts stores will check a code to tell you their meaning for free. Know before you go to a mechanic. Knowledge is key to survival in a man’s world.

If you like shopping for great deals, automotive supplies and services are no different. Walmart and Amazon offer great savings on everything from cleaners to tires. Do your homework because a great discount can save you hundreds. Find your own good deals.

Finally, remember cold weather supplies. Living in a remote area, there are many times an accident can leave motorists stranded while the road is cleared. It’s good to carry snacks, water, a blanket, gloves, and a small repair kit. Being stuck in winter traffic isn’t a joke.

Car Care. It isn’t every person’s dream. Rather than ignoring the entire situation, just deal with it. Research problems, learn as much as you can, and handle it. Knowing your car will give you peace of mind.

More tomorrow.

Here at Winterpast, we’ve scheduled weekly activities. Earlier in the summer, HHH decided to golf with the Senior men once a week. That’s opened up the day for all things domestic. Such things as weekly hot tub water care, houseplant inspections, and trash consolidation are on the list. This week, I added some reverse shopping.

The name “reverse shopping” was something I came up with a very long time ago. It sounds more fun than “returns” or “errands”. It’s easy to ignore unneeded items around the house until it’s too late. I wasn’t making that mistake this week. I had a few things that had to go back to their right owners while receiving refunds.

Last weekend, we decided the ground squirrel that’s been burrowing in our yard needed to go. We’ve given him plenty of chances to move along and he hasn’t taken the hint. Once at Lowe’s, we found two options. Make him uncomfortable or make him dead. Ground squirrels are not to be encouraged, full of disease and fleas. They can destroy a yard in very short time with destructive tunnels.

The first option was the kindest. It was a solar device that claimed to emit some type of vibrational sound that rodents detest. I’d heard these devices work well for mice would rather not have squirrel blood on my hands. We bought one.

Along with the sound device, we bought poisonous bait. Finally, the rodent specialist suggested one very big neck-snapping rat trap. We took our purchases home and deployed the bait and trap. Since then, it’s been all quiet in the gardens of Winterpast. I’ll just choose to believe he decided the next door neighbor had a nicer place.

With the Squirrel-Be-Gone device and receipt in hand, I hurried off to Lowe’s for my first return. Weaving in and out of early morning traffic, by the time I got to Lowe’s, I was a little distracted. A black Suburban was also in a huge hurry as it zipped in next to me. It seemed the driver was in a bigger hurry than me.

Grabbing my returns, we exited our cars at the same time.

“Well, Good Morning! Isn’t it a gorgeous day?” I asked in a cheerful voice with smile shining.

Not meaning to startle her, I did. After giving a surprised giggle, she said, “Well, it certainly is!” Caught off guard, it did both of us good to smile and acknowledge the beautiful fall morning and each other.

A simple “Hello” changed the outlook of two busy women stopping for a moment to smile.

A cheerful heart is good medicine;

But a broken spirit drieth up the bones. _{Proverbs 17:22}

I’m not interested in having my bones drieth up any time soon. I can’t wait for the next time someone smiles because of a happy “Good Morning”. These days everyone needs to share smiles in a world that needs some HAPPINESS.

Whatever you do today, try it. Find some unsuspecting person and say “Good Morning” while smiling at them. Tell a stranger they look nice, (if they do). Smile at another driver. Just try to share some happiness and you’ll feel a little better yourself.

More tomorrow.

The day has finally come. In the last few weeks, my Android phone has been misbehaving while dropping calls and texts. Ten versions behind the newest androids, the time has come to make a decision. Do I stay within my comfort zone or change back to Apple? After careful thought, I’ve decided now is the time to change.

For years, I had a month to month account with Spectrum through Walmart. There were so many thing about that account the worked for me, but the best was the price. $40 a month, unlimited service. The phones I bought were always the oldest versions, but, they didn’t come with a huge cost. The most expensive phone I bought and paid for was $150. It worked for me.

Over years of changing technology, it became cheaper to go with Spectrum and bundle TV, internet, and phone. How do these things start out so affordable, and then increase into very large bills??? It happens to the best of us.

It seems only yesterday that Apple released it’s first version of the iPhone. Sleek and beautiful, buying an iPhone was like buying a fine piece of jewelry. With the best packaging and ease of use, Apple welcomed everyone to their side.

Year after year, Apple phones were less exciting, while the other brands came up with great ideas. How cool it would be to have a foldable screen until that screen develops a crease and stops working. Today, everyone needs the best phone they can afford because every aspect of life seems to trickle through them but when does the price outweigh the benefit?

Old enough to remember back to the days of photographs, slides, and 8mm films, I wish things were that simple today. I still own an 8mm film projector because I’m the keeper of my childhood movies.

Then came the time of 35mm slides. As world travelers, my parents took hundreds of slides on their travels through India, Russia, and China. When they realized that their daughters might want to keep slides of our own lives, we each got a slide projector for Christmas.

After that came smaller and smaller video cameras, until today. Now, it’s all on the phone, leaving Senior Citizens with 8mm and slide projectors that their children won’t have one problem dumping when the time comes.

Last year, during our wedding reception, my bestie took one hundred pictures on her iPhone. Months later, we decided it was time for the transfer transfer. There began the problems for I was Android and she was iPhone. For youngsters, this would be no problem at all. For the older crowd, it took months until we could finally manipulate the photos from her phone to mine.

There have been problems sharing materials with HHH. It’s not a good thing when a husband and wife can’t share pictures of their Yellowstone honeymoon or birthday cruise.

After 17 years without an iPhone, today the conversion will occur. Not sure about learning a new operating system, there’s no time like the present to find out. There’ll probably be many frustrating moments before reaching phone mastery. Please send a few prayers that this transition will go well.

Whatever you do today, evaluate the technology in your life. If you are frustrated with an old computer, printer, or phone, it might be time for an upgrade. Especially in our older years, being online keeps us connected to the world around us. Don’t wait 17 years to change things up.

More tomorrow.

Doors open and close throughout life. Some slam in our shut, while some might not close completely. Cancer slammed the door of life in my face, not to be ignored. Widowhood is the worst hell anyone can endure, no doubt about that.

After such a loss, it took months to find purposeful direction and more time to choose a new path. Repeatedly, I reminded myself that dark days and darker nights were temporary. Time heals all wounds with faith, hope, and patience.

While I healed on my side of town, HHH healed on his. Both having lost “the best”, we also knew how to BE the best. For the two of us, life alone was a restful period to reflect and regroup. And so, we gardened. He painted his house. I blogged. He cooked three nutritious meals a day. I found Subway. He got a puppy. I tried to train Oliver. He went back to work. I worked around Winterpast. We both cried. We both asked WHY? while shaking fists at the sky. We both suffered through grief. And through it all, we strengthened our faith and healed up very nicely.

Every day, as the gardeners of Winterpast, we continue to heal as we journey through the maze of a new marriage. HHH and I are discovering healthy and fun ways to use our brains. The one place in which we don’t linger is the past. Painting a bright future together, we’ve found a way to move further and further from tears and despair while moving away from the darkness into the light.

Grief is different for each person. Some are so focused on memories that LIFE stops at LOSS. In the early days, sleep came the moment the winter sun dropped below the horizon. Hundreds of balloons were released to soar towards the heavens and away from me. Each exercise was another step away from April 8, 2020 toward the future.

Many widows and widowers disapprove of dating and remarriage. Some had advice that didn’t work for me. Quite a few just didn’t understand.

“I could never…”

“You shouldn’t…”

“How could you…”

“You already had the best…..”

Some helpful encouragement made me more determined to create a happy life different from the one I knew and loved. Not settling for a life of crochet hooks and yarn, (although I do love crocheting and plan to start again soon), I longed for a life mate. So much life remains to live.

These days, life is full of God, gardening, good food, and love. HHH and I thank God for blessing us with a chance to finish life together. Our heavenly angels cheer for us, as we find exciting new activities to fill our days as our hearts continue healing.

While planning meals for next week’s adventure, my thoughts turn back one year. Nervous about the future, I chose love. A safe life without risk is no life at all. With God’s blessing, HHH and I had everything to gain while walking through life’s door of happiness to write our own new chapter.

Life is meant to be lived to the fullest. The term “fullest” is different at every stage of life. If your heart is happy, you are in your perfect zone. But, if you wish for more, move your goal posts. After all, what do you have to lose?

More tomorrow.

Today is the day we’ll be put to the test. Our Master Gardener class has come to an end and we’ll be questioned on our knowledge of the subject. During two hours combined with gardening experience of 128 years and our study guides, this should be an easy exam to ace. We’ll see.

Throughout this class, we’ve studied many interesting aspects of gardening in our state. Due to geology, the soils of Nevada are very young, lacking organic matter and nutrients. How lucky we were to begin with enriched soil in raised beds. Sometimes, you just need to help Mother Nature along. It sure worked in our favor.

This year, I learned about plants that thrive here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada and those that refuse to grow. Just because the nursery sells something doesn’t mean those plants are well suited to an area. Do your homework before going out to buy plants. Gardening isn’t the inexpensive hobby it used to be when we were kids.

Here at Winterpast, the garden and trees enjoy the last few days of summer-like weather. Soon, they’ll drop their leaves and go to sleep for the winter. HHH and I may suffer a bit while switching our attention to the inner walls of Winterpast, but plenty of houseplants will keep us busy.

During the next week, we’ll prepare for travels to God’s country. Idaho. Montana. Wyoming. Each day, through Yellowstone cameras, I’ve noticed fewer cars. By the time we roll into West Yellowstone, the Tourons (Tourist Morons) should’ve left for the season. Hopefully the bison, wolves, elk, and eagles. will be out to play.

We were considering a helicopter ride over the Grand Prismatic but learned that’s illegal unless you’re a photographer. Colorful photographs are taken from airplanes at least a mile in the air, not from a hovering helicopter. In this day and age, it’s hard to believe our eyes anymore. After hiking to the Grand Prismatic, I’d be disappointed if drones or helicopters hung overhead. Wild nature is just more enjoyable.

We’ll be staying at last year’s little honeymoon cabin. Already having meals in mind, it’s time to start shopping and packing our boxes and suitcases. The AirBnB Host made contact with information about great restaurants and activities. It’s nice to know the locals!

As for the fur babies, they’ll get to visit Puppy Camp once again. Fine by them. In the last few days, they’ve become bored with our routine. It’s wonderful to have canine experts watch over our kids so we can get out and have some fun.

This weekend, we’ll look around for Autumn fun. The last weekend in September means its time for “Street Vibrations”. Motorcyclists from all over the country will converge on the Biggest Little City to the West. Having lived in Virginia City for years, the ground truly rumbles when they all roll into town.

Whatever you do this weekend, take some time to have fun. Enjoy family and friends. Get out and enjoy the fall weather. Be kind to others. Find some smiles. Most importantly, have a happy weekend.

More on Monday.

Have you eaten today???? Today is National Better Breakfast Day, so eat something yummy to eat your fast.

I remember those early days of widowhood when it was enough to get dressed. There wasn’t much cooking in those first days here at Winterpast. I relied on some wonderful restaurants for nourishment, risking the possibility of Covid. Through widow’s fog, it was all I could manage to be served, eat, and pay the bill. Perhaps you can relate.

These days, breakfast is a given. HHH is such a great cook! It’s all good because I don’t mind washing dishes while putting everything back in order. He loves cooking and is always looking for new and exciting recipes. Another way we’re a great match.

He delights in surprising me with fresh hash browns or homemade pancakes. One day, while in line at Walmart, I marveled at the gentleman in front of us buying frozen pancakes and waffles. Not in our house. In our house, bacon is on the menu every single day. Eggs. A starch. All enjoyed after asking God’s blessing. Perfectly wonderful.

As a treat, HHH and I wanted to visit the new restaurant in our little town. It’s always fun to try something new, until it isn’t.

In this crazy world, after spending an entire summer creating a new restaurant, you would hope the meals produced in the first few weeks would be better than “Just okay”. We’d heard meals there were FANTASTIC. So, off we went.

“Just Okay” would have been acceptable. What we got was “Just Plain Awful”. Soupy scrambled eggs, runny fried eggs, dry and overcooked sausage, and terrible biscuits with thin and drippy gravy. What a statement about lack of pride in one’s business or job. An all-around zero stars out of 5. In a town of 25,000, the word will spread like wildfire and sadly, another business will bite the dust.

This is the second meal in a week in which we’ve experienced unacceptable customer service or terrible food. The other was in Las Vegas at an establishment with the name of a very famous chef on the door and a surprisingly bad experience once inside. $90 of lunch money later, we left shaking our heads in disbelief. Being married to an amazing cook has wrecked me for eating in the real world. Meals at Winterpast never disappoint, even if I need to do the dishes myself.

The response from both places was to come back and let them show us the “REAL” experience. New business owners forget this important fact. You have ONE chance to make a GREAT first impression. In the case of those two restaurants, that ship sailed.

Only one local restaurant is consistently GREAT in our little town. DENNY’S. The manager is a mountain of a man who works more hours than he is home. He watches every detail like a hawk and checks often to insure his customers are happy with their meals. It is one of the best restaurants I’ve eaten in since moving to Nevada ten years ago. Why so? It’s only a “Denny’s”, you might think. Nope. It’s the best because the manager treats the entire operation as his own, loving his customers and eatery.

The work ethic of our country has been lost . It’s pretty obvious the youngsters working in the food industry don’t quite grasp what it takes to be a GREAT eatery. Soon, they may find themselves wondering what happened to their jobs. All the while, HHH and I enjoy food we’ve grown and prepared ourselves. At this point, it’s not worth the disappointment and effort to try new restaurant food.

Tonight, we’ll enjoy another hand crafted meal. It will be so nice to enjoy a quite moment with the man I love in the privacy of our own home.

Whatever you do today, think of something wonderful for dinner. Try a new recipe. If you must, order something you love, arrange it on a pretty plate, and enjoy a your meal. If you are lucky enough to have a great restaurant near you, hug the manager and know you are very lucky, indeed.

The garden has given its all this year, finishing off the season with Early Girl tomatoes. I can hardly believe the last plant was only a tiny seed at the end of January. With loving care under grow lights, she grew to produce pounds of tomatoes. Yesterday, I harvested the last of them and got to work.

The gardens of Winterpast produced the following food with the help of two loving and quite crazy gardeners: cherries, apricots, plums, pears, watermelon, cantaloupe, cucumbers, pumpkin, eggplant, zucchini, Early Girl tomatoes, Cherry tomatoes, green onions, bell peppers, carrots, beans, snap peas, red onions, yellow onions, garlic, basil, chives, lavender, jalapenos, strawberries, zinnias, roses, bachelor buttons, calendula, snapdragons, peony’s, Black-Eyed Susan’s, Siberian Wallflowers, coneflowers, sunflowers, dahlias, iris, and probably a few things I forgot. All this was grown on 1/2 acre of a tiny oasis in the desert.

Earlier yesterday, Walmart’s aisles were lined with boxes of ball jars and lids. Bread and butter pickle spice mix packets sat quietly on the shelves. For some reason, Walmart missed the proper timing for these items. The Armenian cucumbers finished their season weeks ago, along with many other plants. On the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, the nights are chilly. This late in the season, I was lucky to pick a few more pounds of luscious tomatoes.

I learned to can while watching all the women in my family toil in very hot kitchens. With a family of seven, my mom spent hours and hours canning all sorts of produce to make sure we had enough to eat in the winter. Once a certain age, I was expected to prepare fruit and vegetables right next to her.

So, yesterday, I washed the tomatoes and then parboiled them. First boiling and then plunging them into cold water, the skins were easy to remove. Sliced and in a pot, they were boiled and mashed until the resulting pulp was ready for jars. Winter spaghetti sauce will be extra special, made from vine-ripe tomatoes grown in our very own backyard.

Yesterday was also the last day of our Master Gardener Class. On Friday, HHH and I will sit down to take our final exam. Computerized, the test will cover everything we’ve studied up until now. We need an 80% grade to pass on to the next class. I think the two of us will do just fine. Gardening is our wheelhouse.

While I worked with the tomatoes, a memory came back to me from a very long time ago. In the 80’s and 90’s, a gentleman named Garrison Keillor produced a radio show called “Prairie Home Companion”. Through his words, the imaginary Minnesotan town of Lake Wobegon was introduced to listeners around the world. My boys and I would sit around the radio and laugh at the stories, but the favorite of all favorites was “Tomato Butt”.

A brother. A sister. A hot day. A mom needing them to get out of the house and pick the tomatoes. And, the title. “Tomato Butt”. In your own mind, you might be able to tell a good story with only those bits of information.

If you can find Garrison’s stories online, they are worth a listen. Radio shows aren’t like they were back when life was simpler. Perhaps that is the exact charm of one Mr. Garrison Keillor. If you like “Tomato Butt”, listen to some of his others. The more you listen, the more you may want to put a visit to Lake Wobegon on your bucket list. If only it were real, HHH and I would visit there tomorrow.

Whatever you do today, find some radio shows or pod casts that are of interest to you. Listening carefully is a lost art. Give it a try.

More tomorrow.

Nothing makes me love the desert more than a drive down Highway 95. Let me assure you, there is little except stunning scenery for the seven-hour journey from here to there. Here is on the Northwestern High Desert Plains of Nevada and there is Las Vegas. In between there are many notable curiosities.

To many, this looks barren. But, when you are driving through, life is abundant. This year has been unusual with things still greenish in mid-September. The Joshua tree forests we passed through are thriving, while the sage and other plants are springtime-lush. Every so often, there are distant springs marked by greenery. Far from boring, there is a lot to take in.

To begin with, there’s the little town of Hawthorne, mainly known as the Army Depot. This place is like a mirage in the desert. At first, it seems that there is nothing except wide open spaces. But, the more you look, the more you notice humps. Everywhere. For miles. Giant humps protecting our nation’s munitions.

The color of sand, they can appear and disappear before your eyes depending on the amount and direction of sunlight. Along with a treeless Walker Lake, Big Horn Sheep, and a few cattle, the military base is the main thing there. And then, you continue to drive through Mina and Luning.

And, boy, oh boy, it’s only two more hours to Tonapah, the heart of desert civilization.

Well, you get the idea. Getting to a place like this…

Requires you to drive through miles of this…..

After Tonapah and Goldfield (a town just like Tonapah about 30 miles south), We passed through Area 51.

And through Beatty….

After hours of looking at huge mountain ranges of rock, we were ready to get out of nature and back to civilization.

One thing shocking to the senses is found just to the north of Tonopah, a ghost town, tourist attraction, and site of current mining activity.

This 656 ft. tower can be seen for miles as it emits blinding light. It is part of the Crescent Dunes Solar Project, one of only two in the world (or so I read). With more than 10,000 reflective panels each made of over 12,000 6×6 mirrors, molten salt flows through the tower. Costing billions when it was built, and being dark for a time, it’s now operated by its second owners. There’s no other place in the world better suited for this monstrosity than the outskirts of Tonopah.

We passed by Creech Air Force Base where airmen fly drones larger than some cars. With so little to capture one’s attention on a car trip, Google can become your friend.

By the time we got to our hotel, there’d be no more for the week. Luckily, the shuttle service was amazing, taking us to the strip and back any time between 9 am and 9 pm.

After staying for a week, it was time to make the drive back home. One tiny little accident almost derailed our plans. Two big rigs hit head on, spilling an entire load of lumber AND lithium batteries, adding an explosion to lots of fuel. The road was closed for two days, leaving many motorists standing until it could be cleared.

As we left on a stunningly stormy morning, the desert sky held two rainbows. Rainbows are every so special when seen gracing Nevada’s big skies. If you haven’t seen BIG SKY, put it on your bucket list. It’s something I can’t describe in words. The perfect ending to a perfect trip.

It will be a little while before we drive Highway 95 again. I’ll miss seeing the burros and their foals. They’re the true celebrities of the desert. So much so that they’ve learned parked cars are friends containing people with yummy snacks.

It’s always nice to get back home. Winterpast enjoys the first few days of autumn, which feel mysteriously like the last few days of summer. All the chores were waiting for us, including the canning of the last tomatoes. Vacation is grand, but home is where our hearts are and Home Means Nevada to me.

More tomorrow.

In my life, I’ve been blessed with travel to enjoy wonderful places and the beauty of our world. I was born and raised in the heartland of the most beautiful state of the union, (although the most screwed up), California. As a 17-year-old, I worked a summer in the Swiss Alps. As a bride of 21, I lived in Moldavia, USSR, and honeymooned across Europe.

I’ve sailed on one side of the beautiful Pacific Ocean and catamaran-ed on the other. I’ve seen deep Minnesota quarry pits filled with the clearest of rainwater and cooled my toes in the headwaters of the Mississippi River. From the romance of a moonlit night on Waikiki beach to the charm of the deep south, traveling has provided crazy experiences.

There have been eagles, grizzly bear, elk, and bison sightings in Yellowstone National Park. In Northern Minnesota, a wild wolf ran alongside my car for a bit. There were black bears in Yosemite, and trout caught out of a lake on the John Muir Trail in the high Sierra Nevada’s.

So far, there’ve been 50,000 miles crisscrossing the United States by land, and plenty of states visited by air. To date, I’ve visited 25 states and 7 foreign countries.

None of this would have ever happened if I’d depended on doing it “Someday”. Throughout my entire life, when opportunities arose, I took them. Some were a little more daring than others. As the years roll by, my “Someday” box of wishes is quite empty except for a return to Russia.

After experiencing it, Russia can stay on my “Someday” list for the rest of my life. Not a place worthy of any bucket list. However, if I’d missed it, I wouldn’t have amazing stories to tell. That much is true.

When cancer knocked at my door in 2020, I believed for a tiny moment in time that my life had ended when his did. In the middle of a move to a brand new home in an unknown town, losing my husband of 32 years was something we figured would happen “Someday”. But, surprise, surprise. It happened on a Wednesday at 10:30 am on the side of Davidson Mountain in Virginia City, Nevada.

Just completing the fifth summer after this loss, I can tell you that the word “Someday” still isn’t in our vocabulary. As any wise Sexagenarian would be quick to advise, “If not NOW, WHEN?”

Last week, while walking the glittery sidewalks along Las Vegas Boulevard, HHH and I enjoyed a true vacation. Even retired folks deserve to get caught up on lost time. We saw things we can never un-see. In Las Vegas you can’t believe your eyes for everything is one big fantastical mirage, rather like a circus mirror.

In one week, HHH swept me away to the streets of New York and hugged me under the Eifel Tower. We ate at restaurants named for famous chefs. We pounded the table while hoisting tankards to kings on horseback under the watchful eye of Merlin the Wizard. But the most enchanting place was a magical garden inside the Bellagio Conservatory.

Who, but two crazy Master Gardeners, would choose that over other options? That would be us. But, the most amazing thing was that this place was jammed with people who love gardens as much as we do! Almost everything seen in this short video was made from natural materials. There were hundreds and hundreds of chrysanthemums and coleus. Pumpkins of every color, size, and shape were found throughout the autumnal forest. Fairies and waterfalls. Something we won’t soon forget.

A favorite Aunt of mine had a dream. A house in the mountains. She began by researching what plants would grow there, because she wanted to be sure she had a lovely garden. For years, she bought dog wood trees and plants native to the foothill town. Each year, her own yard gained pots of plants she intended to move to the beautiful garden she had sketched. Each year, they thrived on her porch.

Auntie never realized her dream of her mountain house, but every night, she dreamed of the gardens. Each day, she enjoyed the precious little piece of mountain life right on the valley floor.

We all have the S- M- T- W- Th- F- S’s of our lives to fill with memorable experiences. Some are found right in our own backyard, while others might be a few hundred miles to the south. Pick a date and start planning your list. Start close or dream big, just begin with a destination and a date.

Whatever you do today, see what’s going on in your home town. I would imagine that Auntie TJ and The Goddess of the Central Coast are getting ready to tour the Scare Crows of the Central Coast of California. If you haven’t seen them, it’s worth the visit.

More tomorrow.

It has been a minute since the honeymooners of Winterpast have adventured from home. This last year has flown by at the speed of light. This fall, it’s time to set down the shovel and rake and take some time for ourselves while making new memories of us.

After months of planning, it’s time for three wonderful fall adventures. The first in the land of man, the second in God’s country, and the third on the high seas of fantasy. Until the holidays begin, we will be kicking up our heals in retirement.

In the autumn of our lives, this statement is more relevant than ever before.

Tomorrow, Ollie and Wookie will pack their bags and trot off to puppy camp. Toodle- OO!!! We’ll begin packing for a journey into the land of artificial lights and manmade pools. A mirage that should’ve never been, but is.

Las Vegas.

Not a first choice, except that five days of “free” fell into our laps. Vacationing in free luxury is always fun. Only a day’s drive away, we’ll enjoy this much-needed getaway.

With no worries about broken sprinklers or the pesky ground squirrel, we’ll enjoy time together reflecting on memories made throughout the last year. More precious than we could have hoped, marital bliss has been a huge blessing from God. This autumn is a lovely time of year to rejoice.

September 23rd, I’ll be back with lots of stories from the land of man. Until then, stay safe and happy!

Whatever you do today, choose an adventure for yourself and start planning. Every journal begins with a dream and a single step, so get with it and begin your journey!

Happy Adventure Planning!

A sure sign of autumn on the high desert plains is the return of the mustangs. Down from the hills, they come looking for food and water. Both are scarce right now, although the herds look fit and feisty. Spring’s foals have lost their fluffy newborn tails and are now walking endless miles with their families.

It’s best not to name them or even look for favorites each day. Mustangs are a funny bunch. You might see the same group every day for a week and then not see them again for the rest of the season.

One of my favorites is a white mare. Not a true albino, she has a platinum sheen to her coat. Older than my time on here on the high desert plains, she’s produced a foal each spring, every one as white as her. For a time, she liked bunking next to Winterpast to escape the wind. I hope she’s wise enough to live out the rest of her days wild and free.

The mustang round-up’s continue around the area. Each time one is announced, I’m relieved they aren’t taking our group. Not yet anyway.

Opinions about the Mustangs are varied and intense. The Mustang groups want them left alone. Watching the herds that have become family members, I appreciate their point of view. Then, cattle ranchers using the open range insist wild horses harm BLM (the ONLY BLM — Bureau of Land Management) land used for cattle. People from the EPA claim the horses ruin the land for native species. The horses aren’t native, but invasive.

The highway patrol wishes the horses were miles from Highway 50, the loneliest highway in the United States. We all agree horses and vehicles don’t mix.

All those groups come together to clash, year after year. All the while, the number of mustangs keeps growing. It’s an impossible problem to solve. With any choice, unhappy people will continue to fight for years to come.

Add a deadly fire and the risks are greater. Just a few days ago, a video was taken of wild mustangs running up Geigher grade to the safety of the Virginia city range. Now, that’s a traffic jam. I tried to post it here, but the attached political ads included curse words. Google “wild mustangs escaping Davis Fire on Geigher grade” to see the mass exodus. There are many more than that living right outside our front door.

Oy. Vey.

One thing that does change the picture is a growing population and our town is on the verge of exploding. With thousands of new apartments and homes under construction, wild animals are pushed East, further onto the desert plains.

Just yesterday, I found that a new Italian restaurant, a Wine Lounge, a dress shop, and new salon are opening in our town. Along with those new shops, Squeeze Inn is opening their 9th store on September 21. A new place to enjoy breakfast and lunch, this isn’t opening a minute too soon. Businesses grow as the population expands. The horses and wild life will be lost somewhere along the way.

For now, I’ll enjoy this very moment and things as they are today.

Whatever you do today, look around to find signs of autumn where you live. Pretty soon it will be time for sweaters and pumpkin spice. I can’t wait!

More tomorrow.

NEVER, EVER, EVER FORGET!

Please reflect on those Americans who lost their lives that horrible morning 23 years ago today.

Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, moms, dads, co-workers and friends collectively robbed of their futures on one terrifying day.

As towns across the country will do, ours is remembering while we gather at Out-Of-Town park. 343 firemen lost their lives that day running towards the danger. Heroes were born out of this tragedy. Cancer continues to claim the lives of those that rushed to help.

For the last five years, I’ve chosen to write an anonymous letter and a donation to an unsung hero in my town. The first year, during Covid, I wrote to the cheer and track coaches training kids even though there would be no competitions. I’ve written to the auto mechanic asking him to put my donation towards the bill of the next single mother with hungry kids and a broken car. I’ve thought of something different each year and quietly donated.

There are many things you can do behind the scenes. Try it. There’s something wonderful about secretly helping someone who needs it. 9/11 is a great day to start a tradition.

Whatever you do today, remember. Look at the images. Think about that day. Watch “Come From Away” and shed a few tears.

9/11.

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever forget.

During the next two weeks, our little church will is taking a yearly check-up. With the help of an extensive questionnaire, each parishioner has been asked to reflect on different aspects of their personal experience. The information collected will be used to see how the church is doing. This request has been presented most positively. To grow, we need to know.

A wise woman of the church brought up an interesting subject during worship Sunday. It’s helpful to quietly check in with ourselves periodically to correct our chosen path. It’s easy to become distracted, take a wrong turn, and end up in the dark. Much better to take a self-inventory, correct our course, and then, stay on track.

Taking time for self-reflection is a form of self care that increases self-respect. Taking care of everyone and everything in life can leave one drained. With quiet reflection and a little self awareness, emotions can become easier to control. Mindfulness can lower stress and anxiety that come along with every day life.

As the internet provides information necessary for a happy life, I did a little Google search and found something written by Chris Masunic, PhD, RD, CDCES, MBA. Sometimes, the simplest questions are the hardest to answer. Take a minute to think about these as they pertain to your own life.

1. “How am I feeling right now?” Take a moment to identify your current emotional state. Are you feeling happy, sad, anxious, or something else? Naming your emotions is the first step in understanding them.

2. “What does my body need at this moment?” Listen to your body. Does it need rest, movement, nutrition, or perhaps relaxation? Your physical wellbeing is closely linked to your mental health.

3. “What self-care action can I take today?” Consider what actions might nourish and rejuvenate you. It could be as simple as taking a walk, reading a book, or practicing a hobby.

4. “Is there anything I need to forgive myself for?” Self-forgiveness is a crucial aspect of emotional wellbeing. Reflect on whether there’s something you’re holding against yourself and how you can let go of that burden.

5. “What am I grateful for today?” Gratitude can shift your focus from what’s troubling you to what’s good in your life. Identify things you’re thankful for to encourage a positive impact on your mood.

6. “What are my needs that aren’t being met?” Sometimes, negative feelings stem from unmet needs. Identify what needs—like connection, rest, or recognition—you might be neglecting.

7. “What accomplishments can I celebrate today?” Recognize victories, even small ones, to help build self-esteem and motivation.

8. “How can I be kinder to myself in this moment?” Treat yourself with the same kindness you’d offer a friend, rather than neglecting your needs or speaking negatively to yourself.

9. “What’s one thing I can let go of that’s not serving me?” Habits, thoughts, or obligations in your life might be holding you back. Imagine releasing them, and see which could help you find a greater sense of wellbeing.

10. “What brings me joy, and how can I incorporate more of it into my life?” Identify sources of joy—like hobbies, personal relationships, or community endeavors—and make them a part of your routine to boost your mental health.

Huge corporations take inventory of their products and progress. Why shouldn’t individuals take inventory of their own life? Looking inward is a great way to discover what’s working and what could be better. After all, as CEO of our ship, it’s up to each of us to steer the boat! Otherwise, we just might run aground.

Whatever you do today, take a minute to think about the questions above. Especially #8. Be kind, rewind, and then, carry on.

More tomorrow.

Fires in the West are always a real and present danger. The beautiful Manzanita, Pine, and grasses are awe-inspiring. The vegetation covering the mountains and desert we love so much, they are also something else. FUEL. Once you’ve lived through a major fire, you never think of trees and bushes as anything other than FUEL.

The Davis Fire started Saturday afternoon in a small campground miles west of my town. A quiet little spot just right for day use, this campground was a place to enjoy the pines for the day. Although the cause hasn’t been announced, there was no lightning in the clear blue skies that day. It started around 2:30 pm. Everything points to a human cause. In this day and age, it often does.

In 2013, I lived through the terror of 30 fires, one set every single day for a month. We would later discover each fire was started by a neighbor and his wife. Almost losing their home to foreclosure, they planned to set a variety of fires around the area. The “BIG” one would start next to their house and come with an insurance payoff. They could start life anew as fire VICTIMS.

They were very crafty and almost accomplished their goal. During that month, evacuated twice as manzanita and oak trees went up in flames all around us. One young couple escaped a fire with only their small daughter and their lives. They lost everything.

It took a huge effort by Madera County Sheriff and other law enforcement. Men wore camouflage and sat long hours in trees waiting to catch the suspects red-handed. After 30 days, close to their home and mine, they DID. The community pulled together and the husband got 30 years while the wife got a bit less.

Although the bushes and trees slowly came back, the psychological scars of the fires were slower to heal. With horror and disgust, the community was told that after only three years served these two monsters were released early due to “good behavior”. Remember their name, as they could be YOUR new neighbors.

In 2014, the Courtney Fire in Bass Lake took the homes of 33 of our neighbors, leaving a scattering of cabins like ours unharmed. The neighborhood was forever shattered. In 40 minutes, the fire raced up a mountain, took out the community and raced to the edge of the lake. Luckily, the only fatalities were two cats.

If you’ve lived through something like this, fires aren’t just news stories. They bring up a deep sadness and empathy for the new victims. The community has just suffered a loss from which some will never recover.

My heart breaks for the sixteen families who lost everything in the fire this weekend. The community lost so many special things that can never be replaced. They’ll live with the scars from this fire for a very long time. It will take decades for these 6500 acres to return to their natural beauty. Something so precious has been lost.

As the sun rises this morning, the damage will slowly come to light. At this point 12, 000 people are evacuated, two of them being my brother-in-law and his beautiful wife. They, along with others, will find comfort from friends and family, while waiting to find out whether they still have homes.

Whatever you do today, please pray for the victims of the Davis Creek Fire.

More tomorrow.

1982 was a quite a year for me. Mothering two boys, age 3 and 1, I didn’t have much time to sit and watch television. There was always something to do. Watch the babies. Tend the garden. Wash and line dry cloth diapers. Sew. Cook. Clean. Repeat. Those days were filled with “Must Do’s” and included very little “I’d Like To…”-s.

One day, a story on the television caught my attention. It seemed a certain man named Larry Walters made the news in a very big way. Using a $109 “Sear’s Best” lawn chair attached to 43 helium-filled weather balloons, he left terra-firma to soar to an eventual height of 16,000 feet. It just so happened that after lifting off from San Pedro, California, he entered controlled airspace near long Beach Airport. When he eventually got caught in power lines and caused an electrical outage in the area, he climbed down to safety and was arrested.

Larry had always wanted to fly, but because of poor eyesight, that wasn’t to be. So, being a creative man, he figured a way to have his own experience. He knew the helium would carry him up and he’d carry a pellet gun to burst the balloons to make his descent. He was hoping to float over the Mojave Desert.

Larry had dreamt about doing this for 20 years. He finally made his dream come true at the cost of a $1500 fine for “operating a civil aircraft for which there is not currently in effect an airworthiness certificate.” Only the government could come up with that one.

There are so many rich and wonderful things about this story. The fact that Larry dreamt about doing this for 20 years is only one of many. His “aircraft” was named Inspiration 1, which made one think there might be more adventures. He achieved inner peace by fulfilling a lifelong dream!

So busy at the time, Larry and I went on with our very separate lives. His story was soon forgotten by most, but not by me. When I had some time, I intended to write a letter to this man. I wanted him to know his bravery and vision weren’t lost on a young mother tending to two babies in Madera, California. I really meant to write that letter. Year after year, it was on my very long list of things to do. I’d do it. Tomorrow.

It was with a heavy heart that 11 years later, I read a very small article about his suicide. He’d lost the love of his life. He had trouble finding work. His days became too dark and he ended his own life.

What might one letter have done to change his outlook? I never had the chance to find out. Perhaps we would’ve become pen pals. His antics took my troubled mind to place of possibilities and wonder. If Larry could reach his lifelong dream, maybe I could muster up the courage to make my own life better.

Words are life. In 2018, a brilliant 5th grader started her final essay to me with these three words, receiving an A+. Words ARE life. A random letter of encouragement could be all it takes to make any day better. Just one little envelope delivered snail mail.

Yesterday, I took time to write a letter to one of my favorite authors. Jan Karon. It was from the very first book about her beloved Mitford that I read an enchanting story about a mansion named “Winterpast” (Chapter 19-21 of “At Home in Mitford”).

As a new widow, I needed anything to keep my mind focused. I picked up her book and fell into the world of Father Tim and his parishioners. And there, I found “Winterpast”. Just like that, my new home had a name.

My beloved spoke and said to me,
    “Arise, my darling,
    my beautiful one, come with me.
See! The winter is past;
    the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
    the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
    is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
    the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
    my beautiful one, come with me. _{Song of Solomon 2: 10-13}

I wrote to Mrs. Karon yesterday. I hope it brightened her day. Words ARE life changing. They can turn a widow away from the constant companion of grief and steer her toward the future. I know. I happened to me that May evening in 2020.

Whatever you do today, take a little time and write an unexpected letter to someone special. Let them know how they’ve changed your life. Don’t forget to add the love.

Have a great weekend!

So many types of grief. So many losses in this world. From the last days of a beloved pet life to the tragic loss of friend or family, there is only one thing guaranteed. We will all pass through times of darkness even when the bluest skies are right outside our door. It’s all part of LIFE.

I’m so grateful for my experiences in the classroom. Losing a student has made me even more thankful for my days spent with the best people in the world. Kids. In my career and as a mom, I’ve had the experience of teaching every single age group. Each age is unique and awe inspiring. Every child left an imprint on my heart that will remain there forever.

I remember the first weeks of school as a new teacher. I’d go home and wonder how on earth I’d ever teach the new students anything at all. Each one came with a set of summer cobwebs, unique and individual. Some fell back into the routine of school easier than others. I would ask myself, “Why ME, Lord? Why THAT child?”

In 22 years of teaching, God never got it wrong. I was given the kids I needed. By the end of the year, I could write a book about each one. By the last day of school, I could have taken the whole class to Hawaii and never had a bad moment. Each year, teaching followed that pattern.

Few teachers have the chance to teach Kinder – 12th. In many different settings, I discovered that kids are kids. My 11th graders struggled with 3rd grade art projects while laughing through it all. My 3rd graders enjoyed writing 6th grade animal reports, done entirely in class. Through it all, I found patience and positivity I didn’t know I possessed. We found community and love in our classroom.

Now, the world has lost a very special someone who chose her battles carefully. Butterfly Gal was strong enough to ask for support and help when she needed it. When she went off on her own for a summer in San Francisco, she was as brave and fearless as a warrior even when shaking in her boots. She did it all her own way.

After a loss, we all rest a bit in darkness, but remember, it’s not a place to stay. During times of despair, forward movement is necessary. Just one foot in front of the other, and soon you’re moving into the unknown.

In a small California town, a candlelight vigil will be held for Butterfly Gal Sunday night at 7. I’ll be there in spirit. She was a light to so many. Now, others will carry the light for her.

Whatever you do today, be vigilant in all aspects of your life. Look for light in sweeet memories and share them. Have a grateful heart for happy times of the past. A little light in the darkness when it seems all is lost.

More tomorrow.

In early 2009, I met a girl with a dream in the most improbable place. She needed a bit more time in school ending up a bit behind. I detoured from 3rd grade to teach high school math and science with a side of writing. Our two paths intersected at a little country school located in the middle of Nowhere, California. And so this story began.

At that time, my students were unique and quirky. Independent and in need of a patience and a different style of teaching, they found themselves at the tiny little School. My students were often referred to as “those kids” by “those people” that had never met them. I knew and loved each of them as if they were my own, because for two years, they were.

During those days, five young women waited to join me in a writing group that met twice a week. I always laughed that they’d walk miles through the worst of storms to make it to school on those days. The six of us cherished our time together as writers. Looking back, it was me that would’ve walked barefoot through broken glass to share time with these young women.

During our time together, we all thought about life, considered words that might heal us, wrote, shared, cried, laughed, and became stronger writers. Once a week wasn’t enough, so we met twice. Once, a very stern teacher heard raucous laughter coming from our classroom. Just WHAT was so darn funny in THAT classroom. We heard her coming and when she flung the door open, we all sat silently stunned. We’d been busted. For laughing!!! I can still hear her little stiletto’s clip-clip-clipping down the hall. A hilarious moment.

One particular girl had dreams of becoming a movie director. Although a lofty dream, she could attain it as well as the next person. We spent many days discussing all the ways it could become a reality. And then, something wonderful happened.

Butterfly Gal found a specific program offered to Junior high school students. A student internship at the San Francisco Institute of Art. There, for a summer, she could escape her dusty roadside town and be fully immersed in the world she hoped to enter. The day she came to see me, she was bubbling over with excitement.

The cost of the summer program would be $500. She could raise that much in ten months. She just knew she could. She’d clean her closet and sell anything she could. Heck, she’d sell cookies and bottled water on the side of the road. She’d find a job washing dishes. In no time at all, she’d have that $500. And that’s what she did, until the day her bubble burst.

Into the very same classroom entered a girl I hardly recognized. After reading the fine print, she found the $500 was only a deposit. In fact, the real cost was $3000 which might as well have been $1,000,000. Devastation and darkness filled the classroom that day as we shared tears. Again, I told her that if she was supposed to be there, she would be. That’s what faith is all about. We talked a lot about faith, she and I.

Plan B came together. Butterfly Gal spoke to the school board asking for help. The boosters kicked in money. She asked family and neighbors to help. A little more money came in. In a couple months, she was still short by $1,000. At this point, I questioned my own wisdom in encouraging her in this endeavor. Pushing boundaries can be very uncomfortable. The date for the final payment was very close and all resources had evaporated.

On a Friday afternoon, while finishing my day, I received a call from a retired school board member. Could we meet? Something very important needed to be discussed. Could I wait for her to arrive? She’d always been very nice to me. Sure it was Friday at 2 PM, but sometimes a teacher must go the extra mile. I agreed to wait.

With her brilliant smile she entered my room. She’d heard about Butterfly Gal. On that very day, she’d received news from the attorney of her late Aunt. It seemed she’d inherited some money for a specific purpose. It was Aunt Daisy’s greatest wish that the funds would help a student pursue her love of the Arts. The amount??????

Wait for it…..

Yes. Exactly $1,000.

Butterfly Gal and I danced around the room on Monday morning! She was on her way to San Francisco for a summer that would change her life. She met her goal and enjoyed a summer that proved wonderful in every way. The last time I saw her was right before Christmas, 2013, when she was happy and full of smiles.

I don’t live in California anymore, but do check the news from time to time. I’d heard of the accident that happened only miles east of our little school. On August 30th,  a semi drove into the opposite lane, striking a car and ending the life of an amazingly beautiful 31 year old woman. Monday, my world was rocked a bit. It was then I found out my sweet student had been killed in an instant.

Last night, I read a letter she’d written to me on December 17, 2013, two years after her high school graduation. Chronicling our sweet time together as student, teacher, and friends, the words took me back to those wonderful days so long ago. She wrote about the impact writing had on her life. Of the positive affects her summer in San Francisco brought into her life. Of the talks we shared on dark mornings. But it was her last words that tore at my heart.

“You’ll always be one of my guardian angels. I love you.”

Rest in peace, Butterfly Gal. As I enjoy writing each day, I know you’ll be sitting on my shoulder as MY guardian angel. Now you’ll know ALL my stories. I love you, too. These words are written for you.

More tomorrow.

Some days, there are no words for the frustration caused by the hounds of Winterpast. 60 pounds if their weight is added together, these two canines are truly crazy but only one is untrainable and incorrigible. He happens to be my contribution to our pack. Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall, most days referred to as Ollie.

There isn’t anything that Oliver won’t try to eat or otherwise ruin. I’ve come to the conclusion that he has some sort of major food disorder leading him to eat rocks, plastic lighting, sprinklers of all kinds, and now, garden plants. Any kind of garden plants. Especially the one his Mom-Oh picks from the garden.

In the early spring, he didn’t learn about the cherries, or he’d have figured a way to climb the tree. So far, he has left all bark on the trees, which is a blessing. However, when the apricots began to fall, he could be found eating them at all times of the day.

According to the internet, apricot pits can be toxic to dogs. I wish someone would “borrow” Oliver to do a case study, because this dog dines on them regularly without any visible side affects. He loves the dried apricot flesh with a side of garden rocks. It’s a challenge for the little one to eat the dried flesh off the small white rocks, but if he swallows a rocky chunks, he doesn’t seem to mind.

He loves transplanted worms intended for our healthy garden soil. As long as he can see where I’ve put them, he’s on it. Of course, his nose is so sharp, he needs only to follow my scent trail to find these tender little nuggets of juiciness.

His favorite treats involve the garden. Here’s the story on that.

In the spring, HHH and I decided to fence the garden. We bought enough fencing to surround the bee hive. This served the double purpose of keeping Oliver and Wookie away from the fence and the neighbors dogs and protecting the hive. A win-win with just enough fencing left to secure the garden on the opposite side of the yard.

Carefully plotting his little attack, Oliver was good as gold in the beginning. He wouldn’t even go near the garden until we returned the remainder of the fencing. Then, all bets were off and he was on a mission to eat every single Armenian cucumber and bell pepper he could find. Squash and zucchini weren’t his favorite but they’d do in a pinch. He wiped out the strawberries as they ripened. He enjoyed digging as he chased lizards, all the while destroying the tranquility of our garden area.

It matters not the times he’s been in trouble. Spraying him with water just cools him off. Now enjoying his 6th year on this earth, aging hasn’t even slowed him down The only thing that will work is the gated fence that’s scheduled for next spring.

This year, we had a dinner-plate lemon Dahlia on the patio. The most beautiful of our beautiful’s, HHH was nurturing it along until it died a natural death. Death? Natural?? Think again. You want a plant destroyed??? No problem if you have this terrible little dog. Done. Yesterday, the Dahlia became a thing of the past, while Oliver lives another day.

Yesterday, without reason, Wookie peed in the living room. The time has come for puppy camp. Human vacation is in the very near future. The safety and happiness of two little dogs depend on it.

More tomorrow.

The best thing about retirement is that schedules are only as strict as you want them to be. Every day can be some sort of holiday. Real holiday’s are often more comfortable spent at home with loved ones while crowded streets rumble on. Such is the case here at Winterpast.

The man burned Saturday night but I didn’t turn on the video to watch. Not exactly sure what significance “the man” holds, but am pretty sure I’m from the group he represents. It’ll be another year until “Strange” returns to our town. The playa be returned to the empty desert space it was always meant to be, while revelers return to their own homes around the world.

The temporary desert airstrip will also be shut down. I find it very curious that those so very worried about our planet arrive to such a festival in private jets and brand-new-Prevost busses. Makes one wonder.

Yesterday, we had a lovely day at church. About 40 of us worship together every Sunday while enjoying songs and thoughtful lessons from the Bible. The lesson focused on words of Prophet Zechariah from an interesting book. Written over 500 years before the birth of Christ, it’s fascinating to read words that still applicable today.

HHH and I have been sharing our garden’s abundance with the congregation, taking the last of our zucchini and summer squash yesterday. The fruit and vegetables are now gone. All that we have left to enjoy are the watermelon and pumpkin. The garden flowers are giving one last show, and then, they’ll be finished, as well. What a year!

After beautiful music and a great lesson, church was over and the most beautiful lesson of all was waiting for us outside. Another church from town decided to donate a work day to our community garden and the Pregnancy Crisis Center on the property. Not only did they clean out bags and bags of refuse from the garden, but decided the tiny center needed paint.

This neighborly church is preparing the building and will be painting it this week. Just because.

Just because we’re all Christians from the same town.

Just because it’s a really nice thing to do.

Just because want to and they can.

Just because this is how life is in a small town.

We visited with the Pastor from the neighboring church, who couldn’t have been nicer. The group asked nothing for their time and efforts. This act of kindness left me wondering who else needs helps in our town. We were blessed to meet these new-found friends.

Whatever you do today, think about your town. Think of little buildings that look a little dingy because of the zephyr winds of the desert. Send a Thank-You to someone that wouldn’t expect it. Think about attending a church service. Say “Hi” to a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in awhile.

It’s Labor Day!!! Lots of people are out and about. Have a fun day getting outside yourself. Keep smiling and remember to spread a little happiness on your way.

More tomorrow.

Happy Friday, everyone!! The last days of summer are truly glorious as we await Autumn’s arrival. The vegetable garden has come to an end, with the exception of one very large pumpkin and an equally large watermelon. We haven’t quite learned the trick for deciding when I watermelon is ripe, but this one must be close. It’s enormous.

We’ve started pulling old plants while considering plans for next year. It’s important to rotate crops to experience fewer problems with pests and diseases. I wonder where the Armenian cucumbers will be planted next year? Somewhere where a certain little dog can’t get in to eat them, that’s for sure.

Yesterday, while reading the daily blog from an octogenarian friend in Ipswich, Massachusetts I couldn’t help but be inspired. At 86 years young, her main concern in life is to bring as many smiles to as many people as possible. There could be easier ways to accomplish this. You could walk through Walmart while exchanging smiles along the way. But, that wouldn’t fit Miss C’s style.

Miss C is one of the best dog trainers I’ve ever run across. When she was in her early 70’s, she started a program raising Great Dane’s for people with mobility problems. Her most famous success was a little girl named Bella and her dog George. Such a team, George went on to win recognition and awards through his life with Bella. Truly a beautiful story.

Well, like everything, life moves on. George died. Bella was crushed. Miss C just happened to have an orphan Dane named Ziti. Bella needed something to do. Now, Ziti is in training under the care of a new dog trainer. Bella! More smiles created by this busy bunch.

Miss C has some pretty hefty health concerns but that hasn’t stopped her. Noting that most assisted living facilities are void of smiles, she got to work. She now takes the discarded animals she’s found along the way and makes weekly visits all over her town. It matters not that she has a donkey and foal along for the ride. She just strolls in to provide smiles in some pretty dark places. So many people need a reason to smile.

Her farm is named Goldy’s Animal Sanctuary and she offers delightful videos online. “Goldy” stands for the “Ghost Of the Left Hand Drawer”. So often, mysterious things would happen in Miss C’s office without any explanation except that “Goldy” did it. “Goldy” has always provided necessities in unique ways exactly when needed. She deserves to have a farm named after her after all these years.

Day after day, in between the numerous doctor’s visits, Miss C heads out to find more people and more smiles with her lovely animals. As we all know, smiles are priceless and contagious. Laugher is the best medicine.

Miss C is 86. She’s not in the best health. She’s under tremendous stress. Some nights she doesn’t sleep well. But, with one foot in front of the other, she keeps going in a positive direction. We could all learn a bunch from such an example.

Whatever you do today, consider how you could do a little bit more. It doesn’t take a lot of money or time to bring a smile to someone in need. We all know someone that could use a visit or phone call. It’s a long weekend. Get Busy!

I’ll be back on Monday.

As the days go by, HHH and I are enjoying a season of gardening and learning. UNR’s Master Gardeners course has proved to be informative while convenient. The only garden we’ve visited so far is the one in our back yard, but that will change in the fall.

So far, we’ve learned about soils, plant nutrition, composting and plant propagation. Then, we moved on to herbaceous ornamentals, vegetable gardening and native plants. We’ll finish up our first class learning about woody ornamentals, tree fruits and nuts, small fruits, container gardening and finally Integrated Pest Management.

Each one of these subjects includes lots of reading and lengthy online-lectures. Every Thursday, we join ZOOM for a meeting in which questions are answered by experts. All in all, it’s been a wonderful experience.

Through each lesson, we’ve been expected to read, listen, answer all questions, and take quizzes. We’re required to pass an exam at the end of the class with a score of 80%, along with the other requirements.

After completing this course, we’ll move on to the Master Gardener class, during which we’ll be expected to do actual volunteer work in the biggest little city to the east. It’s exciting to think that by the end of December, we may have our Master Gardener Certificates.

Of course, we’ll also need to pass an extensive background check including fingerprints. Then, there’ll be face-to-face interviews with a panel of Master Gardeners who will make the final decision. When representing the Extension department of UNR through the Master Gardener program, one needs to be squeaky clean.

With all the years of gardening and farming experience, there shouldn’t be a lack of experiences to talk about. HHH had his own farming experience for 22 years. Developing a long drive and beautiful yard, he learned much about desert landscaping. No surprise that his ranch was a botanical show stopper for three seasons, and then a winter wonderland with his Christmas light display.

As for me, I’m recalling more and more information from my 20’s and 30’s, when composting, gardening, and houseplants were things I loved. Between the two of us, we have 138 years of collective knowledge of gardening and plants to be examined during our interviews.

Whatever you do today, think about trying something new. If you are lucky enough to have a Community College, see if any classes are offered for free. From art to history and everything in between, there might be something that interests you. Check it out!

Once upon a time, my beloved Auntie TJ was reading a great novel called “The Hardacres.” The series chronicled the life of the Hardacre family, beginning in the late 1800’s. Each time I’d call to chat, she’d tell me about the latest details and making it clear this story was a good one.

At that time, still teaching, I would so look forward to my holidays. Time was always reserved for a visit with my Godmother on the central coast of the Pacific Ocean. Some days, we’d stay in jammies from sun up until sun down, chatting about everything under the sun, while laughing through it all. Those times shared with her are the most cherished memories of my entire life and I look forward to making more. Even more exciting was the fact that she lived across the street from the Goddess of the Central Coast!! Absolutely enchanting.

Getting back to “The Hardacres”…. Auntie TJ shared that the characters in this book were extremely poor in their early years. The husband spent endless days as a “fish gutter”. When work moved from port to port, the Hardacers followed.

During these moves, with very few possessions, there was a prized plant that traveled with them. Wrapped in a small bandana, it was one of the few possessions that the wife grabbed before walking out the door. That plant was an Aspidistra.

I followed along as TJ chatted about the story, but on one word, I needed a spell check. I’d never heard of such a word or plant and had no idea what it would look like. After our talk, I did some research, enlightening myself on the Aspidistra plant.

Days turned into weeks, and TJ continued to read. The Aspidistra plant continued to move and age with the couple as they began to find success in life. Always, the plant was there. It was then TJ decided she, too, needed an Aspidistra. Off to the nursery she went.

TJ’s local nursery sells every coastal plant you can imagine. Someday I’d love to live where all coastal plants grow wild. Everything “un-desert” can be purchased there. Surely they’d know of or even sell an Aspidistra. Of this, TJ was certain.

Sadly, she soon learned that none of the nursery specialists knew of this Aspidistra plant about which she inquired. Just what was this mystery plant? They had not a clue. That much they could tell her. By the way, if they didn’t sell it, it probably wouldn’t grow at the coast.

‘Well, what about the fish-mongering Hardacres? Didn’t they live at the coast in 1890? It certainly grew for decades there…..” TJ thought to herself.

Deep in thought while heading towards the ferns and not paying attention in the very crowded nursery, she almost tripped on a potted plant. Attractive to her eye, she picked up the pot. Her heart almost stopped. Printed right on the side of the pot…. Aspidistra!!!!!!!!!!! No kidding!!!!!!

Aspidistra!!!!!! The very plant she had come to purchase was the lone plant on which she almost tripped. Now, she owned her very own Aspidistra.

During my next visit there was no arguing. The year was 2007. I needed my very own blue pot AND Aspidistra. That’s all there was to it and returning home, I owned one.

Seventeen years later, I’m happy to report that I just repotted my Aspidistra. Although not in the best shape, she’s still green and growing. It’s the only plant I’ve had for that many years. Hopefully, with a little TLC from HHH, my plant will live many more years, just like the plant in the book.

Whatever you do today, consider growing some houseplants. They clean the air and add a nice touch to any home. If you’re new at this, try a Pothos. They thrive under most conditions. Give it a try! You might be repotting it seventeen years from now, just like my Aspidistra and me.

More Tomorrow.

With the arrival of Preseason Football, there’s a new found urgency to finish HHH’s man cave for winter. And what a Man Cave it is! With four brothers anxious to spend time enjoying winter games, HHH needs to step on the final design and get his menu planned for his first party.

When I moved into Winterpast in April 2020, the biggest question from everyone was about plans for the RV barn. HHH thinks the name “BARN” is just all wrong and truly, the Man Cave is anything but a barn. It’s a fully finished RV garage that is 40’x20’x20′ with everything but running water and a bathroom.

The barn stood empty for a few years. There was talk of a gardening club, a Zumba class, or even church meetings. In the end, the very best use of the space is a Man Cave for Mr. HHH to enjoy manly things like viewing golf, football, and baseball. This will give the Mrs. of the house more time to quietly enjoy blogging, crafting, and reading.

It took awhile to collect the furnishings for the man cave. Thanks to Miss B and her move to smaller quarters, HHH now has completed his look. Two recliners. One love seat. Three comfortable chairs. Three wall-mounted tv’s with separate controls. Plenty of pictures and decorations. And, HHH’s prize Mexican Marlin.

Of course, there are the stainless steel cabinets from Sam’s Club. After months of dealing with a missing order, the cabinets ended up being a gift from the store, completing the vision for the Man Cave to end all Man Cave’s.

As with every garage, we store a lot here. All manly-man gear is neatly tucked behind decorative curtains, leaving the space tidy. HHH and I share the love of all things neat and tidy.

At this writing, he hasn’t named the place. I’m sure he’ll think of something fitting. He’s planning some sort of moveable kitchen to provide food for the visiting brothers when they come for game days. There’s even a fireplace for ambience. The only thing missing is a bed, making it absolutely clear this is no flop house.

Whatever you do, think about changing a spot in your house or apartment into something yours and yours alone. Choose your favorite colors and decorating scheme and then go for it. A man cave or she shed is a delightful thing to create. Even more fun to enjoy with family and friends.

More tomorrow.

What a wild, wet, and snowy weekend on the eastern side of the Sierra’s! Saturday’s photo was taken from McCoy Station at Mammoth Mountain Ski Area about five hours to the south. Although those of us on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada didn’t get snow, we certainly received cold rain.

Saturday was a wonderfully cozy day for two honeymooners. We started the day by going to Walmart to grab a few staples and take a gander at THE visitors. While most of the outsiders should have been on the road to Burning Man, weather-caused road closures forced them to stay put.

These days, our little town of 25,000 people struggles to find employees to run the few restaurants we have. Now that weekend visitors were forced to stay, services were strained to the max.

Our local Walmart isn’t one of the best in the nation. More likely, it rates as one of the worst. Servicing our town and interstate travelers, shelves are often missing things that other Walmart’s offer. It has trouble competing with Tesla and Panasonic who pay twice as much per hour while offering transportation to work.

Add thousands of stranded travelers to any little town and you have a real mess. Due to the heavy crowds, every single check-out stand was open and servicing customers. On a normal day, here on the high desert plains, we have one human checker on the tobacco aisle. Just one.

Burningman.org and Burning Man radio kept everyone informed about road and traffic information. Everyone is being told to stay put wherever they find themselves until the gates are open. When that might happen is anyone’s guess, but no one wants a repeat of last year.

The ways people choose to spend the week in the desert is always interesting. There are those with lots of money that have million dollar RV’s with custom kitchens, bathrooms, and internet connections. Then, some choose a more practical approach with very old rigs that have visited the playa on many occasions. There are those that find U-Haul trucks perfect for their needs. Some just camp from their cars.

When talking about all the choices, HHH assured me that he could make the U-Haul idea work just fine. Good to know. I’m a little more high maintenance than that should the opportunity arise some day.

We’re all praying for clear skies so these folks can find their way to the playa. Behind the locked gates until September 2, there’ll be a collective sigh of relief while restocking the shelves. Burning Man 2024 will be in the history books before we know it.

This week, the weather should return to summer normal. The highs will return to the 90’s. With shorter days, evenings will return to pleasant temps while the gardens of Winterpast begin to wind down for their long winter’s sleep.

Whatever you do today, you might tune in to find out what’s happening on the playa. Today, I learned there are some providing evening movies, popcorn, and candy bars for the masses. Let’s hope the rain dries away quickly so the visitors can be safe.

More tomorrow.

Most days, I live in a very quiet part of Northwestern Nevada, far from unwanted drama of the real world. Just Winterpast, HHH, Me, Wookie, Oliver, and the mustangs. Day after day, the most exciting thing in back yard is an occasional hummingbird or beautiful butterfly. Just the sounds of nature, as the gentle summer breezes rustle the leaves of the cottonwood trees.

And then comes the fourth week in August when the “burners” (those attending “Burning Man”) come to town. Then, all bets are off. Anything and everything can be seen at the local Walmart if you care to sit and watch.

The first thing announcing the arrival of over 80,000 party goers is the placement of huge dumpsters around the perimeter of the Walmart parking lot. Revelers fly in from around the world equipped only with what the carry. Once here, they pump millions of dollars into the local economy while renting RV’s, buying supplies and even brand-new bicycles.

HHH has helped with preparations for this event in past years. Burning man is held on a large desert area called Black Rock Playa, a remnant of ancient Lake Lahontan. For eleven months of the year, it’s just empty desert. Come early August, the place is transformed into Black Rock City, complete with its own zip code. HHH spent time working with his long time electrician friend, John Boy, to bring power to this temporary city.

This weekend, the bumper-to-bumper traffic from i80 to Black Rock desert will be as it always is. Last year, some crazed environmentalists chained themselves to a trailer parked sideways across the highway. It didn’t go well for them. Hopefully this year, people will be a little smarter and not make such foolish decisions.

Last year, trouble arrived in the form of a huge monsoonal rain storm. People were stranded out in the desert in very deep mud. Some chose to walk out towards civilization. It was a scary time for those that were stuck.

This afternoon, the winds are expected to pick up due to an upcoming storm. Today, our temperatures will fall about 20 degrees with rain expected. In the Sierra’s above Lake Tahoe and Donner Pass, it’s possible there may be snow. Yes. Snow in August. Strange year.

Although I’d like to have bragging rights for attending such an event, this is a step too far for this 68 year old very conservative woman. I’d love to to say I saw the night lights, naked bike riders, sculptures, and of course, the man himself burn on the last night. Without any way to stay for a week, it’ll be something I’ll observe online, like most other Americans.

HHH and I plan to go over to Walmart later today to watch the outsiders as they come to our little town to prepare. They aren’t hard to pick out. In fact, they often cause locals to stop in our tracks and stare. They will pick our grocery stores clean when they come and again when they leave. Those of us that live here have already stocked up.

Whatever you do today, look at some of the stories and images of Burning Man 2023. Be prepared. Be warned, it’s not for the faint of heart. Stay tuned for the storms of 2024. Let’s pray it doesn’t rain too much this weekend.

More tomorrow.

In case you’re wondering, this isn’t photo shopped with AI. Nope. This “ART”, named Seven Magic Mountains, exists somewhere near Las Vegas. Some people have way too much money. Others have way too much time on their hands. When the two come together, you get something like the picture above. Here’s the story.

A SWISS artist decided that it would be appropriate to deface 34 extremely large boulders and place them in seven stacks, covering them in the most inappropriate, unnatural, un-desert-like colors. I wasn’t there, but am pretty sure heavy equipment compacted the desert floor, running over native plants and animals in the process. Did the local tribes of indigenous people approved this project? No idea.

To fund this process, the Nevada Museum of Art paid this foreign artist $3.5 million to complete this “amazing” vision. How insanely perfect that it now sits in the desert near Las Vegas viewed by very few.

Now, a problem has arisen. The “Harry Reid International Airport” needs expanding. Oh No. Seven Magic Mountains stand in the way of the project. Whatever shall be done with this amazing work of art??????

The Biggest Little City in the West has approved payment of $500,000 to move this “ART”. Fact check this for yourself. This isn’t a joke and it’s not even April Fool’s Day. Now these seven defaced rocks are worth $4 million while the Swiss artist can yodel-oh-ee-do his way back home with the cash.

I am at a loss for the insanity that’s infected our country today, even here in the Wild Wild West. One thing is absolutely true. Money changes hands in the strangest ways.

The Biggest Little City in the West now has a problem. They really haven’t found the appropriate spot to display this monstrosity. Who knows, they might need to buy some worthless land for a couple million to give it a proper setting. Folks. If I went to my beloved mountainside and painted it with these colors, I’d be arrested for defacing nature in a flash.

Our state has some of the most picturesque landscapes in the entire country. I hope Las Vegas can now take a sigh of relief that they have sent this “ART” to their little step sister to the west. Maybe the Biggest Little City in the West can pawn this off on the state capital. the low one on the totem pole.

Most days, it’s better not to look at the news. At least, my tax dollars support normal things in my sweet little town on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Of course, we were home to the giant bottlecap artichoke for years……

And so it goes.

More tomorrow.

Needing to right a wrong, I must share details about the new reading material I’m enjoying. The Flower Letters. Something adorable that just might make receiving mail enjoyable once again. But then, let me start at the beginning.

In the last few months, I’d seen advertisements for a new product for avid readers. A story that would travel twice monthly through snail mail to your door. Offered are four different stories told through 24 letters. There’s the choice of a western adventure, a World War II affair, a Regency romance, or a fantastical story.

Twice a month, the letters arrive, written in the dialect of the day and including mini-history lessons. If you don’t know me well enough yet, this desert gal chose the western adventure.

When the first letter arrived, I was amused at the clever nature of the letter. The stationary was adorable. Along with the letter written in delicate cursive, there was a postcard and some other materials to read. The story begins with words from one hopeful mail-order bride named Lily Clara. I’ll admit, it was hard to wait for the next letter.

And then……..

Disappointment.

The second letter didn’t even begin to connect with the first. I was sure I was losing my ever-loving mind and wrote to the company to end my subscription. The sweetest woman wrote back, encouraging me to try Letters 3 and 4 on them. She assured me that with two more letters, the story would begin to gel. She hoped I’d give it a try, and so I did.

OY. VEY. Egg on my face for sure. She was so right.

In each letter, there’s so much to think about with many hidden details to uncover. As a bonus, additional information is provided on the company website bringing the Wild West to life. I’m now hooked. My heroine, Lily Clara, is a 28-year-old adventurous and gutsy milliner. Not to give too much away, there’s even an embroidery pattern included in one of the letters.

In just the first four letters, many characters have been introduced, I’ve started a little flow chart to remember everyone. A double-sided newspaper included with Letter 4 holds so many clues, I’ve reread the other letters to make sure nothing else was missed.

Lily Clara’s vocabulary is rich, right out of the days of the Wild Wild West. By the time I finished Letter 4, I was quick to look at the calendar to find out when the next letters will arrive. Lily’s letters are sent out on the 2nd and 4th Fridays of every month.

If you haven’t heard of this adorable product, look it up. This is a cute and fresh way to deliver a story. Snail mail has again become relevant! Remember, be patient. Try not to bother the sweet people at The Flower Letters. com until you give it a real try.

To the sweet woman at The Flower Box.com, thank you for encouraging me to try two more letters. You were correct. Somethings just take a minute to gel, especially when sent one letter at a time.

Whatever you do today, consider reading something new. Anything. Try a different genre. A new author. An unfamiliar setting or time frame. Reading transports a person into another world when it’s nice to take a break from this one.

More tomorrow.

How is it possible that TODAY we are celebrating Independence Day???? Just yesterday, HHH was cooking me a Valentine’s Steak and Lobster Dinner at the coast. Today, we’re off to enjoy a wonderful time celebrating in our home town on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. The fire department has been ready since Monday when they started flying their huge flag off the town’s ladder truck. People are ready to celebrate.

Our town has the longest parade route in the area. At about two miles, it will fill up with everyone from miles around. AS a town of 25,000, we are expecting another 10,000 to join us. People grab their spots early, as HHH and I have already done. Last night, we secured our spot with HHH’s pickup and found the parade route already crowded with RV’s and cars to be left overnight, (which you can do in a small town). With an umbrella for shade, we’ll take folding chairs and enjoy the parade in style. It begins promptly at 10 so we’ll need to be sitting roadside by 9 am to get the very best spot to watch the Mayor stroll by.

With our pickup in just the right spot, we’ll head over to the Masonic Pancake Breakfast to get eggs, bacon, and flap jacks. Everyone needs to start their morning with a full stomach. T After that, we’ll take the car and head down Main Street where the parade will begin with police sirens from the local Sheriff and Nevada Highway Patrol.

The parade dignitaries will be followed by the high school marching band and all the other usual parade participants. I rode in this parade one time. It didn’t go well. That was one of the first times I realized that there are people who enjoy throwing water balloons at those in the parade. Decided, then and there, it was the last time I would willingly ride in a parade anywhere. Now, I realize that in our town, even the fire department with their hoses get involved. Remember, we do live in the wild, wild west.

Any parade wouldn’t be real with the Shriner’s and their little cars. These burly men work tirelessly to raise money for Shrine hospitals around the country. My own granddaughter got her little broken arm fixed at one years ago. Children across the world are helped by the generosity of others.

After a brief time out, there will be an “All-Call” for the Greased pig contest. Don’t worry about the pigs. Last year, they avoided grease (really soap) due to the hot weather. Each pig runs around a fenced area for a maximum of 60 seconds before it is caught. Last years pigs were of the Mangalica breed from Hungary. At first, I wasn’t sure if I was watching mutton busting or greased pig catching. They are just as adorable as this photo.

All this fun will occur at Out of Town Park, as opposed to other festivities that will occur at In Town Park. I love our little high desert town so much!

Of course, there will be fantastic food. I’m going to be ready for Dayton High School Booster’s Pulled Pork Sandwich with home cut curly fries. All this enjoyed while visiting with family and friends. The perfect small town affair.

It will all end up with HHH and I snuggled up together in the back of his Chevy Truck, as we watch the skies overhead light up. We have our favorite spot to watch the show….. The locals always know the best spots.

If we have any energy left, we’ll be off to dance under the stars and return home after midnight.

Whatever you do today, celebrate the Independence of our great nation. Sure, she has been through some tough times in the last few years. Hasn’t the world? She is still the grandest country in the world. The one in which people dream of starting a new life and then do it. Thank goodness my ancestors made it across the Atlantic to Ellis Island to begin their dreams in 1902. I can never thank them enough in my lifetime.

Happy 4th of July!!!! More tomorrow.

It’s hard to believe that June is almost gone. HHH’s granddaughter, a June bride, is now a wife vacationing in Italy. Summer enters it’s second week. And, three of the wooklets will go to their fur-ever homes tomorrow. It all happened in a flash.

It seems like just yesterday I took Oliver to puppy camp. Leaving the house, I patted one very pregnant Wookie on the head. When I returned to Winterpast, there were two. And quickly 3, 4, 5, and 6, and finally, 7. They all had specific personalities from the beginning, being the most vocal litter I’ve encountered in my 68 years.

This morning, I hear the wooklets in their room, barking, growling, yelping and causing mayhem. It’s 5:42 am. They’ve already received their breakfast. It’s play time, reminding me of my own boys playing early morning games over four decades ago. Play. Argue. Yelp. Repeat. It’s the same all for puppies and little children. If things turns quiet, you have problem.

This last week has reminded me of a few things.

1. Don’t breathe puppy breathe. It will slay you every time.
2. What goes in will surely come out in a smelly mess.
3. Little puppies will let you know when they need something. RIGHT NOW.
4. Never volunteer to take care of a litter for five days unless you REALLY, REALLY, REALLY are in need of a dose of puppy breath. Then, remember #1.

This morning, HHH and I will pack our belongings into the car, call Wookie to come along, and we’ll be off. She is quite done with the littles and missing the green grass of Winterpast. Here vacation in California is over, as well as her time as a great mom.

Whatever you do this weekend, change up your schedule a bit. Go for an early morning walk. Plant something. Talk to a friend. Find your own dose of puppy breath. All things to enjoy while on the road to healing!!

I’ll be back on Monday.

When I think back to April 2020, an episode with a neighbor comes to mind. She never became a close neighbor, but remains someone who lives down the street. We’ll just leave it at that.

Very curious to meet the newest lady on the block, she had raced down when I invited her into Winterpast. This was so long ago, I hadn’t even named to my new home, but was relieved to have most things out of boxes.

As she entered, she had looked around taking note of every single decorating mistake. She finally announced that I had way too much furniture and the house was a bit “crowded”, in her humble estimation.

Shocked at her truthful evaluation, I just told her that soon, I’d move some things to my new She-Shed. Immediately, she replied, “Honey, your whole house is your She-Shed!”

I understood what she met. As a widow, I no longer had to please my husband with the placement of this or that. I did find it funny, and for a time, referred to Winterpast as my very own “She-Shed”.

Since then, I’ve created my own She-Shed in the form of one very amazing greenhouse. Perfect for me in every way. I also have a studio/office right within the walls of our home that is girly in every way possible. I’m covered in the She-Shed Department.

When HHH and I married, we decided that because I had my own space, he’d claim the space of the RV Barn, which would now become his Man Cave. Since October 2023, he has busied himself decorating the walls of his very own man cave. It’s now the home to the biggest catch of his life, his Marlin. There are golf and fishing pictures, a fireplace, and a big screen television to watch live sports. All in all it’s a wonderful retreat.

Except that…..

With all the work on the garden, work stalled in the Man Cave until last week. After enjoying a golfing trip with seventeen of his closest friends in the Sierra Nevada’s, he came home re-energized and ready to finish his space.

It did take both of us and his truck to haul away the discards, but the task is done. It looks amazing and stands ready for any type of brotherly parties he wants to throw. After all, a man that has four loving brothers needs a place to entertain them!

Everyone needs their own space. Girls need to have time for garden parties and men need time to be men and hang out in their very own caves.

Whatever you do today, assess your living space and see where YOUR sacred space lies. Are you one that needs special mementoes and pictures on the wall, or one that prefers a minimalistic approach. Widowhood does provide a time in life for personal expression through decorating. So, think about your own space and get busy!!

One more day with the little wooklets……… Maybe there’ll be time for a swim today.

More tomorrow.

Early morning is the very best time to take a cup of coffee and walk around the gardens of Winterpast. Of course, I’m blessed to have free range of the place, having moved here in 2020.

What Winterpast has is quieting soul. Houses have their own personalities if you have time to listen to their creaks and groans. I think she enjoys protecting HHH and me as much as we love living within her walls.

Winterpast is an unassuming place. She is white, covered by a reddish brown roof. At 1906 square feet, she’s not the biggest home, or my most elaborate. She doesn’t have views that extend for hundreds of miles like the Dun Movin’ house in Virginia City, or the Mountain House in Coarsegold, Ca. She isn’t surrounded by 17,000 grape vines as the Ranch House was.

Anyway, enough about the actually house. HHH and I far prefer living in the gardens. The first thing we both see every morning are birds, bees, roses, and loveliness. After a pretty severe dead-heading session, the roses took a bit to recover. At this point, they’re covered with buds that are ready to burst open.

Two days ago, at around 6 am, I was strolling through the vegetable garden in my robe. While walking by the zuchinni, a tiny hummingbird helicopter straight up and looked me square in the face. Not alarmed at me, he then flew sideways to get a little nectar from the Armenian Cucumber plant before buzzing off. There is so much life to be found in the garden.

Before HHH came into my life, the area now full of garden boxes and a green house was a barren patch of land covered in white rock. There had been two cottonwood trees growing there in April of 2020, but both died. Now, it looks amazing due to HHH’s redwood planter boxes made out of repurposed clear redwood decking from his former home. We’ve managed to make the most of every square inch of garden and continue to find places for more.

As summer begins, it’s wonderful to watch the hummingbirds, butterflies, and finches as they zoom around the yard. It’s our own private little three-ring-circus with all of nature performing for us. We are so blessed to live in such a beautiful place.

As for that zuchinni plant, we are now in full production. Never have I ever. Just when you pick one, three more are on the verge of becoming overripe. I will soon need some new recipes. I’m thinking of leaving a few on each neighbor’s front porch in the dark of night. They’ll never suspect, right?

Whatever you do today, think about what you could grow in your back yard. If you are already growing things, investigate how you could make everything healthier. As a beekeeper, please try to avoid spraying your plants with SEVIN. The polinators in your yard will thank you.

Just a note…… As HHH try to enjoy coffee while watch fourteen dogs, I have two bits of advice.

1. There’s no place like home.
2. Spay and neuter.

Off to pick posey’s off the lawn in Cali.

More tomorrow.

It’s still dark and six wookies are screaming for their breakfast.

Seven adult dogs sleeping around us.

The 18 pound cat is staring at me from across the room wondering about breakfast.

All I want to do is blog and the site I use produced every word in a string of vertical letters.

I am typing this on my phone, which is not visually sustanable.

California is grand. I will try to post sometime today when I have a moment to fix the technical difficulties.

Whatever you do today, try to avoid stepping on a puppy or anything they may leave behind.

More tomorrow.

What a week it’s been! Only seven days ago, I was bouncing along on Amtrak headed back towards HHH. Finishing up a much needed girl’s vacation, it was pleasant to look out the window to recognize places from the past. Some had changed to be almost unrecognizable while others tugged at my heart strings. Life goes by so quickly. Kids grow up in the blink of an eye leaving retired mom’s to wish for one more goodnight kiss or wake-up hug.

Looking back on the last seven days, I realize that I’m not quite as old and used up as I might have thought. After spending many, many hours taking care of the needs of friends and family at three big events, I’m still standing. We can always do more than we think is possible.

It’s important to remember that sometimes we’re the windshield and sometimes we’re the bug. It’s called life. Gatherings come in all shapes and sizes. Some are incredibly happy and some are devastatingly sad. A Celebration of Life. A church luncheon celebrating fathers. A garden party. In three days, I enjoyed hours at those gatherings. While visiting with family and friends, I spent days laughing and crying. Life has been a whirlwind and I need to take a breath and stop for a bit.

HHH and I are planning to do just that. In case you forgot, on May 3rd, Wookie delivered her six little wookies right in the middle of our bed. In two hours, she went from one very active dog to a very loving mother of a litter. The pups are now little dogs in need of puppy sitting in California.

As the loving Wooklet-Grandparents we are, we signed up for the job and will be off to Northern California for a week long vacation. Just know we’ll be floating around in the pool, while enjoying plenty of puppy cuddles and kisses. I can’t wait for the intoxicating scent of puppy breath. Nothing else like it.

While away in California, Oliver will be enjoying his time at puppy camp. With his own set of bachelor friends, he’ll lose his mind when we bring our Wookie back next week. Never again will they be separated for such a long time for this is Wookie’s last litter.

If all goes well, I’ll pick up where I left off on Monday with lots to report about our antics in California as we take care of 20 dogs, a few cats, some chickens, and the ducks. It should provide for plenty of interesting material.

Whatever you do today, remember, that if you feel like the bug, know it won’t last forever. Just nod and smile, while considering your options. If you are riding high as the windshield, be grateful. Things can change in the blink of an eye and your buggy time is right up the road. Until then, carry on.

If you believed my Ride-Or-Die Girlfriends would arrive dressed in white gloves and Barbie-Pink pinafores shielding pressed dresses from the garden dust, you’d be wrong. We’re Desert Gals and much too practical for anything of the sort. Everyone dressed casually wearing sensible shoes of the cutest kind.

As the guests arrived, some chose to skip the house all together and head right through the back yard gate. As each woman entered, their eyes widened at the beauty within. Our back yard hides behind a Chameleon front yard of decomposed granite and a few trees. Nothing would indicate there’s a park-like setting behind the fence.

Each woman had their favorite part. Some loved the roses, others gravitated towards the bees. Many were amazed by the impressive size of HHH’s zucchini’s. But then, I’ve experienced his gardening wizardry for almost two years now, so I’m used to it!

Quickly, bags were passed around and everyone was at the cherry tree picking fruit. The apricot tree was next, while there were plenty of comments on the sweetness and huge size of the fruit. There were discussions over the potatoes and peas.

The seedlings many had seen at HHH’s birthday party in late March have grown and are blooming. Everyone was impressed by the huge plants grown from tiny seeds. Maybe no one more than me, while still marveling wonder at the beauty produced by tiny seeds. Four of my plants now form a jungle taller me, with hundreds of beefsteak, early girl, and cherry tomatoes ripening.

There were intense discussions about the amount of tomatoes on the vines. We’ve eaten four now, and it’s just mid-June. Harvest comes early when you start seedlings during the short days of winter.

My beautiful neighbors arrived right on time. Now, they understand why they haven’t seen much of HHH and me all spring. Ignoring the front yard, all effort has been behind the tall white fences of Winterpast. With summer’s arrival today, I can hardly wait for the neighborhood BBQ’s to come!

After an hour in the garden, we made our way into the house to enjoy sandwiches, chips, fruit, cookies, and ice cream sandwiches. New friendships formed as we visited. All the while, Oliver watched for soft hearted souls that slipped him little treats of food. The party was a grand success!!

To everyone that was there, please know this. You are the true flowers in the garden of my life. You’ve been there to support me through some very hard times. You’ve also been the first to cheer at the miracle of a love HHH and I have found at this late stage in life. Thank you for your support, listening ear, good advice, laughter, smiles, and love. For you, I’m grateful and blessed. Thank YOU for making the party everything I hoped it’d be.

Whatever you do today, think about having a get together with YOUR very best Ride-Or-Dies. It can be as simple as an afternoon set aside to sip a new coffee or discuss a book. There’s nothing as special as an invitation into someone else’s home. Remember, a friend is the best thing you can be and someone you can’t live without.

Minutes before the 1st Annual Girls Garden Party–

As I look out on the park that is our beloved Winterpast, her beauty brings tears to my eyes. HHH has done everything humanly possible to bring her back to life. From planting roses with a pick ax to carefully observing Miracle Grow Monday’s and Super-Thrive Saturdays, the fruit of our labor is here to enjoy all summer long.

Five springs ago, I became a widow with a new house. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but cancer broke apart the best laid plans. Moving in 17 days after death knocked on the door, I didn’t know if it would be possible for me to continue. 1/2 acre of intense gardening was staring me in the face. Broken sprinkler pipes and lost emitters forced me to venture into the garden and begin.

And so, I started gardening while I finished moving in. I unpacked boxes. I purged physically and mentally. I tried new things like dating. I began to live my very own life and haven’t slowed down since. The transformation into a new life came through Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. Of course, there was also a lot of very hard work. If you are on the path of widowhood, you understand. If you haven’t experienced it, I hope you never do.

Throughout the last five springs, I carefully planted seeds of friendships throughout my little town. In about 30 minutes, they will arrive to enjoy the garden at our 1st Annual Spring-Fling Girl-Only Garden party. Just add food and laughter and you have a party. I love each and every one of them as the sisters they’ve become.

The grocery deli didn’t let me down with the most beautiful meat, cheese, and fruit platters I could have imagined. The produce manager personally selected the fruit, even including a Picasso Melon. (If you haven’t tried one, you must.) With chips, fresh cherries, and ice cream sandwiches for desert, no one should go away hungry.

When I think of the lonely widow of 2020, the changes are shocking. I prayed for friends, Jesus took the wheel and I met them at a Bible Study. The neighborhood has provided the best neighbors I could imagine. Miss Carson City has become such a sweet friend having known our home long before I came along for Winterpast previously belonged to her parents.

I’m so thankful for this lovely home that has cocooned me when I didn’t know how I could continue to breathe. She will forever keep all the secrets of one newly single woman and her crazy dog. She will also keep the confidence of a happily married newlywed couple as HHH and I find our way on our own path.

In a few minutes they’ll arrive. Around 20 of my Ride-Or-Dies. Those that couldn’t make it are here in spirit, missing the party because of prior commitments or distance.

It wasn’t just luck that brought me this far. I’m no more deserving of the blessings I’ve received since April 8, 2020 than the next widow. I’m just a 68-year-old bride having the time of her life while writing the next chapter with my groom.

Grief hits like a car crash and cuts like a knife. There is nothing to be done but to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. Journal along the way. As springs pass, one after the next, you’ll soon be amazed at how far you’ve come.

Tomorrow — Come Party in the Garden

The Zephyr winds of the desert carry many things with them. So long ago, they carried away the ashes of my late husband. As they ripped across the desert, as they do so often, the roar on that lonely mountain top silenced my wails. Widow’s grief. Widow’s fog. Widowhood. The worst. The only kind of grief I know is the one unique to me. I’m the first to say I couldn’t imagine the depth of your own loss, because I’m still trying to figure out the depth of mine.

There’s another type of grief I’ve been witnessing since May 12th. The loss of the adult child of my Harvest Sister. She’s everything you find in a bountiful harvest of life. Smart. Beautiful. Witty. Charming. Wise. Brilliance packed in a mother. A mentor. A helper. And now, a grieving mom.

Life doesn’t make sense sometimes. Why does one parent enjoy 70-year-old grown children and another lose their 24-year-old-son? Without the “Why” answered, my sweet friend has her faith and family to help her regroup and take her next steps. For now, she’s just practicing breathing in and out, taking things one minute at a time.

She wasn’t the kind of mom that meddled or helicoptered. She was the kind of mom that rode the rollercoaster of life WITH her child while allowing him to grow up to be a special man. She was and will be forever more HIS mom and so proud that he was HER son. Two peas in a pod.

In the last month, I’ve gotten to know learn a lot about him. In 24 years, he lived more than most do in a lifetime, all thanks to his parents love and support. She was there to wish him well as he left to travel Europe. She hugged him close as they were surrounded by hula dancers in Hawaii. Every picture of them showed their connection. That love that only a mom and child share. After all, we grew our children right next to our hearts.

In preschool, under her watchful eye, he found his one true love. A woman that would remain his best friend for 20 years. He married this girl at 5, only to divorce her in 2nd Grade, but the friendship remained true. They held each others secrets for 20 years, each other’s Ride-Or-Die until he did.

WE honored his life last Saturday. Before the memorial service, a young woman dressed in a black sundress entered the church. Holding a beautiful vase of flowers, she was having a hard time with her tears. She kept assuring her girlfriend that she was fine although it was obvious she was anything but as she stood at the memorial tribute in the back.

As the appointed greeter, I lost track of her until she was in front of me, talking to the town’s florist.

“He was quite a young man. How did you know him.”

Our eyes met briefly. Before she could answer, all I could say was, “I already know.” Because, for some strange reason, I did. Never having met, I knew she lived in Las Vegas and was the most important woman in HIS life. His mom had already shared their story in bible study. The strangest thing was, I was correct and immediately, we hugged and cried.

Lovely doesn’t even begin to explain this young woman. During the service, she had the courage to speak to over 100 guests about her young marriage and lifelong friendship. While full of grief, she shared just a glimpse into the kind of rare relationship that makes life beautiful. Through her and the other events of the day, I left feeling close to this young man that left our world far too young.

Death. None of us will escape. Although we would hope everyone will follow the “proper and expected” order, some slip in line sooner than we can accept.

Grief. A nasty journey for anyone. Not something we can navigate for the person traveling through it. Sometimes, words get in the way. Just listen. Give Space. Hold a hand. Give a hug. Take phone calls at 2 AM. Repeat as many times as humanly possible.

I met a young man last week. An extraordinary young man. Someone that lived many lifetimes in one. A man who rocked soft eyes and an awesome beard. I met a young man created and loved by my friend and her husband. I’m so glad I had that chance.

Dedicated to Taylor Ray Smith and Miss Daria.

More tomorrow.

Sometimes finding just the right garden addition takes patience and trial and error. With the gardens of Winterpast marching towards full bloom, HHH and I decided we needed a new fountain. After an unsuccessful attempt to convert the old fountain to solar, we were both ready for something new.

Off we went to the hardware store after doing some research to find they did sell fountains. Now, if I were in charge of marketing, I’d make sure the fountains were front and center at the beginning of the year. Not our store.

The fountains were tucked away on the highest shelves, accessible to customers only by forklift. After asking several associates, we finally found them on the back aisle in the garden section. There sat the three tier fountain pictured above, beautiful in every way except one. Solar? No.

Sitting on the same shelf was a fountain of another style. The same height, this fountain was rock-like, with man-made moss “growing” on the front. Having LED lighting, it caught our eye. Something so different might just be great for Winterpast. So, we took it home.

After taking it out of the box and trying it, it was obvious it was wrong for Winterpast. What were we thinking buying something with fake mold????? Really???? A shared Senior Moment.

Boxed up, we returned it to Lowe’s. In the mean time, HHH found a SOLAR fountain online. Although almost twice the cost, it was already solar complete with a battery back-up. Our fountain could run day or night, powered by the sun!! It even came with LED lighting. Completing the Amazon order, we waited three days until the huge box arrived.

Cheap doesn’t even begin to cover it. A huge returnable disappointment sat in the back yard. Thin resin, the minute a Zephyr wind roared through, it would blow over and crack. Nope. It wouldn’t do. We boxed it up and returned it to Amazon.

It was obvious that we had the right idea in the beginning. The beautiful fountain on the top shelf of the hardware store’s garden center was the one. HHH destroyed the box as soon as he could to be sure there were no more heavy returns.

Luckily, this fountain is everything we wanted, except that it’s not solar. We can deal with that. It has soft LED lights that glow in the evening. With three large bowls, our finches are coming in for regular drinks and baths. The sound of falling water is soothing as we sit and enjoy Winterpast every evening after dinner. We finally found the right one. We just had to try a few other options first.

Whatever you do today, Don’t Settle. Make choices that fit you. If it means a few returns, then return you will. When you find just the right choice, you’ll know.

To my readers —

Girls just want to have fun, so I’m off on a spring fling. June is packed full of adventure. I’ll return June 18th to tell you all about it. As always, enjoy the archives until I return.

More tomorrow.

Walmart is a hidden treasure of stories of life. It seems that every time we shop there are small dramas unfolding around us in micro-lessons. The other day was no exception.

As HHH and I hurried into the store, hand in hand and discussing our gardening, a young man walked just behind us singing a song of woe to his mother. His loud words carried and stopped our conversation.

“24 sucks, MOM. It sucks. I’m tired of everything that comes with 24. It’s not fair.”

HHH and I, both smiling by that time, had to interject ourselves into their conversation. Here was a healthy, handsome young man with the world at his fingertips. Life was too much at level 24. With his world starting to unfold, already, it was more than he could deal with. Overwhelmed. At 24.

“Try 70,” HHH quipped.

“Well, I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat. Your generation lived dreams that I can’t even begin to understand. You guys lived in the perfect time.”

How true. What an observant young man.

We were lucky enough to live in a golden age. Those a little older than us, even more so. By 24, I was the mom of a little boy. I owned my second house and a new car. I wasn’t working outside the home, but was proud to be a HOME MAKER. Weekends were spent with family and friends relaxing and life was truly beautiful.

If we wanted to camp, we got out the tent and went camping. We could afford to eat at nice restaurants once in a while. The air was cleaner back then. Gas was cheap. Life was good. We looked forward sending our kids to school where they would learn about reading, writing, and arithmetic, while enjoying normal activities after school.

During our childhood, nobody rode their bike with a helmet. We all suffered through skinned knees and normal bumps and bruises. If we misbehaved at school, we’d get twice the trouble once we went home. Our teachers were called “Sir” and “Ma’am”, as were our neighbors. Many days, we were seen but not heard. Both HHH and I grew up feral without helicopter parents monitoring our every move.

This young man had valid points. To be 24 in this day and age must be terrifying. The difference is that when we were 24, we just took off and lived. Most of my friends struck out on their own at 18. Now days, that would be difficult to do. With sky high rent, gas and food prices, it just isn’t possible anymore.

Of course, as an old crone, I would find a way to make things work if I were 24 again. A certain resourcefulness has been lost through the years. And, I was not nearly as resourceful as my parents, who at 22 faced a world war while they tended to a Japanese pig farm in the absence of the real farmers relocated to Manzanar.

And their parents were even more resilient, traveling through Ellis Island from Russia. They left everything they’d known behind to start life in the New World. Farming in America! What a grand dream they lived, writing their lives in a new language.

Every generation faces their own challenges. One foot in front of the other. Slow and steady win the race.

Our exchange with this young man while exchanging knowing glances from his sweet mom was heart-felt and real. It made me hold HHH’s hand just a little tighter. Times are tough for older people, too. The future is unchartered for us all.

Would HHH and I trade places with the young man as he had wished?????????

Absolutely not. Every age has it’s own unique beauty and wonder.

24?

Been there, done that. Wouldn’t change our ages even if we could.

More tomorrow.

Sometimes the best laid plans go awry. Just when you think you have everything figured out, something like cholangiocarcinoma can throw a wrench in the works. Cancer is definitely something that can make it necessary to start all over again.

In my first days of widowhood, the goal was to breathe through the day while completing tasks written down the night before. First on my list was always “Get Dressed”. With widow’s brain fog fresh and intense, if it wasn’t written down, it might not happen.

Every day, I experienced setbacks, triumphs, shattered goals, and one reset after another. Grief does that to those left picking up the pieces. Reset I did. Each day I’d adjust my course until my head hit the pillow. And so it went for a very long time.

Growing up, my mother would always remind me to try again if I didn’t succeed the first time. How many times she insisted we rip out imperfect seams in our 4-H sewing projects. She made sure to inspire us to never give up, but keep trying. “Girls, you can always do better. Don’t let life get you down. Try again.”

Setbacks are just part of life. Best laid plans go awry. Employment changes. A move becomes necessary. A spouse dies. The list is endless, but one outcome is the same every time. It’s becomes necessary to start over. Pick yourself up. Dust yourself off. Begin on a new path. Keep going, one foot in front of the other. Never stay stuck.

Loss means something different to each one of us. The end of a dream requires that we take time to assess whether or not the dream was realistic and attainable. One thing about life is certain. Days are numbered for each of us. We each have a finite number of days to finish what we start out to do. At some point, we’ll all face failure. It’s called life.

Starting over is challenging and takes a bit of courage. You need to summon up inner strength, faith, hope, and inner fortitude to take the first step. But, once you take the first step, the next one is a bit easier. Staying stuck in one spot will leave you to face the same problem again and again.

Always believe that life will return to a new normal and you will survive. Have confidence in your own resourcefulness, and survival abilities. Along the way, God is always there to carry you when you can no longer take steps on your own. I know. There were plenty of days, he carried me quite a ways down the path of widowhood.

Loss and failure shouldn’t be the end, but an opportunity to grow and learn. Don’t be afraid to keep going. Take your time on your new journey for there’s a brand new adventure waiting for you just around the corner.

Everyone lives out their own unique story every day. Teaching 3rd graders over a decade, I always loved it when students would tell me they had nothing to write about. After a few gentle questions, mental sparks would fly as they’d realize they DID have important things to say. EVERY living person has a story to tell with a future that remains unwritten.

The first things necessary to record your thoughts are the right tools. Try writing with both pen and pencil. Try many different kinds until you find just the right fit. If you are like me, your preference might be a keyboard. Again, there are many different types available. You need to find the most comfortable for you.

Journals come in all shapes and sizes with paper in a variety of textures. Lined or unlined? Walmart usually has a pretty good selection of quality journals. Amazon is my go-to place for writing supplies. Along with blogging online, I love recording my thoughts in paper journals. Old School.

For me, the time of day is crucial. For years, I wrote at 4:30 am. I’d wake up with great topics in my head. After feeding Ollie and getting myself a cup of coffee, I’d be ready to start the day with my blog entry. For many years, I began writing long before the sun came up.

Now, a newly wed bride of eight months, I find late afternoon is the most relaxing time to put thoughts into words. I love the afternoon sun as it travels west. Looking out at the beauty of the gardens of Winterpast, the words tumble onto the screen. Oliver still snuggles at my feet, waiting for me to finish and give him his dinner as HHH catches up on the news of the day. It works well for our new family.

Something magical happens when I put pen to paper. I open up, breathe easier, and find my own truths in a place of honesty. As I write about my current life, visions of the future appear before my eyes. Writing from the heart gives a place for unexpected insights to grow. After a few months, you can look back on your own journey and plan your next moves.

It takes courage to be a writer. Sharing your own words creates vulnerability. Stay on course and own each sentence. Your life is yours and yours alone to share, not belonging to parents, children, or friends. It’s unique property and yours to share or keep private. You are the only one that can write the story of your life.

When you begin writing, be it journal or blog, write every single day. Don’t miss. Don’t put it off. Any good habit begins with repetition. Tell the truth. Don’t edit. Don’t hold back. Don’t change your voice to be perfect. Write as you talk. Write truth from your heart.

If you have trouble starting, begin with introductory questions during the first week. Answer any of these questions. Who are you are this moment? What do you hope to gain by journaling? When did you first realize you had something you needed to write down? Where do you find yourself in life? How did you end up where you are now? Why do you want to share? These questions are only examples of how to begin. Once you get started, you’ll find your own original questions that need answering.

Some days, the words fly out of my fingers onto the screen. Other days, I have nothing to say and need to work to find my words. On those days, I have googled “Journaling ideas for the month of X”. It’s not cheating but research. By reading journal topics, new ideas come to mind.

Remember to choose the place you write. Pick the perfect instruments for you to capture the story of your life as it unfolds. There’s no one but you to critique your story, spelling, or punctuation. In fact, you can also record your story if talking feels more comfortable.

April 8, 2020, I experienced a serious blast to the heart leaving me with embedded shrapnel in my soul. Writing helped find deep wounds as I began the healing process. The more I’ve written, the more completely I’ve healed. My medicine is words. A brilliant 5th grader once began her “A+” assignment with the words, “Writing is life.” A true writer can be any age.

Whatever you do today, think about your life story. What parts must you tell once more in your life? Get some paper. Get some ink. And please, please, please, just tell the story.

More tomorrow.

As the days continue to lengthen, my Hubba-Hubba-Hubby and I spend more and more time in the sun. From early morning until dusk, we are micro managing the gardens. HHH never forgets his big straw hat. I’m lucky to remember sunglasses with UV protection. At this point, there is a strong resemblance to a plump raccoon.

Being children of the 1900’s, there was no such thing as Sun Screen when we were growing up. In fact, quite the opposite. Although neither of us grew up coastal children, we both enjoyed tanning in the summer. On hot summer days I’d slather on the baby oil and and sunbathe while listening to my transistor radio. 150 miles from any coastline, the Beach Boys would remind me that California Girls were something special.

Once a grown woman, tanning was limited while teaching full time and farming on the side. On many trips to Hawaii, I was accompanied by the farmer who sported the tan pictured above. We’d just laugh it off and go on our merry way.

Before I became a wife, last October, I decided to step up my game. It would please my new husband if I would manicure these large Germanic hands. Such a small thing, I decided it was time to have nice nails, especially while wearing such a beautiful symbol of our love.

My wedding ring was created with gardening in mind. We both asked the jeweler to make it failsafe, although that seemed silly in September. Gardening season was almost over. There’d be a wedding, honeymoon, travel, and then, winter. For 8 months, I’ve faithfully attended to my nails.

Then, my toes needed some touch up for the spring cruise making it necessary to book more appointments. Pampered relaxation is lovely, but also time consuming when there are so many fun things to do in the garden.

Spring came and gardening began in earnest. Since March, my farmer’s feet have become an embarrassment. It’s too late to turn back now. Although none of these are mine, all of them could be. My legs are that dark while my feet remain that white.

The picture explains perfectly why there is no need to continue with a pedicure. I only wish the picture would explain how to fix the mess before our upcoming cruise on the love boat. I’ve been googling the problem and found exfoliation might help a bit.

Along with the ghostly-white feet, I’m also experiencing the problem of Gardener’s hands. While my wedding ring has stayed in one piece, sunshine, tilling the soil, and constant watering have taken their toil on my skin. So far, there hasn’t been a hand lotion strong enough to combat Gardener’s hands. HHH’s are even worse, but then, he’s a guy.

Farmer’s tans are no joke. Wearing t-shirts and shorts every single day leaves a wide swath of very white skin somewhere in the middle. All of this needs to blend, and soon.

As you begin your own gardening adventures this summer, perhaps sun screen wouldn’t be a bad idea. HHH and I are so proud of the beautiful tans we have, we’ll forego the lotions for now. At least we’re a matched set.

As the sunny days intensify, remember to check on your pets. Little white dogs like Oliver are prone to sunburn. Be sure your pets have plenty of shade and cool clean water to drink. Heat stroke in pets and humans can be deadly. If the cement is too hot for you to walk barefoot, it’s hot for pets, too.

If you have any suggestions for severe farmer’s tan or gardener’s hands, please drop us a line. HHH and I would love to hear your suggestions. Until then, Happy Gardening!

More tomorrow.

Growing a beautiful garden has consumed our every waking hour here at Winterpast. As the spring days are winding to an end, HHH and I have found many ways to make the gardens more beautiful. In the light of day, the roses are blooming in stunning colors. The choke-cherry tree has changed from green to rust, as it does every year. Colorful birds are bathing in the new fountain.

It’s at night that Winterpast turns into a magical fairyland. In the 1900’s, such a transformation would have required trenching, electrical plumbing, and extra breakers. In 2024, solar power has made things so much easier.

Last year, I found my first set of solar lights at our local Grocery Outlet. Little hanging light bulbs now adorn most of our trees. With a soft yellow glow, they accent the height of the trees. Uplighting was necessary to show off their trunks. The local hardware store offers solar lighting with an adjustable power bank attached to the light and stake.

Even Dollar Tree offers solar lighting. At $1.25, small staked solar lights can be crafted into many projects. Just Google “Projects with Dollar Tree Solar Lighting” to see amazing uses for these cute little lights.

Into our second year of ambient lighting, I’ve learned to choose lighting with a soft yellowish cast, as opposed to very bright lighting with a whitish-blue cast. The softer the lighting, the more romantic a look for the yard.

When re-using solar lighting, remember to change the batteries once a year. Not until a knowledgeable repair man shared this did I learn solar lighting had batteries. The main thing to remember is to replace them with the same kind of rechargeable batteries.

Along with decorative lighting, our fountains now run powered by the sun. Replacing electric pumps with solar ones is as easy as going to Amazon. There are all sizes of solar pumps available, some with battery backup. These pumps allow gardeners to place fountains throughout the garden without unsightly wires. Truly ingenious little creations.

With water fountains and evening lighting, Winterpast continues to grow into the showpiece she was always meant to be. Every evening, HHH and I marvel at nature’s beauty. With birds, bees, butterflies, and two honeymooners adding to the magic, we are blessed to call this little slice of heaven home.

More on Monday.

‘Tis the season for Farmer’s Markets! The one in our town begins this Saturday and I can hardly wait. Just the thought of a little country gathering of backyard farmers selling their surplus warms my heart. If only these lovely products came from an organic garden grown by anyone in the area.

Farmer’s Market’s, organic food, and lady bugs are all very romantic ideas. They take us back to simpler times of small town goodness when Mary might’ve had enough apricots to bake an extra 25 pies to sell. Look carefully at the photo above and there are some tell tale signs to watch for when visiting your first sale of the season.

1. Please notice that all the crops pictured above don’t take the same number of days and temperatures to ripen all at once. Mixed winter and summer crops. Perfectly wrapped bundles of summer herbs. This farmer has many farm hands and a huge cold storage barn to pick, clean, size, and store all this produce.
2. No scars on the produce. Although this group isn’t the most perfect, it’s pretty close. Our broccoli is just starting to head and in no way resembles the perfect heads of cauliflower, uniform and perfectly white.
3. There is absolutely no dirt present on any of the vegetable roots. Not sure how they pulled that off. Maybe hydroponically grown???? That makes this operation even more expensive and labor intensive.
4. No visible signs of pest damage. Many pesticides sold in hardware stores are not available for commercial use. If you do find the perfect gardener with amazing fruits and vegetables, ask them to name the chemicals used. If they mention “Sevin”, walk away.

Although tempting, the evidence above doesn’t point to food grown in a small garden just outside town. It was more likely purchased from Costco for resale.

Now, I’d be all over this stand. If you’re wondering where the person is that grew all this, they’ve probably run home to water the vegetables they have growing for next week’s products.

Dirty roots, untrimmed produce. Beautiful. With this much to sell, their “garden” is more than hobby size. They run a nice sized farm with lots of help. This is what your Farmer’s Market fruits and vegetables should look like. Carrots, cabbage, and celery DO grow at the same time of year. The bell peppers don’t and are hard to store. (Probably purchased elsewhere.) It’s up to you to KNOW your growing season to make the best purchases. Freshly picked food IS worth the extra money.

In 2022, when things were beginning to return to normal, our town re-opened our version of a farmer’s market. Over the moon with excitement, I wondered what would be featured? Local onions and garlic grown an hour to the south? Fresh cheese produced 30 minutes to the east? Not familiar with the local growing season at the time, I thought of the Central Valley of California.

Strawberries, apricots, and peaches might be ready in June. Too late for lettuce. Tomatoes wouldn’t even be red yet. With fruits and vegetables dancing through my thoughts, I grabbed a little extra cash, ready to fill the frig with freshness.

Oy. Vey.

When I arrived, the lack of tables was the first thing that hit me. I remember four little tables. One lady was selling her eggs. At least there was something identifiably fresh. I bought one dozen for $4.

At the next booth, a woman had been up all night baking tiny little loaves of fresh banana nut bread. She also sold precious bouquets of lavender. Too cute to pass up, I bought one of each.

The third table was exactly what I feared. The sign read “Stanko’s Locally Grown Farm Fresh Organic Fruits and Vegetables”. His table was swarming with unsuspecting customers buying everything from apples to watermelons. His produce was tired. June 1 doesn’t see fresh apples in our little town. Heck, apricots are early and they aren’t ready for another three weeks. Watermelons are ready long after July 4th has come and gone.

I observed the professional boxes. Red and ripe tomatoes were way past their prime. No sun spots or blemishes on any, they had survived many other farmer’s markets on the way to ours. Everything on this table was as tired as the heavy man with the cane taking money.

The worst part of all was that I KNEW this farm name from decades of life in the Central Valley. A shady guy with a reputation in his own town, this overweight swindler was there to make a fast buck. And, it was working.

“Hi there! Wow! Tomatoes! How did you get them to grow so quickly?” I asked with a smile.

“Well, we’re from Central California.”

True enough. Except that tomatoes are not ripe in Central California on June 1. I suspect his came straight from Mexico.

“Wow, you must have quite the crew.”

Nope. Just me and my boy. We stay busy growing everything you see here,” he replied, with a smile smoother than the skin on his un-farmer-like hands.

And with that, another little old lady handed him $20 and told him to keep the change.

Be careful at Farmer’s Markets. Organic corn has worms. Tomatoes are often scarred and misshapen. The best fruits and vegetables don’t grow in uniform size and shape. The very best food is picked from the tree or bush and eaten within an hour.

With all that being said, HHH and I are applying for a table this year. With enough food to feed an army, we’ll be donating some and putting proceeds from the rest towards Cruise #2, already in the works.

Whatever you do today, research Farmer’s Markets in your area. In our area, there’s a market every day of the week. We plan to visit each one and decide which little town has the most authentic. Forget about taking those fruit and vegetable pills. Fresh is best!

More tomorrow.

After spending too much time listening to the current news from New York City, it’s refreshing to unplug and drive west across the desert. Every eight weeks, Oliver goes to see his friend Sam who handles his grooming needs.

Oliver has known Sam since he was four months old. After years of suffering through his craziness, she now looks forward to their time together. How she gets him to stand still for a shave is beyond me, but she does. Oliver enjoys having the run of the place, meeting all kinds of new friends.

Driving 40 minutes across the desert on the loneliest highway in the world is a treat. It reminds me how lucky I am to live in such a vast and gorgeous place. I wonder how those New Yorker’s would ever survive in the wild, wild west. They’d most likely die outside their concrete jungle just as I wouldn’t survive if transplanted there. Just the thought of life without an endless cobalt blue sky and puffy white clouds is a sad one.

Every trip west is different. On the bigger highway, we travel along the Truckee River. Now in the midst of the spring run off, the river is full. Reflecting the brilliant sky and bordered by fresh green cottonwood trees, it’s a lovely sight to behold. The problem with that route involves heavy traffic. Not much time to enjoy the sights unless your lucky enough to be the passenger.

The southern route travels right into the capital of Nevada. HHH and I were discussing this just the other day. With most of the population centered in Las Vegas, one would assume it’s the capital. Wrong-o. This causes dismay during major elections when the vote of a major city overrules the inhabitants of all rural areas combined.

In Nevada, law-makers meet every odd year limiting legislative nonsense. Heaven knows Americans could all live with a few less rules and regs. It works nicely here in the Wild, Wild West.

While Oliver got pampered, I visited the nicest grocery store in the area. Our town has a population of almost 25,000 people, not big enough to have a REAL grocery store. Just a Walmart and a Raley’s, both marginal. To walk through aisle after aisle of real bargains, I took time to enjoy the lower prices and fully stocked shelves.

Of course, a day wouldn’t be complete without buying a plant or three. White chrysanthemums advertised as a Memorial Day special — 2 for $10.

After suffering through high prices at our local hardware store, I knew I needed three to complete my dream of a moon garden. These gardens are full of white flowers that look lovely by moonlight.

As it turns out, the mums were discounted 3/$10. The deal of the day and more plants for Winterpast.

Soon, by text I learned that Sir Oliver was waiting for his ride home. As always, he’s soft and cuddly after grooming. He always wears the best cologne and this time, came home with a patriotic bow tie. All dressed up and still waiting for Wookie, he’ll need to settle for HHH and me a little while longer.

Whatever you do today, consider taking a drive. Get out in the fresh air and be grateful to be a part of such a beautiful world. It’s a great day to be alive!

More tomorrow.

When you are lucky enough to have gardens like the ones here at Winterpast, then, you are lucky enough to have a place for a garden party. June is the perfect month to share the beauty HHH and I have created with family and friends. I need to throw a real girly-girl garden party!

The roses are in full bloom and the seedlings are maturing. Solar lighting adorns all the trees, turning the back yard into something of a fairy land. The fountains are tinkling away as the sun shines powered by individual solar pumps. It’s a magical place that we enjoy every day.

At this writing, with brute strength and pick ax, HHH has planted at least 31 plants of all kinds. From roses named Serenity, Bliss and Mr. Lincoln, to a vegetable garden producing tomatoes, zucchini, watermelon, eggplant, cabbage, broccoli, and cantaloupe, we’ll be producing food and flowers for the community this year.

My seedlings, (with whom I conversed every day during the late winter), are going crazy. The Black-Eyed Susan’s are ready to bloom. The alyssum are adorable with their tiny little purple and white flowers. The marigolds survived the frosts. Everything we’ve planted has decided to take off and thrive. Our bees are enjoying the yard as much as us.

I haven’t decided if I’ll ask everyone to wear hats or not. Probably no gloves unless someone wants to help me do a little weeding. At 4:00pm, on an evening in early June, ladies from all over town will come to Winterpast for a party. At least, that’s the plan.

Sometimes, girls just want to have a little fun. HHH will need to find something else to do that evening. Maybe some night fishing or a little Glo-Golf. This is a full blown, Girls-Only party. Heck, we might even enjoy a pot of tea together, who knows.

When I think about April 23, 2020, my mind goes back to the lonely woman that moved into a house without a name. Over the days, weeks, months and years, this woman named her beautiful home Winterpast. She hired a sweet gardener named Mr. B to help do the heavy lifting. She grieved while writing and wrote while grieving. All the time, the garden helped her heal and time went on. Many days it was a tough decision to CHOOSE HAPPY. She slowly turned into the me of what’s happening now.

Now, beginning the fifth summer here at Winterpast, (11th as a Nevadan), life has changed. Making the list for my party, there weren’t just 1 or 2 names on the list, but almost 30. Thirty Ride-or-Die friends that I can count on when things go a little south. And, we all know things have a way of doing that from time to time. It’s called LIFE.

I’m planning to decorate while the hot tub bubbles in the background. There’ll be snacks, dinner and some kind of yummy dessert. I plan to let each and every one of these wonderful women how special they are to me and how much richer I am for knowing them.

If you’re reading, Miss Carson City, know an invitation will soon arrive. Miss Fire Cracker and Jackie, get well! I need you here!! Ninja Neighbor, you must come. It wouldn’t be a party without you. Now, if only Auntie TJ and the Goddess of the Central Coast were closer, the party would be complete.

In the next two weeks, I plan to look at every possible idea for this Garden Party. We already have the theme song. Everything else will fall into place.

Whatever you do today, remember something very important from the words of this song.

“You can’t please everyone, so you’ve got to please yourself.”

More tomorrow.

To all of our veterans
Far and near.
We thank you for your service
For all those years.

You sacrificed your time,
And some gave your life.
You preserved our freedom
By willingly paying the price.

Many of you
Were sent overseas.
You were wounded in battle,
With scars and disease.

But courageous and brave,
You weathered the storm.
You faced every battle
With faith and beyond.

We honor you with joy
For all that you’ve done.
You stood strong for our country,
For our daughters and sons.

So no one stands alone,
We walk hand in hand.
Remember, we are with you.
Together we shall stand.

We salute you today.
Hear what we say.
Let our words speak eloquently
In this special way.

On this day,
Let us express our love and thanks
For the sacrifice you paid.
You served in honor
For many years and days,
And we will never forget
How you were strong and brave.

Thank you to all of you that gave of your life to protect our great country. Thank you for your bravery and willingness to travel around the world while watching over us. You went on your way, bravely serving weeks, months, and years away from home. Some never made it back.

I’m proud to be the mom of two Air Force Veteran’s that fought to protect us after 9-11. After the attack on our country, they didn’t question, but recognized a patriotic duty to serve. My sons gave half their lives in service. I’m so proud to be their mom.

To HHH, I’ll never forget you started out as MM, My Mysterious Marine. Thank you for serving during the Vietnam War when signing up to serve wasn’t so fashionable. You will forever be My Mysterious Marine. I’m so proud to be the cherished wife of a United States Marine.

Too all the moms and dads of service men and women, you deserve a debt of gratitude from our nation. You stood by as your children grew up into fine young men and women, and then, let them go as they chose to serve. Only parents of military personnel know what that’s like. Thank you for your sacrifice for the greater good of our country.

Don’t waste this Memorial Day. Look for ways that you can show you remember. If you have a flag pole, fly a flag. If there are services in your area on Monday, attend. Be visible. Thank a Veteran. Without them, our beautiful country would be quite different.

Most importantly, REMEMBER. Remember the bravery. Remember the love of country. Remember the sacrifices. REMEMBER.

I’ll be back on Tuesday. Have a wonderful holiday.

Things have been pretty quiet around here without Wookie. She livens everything up with her antics and bubbly personality. Three years younger than Ollie, she’s infused life into his little world. Still in Cali with the Wooklets, Oliver has been mending his broken heart at home along with us. We all miss our Wookie.

Ollie’s been enjoying Little Caesar’s soft dog food. Meal time has been one big happy dance as he waits for me to lace it with his meds. Oliver never, ever misses a meal. He’s just that kind of little dog. But, Little Caesar’s is his all time FAVORITE.

If Oliver had his way, it would be winter every day of the year and he’d never, ever go outside for anything. Nope. He’d just hang out on the couch under his favorite blanket while sleeping the day away. Unfortunately, summer is just around the corner. It’s time to get things ready for him. He’s a 70 degree dog. Any other temperature is either too hot or too cold.

Our dogs are lucky enough to enjoy a handy little doggie door, so when the heat is on outside, they come inside to cool off. Already here when we arrived, the door is just the right height for Ollie, and Wookie makes it work. Although almost 12″ taller, Wookie slinks in and out with ease. They gain entrance into the laundry room, where they eat breakfast and dinner. Pretty spoiled to enjoy their own private entrance to the house.

Today, it’s time to fill his pool and put out outdoor toys for his enjoyment. Pool. Toys. Garden chairs for lounging under the trees. Toads for hunting. Birds for tormenting. Oliver has it made in the shade.

His favorite friend, Sam the Groomer, has been on vacation for the last few weeks. At this stage, he’s pretty shaggy. His swollen jaw returned to its normal shape and he finished his antibiotic and steroid/pain killer this morning. Once he gets his hair-cut, he’ll have nothing to do but count the days until Wookie’s return.

If you have pets, remember that summer can arrive unannounced. The temperatures on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada will be increasing every day. Pets need a place to get out of the summer sun, fresh cool water, and in some cases, a good haircut. Heat stroke is no fun. Any vet bills are painfully expensive these days. It’s best to be proactive.

Don’t forget their teeth! If your pet is experience terrible breath, as Oliver was for some time, check their mouth. There are many products to help the situation, such as Greenie dog Chews, additives for their water bowl, and even, doggie tooth brushes. After getting stuck with the bill for dental care, Oliver and I are going to work on the doggie tooth brushing idea.

Spring is a great time to check out their beds and blankets. Wash or replace if necessary. At the same time, check out the toys. Throw cloth toys in the wash right along with their bedding. Of course, if your dogs are like Wookie and Oliver, those soft toys don’t last more than a couple hours. It saves on the work of washing them.

With not much else to report here from Winterpast, that’s it for today. Still working on the new blog, it’s not quite ready for viewing yet.

Whatever you do today, remember your pets and do something nice for them. Their love is a very precious gift.

More tomorrow.

Gardening is a constant flow of learning. Each lesson imprints important information that you should remember from that point on. Lessons on life, perseverance, and faith cause one to draw on patience and a positive attitude. Just when you think you have the whole thing figured out, something changes.

Last Week’s Lessons—–

1. Lady Bugs have wings and will easily fly away when you release 500 of them from a tiny cup. Without tiny brands on their butts, your neighbor will enjoy your tiny little predators.
2. Aphids feeding on roses treated with systemic insecticide will disappear quicker than your Lady Bugs.
3. LB’s left to feast on aphids will leave when the aphid supply dries up.
4. The hundreds of birds attracted to Winterpast with food, water, and wren-tals (bird houses — rental — wren-tal — get it?) find LB’s a tasty treat. Basic biology and the food chain.

And so it goes. I never understood those lucky souls who claim to purchase Lady Bugs each year and find them to be beneficial. If you already have Lady Bugs in your yard, it’s good and bad. The good is that they are there. The bad is that there’s enough for them to eat.

APHIDS!!! EWWWWW!!!

This years Lady Bug experienced ended up as a big fat loss of $17.00.

When thinking about benefiting from this cute little bugs, remember that the larval stage is the one that does the majority of the feasting. If you are lucky enough to have larval Lady Bugs, it means they like your yard and will stick around. Otherwise, don’t waste your money. It’s a romantic idea that doesn’t always work well.

On to the Praying Mantids. This little experiment turned out to be a dud, too. Another $17.00 down the drain. Their hardened-foam egg case is gorgeous. It’s comfy on its little bed of sawdust. It’s been laying there for one week now. Nothing. Not any sign of life. A complete dud.

Buying Insect Beneficial’s can be pretty tricky. There’s no guarantee that the store took care of the insects as instructed. Whether my egg case got too hot or too cold, something happened to prevent the hatching of the tiny little Praying Mantids. Very disappointing. I’ll give it another week, and then, the nursery owner and I will have a little chat.

I wish I could say that I KNOW the microscopic nematodes took off and are thriving. We followed the instructions to the letter, soaking them for exactly 50 minutes in three gallons of water and then watering them in under our apple trees. Not sure that we’ll ever know if they took off to do their work. I’m choosing to believe that they’re killing Coddling Moth Larvae as we speak.

On a happier note, when Miss Lady Bee, (teacher of all new BEEK’s), came to see our hive, we had some important questions. Would granular Bayer Systemic Rose Food and Insecticide hurt our hive? To our excitement, we learned bees don’t like roses and won’t be harmed in the least. Happily, we gave each rose a dose of food and aphid killer. Pretty sure that finished off the remaining Lady Bug we had left. The roses sure look great as they begin to bloom.

HHH has been enjoying the manly-man chores in the yard. After planting eleven new roses, he’s spread about 100 bags of bark here and there. He’s on top of watering, while looking for broken sprinkler lines and emitters. From dawn ’til dusk, he’s out there dreaming up ways to make Winterpast even more of a show piece than she already is. The gardens have never looked so beautiful.

With a family reunion for 75 guests coming up in August, we have our work cut out for us. The seedlings are maturing and some are even blooming now. I still have a hard time believing I grew four outrageous tomato plants from tiny little seeds. They are so healthy, they put the store plants to shame. Similar plants in the garden center are now priced at $20.00 each.

HHH and I will be embarking on a new adventure starting August 4th. With our deep love for gardening, we’ll be returning to college. We’re now enrolled in the Home Horticulture Certificate Program, which is a prerequisite to becoming Master Gardeners. Co-ed honeymooners. Absolutely delightful.

Whatever you do today, remember that when you stop having new interests, you begin to decline. There are so many wonderful hobbies to enjoy in this world. Find something that interests you and run with it.

More tomorrow.

God works in mysterious ways.

Yesterday, HHH and I decided it would be a great day to make a huge batch of spaghetti sauce. We usually cook enough to make lasagna for the freezer. All day long, the house smells wonderful, while we pack a full day in the garden. Dinner is a simple as boiling some noodles and broiling a bit of garlic bread.

Here’s the recipe for the World’s Best Lasagna sauce. I only know it’s the best because the internet told me so at the top of the recipe.

Ingredients

• 1 pound sweet Italian sausage
• ¾ pound lean ground beef
• ½ cup minced onion
• 2 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 (28 ounce) can crushed tomatoes
• 2 (6.5 ounce) cans canned tomato sauce
• 2 (6 ounce) cans tomato paste
• ½ cup water
• 2 tablespoons white sugar
• 4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley, divided
• 1 ½ teaspoons dried basil leaves
• 1 ½ teaspoons salt, divided, or to taste
• 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
• ½ teaspoon fennel seeds
• ¼ teaspoon ground black pepper

After browning the meats, mix everything together in a pot, allowing it to simmer all day. Then, use it for spaghetti or lasagna, whichever you prefer.

After discussing it, HHH and I decided to double the recipe, making sauce for the freezer. After running to the store, the sauce was already simmering when I left for Bible study.

Many of my Harvest Sisters were missing yesterday. Some had to work, and some had more pressing issues at hand. The final head count was three. Some days are the perfect opportunity to get to know each other better. I love those days.

As we sat talking, we discovered that a brand new sister had some pretty pressing issues of her own. Rather overwhelming. A loved one lays just this side of heaven and a husband that’s feeling under the weather. As we visited, our fearless leader had a question as she looked into my eyes.

“Just what is Harvest Sister’s about anyway, Joy?”

I got her message.

Immediately, I asked our new friend whether she could use dinner delivered later in the day.

Her answer without pause — “Yes”.

Husband’s favorite meal?

“Spaghetti.”

God has a sense of humor, doesn’t he? At home, on my very own stove, a double recipe of spaghetti sauce sat simmering. A double recipe. I had fresh French bread in my car. Plenty for both families.

If the man’s favorite meal is spaghetti, let’s give him spaghetti! And so it was.

Always remember —

The feeling of being able to help someone in need is healing. How simple to share a little spaghetti when someone is having a tough time and a Meal to Heal might brighten their day.

While visiting, we covered a lot of ground yesterday. From parents to kids, every day stories shared knit our church family together. How blessed we are to have found one another in this crazy world. Everyone should have such sweet Harvest Sisters.

Lasagna is in the freezer for another day. Our spaghetti dinner was fantastic, as well as the dinner we delivered, which was so appreciated.

Whatever you do today, think about the friends and family you know. Is there someone that could use the surprise dinner? Or a vase of flowers from the garden? Life is short. It’s nice to share.

More tomorrow.

Sometimes, something happens, so unexpected and horrible, no words comfort the grief that follows. That very something has fallen upon our little church family on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, affecting all of us very deeply.

I’ve been in love with my Harvest Sisters for a year now. Every Monday, we meet to study more about the Bible, while learning more about each other. Every Monday, we discover more ways we are so similar, and yet many ways that we stand in different stages of life.

There are some of us that have already experienced widowhood and everything that goes along with that journey. We are a group of mothers, some having decades more experience than others, but all sharing motherly love for our kids. We are daughters, sisters, aunts, and best friends. Some need to miss once in awhile because of work schedules, while others are enjoying our retirement.

Our biggest similarity is a shared love of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, precious Son of God. He’s the reason for everything. It is faith that ties our hearts together as we study and grow in our understanding of the Bible.

Sometimes God’s will isn’t something that we can understand or accept. Our faith and beliefs are tested while experiencing unthinkable loss.

One of my sisters lost her son last week. Hearing news of this yesterday, almost a week had passed. Although I never had the pleasure of meeting this young man, (24 years old), if he belonged to this loving and kind friend of mine, he was someone very special indeed. He was her baby still, even after more than two decades of life.

My beautiful Harvest Sister, I love you so deeply. In shock, tear-filled sadness and grief are packaged into prayers of love, comfort, and strength for you and your husband.

Take very good care of yourself right now. If you need to talk, call. Your Harvest Sister’s are all here waiting to help. Hug tight your family and friends and know that everyone loves you dearly. For your sweet son, best prayers for comfort and peace surrounded by angel wings and lullabies.

I send you love.

To my readers, if you are so inclined, please pray for my Harvest Sister and her family. As I send these words to the universe of the internet, my readers have the power to provide prayer-filled comfort and love to a stranger that needs it so badly right now.

More tomorrow.

Last week, HHH came back from the hardware store more than a little upset. Unbeknownst to me, he had planned to buy 500 lady bugs as a surprise. Destructive insect pests had disturbed the tranquility and peace at Winterpast. Aphids are prolific and destructive little creatures, so we were brainstorming bee-friendly ways to get rid of them.

Back in the day, I would’ve suggestive 1/4 cup of systemic rose insecticide under each bush. Unfortunately, we now have 50,000 friends that will visit every plant we grow. In killing the aphids, we might be killing our bees, as well. Insecticides can’t be this years’ answer to aphids.

When HHH was telling me about the empty shelf that only hours earlier had held Praying Mantids AND Lady Bugs, he mentioned another biologic on the shelf. He didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t Lady Bugs, so it really didn’t matter.

As it turns out, they were selling nematodes, or microscopic worms that live in the soil and attack Coddling Moth Larvae, which will attack our apple trees. Well, every garden needs some of those. I hope they get along with the worms we dispersed about a month ago.

Yesterday, we needed a few items. It’s dangerous for us to visit the nursery together. Along with 25 sacks of brown bark, we found six gorgeous roses. If they hadn’t been so healthy and beautiful, we could have refused. As our garden grows, we are running out of room in a quarter-acre back yard.

After making some phone calls, we found a nursery 30 minutes to the east still had some Lady Bugs AND Praying Mantids. Off we went. Of course, they had Portulacas, too. One of the must-have’s of any desert garden, HHH says they remind him of a bubblegum machine. That they do. Eighteen little plants were added to our purchase.

Private nurseries are such a fun place to visit. With knowledgeable owners and beautiful plants, we’ll be returning to this one. We could buy 500 Lady Bugs, but, by spending only $1 more, we could get 500 Lady Bugs AND Lace Wings. Both extreme predators, our aphids wouldn’t have a chance. Along with them, we purchased a Praying Mantid Egg case, which will first hatch on my desk and then be moved into the yard.

Yesterday was a busy day. We moved 14 bags of bark onto our Memorial Garden. We increased our rose bush count by six. We continue to see more and more Swallowtail butterflies floating about the yard. The hummingbirds continue to dive and fight for their place at the feeders. And, Oliver continues to heal from his dental ordeal while waiting for his beloved Wookie to return.

We did discover that dispersing Lady Bugs is a bit like nailing Jello to a tree. The minute the lid was opened, hungry little bugs came charging forth. As the Zephyr winds raced through the gardens of Winterpast, I hope some of the bugs fell into the rose bushes to feast on our fat selection of aphids. If you aren’t much into bugs crawling over your hands and arms, you might want to forego this experience. I prefer our quiet little bees any day of the week.

After all that, HHH had the energy to cook BBQ baby-back ribs, rice, and a 2024 zucchini. How lucky that he loves cooking and that I love cleaning up the kitchen after a good meal. Another way we’re a great match.

Whatever you do today, think about pests in the garden and natural ways to control them. There are so many new and natural methods on the market. It doesn’t always take a dose of chemicals to control pests. Sometimes, the natural methods are more colorful and certainly more dramatic.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a long time, you already know I love classic movies. There is something about the grainy film and orchestrated music that makes my heart sing. As the days around here get hotter and hotter, my afternoons may be spent watching a few of my favorites.

A typical day at Winterpast will find me gardening as soon as I can make noise, usually around 8 am. By 10, it’s just too warm. Getting older every day, I find the heat drains any extra energy I have. Those warm afternoons are great for housework or crafts while a classic movie plays in the background.

After 68 years, I can’t say I have a favorite. There are so many, it would be much to hard to choose just one. I absolutely love Alfred Hitchcock. Clint Eastwood’s held my attention for longer than I’d like to admit. And then, there are the romantic comedies of the 80’s and 90’s, which might be considered classics by now.

Every few years, I find the need to have a “Godfather” marathon. There is something so mysterious and alluring about the life of gangsters. Especially those coming from Sicily. I can hardly believe it came out when I was a Junior in high school.

HHH loves John Wayne and any good western. Good thing we have that in common. When we married, the similarities in our individual movie collections were a mystery. How could two people have so many duplicates of favorite movies? He also owned many that I loved, but hadn’t yet purchased. Between the two of us, we now have quite a collection.

The golden Age in film began in 1927, with so many great films produced in 1939. My personal 1939 favorite will forever remain “The Wizard of Oz”. Growing up, there would be a special spring night when television channels (of which there were three), would show the movie. Just once a year. There were no videos or computers on which to play the movie at will. On that big night, bedtimes were ignored as we all sat around the television in awe of the amazing story.

Until we got a colored television, I never know Kansas showed in black and white, while the Land of Oz was in flaming technicolor. Such an amazing development in 1939.

Characters in classic movies inspire us, like John Wayne in The Quiet Man. They’re relevant in a timeless way, even though they may have been filmed decades before. They’re often filmed in beautiful locations we’d all like to visit. These movies maintain a fan base, while gaining new fans as time goes on.

One thing is for certain. Classic movies are special and the ability to watch the greatest actors of all time is a true gift.

So, whatever you decide today, you might want to take time to grab some popcorn, a drink, your favorite chair, and relax with one of the greats. Heck, I won’t tell if you spend the afternoon with Clint. I’ve been know to do the same. A classic movie is memorable, makes an impact on society, and withstands the test of time. They’ll remain loved for generations to come.

More tomorrow

Some parties end well, and some don’t. Oliver’s had a “ruff” time of it since he returned from puppy camp to an empty house. When he left, Wookie wasn’t feeling well. He couldn’t begin to understand that in one week’s time, she delivered six wooklets and took a trip across the Sierra’s to California. Heck, he was off enjoying his own party.

The first two days at home, HHH and I wrote off Ollie’s depression to loneliness. The house IS pretty quiet now. We feel her absence, as well. But he continued to be very somber.

Monday morning, while enjoying my coffee, I caught a glimpse of him from the side. Ollie missed his last visit to the groomer, so his fur is longer than usual, hiding the true curve of his neck.

Oy.

Vey.

A huge lump covered his entire lower jaw. Tennis ball sized, the first thing I suspected was a bee sting. First, we tried was a dose of Benadryl, which works on pets as well as humans. As the morning went on, the lump was growing, not affected by the medicine in the least bit.

By 1:30, it was obvious Oliver needed the immediate help of a vet. HHH got right to work and called Wookie’s vet, who practices one hour to the east. Thankfully, we were granted a small miracle, as there was a cancellation at 3 pm. We were off.

After looking at Oliver, the vet concluded that the most probable cause was an abscessed tooth. He’d start him on pain meds and antibiotics. He advised us that Oliver needed his teeth cleaned, ASAP. If there were any bad teeth, they’d be pulled under anesthesia.

It just so happened they had a cancellation for the next day. How lucky we were to be taken in so quickly by a vet that had never seen Oliver. Oliver had been overweight for some time, so he’d been dieting for weeks. We found that he’d lost five pounds to put him at a mean and lean 23 pounds.

After hours of waiting for news, Ollie returned home minus three abscessed teeth. The swelling will take some time to go down. After an afternoon meal, settled right into his very own bed. HHH bought him some wonderful canned food to enjoy until his wounds heal.

Although we all miss Wookie tremendously, things worked out for the best. Ollie will need this time to heal and rest. He’ll be ready for her when she returns to us in June.

During the exam, two puncture wounds were discovered from his time at the kennel. Those didn’t help either. Sometimes Oliver is too mouthy for his own good. While we were at the vet, he didn’t bark or growl at anyone. Maybe he learned a good lesson.

After everything was said and done, we needed to settle the bill.

Dental Cleaning, three extractions by a veterinary surgeon, pain meds, antibiotics, anesthesia, and micro-chipping. Medical services from 7:30 am – 2:30 pm. No IV’s.

Total due — $568.

We did what any dog owner and lover would do. Thank the wonderful staff, pay up, and take our precious pup home. Thank goodness it wasn’t more serious or expensive than it was.

So, that’s the latest news from Winterpast. I may need to change Oliver’s name to Gummer. For now, he remains the prestigious Sir Oliver of Antworth Hall. Just don’t ask him to smile for pictures any time soon.

More tomorrow.

No doubt the bees take center stage around Winterpast these days. With our prolific queen and plenty of nursery space, the population of bees around our house has increased. These bees are quiet and kind. They are curious, but respectful and so far, no one has been strung.

The Bee Lady stopped by Sunday evening to enjoy dinner and some conversation before checking out the hive. Months have gone by since we first decided to keep these interesting insects. During that time we’ve learned so much about the art of bee keeping. The easiest part was purchasing all the supplies. It takes years to understand why a particular colony does what it does.

The Bee Lady is helping two new BEEKs (short for Bee Keepers) with our new hobby. So far, we haven’t had any questions, as the bees are doing what bees do. Every morning, they begin their day. Around 2 pm they are the busiest. Watching the consistency of their work schedule, we’re beginning to know them a little bit.

Yesterday, there was a bit of a scare. The first day in the 80’s, a large group of bees were hanging off the front of the hive. This is called “bearding” and is totally a normal thing. While stationary, they beat their little bee wings, creating ventilation for the hive.

We did need to move some of the down-stairs’ brood frames upstairs’ so the queen gets the idea and moves to lay her eggs there. They are still eating pollen patties and syrup provided by us. I guess HHH and I belong to the Bee’s, as well as the dogs.

Last week, while looking around the yard, I decided the bird houses were pretty shabby. No one moved in last year, probably because I didn’t clean and paint. At any rate, I figured out how to open the houses this year. Oh. My. Goodness. They were full of feathers, grass, twigs, and leaves of past families. No respecting bird would want to move in there.

With a fresh coat of paint and plenty of room, we noticed a finch that took a liking to the place. He sat on the chimney guarding his find for some time. Several times, he went inside and then back out, telling everyone he’d found a nice home for his family. Soon, we’ll be able to tell if a family will again occupy the Wren-tal.

Of course, with HHH around, the birds have everything any bird would want. There are feeders brimming with only the freshest bird seed. The hummingbird feeders are topped off with a 1:1 simple syrup. All the trees are watered and fertilized to provide habitat. Everything is ready for our new families.

Along with the birds and the bees, we have butterflies. And then, there is the SQUIRREL. Not an adorable grey tree squirrel with a fluffy tail. This is a dirty little ground squirrel. HHH has lived here since the 1900’s, and never has he ever seen ground squirrels living around these parts. Never. Why is Winterpast the place to which they would move????????

We did have a pest control guy who was canvassing the area. He was so worried for us that when all the other houses are treated, the bugs will move to our house. (Not the way bugs work.) Well, did HE bring in the squirrels to drum up business? Not sure about anything in this day and age.

Hopefully, now that Oliver is back from puppy camp, he’ll make sure the squirrel finds another yard to bother. Ours is full enough.

If you’re not sure about gardening, think about hanging a bird house or feeder outside. (Unless you live on the Central Coast of California, where things like that are frowned upon.) It’s fun to watch the hummingbirds chase each other like flying saucers from another planet. And who can resist a Mourning Dove and their mournful calls? Life is a beautiful thing!

More tomorrow.

Oh. My. Goodness. Gracious.

On September 2020, a very sad, lonely, and new widow was clawing at anything and everything to keep afloat. After 32 years of marriage, she was alone in a brand new town. In a dream, it came to her that she should write a little blog to help others. She would call it “Grieving Gardener” . By doing this, she ultimately saved her own life, while amusing others with her words.

That “she” was me.

What a journey it’s been! Walking alone through the wilderness of widowhood isn’t an easy thing to do. With only a little dog at my side, a new road stretched out before me. It was up to me to write my own script and then, star in the leading role. Looking back, some things were hilarious, while other ideas were left by the wayside. Some of you have been there, along for the ride.

My readers were my reason to keep going. Those of you that contacted me if I missed a day here or there will be forever remembered. I chose to get up at 4:30 am for years to let the universe know I was still here, even those my husband wasn’t.

In the beginning, I knew nothing about writing a blog. I didn’t even consider myself a writer. I just remembered something a professor had told me long ago. Don’t worry so much about the grammar and spelling. Just tell the darn story. That’s what I’ve tried to do. Tell the story in the best way that I could.

Through the years, I’ve discovered much about blogging. I’ve learned that no matter how many programs you add to your account, you still need a story to write. I’ve also learned the value of something isn’t in the dollars you earn from it. While finding a place to share the most personal details about losing a best friend and mate of 32 years, I began to find my authentic self. The one that I’d lost track of over the years. Self acceptance was a priceless gift I gained through writing.

In the beginning, I’d squeal if I had ten daily reads. I’d carefully write down IP addresses and look up every one of them , learning where my readers lived. Slowly, without fanfare, I picked up a reader here or there, until, I found I was read in 80 foreign countries.

In my fifth widowed year, I no longer consider myself a Grieving Gardener. These days, I’m Glowing, or Glorious, or just Glad, Always and forever a Gardener, but not Grieving. At some point in the healing process, one accepts. I’ve accepted what is. With that comes peace and a huge amount of comfort. It’s impossible to move forward in life without acceptance and release of the past.

In the midst of widowhood, I met the most wonderful gentlemen who was also a Grieving Gardener. Together, we decided to figure out the rest of our forever. Whatever may come, we’ll make the best of it. If our seedlings fail, we’ll plant again. If the rains come, we’ll share our umbrella. When the worst happens, together, we’ll find our way. Each day, we celebrate our miracle born in the midst of two tragedies.

Today, I celebrate 1,000,000 reads. Although I can no longer track every single read (due to a website malfunction), I’ve averaged the daily reads for the last six months. In doing the math, TODAY is the day to celebrate a huge accomplishment.

It seems like only yesterday I celebrated 250,000 reads with Bible Study friends. I awarded myself the Golden Pencil award and they gifted me a beautiful tiara to commemorate the occasion.

When I reached 500,000 hits, I bought myself the Lego Typewriter Kit. (Something I’d wanted for quite some time. ) I even bought the light kit.

But, 1,000,000 reads?.?.?.?.?.?.

There really isn’t a physical item to mark this milestone. I just want to keep writing life as it unfolds here at Winterpast. It’s celebration enough to share this milestone with all of you on this lovely spring day, May 13, 2024.

You can accomplish anything you put your mind to. It takes patience, perseverance, faith, hope, and a positive frame of mind. If I could make it through the Wilderness to the far away meadow of Wonderful, so can you.

Thank you for being a part of this journey. I couldn’t have done it without you.

More tomorrow.

Warmest greetings and best wishes to all the mothers out there! What a well deserved weekend to be pampered and spend time remembering. Mothers handle the heavy lifting of life. This is our weekend.

Here at Winterpast, we’re celebrating the fact that Miss B is out of the hospital and safely back home. As the mother of five boys, she’s earned her place as the Matriarch of the family. We’ll be spending the weekend making sure it’s perfect for her as she continues her recovery.

A special Motherhood Award 2024 goes to Wookie and her six little Wooklets. One week old this morning, they are healthy as they continue to be a very vocal bunch. Wookie hardly leaves their side, caring for their every need. She’s a wonderful mom.

Without other news, here are some pictures of the projects we’ve been working on at Winterpast. Very rarely, I include actual pictures. Today is the day. These are from the gardens of Winterpast and I send them to you with best wishes for a gorgeous weekend.

Mother’s Day is a great day to enjoy some flowers. Enjoy

Back Yard Patio — Left

View from our patio. These plants came from various trips to the hardware store when we couldn’t resist the lure of the garden section. Columbine. Gerber Daisies. Lavender. The very tiny orange Marigolds to the left of the screen were from seeds. The tulips are from bulbs we received as wedding presents. They are planted with a purple pin-cushion plant, which is one the bees love to frequent. The beautiful plant in the cedar planter is Foxglove (Digitalis).

Cherry Tree

This cherry tree is a favorite of our bees. The seedlings above are growing into respectable plants. The alyssum seedlings are starting to bloom. These tiny flowers will feed the bees later in the summer. Four small cherry tomato plants will provide snacks on hot summer days. The interesting red cement tubes are actually painted geological core samples.

Garden Shed and Green House — Potatoes and Seedlings

Three oak 1/2 barrels are full of potatoes. The planters are full of of floral seedlings, including Calendula, Bachelor Buttons, Cosmos, and Shasta Daisies.

Patio — Right

Our beloved bees live behind the chain link fence, built to keep Oliver and Wookie away. The plants in the greenish pot are marigolds, raised from seeds. The bulbs by the flamingo were wedding gifts. Such a thoughtful present for aging honeymooners as they start their life as man and wife.

Greenhouse/She-Shed

Our precious greenhouse! We haven’t named her yet, but this is definitely my She-Shed. 10′ x 14′, it’s the perfect size for two to work. The shelving came from a close-out sale at Walmart. The winds did remove the back window, which now provides for the perfect amount of ventilation for our little building. Our plants are thriving under the 70%-sun-blocking-shade cloth.

One note of caution. This greenhouse continues to be an extreme project that has taken patience. Unless you are living with a craftsman, consider this project a long time before attempting it. Although this looks serene and gorgeous, many hours of repairs and redesign have gotten us to this point. Remember, the price of the greenhouse is only the beginning of a very labor intensive and expensive project.

Garden Bed of Seedlings

This box was last year’s purchase from Costco, deployed this year. The middle section is full of Black-Eyed Susan’s which will grow rhizomes and return next year. There are also Dwarf Sunflowers on each end, Lupine, Echinacea, Bachelor Buttons, and Siberian Wall Flowers. (48 sq. ft.)Our “Banyan” Apricot Tree

Our “Banyan”/Apricot Tree

This is the most beautiful apricot tree in the world, which holds court right in the middle of the Gardens of Winterpast. She’s 20 years old. To Carson’s Apricot Angel from the West — Be ready! We have another bumper crop.

New Seedling Bed

A newly planted bed of seedlings, including Zinnias (regular and small), Echinacea, Sunflowers, and Marigold’s. A few unknowns were planted for fun. For this project, HHH used our small, electric roto-tiller. Not every project needs a farm size tool. This bed is approximately 25 sq. feet.

Our Memorial Garden

Last, but not least, our Memory Garden. Two Japanese Maples, a Rhododendron, and some bulbs were planted in remembrance of our loved ones. It’s nice to have a shady place to rest in the afternoon.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the tour. I promise to include pictures during the growing season so you can watch our gardens grow!

Happy Mother’s Day!

I’ll be back on Monday!

Life with the Wookies is changing every day. They’re a vocal bunch, always humming away whether eating or sleeping. Sometimes it sounds a bit like whining, and others like a bit of singing. You always know if something isn’t quite right. Then, they squeal like the house is on fire until they’re happy again.

These littles will be going to the very best homes, so they need to start photographing early. These days, people find everything on the internet. Even adorable puppies. Many of the earlier Wooklets have their own Instagram followers, living life large on Ventura Beach California. Yes. Only in California are dogs internet influencers.

While HHH gardening yesterday, I decided to try my hand at puppy photography. It did help that they’d just finished eating and were a bit sleepy. Before I even started, I had a theme in mind. Gardeners. Little Gardeners. I found the smallest pots and tiny tools that I could find. Of course, they all needed washing.

Advised to photograph pups on something white, we scurried off to Walmart to find a blanket. Better than that was a fuzzy white bath math marked down to $.25! How lucky was that???

Avoid all shadows when professionally photographing anything. With care, I set up overhead lighting and prepared the white bath mat. On the mat, I placed a galvanized pot of my favorite Johnny-Jump-Ups (one of the few plants that wasn’t grown from seed this year). Two empty pots completed the gardening scene. I was ready for my first victim. I mean puppy.

Well, this puppy was not having the pots, or the bath mat, or mom’s absence. She squealed in distress until Wookie came to the rescue. Nope. I wouldn’t be starting with that one. Angry as a little hornet, she was returned to her nest.

Off to the side, one slept soundly. And so, the process began. The secret is to swaddle the pup with your hand until they go back to sleep. With one deep breath, she was off to dream land and I could position her in which ever way I wanted.

I’m not sure that I got them all photographed, as there were some minor hiccups along the way. Nobody was happy about being placed in a plant pot, so that cute idea went out the window. What I did find was a tiny little basket that served as a puppy bed. Once cuddled inside that, they were out.

Adorable.

Now, I have twelve absolutely great pics locked inside my phone. No matter what I try, they will not transfer to my computer. My second best plan was to share them all with you. Unfortunately, they aren’t shareable with anyone right now. Being a better writer than puppy photographer, it’s back to the drawing board for me.

At this writing, they are screaming again, hoping that mom will come in from the garden. They rarely stop eating and are growing like the weeds of Winterpast. HHH and I marvel at their ability to cry and eat at the same time. These are a healthy little crew of Wooklets.

Tomorrow, they’ll be one week old. How fast they’ve grown and changed already. In a few days, it’ll be time for them to head for California. Until then, I’m off to figure out another theme for their next photo shoot.

More tomorrow.

A few weeks ago, I would have looked at this mess and suggested we get the rake. Today, I see a gold mine of succulent leaves perfect for propagation. The greenhouse experience is leading me towards hobbies I’ve never considered until now.

Amazon makes our lives so much easier. From the comfort of home, I’ve ordered all my peat pots, fertilizers, and even a book on Propagation. “The Plant Propagator’s Bible — A Step-by-Step guide to propagating every plant in your garden by Miranda Smith” has been an interesting addition to our garden library.

A great thing about living in 2024 is that it’s no longer necessary to possess a hard copy of a book. It’s easy to GOOGLE anything at all, even plant propagation. I’m still old school when it comes to preferring a hard copy to a screen version.

Loving succulents of all types, I’ve always wondered if it’s difficult to reproduce them. After reading a section on propagating plants from leaves, a tray of leaves from some old succulents are growing roots in my study, along with leaves from my African violets. Reading the new book, the methods and steps were clearly written. Just trim off some leaves, stick them in the ground, treat with rooting hormone and wait for the magic to happen. So far, the succulents aren’t doing much, but gardening has taught me to be patient with experiments.

If you’ve been to the garden center lately, the insanity goes on and on. For one 2″ potted succulent, you can easily pay $5. I’m beginning to see a gold mine growing right under my greenhouse roof. Probably much more profitable than a basket full of Wooklets once a year.

Last week, we purchased a beautiful lilac plant that is now planted by a table and chairs. After doing research, I discovered it can be propagated by burying a low hanging branch. Leave the branch connected to the plant and burying the middle of the stem, leaving the leaves on the end of the branch to continue growing. By the end of the year, check the stem for a root ball. If present, cut the stem from the plant and you will then have two plants!!! That process is called layering.

As I’m learning all these things, I remember my dad doing these same things with the vines on the ranch. Throughout the year, he’d make two vines out of one. Back then, you couldn’t just run to the store to buy replacement vines. You needed to make your own. Real farmers new these things. Maybe I missed a few lessons along the way.

HHH has been working every day to keep our garden growing. For the rest of the growing season, we’ll observe Bee Monitoring and Miracle Grow and Bee Monitoring Monday’s and SUPERthrive Saturday’s. These two additives have taken nearly dead plants and revived them with his green thumb.

I’ve long been a fan of Miracle Grow. Just spray it on any plant and huge growth will result. Be careful with vegetables. Too much and you might end up with a vigorous plant and no veggies. Just follow the directions closely and watch for beautiful results every time.

SUPERthrive was a new one to me. Last summer, while still dating HHH, he would come over with his quart bottle of liquid gold, asking if he could rejuvinate the roses and other plants. Well, no sane woman would turn down that offer. The plants here at Winterpast started to grow in ways they hadn’t before. Just a capful in a 2-gallon watering can provided amazing results. Again, HHH is my hero!!!

When visiting the hardware store the other day, we saw a rare deal on SUPERthrive. $10 a quart. Now, this is six times lower than the regular price, so we bought some. Don’t. It was a thick, fishy smelling liquid that is nothing like the expensive version. We returned ours to the store for a refund and ordered the real stuff online. It’a available in four ounce, quart or gallon size. Unless you have gardens the size of Winterpast, four ounces will last a season or two.

With the winds still chilly, today is a day to work around the house and keep an eye on the Wooklets. Growing like weeds, they excel at crying when anything is not exactly to their liking. And I mean anything. One of them was just crying as she was nursing. Not an easy thing to do.

Adorable doesn’t even begin to tell you how cute they are. Although we’ve promised ourselves we’d not fall in love with them, of course, we are. Who could resist six little dogs emitting the most intoxicating puppy breath? Impossible.

Propagation is really fun! One Wookie = 6 Wooklets. 10,000 bees in a NUC = 50,000 bees in a working hive. Violets. Succulents. Seedlings. New hobbies keep life interesting!

Whatever you do today, think about propagating a favorite houseplant. Almost every plant can produce more of their own kind in one way or another. Just Google it. Then, you’ll know.

More tomorrow.

Spring 2024 has been one for the books. With 96 mph winds that blew through ripping out fences along the way, to a major winter storm of May, it’s been a wild ride. But then, the weather on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada is like that. Just when it suits you, everything changes.

During April, we enjoyed some gorgeous days with temperatures hovering in the mid-70’s. It doesn’t get better than that. The trees of Winterpast thought so, too. All the fruit trees have bloomed, including the Granny Smith, a wedding present from Miss B. The bloom started early with the apricots and plum tree. Following them, the cherry trees gave quite the show. The crab apple is now in the last days of her glorious pink blossoms.

Each tree has had so many bee visitors, a loud buzz can be heard when walking by. No time for stinging attacks, they’re after the pollen.

With all these trees heavy with tiny fruit about now, the news last Friday would frighten any gardener. Especially those that’ve worked as hard as HHH and I have.

“Winter Storm Warning — possibly 2″ of snow on the valley floor by Sunday”.

One thing a farmer learns early in their career. You can’t fight Mother Nature. It’s just not possible, so prepare for the worst. And forget about waving your fists and they sky and getting your panties in a bunch. The wind and clouds don’t care.

For the hundreds of planted seedlings, there wasn’t much we could do. About 200 were still in the greenhouse until transferred into our house. The best frost protection is on the dining room table at Winterpast.

Everyone else survived 50 mph winds. As the trees ripped and rolled around in the gusts, the crops thinned (which needed to happen). A large portion of our apricot crop fell to the ground (at least 350 apricots).

For two days, we worried about how low the temperature would drop. Luckily, it hovered above 32 degrees, so everything survived.

The zucchini plants, now about 3′ in diameter and supporting baby squash, as well as the Hearts of Gold cantaloupe suffered a little wind damage. The onions, garlic, and potatoes, (all pretty hearty), made it just fine.

The Best News of All! The greenhouse stood up to the wind just fine. Not one window blew out and not even the tiniest bit of damage occurred. Finally, we have a chance at enjoying the greenhouse for some years to come!

A bit of news from the High Sierra’s this morning. Last weekend, 2′ of snow fell at Palisades Ski Resort. Some years it’s hard to predict what will happen with the weather, but this fresh snow will allow the some Tahoe ski resorts to stay open until Memorial Day.

Wherever you find yourself today, be grateful if you are enjoying 70 degree weather. Today, we’re again in the 70’s. With summer just around the corner, we’ll soon be wishing for the mild and beautiful days of spring.

More tomorrow.

Things at Winterpast have certainly changed since last Friday at 10:30 AM. In a matter of two hours, six little wooklets entered our world and stole our heart. Just like that.

As I wrote on Friday, I was thinking of everything I needed to pack Oliver for his trip to Puppy Camp. The right amount of food for his stay. Plenty of treats. A Greenie for each day to keep his teeth nice and clean. Everything was together for our 45 mile trip to the west.

At the last minute, HHH and I decided that I would drive Oliver and he would stay back with Wookie just in case she went into labor. Earlier in the week, HHH had discovered a hole under one of our larger plants. He mentioned that perhaps it was Oliver’s handiwork.

There’s one problem with that thinking. Oliver doesn’t dig to looking for a nice cool place to rest. If it’s warm outside, he runs for the air-conditioned house. He does like to dig in the middle of any garden path, but not under plants. Not his style. After looking back on the situation, Wookie was planning the perfect whelping area. Outside under the plants.

Friday morning, she was in and out of the house several times. Sometimes she would disappear behind the greenhouse. Very active and nervous after being rather sedentary, it was obvious that something was off.

So, Oliver and I sat off for party time. He was jumping at the door to go see his favorite Camp Counselor, Michelle. I only need to mention her name and he goes into a frenzy. He loves the kennel and never even looks back. With swimming and lots of friends with whom to play, he loves his time there. Heck, I might be missing a get vacation.

As I mentioned before, it’s not a wise idea to have a male dog around brand new puppies. Although we both think Wookie would take care defending her babies, accidents happen. If there were any accident, it wouldn’t be Oliver’s fault, but ours as his humans.

I would’ve left a little earlier, but at the last minute HHH offered to cook breakfast for me. Not being able to turn that down, we left right after our meal. I drove straight to the kennel and back, talking to CC a bit as I drove. I did miss a call from HHH just as I entered the garage. When I opened the door, he greeted me with the great news.

“Wookie has a puppy! She’s having another now.”

The timing was crazy. Wookie’s puppies weren’t due until next week. Never did we expect the very day Oliver left, I’d pull into the garage to witness the birth of the pups. The timing couldn’t have been better.

Again, on top of our bed, Wookie gave birth to the five pups the vet predicted and then gave us a bonus pup for good luck. The first two were blonde boys. Then, bit of chocolate followed by a lump of coal, both girls. Finally, 2 more Barbie-Blonde girls to finish off the bunch. And, no mistake. They are loud if unhappy.

It’s been a weekend with little sleep. HHH and I have divided up puppy duty, managing to get up six times a night between the two of us. Tiny pups can get rolled up in bedding lost behind mom. This little bunch screams when they aren’t happy. No one could sleep through the noise they make when they’re not happy.

Since then, they’re doing everything newborn pups do. What a blessing to hear their little squeaks as they dream their little puppy dreams. We are having fun just watching Wookie take care of the bunch.

Our fun will be short lived. We’ll have the pups a few more days and then we’ll return them to California. There, Wookie can watch over them while enjoying the beautiful springtime weather. Oliver will be happy to return home, never knowing he really wasn’t the father of the bunch.

Whatever you do today, enjoy springtime. There is so much life exploding all around us. It’s a gorgeous time to be alive, especially for us new dog-grand-mamas and papas.

More tomorrow.

Our Garden Gnomes seem to be entitled and a wee bit lazy. When HHH moved in, he promised that his six little friends were to help us throughout the night, making our garden chores decrease. Maybe they just don’t see the weeds I see. Whatever the reason, the work increases every day.

Life can get complicated at times, especially when multiple gardens are involved. Winterpast provides a full time job for HHH and I. Between transplanting the Iris’s and planting new purchases, HHH is working on toning his upper body. I am working on other muscle groups by getting up and down while planting my littles. We are in the garden at least four hours a day, and sometimes more.

Weeds continue to plague the area. Yesterday, it was a lovely surprise to see the city utility truck burning noxious weeds out of our drainage ditches. Living in the desert, flash floods are a real danger. Each home in our neighborhood sits behind a continuous drainage ditch. Although I’ve never seen them do this before, the city was burning the weeds in the ditches with flame-throwing fire wands. Pretty impressive. Thank goodness I hadn’t just wasted a day weeding ours.

Aside from all that, HHH and I are also the “hired hands” for the rental on St Louis Road. Each week, time is set aside to visit the rental to mow and weed. Luckily, HHH had his house in great shape, so this doesn’t take more than an hour or two. But, each week, we need to pencil in time.

With Mother’s Day so close, Miss B has been a little down. Her yard used to be the most beautiful on the block, but at 86, gardening isn’t something she can do anymore. It saddens me that the day I can no longer garden will come soon enough. No one can remain a sexagenarian forever. It makes me want to garden even more while I can.

The last time we visited her, (with blinds closed), she shared her one wish. A beautiful weed-free yard.

Well, what do you do when your 86 year old mom wants a weed free yard??? You figure out how to make it happen.

One year ago, just before Bible study, I sat alone on a bench waiting for the other women to arrive. A man pulled up in a weathered pickup truck to ask if I had any work for him. His name was Artemio. Such a nice man, he gave me two business cards while I promised him that if I had work, I’d give him a call.

Well, Oliver ate one of the cards before I grabbed the other and put it in my top desk drawer. I’d seen it from time to time over the last year and wished that I could hire him. But, HHH and I were caring for everything at that time.

Yesterday, I found the card and HHH called him. As it turns out, Artemio would LOVE some work and will meet HHH at Miss B’s tomorrow. Not a moment too soon, as Mother’s Day is just around the corner. What a blessing this “Garden Angel” is available to help!!! Miss B will enjoy her gorgeous yard again this summer.

Now, HHH have three landscaping accounts. Maybe we should start a new business….

Whatever you do today, honor your mom in some way. It’s not to early. If you are lucky enough to have a mom on earth, do something nice for her today. If your mom is on the heaven side of things, think of fond memories and consider putting together a memorial garden. Mom’s. They need all the pampering we can give them.

Have a lovely weekend. I’ll be back Monday.

PS — Pretty sure I’ll have a info on the Wooklets by then!!!! Who knows, I might need to make a surprise post this weekend!!

My, oh, my. I’ve admitted this to everyone I know. Don’t worry about me hanging out at a bar. I don’t enjoy even the tiniest bit of alcohol. I DO own my own margarita maker, but that’s strictly for the benefit of those enjoying a party at Winterpast. Gambling isn’t my thing, although I do live in a state in which there are slot machines at the grocery store.

Don’t worry about me spending a small fortune on a new and stylish wardrobe for every new season. Whether honeymooning or cruising the high seas, my suitcase is always full of favorites, not always the newest style. I’ve long since given up shopping at the “IT” stores. Most times, I find exactly what I need at Walmart. Most days, this involves shorts and t-shirts while I garden.

Everyone has their vice and HHH and I share the same one. Gardening. Yesterday, we came up with a reason for a visit to the local hardware store. We needed a few spare parts for the drip system that keeps Winterpast happy and green. That’s all. A cost of around $5.

Once inside the hardware/garden center, it’s like we become possessed by garden spirits. We usually park a good distance away with every intention of walking into the front door to find exactly what we need. But the double doors to the north call us, and we must go.

Yesterday was no different. Over the winter, our beautiful bougainvillea died. With no obvious reason, it died in dormancy, leaving us with a 1/2-oak-barrel to fill. Of course, we could fill it with all the seedlings growing in the greenhouse. But it will be a long time until those plants are large enough to produce blooms.

So there was nothing to do but take a walk through the land of bushes, trees, and flowers. None of the plants on the first few aisles spoke our language. Annuals are no longer on our list. I can sprout plenty of them from seeds. We needed a take-charge kind of bush to command center stage in the middle of our memorial garden.

In case you might have forgotten, we decided to plant a tribute garden in memory of our late spouses. We found two Japanese Maples, one a tiny bit taller than the other. We named them appropriately and talk to them often. Both of these trees are growing like weeds. A memorial garden is a healthy way to remember those you’ve lost along the way.

Well, in the middle of the garden center, I found a plant I truly couldn’t leave without. A pale pink Rhododendron. During my childhood on the farm, my mother always had azaleas in her garden. Inn Central California they were the plant of choice for funeral remembrances. They were plants you could stick in the soil and not look back, and those azaleas loved my mother’s garden.

Rhododendrons and Azaleas are in the same family, but my mother never, ever chose to grow a Rhody. Paeonia’s, azaleas, and roses are my three favorite flowers. Winterpast now has the trifecta of floral happiness for me.

If you buy one plant, another might as well come along for company. By the time we were done, we’d exceeded our original $5 budget by a bunch.

Once home, HHH got to work and planted the two gorgeous additions while I did some sprucing up on the bird houses here at Winterpast since long before me. One is a barn and the other a little blue and white house. Each sit atop a 5″ pole. After cleaning and new paint, we’ll wait for the birds to move in. In the past, the finches have fought over the space. We’ll see what happens this year.

Last night, at dusk, the dance of the hummingbirds began. Two found the fresh syrup in the new feeders and took turns eating and protecting their newly found food source.

Swallowtails. Hummingbirds. Mourning Doves. Robins. Saskatraz Honeybees. Black and Yellow Bumble Bees. Earthworms. Puppies on the way. Just what more do two love birds need??? With a new Rhododendron in the garden and each other, absolutely nothing else.

Whatever you do today, you might want to walk through a nursery. All the flowers are freshly delivered and ready to take home. After being there, you might understand how gardening can take over!

More tomorrow.

Not quite yet, but very, very soon the pitter patter of little paws will be upon us. With an expanding waistline, Wookie has entered her last week of pregnancy. This has been very hard on her, and will be her last littler. This summer, she’ll take a little trip to the vet and be done with motherhood forever.

As so many do, HHH has a breeding agreement with a close family member regarding Wookie. After meeting her motherly obligation, she will now be our very own family dog. That’s a wonderful thing, as I don’t know that Wookie, HHH, or could handle the thought of future litters.

Puppies are a wonderful thing to experience. Puppy breath is intoxicating. Their little noises are endearing. For the first few weeks of life, Wookie will do all the work. From cleaning up after the pups in every way, to feeding them until their little bellies look like they’ll pop, she’ll do it all. And then, around four weeks, she’ll begin to grow weary of the littles.

Last year, HHH and I kept the littles until they were four weeks old. By then, I had fallen in love with “Tiger” and Miss B (HHH’s mom) had fallen in love with “Bingo”. There weren’t many times when the puppies were left in the spare room where Wookie tended them. One or two were always out and on a human lap, enjoying cuddle time.

The heavier lifting comes after four weeks, when teething begins. From what I hear, “Tiger”, “Bingo” and the crew did a number on some base-boards in California. Just part of the deal when puppies are involved.

Wookie is a funny dog. She smiles with purpose. When something is really funny, she smiles so big she sneezes. She gets her feelings hurt very easily and quickly learned the “No’s” around Winterpast. She’s the best mother dog I’ve ever been around and seems to enjoy her time with the pups.

These days, she can’t eat big meals. She likes to snack and lounge. Yesterday was the first day HHH and I felt the littles as they kicked in her belly. Poor Wookie. It won’t be much longer.

After the wooklets are here, we’ll love them up and then take them across the Sierra’s to California where they will learn to see, walk, bark, and find their forever homes. Time goes so fast so we’ll need to enjoy every moment of our time with them.

As for Oliver, please don’t mention to him that he’s not the dad. He’s sure he is. To hide this fact from him when there’s no dachshund in the bunch, he’ll be off at puppy camp. All kidding aside, it can be dangerous to have a male dog near a litter of puppies. Seeing how he handles toads and small birds, I’m not taking any chances with the wooklets. He’ll have a great time at camp, while we tend to new puppies.

Spring is jumping up all around us. The mustangs are showing off their new foal. And, as you already know, the garden is doing fine. Yesterday, HHH planted large and small pumpkins, and watermelon. Last night, we shared homemade vanilla ice cream and our home-grown strawberries with chocolate syrup. Life doesn’t get any better than that.

Whatever you do today, hug your dog or cat. They’re so important in our lives, giving us attention when we need it. They provide entertainment and unconditional love without asking for anything in return. Winterpast wouldn’t be the same without Wookie and Ollie.

More tomorrow.

Our little hive is exploding with life!!! With a most beautiful queen in charge of things, the population of bees is about to explode and our garden will surely benefit. If you look carefully at the picture above, there is one bee that looks different from the rest. That’s our queen!

Yesterday, the human Queen of the Bees stopped by for a hive inspection. It’s always a little nerve-wracking to have someone come look under the hood of a new hobby. What if we’ve been doing something all wrong??? Well, that’s why we asked a professional for a wellness check.

Queen of the Bees has twelve hives of her very own for over a decade now. One year, she harvested 1,500 pounds of honey from her girls. We refer to them as the “girls” because the “boys” don’t do much. The queen has only one mating experience in her lifetime and can produce 1.5 million bees while never leaving the hive again. The “boys” just hang out and attract mites. Not very good for hive productivity.

Our bees have been spoiled with all the fruit blossoms. We’re almost done with the apricot, cherry, and plum blossoms. The apple blossoms are almost complete. The crab apple tree is exploding with pretty pink flowers and many bees hang out there. Until the Russian Oliver bloom begins, they’ll depend on us for a little help. Once the natural bloom begins, they’ll be off and running.

When we looked in the hive today, the Queen of the Bees mentioned that if we’d waited one more week, our Queen and her subjects would have swarmed, looking for more room to lay eggs. In two weeks’ time, she has filled eight frames with brood and a little honey. There was absolutely no room left in which to expand.

Quick as a cricket, HHH brought out the second story of the hive. With eight additional frames and the in-hive feeder, she’ll have plenty of space to grow her family. To survive, bees need pollen, nectar, and tree sap. Our town is rich with all these things, just like it was meant to bee.

Ninja Neighbor has commented on delightful visits from our “girls”. I hope the neighborhood appreciates all the hard work that bees do as they pollinate our plants.

For the next month, we’ll check them once a week to make sure everything remains happy and healthy. Sometime in the next four weeks, we’ll pull their syrup and pollen patties, because it will be time for them to forage on their own.

There are so many lessons we learn each time we work the bees. Don’t swipe bees away, but flick them. If you have too many bees hanging on a frame, tap the frame pretty hard and they’ll fall off. Don’t use too much smoke when working them. They don’t like to be rolled in any way. Give them time to see what you’re planning to do and they’ll move out of the way. They love to dance at the entrance of the hive. Most importantly, move slowly.

Not all bees are the quiet and loving Saskatraz variety, like ours.

Last week, a man and his daughter were in Las Vegas, headed towards practice of some time. Walking through a park they’d visited before, a few bees started to follow them. The dad did the right thing. He told his daughter to stay calm and keep walking.

In the wink of an eye, bees attacked. The dad tried his best to take the brunt of the stings, getting stung about 100 times. He was well enough to drive them to the hospital, where doctors and nurses worked to remove all the stingers. You just never know what can happen with wild animals. They are wild and they are animals. Happily, this man and his daughter lived to talk about their experience.

Whatever you do today, you might want to read a little about bees. There is a great article about Bees and Balls. It seems that someone had enough time to watch enough bees and learned that sometimes, they like to play for no reason. Go outside. Really look at our world. It’s an amazing place.

More tomorrow.

Thinking of those we love is a daily occurrence around Winterpast. With a large group of friends and family, it seems that someone is always in need of kindness and prayer. Covid over here, death of a pet over there. Each day presents its own amount of celebration and sadness.

To our delight, people in our church also spend time thinking of members with kindness and prayer. We were the lucky recipients of the beautiful card above. Alone in 2020, life has changed so much for me. No longer alone, we meet family and friends all over town. We are truly blessed.

Into our seventh month of married life, things have been going exceedingly well!! The garden continues to be a brutal task master. Saturday, HHH built two more garden boxes. Once complete, it was necessary to buy 22 bags of soil to fill them. We ended up with a little extra, but then, gardeners with hundreds of seedlings can always new soil.

Any visit to the garden center presents at least one plant you can’t live without. For HHH and I, it’s worse than going to the local animal shelter. Saturday, a lovely Lilac jumped on our cart with the soil. And so, the gardens of Winterpast become more lovely every day. So obsessed with gardening are we that HHH dreamed that we lost the lilac in some unknown way. This morning, it awaits its spot next to the little garden table by the fence.

My new weed whip arrived. There’s something special about owning the right tools for the job. Back in the 1900’s, I remember having many discussions about the inefficiencies of having “lady” tools on a working ranch. In reality, the only inefficiency is that this lady won’t ever use a heavy and burdensome weed whip. Not happening.

I had the perfect 10″ whip for the longest time. A Black and Decker, it was sleek and lightweight. Growing up, my mother said about a German neighbor, “The weeds are afraid to grow in her yard.” In reality, her German husband kept the yard sprayed. Back then, farm chemicals worked. These days, a weed whip is a necessity.

Last winter, I hired a company to sterilize the parts of the front yard that needed sterilization. I was happy to write a hefty check when the job was complete. During snowy weather, weeds don’t grow. I patiently waited for spring to enjoy my weed-free yard. Today, I have more weeds than ever before. Facing a front yard full of weeds, a beautiful “Thinking of You” card isn’t what comes to mind. Just sayin’.

Saturday, I inserted a battery from my dead whip and went for a spin. Sharp. Strong. Light. Efficient. I couldn’t be happier with my new tool. Weeds beware. Be afraid to grow in MY yard. In case you’re looking for one, try the Black and Decker 10″ version.

In other news, Miss Firecracker hit a rough patch this weekend. With quite a health scare, she is back at home, healing. It’s times like these when healing prayers are appreciated and needed.

Miss Firecracker and I met in 2017 and were besties at the first “Hello”. She fits her name in spunk and wittiness. She was the friend that convinced me this little town was a perfect fit as it just so happened she lived here, too. She and her husband shared a darling house for over a decade, even witnessing the great flood of 2008.

Shortly after I moved here as a new widow, she lost her beloved husband. Here we were, two grieving widows. For months, we shared dinners and visits. Our first widowed Thanksgiving was at my dining room table. She made life so much better for me just being herself. And then, she found it necessary to move back across the Sierra Nevada’s to be closer to her family.

What a loss and hole to be filled. Problem is, no one can quite fill it like she did. One amazing woman, the world needs her to heal.

Thinking of You, Miss Firecracker. Praying for a full and quick recovery. Your Nevadan bestie needs a visit. Hold on, we’re coming soon. Until then, feel better. Send you bushels of love and prayers.

The beautiful card pictured above arrived last week addressed to HHH and me. Not from one particular person, it was from our church family. Such a simple and sweet thing to send, just a beautiful card letting us know they love us, and hope things are going well. All honeymooners should be so lucky. (In case you haven’t got the idea yet, married life is amazing.)

Whatever you do today, don’t just take time to think of family and friends. Reach out to them. If you have an elderly friend that isn’t feeling the best, go visit them. Life is short. Make the most of the prayers and good thoughts you have to share.

More tomorrow.

Today we celebrate two groups of amazing inhabitants of our beautiful world. The birds and the trees. Usually these silly National Days of Praise celebrate useless things like Gummi Bears (4/27) or Lima Beans (4/20). But National Arbor Day and National Audubon Day are worthwhile of a special day all their own . Without trees and birds, the world would be a different place.

These days, no matter the time of day, Winterpast is full of birds. From red-breasted robins to yellow-breasted finches, the airspace around our gardens is busy. Although none are nesting at this time, they will be soon. I’ve noticed the little finches flitting back and forth through the blossoming cherry trees while searching for the right place to build their nests.

My first widowed spring, a Mourning Dove made her nest on the top rung of a ladder I hadn’t put away. For weeks, she tended to her eggs and then new life. On those cold spring mornings, I was delighted to have a front row seat to her activities.

Knowing the robins will harvest part of the worms I release into the soil, I always buy enough to share with them.

The birds should look forward to a treat this year with HHH in the house. In addition to gardening, he loves providing bird seed and syrup for our flying friends. Buying only the finest seed, birds of all kinds visit Winterpast for food and rest. Unlike the Central Coast of California, no jail time is associated with feeding our high desert birds.

John James Audubon (April 26, 1785 – January 27, 1851) was a French-American ornithologist, naturalist, and painter noted for his extensive studies of American birds (www.nationaldaycalendar.com/national-day-april 26). Take some time to sit outside for a little while today and see how many birds you can identify and name.

Audubon needs to share this national day of recognition with the trees. The last Friday of April each year, we celebrate Arbor Day.

The 35 trees here at Winterpast provide so much pleasure to HHH and me. In the spring, their swelling buds let us know the cold weather won’t last forever. Their blossoms provide pollen for bees and other pollinators. In the summer, their strong branches provide shade during the hot desert sunshine. Their branches are home to young birds, keeping them safe from ground dwelling predators like Oliver. In the fall, after providing fruit to eat, their leaves compost to replenish the soil. When winter comes, their barren branches are lovely when covered with inches of snow.

Trees also help to keep topsoil from erosion, exchange carbon dioxide for oxygen, and provide lumber for furniture, lumber, and supplies. There’re planted to improve the enjoyment of outdoor living space. Green spaces improve the overall quality of life.

Whatever you do today, consider whether you might have space for a new tree or a birdhouse and feeder. One way or another, this gardener is going to do her best to get you headed to the yard. There’s so much going out right outside your door. Enjoy every bit of it this weekend.

I’ll be back on Monday.

Spring days are flying by too quickly. It seems like it was just last fall when visiting Yellowstone, amazed at Old Faithful and the grizzlies. With winter in the rear view mirror, we’re awaiting our first zucchini and summer. Never did I really believe our little seeds would grow into the plants they have. Our vegetable producing plants are more beautiful than the hot house versions sold at Lowes.

As days have turned into weeks and months of married life, there is one lesson that HHH and I are learning. We need to enjoy Winterpast equally as much as we work in her gardens. It seems each day the list of her demands grow longer. Broken drip lines need repairing. The greenhouse needs covering. The iris’s need moving. The list goes on and on.

The greenhouse, although not yet used as a humid retreat from hot summer days, is now completely covered in a green, sun blocking shade cloth. From my research, 70% blockage is the magical number. Well covered, there is a noticeable difference in temperature when entering the little building.

This wasn’t any easy project, but then, nothing about the greenhouse has come easily. There’s a steep learning curve when dialing in the humidity, temperature, and correct amount of sunlight. Probably a lot of physics involved, (a class I never took or taught).

Just ordering the tarp was something that took patience. It seems that normal tarps are made in widths of 6′ or 12′, not 14′ like our greenhouse. After spending quite a long time looking through shade cloth on Amazon, I finally found one. I wish I could say it was bargain-priced. I think not, but at least, we have the right size. 14′ x 20′.

Next, HHH had to drill holes in the green-house frame every 23″ to secure bolts through grommets. If you have done any projects lately, you already know that bolts, nuts, and washers cost a small fortune. Specialty eye-bolts were $2 a piece. Everything is ridiculously expensive these days. Even every day DYI projects.

In spite of a medical emergency requiring Neosporin and bandages, the project came together and the greenhouse is a green box of beauty. I will not confirm or deny that there was a wee bit of black duct tape used in the process. Every homeowner loves duct tape.

There was one disturbing moment while working on our project. HHH had returned to the house for a few minutes while I raked pea gravel and organized a bit. It was then, I found a dead bird, buried under the pea gravel. Quite dead, I’m sure that one little white and brown dog with very short legs secreted it in MY greenhouse. Probably as a message to me that I’ve not been enjoying the moments in Winterpast, but rather working through each one.

One of Oliver’s worst traits is his killer instinct. Small and weak things like toads and hatchlings don’t stand a chance. He is lethal. Not a trait I can train out of his genetic makeup. Dachshunds were bred to hunt and kill badgers. With not many around here, a slow lizard or toad will fit the bill.

Oliver will be going to puppy camp for the first two weeks of wooklet-life around here. With five littles on the way, Wookie doesn’t need to worry that her new pups will meet a hot and gravely fate like the young bird did, or worse.

Winterpast has the most beautiful gardens in our town. Living in the desert, most people budget for food and entertainment, while cutting water to save on the utility bill. Although we try to conserve, we’re putting gallons to good use as we grow fruits and vegetables that we’ll happily share.

Whatever you do today, consider creating a little place to spend time outside. Once seated, listen for five unusual sounds. Look for five things you can see. Feel five different sensations. Touch five things that feel different. Really taste your afternoon snack. As you become more aware of your senses, you’ll find yourself enjoying the moment. And, my friends, that’s what life is all about.

More tomorrow.

Yesterday mirrored the picture above. With spring in full bloom, HHH and I have become hired hands. Just when you think retirement is final and complete, a new job might appear on your plate. In our case, we’ll care for the yard of our rental, also known as St. Louis Road.

The cutest couple moved into the rental around the first of the year. Young and adorable, they were excited to find such a nice home with a beautiful yard for their two active dogs. To sweeten the deal, they’d receive $100 a month applied to their water bill from April through November. An incentive to keep the sprinklers on and the garden growing. Of course, gardening services were included in the monthly rent.

The leasing company was happy enough to offer the services of THEIR gardener. When we started to consider the cost, we suddenly became younger than springtime. Having taken care of the yard for almost a decade, HHH could certainly do a better job than a crew of strangers. With his trusty sidekick, we’d be saving money and enjoying time together gardening. After all, it’s what these two romantic roses love to do.

The first week, HHH went by himself. He ran the mower over the front lawn and did a little watering. Everything looked great and he returned home in a flash.

Last week, we went together after almost forgetting our commitment. I must say our hearts weren’t in it that day. Heck, the lawn looked alright. So did the flowerbeds. Without taking a peak of the back yard, we made the decision to let one week pass and return in seven days.

During those seven days, with sprinklers still off, Mother Nature turned up the heat. Yesterday, everything was gasping for water. We came not a moment too soon and got to work.

The lawn was mowed. We weeded the front flower beds. The renters were happy to say “Hello”, wondering where we were the week before. We WERE there, we just didn’t mow and garden. Taking inventory of what was needed was a little painful for me, so it must have been like a knife to the heart to HHH. HIS beautiful St. Louis Road home wasn’t the same anymore. His green thumb left the building, now working magic at Winterpast instead and it showed.

With the front yard finished, we moved to the back yard, which was in even sadder shape. When we turned on the drip line, it was apparent that the resident dogs love emitters as much as Oliver. Water sprayed every which way and our hearts sunk. This gardening stuff will be a little more intensive than either of us had imagined.

Yesterday, we were gardeners AND repair people. If we would’ve paid to have someone else do the repairs, the cost would have doubled. And so, now, WE are the hired help. Each Tuesday, from 10-12, we’ll be the gardeners. It’s just what we’ll be doing.

It was nice to be back at the very house at which I first met HHH. In late August, 2023, he invited me over for a gourmet dinner with three main entree’s. Elk, Tuna, and Filet Mignon. They were all delicious, along with the sides he prepared. So handsome and witty, little did I know that over 1.5 years later, I’d be gardening right along his side. We wouldn’t have it any other way.

Very low on energy by evening, I decided to do one more thing and began reading “A Country Year — Living the Questions” by Sue Hubbell. What a lovely book. If you love nature and gardening as much as I do, it’s a must. It’s as if she’s describing life on my old ranch so long ago. Thanks to the Goddess of the Central Coast for recommending such a beautiful book!!

“Once in a while there comes along a book so calm, so honest, so beautiful that even the most jaded or cynical readers have to say thank you…This is such a book.” San Diego Tribune

An amazing compliment to a wonderful writer.

Whatever you plan to accomplish today, try to do just a little more than that. Before breakfast, I pulled a 5-gallon bucket of garden weeds. Although I hadn’t planned on it, I’m so glad I accomplished something extra. Better clean up my own garden because it’s only six days until I return to the status of the another’s hired hand.

More tomorrow.

Being a brand new member of a church is exciting with whom worship. Over the last year, HHH and I have developed friendships with everyone in the church. As we’ve spent time in Bible Study we appreciate them more each day. We not only see them on Sunday, but others days at the week around town.

Being such a small group of diverse worshippers, we have one thing in common. We all cherish the same God and his only Son. Beyond that, we’re just people that come from different walks of life the enjoy coming together.

After being on earth for 68 years, there’s one thing I’ve observed over and over. In every single group, whether church, school, or work, the same people cover all the heavy lifting.

After a Sunday service in January, we held our annual Society Meeting (church meeting of the members). During the meeting there were several board positions that needed filling, but no new volunteers. Although I couldn’t commit to taking a job before we left on our cruise, I certainly could after we came back. Sure. Why not? April would be the perfect time to take over as Church Steward.

One great thing about this position is that it’s there to serve the community. Our little church has no problem helping others. Our building is used at least five times a week for Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. A local group meets twice a month to deal with feral cats and their neutering. We fill shoe boxes with Christmas goodies for children around the world through Shepard’s Purse. We grow a neighborhood garden feeding the needy in our community. We meet three times a week to learn more about the Bible. Our church provides a private building for the Crisis Pregnancy center, as well. On top of all that, the Pastor keeps the grounds as a small park for people to come and rest a bit on the beautiful green lawn under the huge shade tree. Quite a bit for a church of 30-40 active members.

Every time I think about all the services that help our community, I’m pretty proud to be a member. But, HHH and I could always do more.

The Pastor mentioned that, some time ago, members put together “Blessing Bags” for the homeless. Somehow, that idea touched HHH and me. Putting our heads together, we considered things we could add to the bags. When finished, we had a dozen bags for winter. From the softest blankets to hats and mittens, we made up twelve beautiful bags and let the Pastor know they were ready.

As we live in a desert, the wool hats and gloves won’t be appreciated much longer. Again, we brainstormed and came up with summer bags.

From fresh socks, underwear, and t-shirt to pen and paper, there is a little of everything in the Blessing Bags. A cool drink of water. Three nutritious snacks. A camouflaged cap. Hygiene kits. And a little of this and that. All in a colorful and reusable bag.

While filling the bags, thoughts were about the men that need them. We’ll never know how each person was helped. Was the bag was appreciated or scorned? It doesn’t matter. The beauty is in the giving. One small bag cannot fix the multitude of problems of the homeless. But maybe for a small moment in time, the feeling of new socks on tired feet will be a comfort or that thirst will be quenched on the driest of hot desert days.

I’d like to believe the tiniest break from despair might be a moment for thoughts of home and those that love them. May they know there are strangers in this town that pray for their safety and peace.

A couple of weeks ago, we learned about the power that comes with God’s blessing. When you bless someone in God’s love, it can change things for the better. It’s our hope that these bags will help in the smallest of way.

Whatever you do today, think about a small way you can help in your community. Even donating small bottles of hotel lotion, shampoo, and conditioner to a homeless shelter might be just the thing they need. Do you sew? Make some soft blankets to donate. Do you knit or crochet? How about making some warm scarves for next winter? Even an unsigned letter of encouragement can go a long way to lift spirits. There is something we can all do. Now just what will it be for you?

More tomorrow.

Vacationing and illness have robbed me of an accurate sense of time. Hard to believe that in the dark days of January, I was tending little seedlings. Delighted, we watched how differently they emerged from tiny seed pods as the days slowly lengthened. Each variety possessed unique and beautiful characteristics all their own. Checking them at least three times a day, they thrived under four spidery Grow Lights. Other than adding the “Super Thrive” that came with the “Jiffy” Seedling systems, we did nothing but give them water and time to grow.

Before we left on our cruise, HHH brought out his magical “Wall of Waters”. These things turn weak little plants into the Greatest of All Time!!!!! We stuck our scrawny tomatoes and zucchini in the middle of the watery walled greenhouses atop new garden boxes. Then, we left on vacation. Returning to the garden eleven days later, we were astonished. Inside the watery walls grew beautiful vegetable plants on the verge of blooming.

Past the threat of frost, zucchini blossoms have turned into tiny vegetables, while tomato blossoms are right behind them. Out of 72 tomato seeds, we’ve grown ten amazing plants that are thriving in HHH’s garden boxes. We’re expecting a good canning season for our secret spaghetti sauce.

The beans, peas, carrots and onions are awaiting their time in the sun. Russets and red potatoes are happy as can be. The radishes thrive in the herb box where I can almost hear them say “Thank You” when I water.

The apricot trees have bloomed and are now supporting another bumper crop. Even though there was heavy frost after a wonderful pollination by the neighbor’s bees, the fruit remained unharmed. Plums are right behind them.

Our Wedding Apple from HHH’s mom is in full bloom. Being such a young tree, we’ll pick off all but three apples. One for each one of us. We want our tree to grow her roots deep, producing Granny Smith apples for decades to come.

The cherries are in full bloom, with lots of bee activity. I’ve never seen one cherry on any of these trees, so this year will be the test. Perhaps we’ve never experienced proper pollination.

As for all the seedlings so lovingly cared for, they are slowly going into the ground. The 4-O’Clocks are tucked between the 2023 Hosta plants which are returning for year two. The Black-Eyed Susan’s grow bigger by each day. Even the Siberian Wall Flowers are giving it their best. Jaguar Marigolds are starting to bloom.

Watching all of this, there is a certain couple that doesn’t miss a day being so very thankful for life as healthy gardening newlyweds.

Last night, HHH insisted that I brave the mosquitos and sit a bit to look at Winterpast in her solar-lit glory. Already PJ’d, I didn’t really want to return outside, having just spent most of the weekend working out there. But, if you are lucky enough to have someone that loves you so much he asks YOU to PLEASE join him in the garden at twilight, you are exceptionally lucky and better hop to it.

There, two of us sat watching the doves, robins and first hummingbird of the season. Marveling at the beauty God has given us, we enjoyed a conversation about gratefulness and the beauty of nature.

There in the twilight, I couldn’t help but remember the faith it took to name my home “Winterpast” when I was in the depths of despair as a new widow. I remembered the courage it took to believe that I could keep her gardens alive and the faith it took to remember that angels surrounded me while I grieved such complete and private loss. Across town, HHH found comfort in the same unwavering faith in God and angels.

Just like the seasons of this amazing world, for now our winter has passed. And so, I close with this beautiful passage from my favorite book.

My lover spoke and said to me,

“Arise my darling,

my beautiful one, and come with me.

See! The winter is past:

The rains are over and gone.

Flowers appear on the earth;

The season of singing has come.

The cooing of doves is heard in our land.

The fig tree forms its early fruit:

the blossoming vines spread their fragrance,

Arise, come, my darling;

My beautiful one come with me.”

Song of Solomon 2: 10-13

More tomorrow.

Although there were few disappointments on our trip, there was one sad bit of news. No confetti allowed while sailing away. Confetti is not allowed by extremely grumpy, stiff-necked, environmental party poopers. On a glorious day on the bay, we were about to “Sail Away” on the Crown Princess, aka The Love Boat.

Of course, my personalized and essential technological medallion was defective. Didn’t matter!! Luggage would arrive hours after we did. Who cared?? Not us. Vacationing commenced. On the top deck, we sat front-row, pool-side, entertained by the professional dancers of Princess Cruise Lines.

It was surreal to be in the middle of a travel brochure moment after months of planning and waiting. It was all there, just as promised. The Salty Dog Grill was pumping out hamburgers and fries, the buffet was serving lunch, the bars were open, and everyone aboard was ready to sail away from trials and troubles.

Before our departure, there were a few housekeeping details to complete. The main safety requirement involved locating our Muster Station and watching the safety video in our stateroom. Done and done, we were ready to pull away from The Port of San Francisco, while cruising by Alcatraz and under the Bridge.

Watching a 19 story ship go under the bridge did seem a bit risky. The clearance between bridge and ship didn’t seem like very much as we sailed into late afternoon on the Pacific Ocean.

From there, we just settled into four days on the high seas. The first morning we awoke, there was a faint outline of land. I just know the Goddess of the Central Coast was having her bran muffin and coffee, while reading, “A Country Year– Living the Questions.” Or, perhaps she was already onto “A Book of Bees”. Both written by Sue Hubbell, on her recommendation, they are now on my bookshelf. We waved, hoping Auntie TJ and the Goddess knew it was us sailing by on a bright blue sea.

Day after glorious day, we did things we never thought possible. HHH zip-lined his way through the jungles of Puerto Vallarta, while bungie jumping when zip-lining wasn’t possible. Professional photographers got shots from every angle, allowing us to bring home adorable memories.

We had two formal nights for which we cleaned up really nice. We enjoyed gourmet meals and even watched “Top Gun” with the stars on top of the ship under warm comfy blankets as we steamed along. Although we needed continual directions on this 19 story ship, there was always someone in a uniform to help.

One of the best parts of the entire trip involved daily Bible Study with some of the nicest people on the ship. Cruising during Easter week, for eleven mornings we studied the Gospel of John. So beautiful to study the words of Jesus before he left this world to return to his father. Lifetime friendships formed during our time of study. As John so beautifully wrote in the last verse of his book, “Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”

The Bible is my favorite book, featuring such gifted authors and subject matter.

Cruising is for any and all types and ages of people. There were very young kids ripping up the pool and hot tub, and then there were older, more reserved honeymooners quietly enjoying the sunshine around the pool and hot tub. There was even an older gentleman cruising with his Medically Approved Service Dog. Every necessary adaptation was made so that all could enjoy a wonderful vacation.

One very special thing we learned is that at sunset over the Pacific, when the sun is just hitting the horizon, something amazing happens. A green flash. I haven’t researched the science, but HHH and I did see the green flash. So quick, if you blinked it would’ve been gone. This is something that must be seen once while standing hand in hand with your true love on a tenth balcony on The Love Boat.

It was all so great, we’re going again in November. And yes, we’ll return to The Love Boat.

Whatever you do this weekend, think of a place you’d like to visit and research a trip. If it’s not possible, take a virtual vacation on your computer, enjoying the highlights of your favorite spot. When a little land-locked here at Winterpast, I just hum the theme from “The Love Boat” and it all comes back! Have a wonderful vacation and I’ll meet you back here Monday Morning.

So much to catch up on!!! Where to begin???? Well, at the beginning of our adventure. At the end of March, HHH and I began packing for a most wonderful adventure. Without wasting much time, we planned a trip to the Mexican Riviera. Translated, we planned to float under the Golden Gate Bridge, travel the Pacific Ocean as far south as we could before turning around to return back under the Golden Gate Bridge.

After deciding on the itinerary, the first problem was deciding which items would make the cut , ending up in my packed, 50 pound suitcase. The last time I flew on a trip “to the beach”, the year was 2013. Having traveled some many times to Hawaii, it soon became easier to tell co-workers we were vacationing at the beach. No need for everyone to know the beach we were referring to was on the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

I’ve always loved flying, waiting for every bit of the experience. When I was 11, my mom took me on my first flight to visit my oldest sister in Alameda. What an exciting flight! I remember the family coming to see us off. At that time, people could walk with the passenger to an outdoor gate, feet away from the airplane. There, after the pilot presented all littles with wings, the left-behinds would wait until take-off and wave until they could no longer see the plane.

After that first flight, there were many more to come. To Hawaii on a family trip in 1972. Whether taking my first international flight to Switzerland in 1973 or a 1977 escape from communism in Russia in 1977, flying has always been something I’ve eagerly awaited with delight!

However, the news about flying these days has been a bit distressing.

Parts falling off planes. Passengers losing their minds while going berserk. People trying to smuggle things on and off planes. Pet passengers that shouldn’t be. The list of ways flying has changed is endless. Long ago, people dressed up nicely to fly. Well, these days, we just hope flying patrons ARE dressed. Enough said about that.

Keeping luggage weight below 50 pounds has always been challenging. This trip was no exception. Now, HHH had no problems staying below 40 pounds. I think his suitcase came in at 39 lbs. Mine hit the airport scale at 49.2 pounds. Thankfully, I’d moved a few things my husband’s luggage.

With an early morning flight, The Mayor came to pick us up at 4:30 AM and our vacation began. The boldness of that statement strikes me. Such a native that I received shuttle service from our beloved mayor! (Who happens to be my brother-in-law).

The biggest surprise of all was that there we experienced no surprises or unpleasantries. Not one. Everything at our airport was efficient and easy, like clockwork. Before I knew it we were in the air and on our way through turbulence towards San Francisco Bay! It was pretty rough over the Sierra’s, as snow fell thousands of feet below.

One of the strangest innovations was the stewardess jacket designed with an elbow cup holder. She walked down the aisle in this jacket with cups at the elbow and a bottle of water in her other hand. No heavy cart. No peanuts in the pocket. Nope. Just a fabric cup sleeve sewn onto the inside of her elbow freeing her to carry a bottle of water. Demeaning, the woman had been turned into a walking, talking beverage cart.

Once in San Francisco International, we dreaded seeing evidence of things we’d been watching on the news. To our relief there was no bad behavior anywhere. Things were absolutely beautiful. People were kind and efficient in their squeaky clean airport. What a wonderful surprise!

All we needed to do was grab our luggage and sit at Baggage Claim Area #1 while waiting to be picked up by Princess Cruise Lines. Again, everything was perfect in an airport kind of way. Nothing threatening or out of order while we gathered together with experienced cruise employees.

During these hours, I had time to think about all the crazy events we watch on television. What IS true and what is a simple sound bite about the most absurd things that happen in our country? If you are worried about stepping out and trying a little travel, don’t be. In our experience and observations, even the weakest and most elderly are traveling and having a most marvelous time. I met many elders enjoying the time of their lives while traveling alone. Life is to be lived to the fullest.

Soon, it was time for us to board a fancy charter bus. We were on our way to a new adventure that neither of us had experienced before. Honeymooning while enjoying HHH’s 70th Birthday in a balcony suite on a 19-story cruise ship, there was no way our trip would disappoint. And believe me, it didn’t.

More tomorrow.

How often does one little trip to Walmart turn into an unnoticed testimony to kindness and faith? It happened today. How often are we racing from here to there doing this and that, when something so special might go missed? The following story happened yesterday and I’m still smiling. Read on.

There is a man that attends our church that doesn’t quite look like the rest of us. He doesn’t have a car, so his legs take him everywhere he wants to go. He doesn’t have new clothes, and would probably like the use of a washing machine once in awhile. He makes his bed under the stars in the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. He is homeless.

Each Sunday, he comes to worship with us and has for about six months now. He brings his best friend who is the tiniest and cutest little scraggly dog I’ve met in some time. Weighing less than a can of soup, this little dog is adorable, well cared for, and friendly. The two are a good team.

For weeks now, I’ve been meaning to learn his name, but am embarrassed to admit that I don’t yet know it. I know all the names of my Harvest Sisters. I know the names of the minister and his wife. I know the names of past police and highway patrol men. I even know the name of the oldest woman in the church, but, I don’t know his. Of this, fact, I’m ashamed.

Anyway, on the first day of complete health for HHH and I since coming home from our cruise HHH and I were feeling happy adventurous. We decided to run around town to take care of errands. Needing 10 bags of dirt at the hardware store and a few bags of groceries at Walmart we dashed out with list in hand.

At any small town Walmart, it’s impossible to go enter the parking lot without seeing people you know. Our town isn’t any different. As we were parking, there was a young, adorable, shapely, belly-button pierced woman that could have done with a little more clothing. I quietly commented on the situation to HHH.

“Could she just dress before shopping?”

Unhelpful, unnecessary, simple minded, and down-right rude , I admit.

Anyway, we parked and were just ready to enter the store when we saw the young man I mentioned earlier. He and his little dog were waiting by the door, so HHH called out to him and we walked over to say “Hi”. By that time, the young woman had made her way to him and was questioning him about his adorable dog. Then the most beautiful thing happened.

“Hey, I’m on the verge of homelessness myself, but an angel just changed my situation. I have a little I can share,” she said. “Is there anything you need? I mean ANYTHING at all. A friend just helped me out of a real jam, and there’s a little extra to share. Can I help you in any way? Need dog food?”

“Thank you but we’re really good. I have a couple bags of food for him at our camp. But, what I really need is some shoes for a friend under the bridge. His feet are in a bad way. He needs a pair of shoes, either 8 1/2 or 9. That’s what I could really use.”

After we visited with him a little while, we followed the young lady inside. She turned to smile and ask again.

“Really, is there anything I could do for him? I’m so fortunate. I was looking at homelessness just like him in a few days. My situation has changed in a most wonderful way. I’d like to share my good fortune.”

“Well, he needs shoes for his friend. He said that’s what he really needs.”

Now, here is a man that, to most, would need a lot more than a pair of shoes for his friend. He sleeps under the stars on the high desert plains on very cold nights with his little furry friend. He has no permanent home. No family. No cushy neighborhood. His meals come as they may. And yet, his worry of the day was helping someone that had less than he. Less than almost nothing.

Later, walking past the shoe section, we ran into the pair at the shoe section. I overheard this angel telling him, “I bet he could also use some new socks, right? Come on, they’re over here.” They had just finished talking to two older gentlemen who were also commenting on the adorable pooch.

Just like that, this sweet woman was sharing her good fortune with someone else before doing her own shopping. This sweet young man was helping a soul under the bridge that needed it. Goodness swirling around an odd couple while everyone else in the store missed the beauty of the moment.

It made me stop and think about how the whole thing started. With a snarky comment from a wealthy old woman without really knowing the facts surrounding this beautiful young woman’s situation. My world would’ve much happier if I’d just considered that her situation might be a little different than mine. I might have gotten a little better feeling if I’d made a comment about the gorgeous sunshine-y smile on her face. She was bubbling with happiness on her happy Tuesday morning.

Whatever you do today, be mindful. Open your eyes to really see the very moment in which you find yourself. If something isn’t quite to your standard, bend your opinion to fit the situation. Say “Hello” to a stranger. Ask if there’s something you can do to help when things are tough for someone else. Stop a minute and look around. Not just look, see with new eyes. There IS something you could do to help someone somewhere. Even if it’s just a smile and nice comment about their silly little dog.

Love and Kindness are beautiful gifts. Be sure to give them away every day.

More tomorrow.

Although it seems to have taken years to get here, the day of the Bee-Keeping-Honeymooners has arrived. Our bees have arrived, settled in, and are now in their forever home. In a few short months, we’ll harvest our first honey, while having our first season of experience under our belts.

This adventure started with a simple Christmas gift. For days before Christmas, HHH’s large mysterious gift made muffled woody noises if moved. At that point, we hadn’t discussed the possibility of owning a bee hive, but certainly shared a love for our fruit trees and gardening. Once Christmas morning came and the surprise discovered, we discovered the bees were the one thing we’d been missing in our lives.

On a January morning, we headed out with friends to a New Bee Keeper’s class. To our surprise, the room was full of people just like us. Those ready to try something new in the yard. Through the class, a most beautiful lady has come into our lives. She speaks BEE and it’s obvious they love her. She will remain our life-line connection to bee-husbandry.

During the class, we researched flowers the bees would love us to plant. With a few trips to the seed department of our local hardware store, we began selecting residents for our bee garden.

Mammoth Sunflowers. Black-Eyed Susan’s. Giant Zinnias. Thumbelina Zinnias. Pumpkins. Watermelons. Zucchini. Tomatoes. Strawberries. Chamomile. African Daisy’s. Peas. Beans. Carrots. Onions. Garlic. Cucumbers. The seeds jumped into our basket as quick as we could find them. Soon, a simple gift had turned into soil producing hundreds of seedlings.

This does bring me to another point. The price of plants at the local nursery has sky rocketed. Just last week, the cheapest plants started at $3.50 and went up from there. In a very short time, one can spend hundreds of dollars on very few plants. Growing our own seedlings was a cost effective way to get the number of plants we’ll need to keep the bees happy.

Someone questioned the large amount we’d planted for Winterpast. Be assured, one-half acre of land is quite an area to keep in bloom. 50,000 bees will need plenty of nectar, pollen, and sap to keep up with the hatching brood of their productive queen. It’s just all so exciting.

We returned from the cruise ready to accept ownership of one nucleus of bees. This consists of a queen, and about 10,000 worker bees all living together on five frames in a box. In this form, they are referred to as a NUC (pronounced NUKE). On April 6th, ours was delivered by two people without bee suits. They simply placed the box in the back yard, opened the tiny front door, and left them in our care.

We had prepared a bit. We had two fountains of fresh water for them to drink. Each fountain had been fitted with extra rocks for soft landings. Bees can’t swim, so one needs to remember that when planning as a bowl of water could be lethal.

HHH built a beautiful fence around the bee area, keeping the dogs away from the bees. It also from fence barking with the neighbor’s dogs. There, they have been while we’ve battled our colds inside. Just hanging out doing what bees do.

Yesterday, the lovely and talented Miss Bee came to check on them. Every bee keeper uses smoke to calm bees. Miss Bee happens to prefer dried donkey manure. With donkeys of her own, she had plenty to share! Indeed, the bees calmed down as we disassembled their home to check out the health of the hive. After quite a search, Miss Bee pointed our our queen, a sassy beauty at that. She’s been busy laying eggs. So many has she laid that it was time to move everyone to the Christmas hive to carry on with their business.

After a clean bill of health, Miss Bee went on her way, leaving us to breathe easy knowing everything is right as rain. Of course, there is a need to order pollen patties to give them an extra boost. Next week, we’ll open the hive to refill the internal feeder with a 1:1 simple syrup solution. And, on it goes.

Learning something new in the garden is such fun. There are always new tips and tricks to try. At this writing, HHH is looking for new weed sprays that are bee and pet friendly. Because one thing is for sure. Weeds never stop finding ways to be annoying.

Whatever you do today, try something new. Maybe a new recipe. Or something new in the garden. There’s no time like the present to find a new hobby. At the very least, if you happen to be attracting bees in your garden, grab a cup of coffee and watch the show. Remember to enjoy yourself a little while you do.

More Tomorrow.

To say the last few weeks have been jammed packed with fun and frivolity is truly an understatement. When I wrote last, hundreds of seedlings were to be left in the loving care of the Angel of the Aluminum Cloud. (Again, thank you with all our hearts) My new husband was leaving one decade of life to enter the next. We were ready to sail away on The Love Boat and then return home to receive our new family of bees. All of the above happened and have brought us to today. (And don’t forget to add 2023 Taxes to the mix).

This week, I plan to cover all those topics, filling you in on the details. But, first, you must know that as I write, I’m recovering from a bit of a bug. Sometimes, life throws a virus in the way. It caught up to my Hubba-Hubba-Hubby and me after we’d safely returned back home. We’re still not 100%, but improving daily.

In early March, HHH and I were busily preparing for our upcoming vacation. HHH was sad to leave his sexagenarian years, even when reminded he’d be a brand new septuagenarian. He wasn’t having it and felt a little down about the entire situation..

Months before, we’d decided that a cruise on The Love Boat would be an appropriate gift. Unfortunately, the cruise sailing the week of his birthday was sold out. Knowing his celebration would start a week AFTER his birthday, he never suspected there were other plans in the making. One week before the big day, Miss Wookie gave me the gift of time by demanding a trip to California for a big date with her Puppy-Daddy. With snowy weather complicating the trip, HHH would travel over Donner Pass and leave me with time alone to plan his Surprise 70th Birthday Party.

Now, a man with four brothers that text daily is a man from which secrets are hard to keep. I must hand it to our family. Everyone did their part to keep his party a big surprise. While making two trips to drop Wookie off and pick her up a few days later, there’d be time to drop off invitations, order food, and plan how I’d get him out of the house. Even our minister and church family were in on the surprise.

One of my more Lucille Ball moments involved the dining room. With hundreds of seedlings under four bright grow lights, I knew I needed to change things up. Plants growing on the dining room table for weeks would be moved to make room for guests.

Explaining the move would be easy enough. Wives change their minds and move things all the time. The big problem would be putting in an extra leaf by myself. The table is extremely heavy and it takes two people to pull it apart. With hours ticking until HHH would be back home from Cali, I came up with a brilliant plan.

With the seedlings moved, I went into action. Laying under the table, I deployed my leg muscles to push the table apart, while holding it steady with my arms. Hilarious, but effective. The leaf was in. Now, would he notice the table was expanded for a party?

Rotation! A great method of camouflage.

The most hilarious thing is that it worked. With a different tablecloth, in a different location, he never noticed. I said things had looked messy so I moved the seedlings. He accepted that and turned on the TV. End of worry.

As the birthday came closer, things became a little more gloomy. With the cruise more than two weeks away, it seemed his true birthday would come and go without even a candle. No one seemed to have time to celebrate, while being very, very quiet. Everyone had other plans on that day. I assured him that I had a special surprise for his big day.

That special day came and I announced that I’d be driving him to the town just to the west for…..lunch. Not even a special SPA day. Just LUNCH. I could sense his disappointment. All the while, Ninja Neighbor and her pal were waiting for us to drive away so they could decorate. HHH’s daughter was busy in her kitchen creating his custom birthday cake. Other family members were making potato and macaroni salad and picking food up from the caterer. Everyone had cleared schedules to be at Winterpast at 4 PM for the big party. The minister spread the word to our church family and everyone was ready.

In fact, I did treat HHH to a most wonderful lunch at his favorite seafood restaurant at our favorite hotel. The gambling gods smiled at him while we were killing time, giving him a nice jackpot on a Buffalo slot machine. All in all, it would have been the perfect birthday if that’s all I’d planned. But there was so much more to come.

Driving up to Winterpast, HHH was so surprised he was almost speechless. Cars lined the street and drive. A big banner waved in the breeze. The late afternoon party was complete with family, friends, our minister, and plenty of love for HHH. Everything couldn’t have gone better.

The guests enjoyed visiting. Everyone was amazed at our grow room complete with the seedlings. One guest was worried that we had a problem with mold, as hundreds of little seedlings give off an earthy odor. Once they saw the source of the smell, they understood. A few people took free seedlings. It was a party HHH and I will never forget.

As for Wookie and her date with her Cali-Love, it appears things went well. Her appetite and growing tummy tell us that soon, Wooklets will be adding to the fun here at Winterpast.

It takes a lot more than a silly virus to keep happiness away. Every married couple has shared chicken soup, orange juice, and a large blankie while battling the common cold. As the spring days unfold, we’ll soon be back outside putting our little seedlings into the ground.

Whatever you do today, take time to be thankful for the health that you enjoy. If your coughing, you can be grateful you don’t have shingles. It’s the small things in life that we sometimes overlook. Remember to celebrate the good things in life.

More tomorrow.

In the next few weeks, life is going to get pretty crazy! Along with a huge birthday, HHH and I have some living to do. Wookie is going to be swelling with her new batch of wooklets. The seedlings will be turning into vegetable plants and flowers. Our hive will begin to buzz and spring will finally arrive.

But for now, the reality is that it’s cold around here. No need to think about the greenhouse, which has morphed into an extra freezer. The crop of seedlings has moved to the studio, with three more grow lights arriving today.

One new group of seeds ready to sprout are Passion Flowers. If you’ve never seen them, please investigate. This variety of plant is truly like something from the mind of Dr. Seuss. They come in amazing colors and have parts I’ve never seen on a flower. Truly something to behold, I was disappointed to read that they are very difficult to grow from seeds.

Maybe they haven’t met two gardeners with four grow lights and a lot of time?

As for the snow over the pass, it IS as bad as it’s been reported. The pass was closed for over 65 hours and is now clogged with long lines of big rigs. One main problem is that people don’t know how to drive in winter. Everyone goes way to fast, until they spin out, soil themselves, and then begin to understand. Speed on ice kills.

HHH will be traveling over the pass with the Wookie to California for a much needed appointment. With love in the air, never have I ever experienced such behavior between dogs. There is no way Oliver can assist Wookie in any way, but, that hasn’t stopped him from trying. Wookie has enjoyed tormenting him in every way possible to the point of exhaustion.

In the house. Out the door. Back in. Not interested in eat. Eating like crazy. Rolling in the snow. Wookie blocking the doggie door for Ollie to come back in. One sitting on one side of the door while the other is on the other side, both whining. The list of insane behavior is quite long, actually. Thank goodness Wookie is traveling to Cali to end the madness. It can’t happen soon enough. She has a hot date with a chocolate Aussie-doodle that will melt her heart.

As for Ollie, he has a weight problem. On a diet until he drops at least five pounds, there can be no diabetic coma for him. Somehow, he’s been enjoying a few too many treats along with Wookie’s uneaten food. With spring’s arrival, it’s time for him to slim down now. At almost six years old, there is no end to the ways he continues to get in trouble. Keeping one step ahead of him keeps both HHH and me on our toes.

While all this is happening around us, I need to take a break. Sometime during the next month, two lovebirds will be sailing away on the bright blue Pacific to enjoy a much needed vacation alone on The Love Boat. Life as newlyweds is the very sweetest journey HHH and I could’ve hoped for. No matter the age, newlyweds need some private time away to make memories of us.

Whatever you do this month, enjoy the longer evenings doing a little something outside. Fresh air and sunshine are the best medicines on earth. Plant a seed. Grow something. Enjoy the here and now with a grateful heart!

Returning on April 15th, we’ll have lots to share about the new blog. Please stay safe and warm. It’s a pleasure to share our adventures with you. I wish you the nicest month of rest and happiness. Au Revoir and Bon Voyage!

Such a beautiful city call home! Last Wednesday evening, we had the rare opportunity to watch The Mayor in action. Like many cities and states in our great country, our leader gives an annual address to the local citizens. Ours was The State of the City Address — 2024.

Dead tired after a full day of yard and house work, HHH and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. After early burgers at the local Denny’s, we took a detour around the ongoing underpass construction to arrive in time.

There are several things you should know about our city. Our population is growing. When HHH and his brothers arrived so many years ago, there were about 700 people that called this town home. Without anything more than a couple markets and a few bars, life was quiet and sweet.

In 2024, things are a little different. With a population of 25,669 (and growing), HHH and I have made an interesting observation. There are three places in town that handle U-Haul trucks. The number of trucks on these lots keeps increasing. Each week, trucks arrive, but they don’t leave. More and more people are discovering the beauty of small town life, and deciding to move here.

Upon arriving at the meeting, we found the parking lot at the Senior Citizen Center was, once again, overflowing. Parking on one of the last asphalt spaces, we hurried inside to find two seats of honor reserved for us at the Mayor’s table. Sharing this table with his newest little great-granddaughter was a treat. Not often you get to observe a little person that’s only two weeks old.

If only we’d been a little earlier, we could have munched on the most beautiful array of fruit, bread, and cheese. As soon as we sat down, it was time. The Mayor was ON.

Our little town requires a budget of $48 million to keep things rolling. Over the last year, the water department, alone, delivered 1,379,524,900 gallons of treated water from the Truckee River to residents all over the city. On the other end of things, the waste water department treats about that much. Pretty amazing for such a little town.

Our city has a brand new street sweeper. Ground is breaking on a new Community Response and Resource Center which will be a place for residents to meet, work, and play.

After 45 minutes of exciting news about all departments in our city, The Mayor encouraged everyone to become involved with something that interests them. In our small town there’s a job for everyone, from July 4th committee members to 4-H Leaders. Advisory committees. Citizen Volunteers. From the annual rodeo to the sheriff department, the ways to help are endless.

During the meeting, (standing room only), there wasn’t one heckler. Not one environmental whacko. Not one disruptive person throwing paint or yelling obscenities. Just a respectful group of people very interested in the state of our beloved city. It showed how much we all care about the place we call home.

Watching Our Mayor in action, his lifelong love for our town was obvious. There’s no better person to guide the growth of our little town. As my desert roots grow deeper, this little oasis is becoming the gem she was always meant to be. HHH and I are blessed to live on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Whatever you do today, discover some facts about your town that you didn’t already know. Check into committees that need members. Find upcoming events that might need volunteers. In some little way, get involved. For, we can all make the world a better place if we become the change we wish to see in the world.

More tomorrow.

At this writing, these are damages of which we know.

Seven missing greenhouse panels at Winterpast.

16′ of downed fence at Brother’s house.

One light fixture blown off garage wall at rental.

Two missing greenhouse panels at Ninja Neighbor’s house.

Downed fence across the street at neighbors.

Roof again blown off neighbor’s shed.

Huge waves at Lake Tahoe.

I’ll return on Monday to give you updates on the storm. It’s just getting started now, with 12′ of snow expected in the high Sierra’s, along with blizzard conditions. As for us, we have our Snow Joe batteries charging. We’re expecting quite a bit of snow.

Whatever you do this weekend, if you are not in the eye of a major storm, be grateful. That’s enough!!!

More on Monday.

Due to the extreme winds we are experiencing this very moment, I intend to make this short. I need to move away from the windows and watch the greenhouse from the safety of the house. But, let me begin from the beginning.

Growing up in the Central Valley of California, I never experienced extreme weather. No yearly tornadoes or snow storms that left towns paralyzed. The schools DID call Foggy days, when the Tule fog was so thick you couldn’t see the end of your shoe. That’s about it.

Along with no weather, we also missed out on cool clouds and one of my favorite forces of nature… The Wind. I must be crazy, but since my beginnings, I have loved wind. Slow breezes that kiss your cheek on a summer morning. And June winds that blow the mortar board right off a graduates head. I just love wind.

Until about 1:00 pm yesterday.

I had gone to the Pretty Beautiful Nail Salon to get pretty toes and catch up on neighborhood news. One nice thing about small towns is that everyone knows everyone. You can find out the time for the latest funeral or which fruits and vegetables will be on sale in the upcoming days. If you need something, just let your nail gal know. She probably knows a guy that knows a guy.

When returning home, I’d planned to plant the new seeds Hubba-Hubba-Hubby and I purchased early in the morning. Passion Flowers. Chamomile. Blue Tansy. Sunflowers. Siberian Wall Flowers. Jalapeno Peppers. The first five were for the bees and the last for HHH.

I was enjoying a spoonful of THE BEST HONEY I’ve ever eaten in my life from the Naked Bee Honey Company in Fallon, Nevada. Honey, but so much better. This product is a unique and fulfilling candy bar in a spoonful. Just the right consistency, it’s flavors remind me that summer will soon be here to provide everything remembered in this wonderful food.

Well, I was enjoying this honey and getting out the soil and pots when I happened to look up. Our Manly Marine, across the street, was atop his storage shed. With the winds now howling (gusts to 30 mph), his roof shingles were blowing past him. HHH flew out the door to help, but some men just want to handle things alone and HHH’s offer was declined.

HHH returned to find our greenhouse was again coming apart at the seams. The winds were now in the 30-40 MPH range. With two short whistles, he caught my attention and I flew to his side.

“Here, Hold this panel. I need to get some painter’s tape.”

For what seemed like hours, I star-fished onto the side of the greenhouse, while listening to the door bang. I unlatched it and the door flew open, breaking a hinge. Great, now I did a sideways hug to hold the doors and the side, while the entire greenhouse felt like it would surely take flight. Thank goodness the foundation bolts held it down, or the neighbor across the street might have received a new greenhouse, airmail.

Painters tape and a prayer. We’ll see how we fare. Somehow this darn greenhouse is beginning to seem like a very bad, “Californific” idea. It would have been a great thing to have at the ranch. On the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, maybe not so much. We are not about to give in, we just need to get through the storm, which has now been extended to early next week.

Thank goodness the bees haven’t arrived yet. They’re weathering their own storms in California.

Through the rest of the afternoon, with dinner in the crockpot, the internet kept going in and out. The winds hit the house with such force, we checked on our own roof several times. Everything seems to have held. I promise I will try to write something tomorrow. If you don’t hear from HHH and I, please look under the greenhouse. By the way, please don’t forget to water the seedlings!

It’s true.

Of course, the winter will end, just not quite yet. Today, the biggest storm of the year is arriving. Twelve feet of snow in the Sierra Nevada’s! Who knows? We might get another 17″ here in our little dessert town. Nevada Energy and Spectrum are warning us that services may be interrupted.

The beginning months of winter hold anticipation of real fun. Thanksgiving. Black Friday. Hot chocolate. Presents under the tree. Candlelight Service. New Year’s Eve. The Super Bowl. Even in mid-February, Valentines bring us smiles. These events distract us from the bitter cold and dangerous driving conditions. This late in the game, it’s time for winter to pack up and leave the party. We won’t mind a bit. March 19th is just around the corner and can’t get here soon enough.

The only thing I miss about being a California native is that, for flat landers at least, winters weren’t severe. In the Central Valley of California, the weather went from extreme fog to extreme heat (100+ from May to October). Just two weather patterns over the 60 years I lived there. Consistently boring.

With the lack of four distinct seasons, there were somethings we missed out on. Puffy white spring clouds. Winds. Summer thunderstorms. A real show of fall colors. Crisp apples signaling the arrival of fall. Nope. We had none of these things.

We had two seasons.

Dense, Tule Fog.

113 degree heat.

Repeat.

Well, once in 1962 it snowed enough to cancel school which was a once-in-my-lifetime event. But, on a normal year, weather was pretty boring.

Here in the desert, we’re blessed with four true seasons. Although not equal in the number of days, they’re all recognizable as the seasons they are. At this point, I’m sick of winter. Enough already.

My little desert town has an immediate advantage when considering weather in the area. According to yearly averages, very little annual snowfall is the norm (5″ of precipitation). I don’t know if there are weather norms anymore. Last year, I realized snow shoveling isn’t on my list of favorite things to do. The new snow blower makes it just a little more enjoyable when 17″ of wet snow fall in five hours.

We’re stocking up this morning, as the store shelves may be a little bare this weekend. The storms have been so mild, the pass hasn’t closed this winter. The next few days will tell the tale. Desolate desert life takes patience and preparation. I’m lucky my little town is right off the interstate. For Hooterville residents (a real town to the northwest of here), winters can be brutal, making it necessary to prepare for days of isolation.

As the the greenhouse seedlings, the story is grim. Monday was the perfect day for them to soak up warmth and sunshine outside. I carefully closed the doors that night, hoping the greenhouse would keep them warm enough. Yesterday, scurrying out through the frigid cold to check on them, I found that eight of my beautiful lovelies froze during the night. There’s always another seed and another day. As for the rest of the seedlings, they’ll continue to grow within the walls of Winterpast.

Whatever you do today, check on someone that might be snow bound or struggling with seasonal depression. If you’re expecting high winds like us, be sure to secure items in your yard that might blow away. When the storms arrive, shovel some snow. It’s be good for what ails you! At least, that’s what we can tell ourselves.

More tomorrow.

The best thing about having a great group of friends is that SOMEONE is always up for a movie. With one little text, our plans started with four and ended up with two. Just to the east, there is an adorable little movie theater hidden on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. It was there a Harvest Sister and I spent the afternoon.

After seeing the trailer for the movie “Ordinary Angels”, several things attracted me to the movie. It was from the same producer of “Jesus Revolution” and it starred Hilary Swank. Not really one of my favorite actresses, the woman that has aged gracefully and played her character well. Add story line about a little girl that needed a liver and a woman that just needed to help someone, and it seemed a winning combination.

In the morning before showtime, there were plenty of gardening chores that needed attention. One of the biggest time consumers these days is the replanting of the tiniest little seedlings into 4″ pots. It’s amazing how the different seeds sprout. The Zucchini and 4-O’Clocks produce a large root ball before they are two inches tall, while the oregano seeds produce tiny little plants that take forever to grow.

All of this repotting is taking place in our kitchen during the morning news. These seedlings grow throughout the night and each morning, there are at least 12 more plants that need more space for their roots.

Yesterday was the first day plants were moved to tables in the greenhouse. Although they love being there, it will be necessary to move them back to the warmth of the house. By week’s end, a significant snow storm is coming. But, for a few days this week, the seedlings can enjoy life as a real vegetable plant.

After I tidied up, it was time to drive to the little town to the east to see our movie. One of the best things about being a senior citizen is that you get away with acting childish at times. Ordering a “Child’s Snack Pack” with popcorn, a little bag of fruit snacks and a small drink, we went into Theater 4 to watch our movie.

The main message of the movie was this. No matter how insignificant you THINK you are, there are plenty of things you can do to help move mountains. Although normal humans can’t heal, humans can band together in a community to support those in need. The movie was about the true life story of Michelle Schmitt Cobble and her unlikely earthly angel in the form of a Kentucky hairdresser named Sharon Steven Evans.

There are so many ways we can all give to those in need. With prayer, time, insight, and money, the efforts of many can help those in true need. Nothing brings people together quicker than a sick child, and this little community was no different. Everyone knows someone that knows someone that can fix a problem. When a community pulls together to make connections, there’s no stopping the miracles that can be done. Even those involving helicopters and jet planes in a blizzard.

Our movie date was a huge success. Returning to a theater after so many years felt normal and wonderful. If you haven’t gone for awhile, try it. Pssst…… Don’t forget the popcorn and snacks.

More tomorrow.

In April, 2020, I was one lost soul. Having moved to a new town only seventeen days after becoming a new widow, my life was unrepair-ably broken. At least, that’s what I believed at the time. The thought of taking care of a home sitting on 1/2 acre of intricate gardens was overwhelming. I almost cancelled the deal, but something inside promised I’d have the strength to go on.

Almost four years later, I’ve been blessed in ways that seemed improbable, if not impossible. My yard didn’t die. The house didn’t fall down around me. I found God, made new friends, fell in love, and married. To think it’s all happened to me brings me to my knees in gratitude.

My world came alive on December 12, 2022, my baptism day. Before then, God was busy directing my life from behind the scenes. Missing a move to the best little wide spot off the interstate on the high plains of Northwestern Nevada would have been the ultimate tragedy. If things hadn’t gone the way they did, I wouldn’t have traveled the path God intended for me.

Just days before the complicated real estate deal was to close, I was at my wits’ end. I was selling the Dun Movin House in Virginia City and buying Winterpast. The little restaurant in VC kept me alive Wednesday through Sunday. I’d order enough food to have some leftovers on Monday and Tuesday. With tearful trips off the mountain to deliver boxes to storage (350 in all), the devil had time to work on my brain.

“You can’t really handle 1/2 acre.”

“the new house is too expensive.”

“Living alone will be too much for you.”

“Your real estate deals are going to fall apart.”

The negatives kept rolling around in my brain, fueled with things EVERYONE knows.

“A widow shouldn’t move during the first year after her spouse dies.”

“A woman can’t possibly take care of husband-ly things.”

“A widow is weak and incapable of anything but a mass a tears.”

On a windy afternoon, I called my realtor and asked to see a smaller house on a local golf course. I was dangerously close to making a huge mistake. Walking through the tiny house with a tinier yard, I really considered the alternate home. Again, something inside told me to stay the course. Escrow had opened before my late husband’s cancer diagnosis. In the end, I’d stay with the original plan.

I’ve learned so many important truths in the last four years. I’ve discovered that I’m capable for caring for my own needs and have been all along. More importantly, I’ve learned to slow down and listen for an inner voice offering life’s advice. Even when the answer isn’t exactly what I want to hear, it’s probably what I need to do.

When the journey of widowhood is just too much to bear, turn to God for some help. During those lonely years, I prayed that angels would spread their wings over Winterpast and kept Oliver and I safe. When I asked for deep sleep, it came. When I asked for ultimate safety in my new home, HE delivered. When I prayed, through tears, for new friends he took the wheel and drove me to them. Slowly I learned HE was only a prayer away. Through long conversations, I now know HE is always there. Through those conversations, I know myself much better.

Whatever you do today, quietly listen while in a mindful state. God will hear whatever you need to say. With patience and faith, answers will come.

More tomorrow.

The weekend flew by, as weekends often do. While reviewing receipts for the 2023 tax year, I’m reminded that our greenhouse is not yet a year old. Standing so proudly in the garden area, we can’t wait to fill her with all the seedlings sprouting in the house. Everything takes time.

The next step to make the little house plant-ready is to cover it with shade cloth. That might seem counter productive, but the intensity of the desert sun through the polycarbonate walls makes it necessary. After researching this subject, the consensus is that 70% sun blockage is good. Covering the greenhouse on the top and back is no small job, as it measures 10′ X 14′ x 7′.

Bright and sunny, yesterday was perfect weather for planting. In beautiful redwood planter boxes designed and constructed from scratch by HHH himself, we planted 50 yellow onions, 50 red onions, and 50 garlic cloves. Visually, the garlic purchased at Walmart Garden Center was exactly like the garlic I buy from Raley’s for spaghetti sauce. Just divide up the cloves and plant with the flat side down.

In two oak half-barrels, we planted gold and red potatoes. Within the walls of Winterpast, we’re pampering our russets, harvested from baker potatoes that began sprouting in the pantry.

Closer to the warmth of the house, the patio garden box is now home to lettuce and spinach plants. Everything received a dose of water with a little prayer for good measure.

If this weather holds, things should just take off and grow, along with our water bill. Although the water should cost less than it did for TWO gardening households, it could be as high as a small car payment. In the desert, water is liquid gold. Still too early to turn the sprinklers back on, we’ll be watering by hand and hose for a little longer.

Everywhere we look, buds are swelling. From the crab apple tree to the plum and pear, spring is ready to sprout while the weeds are rev up for another year. One small thing is different. After hiring a company from the little town to the east to spray a pre-emergent weed killer, the number of weeds seems less. Let’s hope the stuff works.

As for the house sprouts, they continue to do their thing. It’s fascinating to see little plants unfold from the tiniest little packages. So far, the seeds that are growing the best on the dining room table are the tomatoes and sunflowers.

Spring is such a beautiful time of year, it just makes one happy to be alive. As clouds drift through the bluest skies, the neighborhood walkers are out. Even the dogs are more energetic, with lots to bark about. It’s just a great time to be alive.

As things do happen in the spring, Wookie will be heavy with Wooklets again. And so, the circle of life spins around, and another growing season begins.

Whatever you do today, start thinking about spring cleaning. Now, just avoiding that thought should make you want to get outside. Check your yard for plants that are starting to stir. Be sure to check the upcoming weather before you turn the water back on. Enjoy!!

The 2024 plan for Winterpast is vast and ambitious. At this writing, there are approximately 400 seedlings sprouting inside our home. There are peat-potted seedlings getting stronger on the east facing window sills. Seeds are sprouting under grow lights on the dining room table. Packages of seeds await vacant peat pots. Spring seems to be coming early here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Jiffy’s seed starting Green House Kit is awesome. Available through Amazon or your local Walmart, this has been so easy. After soaking the peat pods for a few hours, you just place a seed in each and wait. Before transplanting, the thin membrane can be carefully removed. Replacement pods (36mm) are available through Amazon allowing for multiple uses of the little greenhouse. So far, I have three trays growing strong. (72 x 3 = a heck of a lot of canning this summer).

Over the last two years, Hubba-Hubba-Hubby has produced the most amazing potatoes. Sprouted from seed potatoes, over the course of the summer he grew pounds and pounds of the best potatoes imaginable. Far superior to those grow in Idaho.

A few days ago, I visited our local Grocery Outlet, a lovely little store. You never know what you can find there. From great produce to wonderful prices on meat and cheese, many of their products are from smaller producers. In front of the store, I found what we’d been looking for. Red and Yellow Onion Sets (100). Yukon Gold seed potatoes (10). Asparagus starts. All in the front of this cute little store. We’re planting the 100 onions today!

So far, I’ve been focused on growing plants that will feed our bees. In less than two months, we’ll return from a relaxing ocean cruise to receive our new family of 10,000 bees and their queen. They’ll need a variety of trees, bushes, and plants to support their colony. In doing some research, I’ve found Winterpast already has many existing trees and bushes that are bee friendly.

Cottonwood trees line my driveway. When I first moved in, some neighbors (since moved away) informed me that I’d need to remove these twenty year old giants. One private thought for them.

NO.

CAN.

DO.

These giant trees are home to many varieties of birds and insects. In early spring, our bees will use sap from these trees. When bees combine sap from trees with their own discharges and beeswax, they create a sticky, greenish-brown product used as a coating to build their hives called propolis, or “bee glue.” With many medicinal uses, the bees coat their hives with this material, gluing everything together. Our cottonwood trees will provide the necessary sap and pollen.

Last year, we almost lost our 50′ Russian Olive tree. I’ve had some tree people laugh and tell me it’s the biggest junk tree they’ve ever seen. In the eyes of little bees, it’s a dream come true. With rich and abundant pollen and late spring nectar, the bees will thrive within the branches of this amazing tree. Now, my neighbor will have a little more to complain about, not being a fan of this amazing tree.

Once upon a time, there was a very sad widow here at Winterpast. Writing her heart out in the living room next to the snow-covered gardens of Winterpast, she looked up. To her amazement, she discovered this dormant tree had transformed. With the help of some early morning sunshine, her beautiful tree had turned golden, like a burning bush of hope. God sent a message of hope to that lonely widow on that early winter morning. Winter passed.

Nope. This beautiful tree deserves saving. The bees deserve this beautiful tree.

With plum, apricot, apple, and pear trees, the bees will think they have been placed in heaven. Our crab apple tree, which has always been a messy pain, now has a new purpose. Food for busy bees. The only trees missing might be some magnolia’s, which will help provide nectar.

As far as bushes go, there are blueberry and lilac. We plan to add honeysuckle plants which will drape over the chain link fences installed to keep Wookie and Oliver out of the garden and bee area. Over the entire back yard, we’re thinking of bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds. Of course, we have the resident doves. robins, and crows that will enjoy the peace and quiet of Winterpast’s gardens.

HHH has been doing his part to bring our paradise to life this year. Yesterday, he brought home a pickup load of super-duper triple mix soil. Some women like diamonds, while I personally love a good pick-up truck of great soil. Topped with six bags of manure, the custom garden boxes will sit outside the greenhouse. becoming home to a wide variety of tomato plants. From cherries to beefsteaks, we’ll have tomatoes for every use.

The iris’s and tulips are moving to the little “riverbed”, designed to carry away neighborhood flood waters in heavy rains. This year, the weather’s been so strange, we just never know when the “riverbed” will run again. We’ll be ready.

As for the greenhouse, it’s almost ready for Spring 2024. After deciding to remove the roof vents, we’re ready to place the 70% sunshade over the top. Once in place, all the seedlings will enjoy a little time outside before they’re planted in our beds.

All of this activity must be finished before HHH and I sail away on the Love Boat in early spring. If you would’ve painted this picture of happiness for me in 2022, I’d have called you looney. Life can change with the wink of an eye. My life has changed in the most beautiful ways imaginable.

Whatever you do this weekend, think about going outside. Wash something off. Clean some windows. Do a little bird watching. Consider planting some bulbs. Spring is a great time for renewing faith in something bigger than ourselves. Please remember to smile with a grateful heart. Life is beautiful.

More on Monday.

My what a week its been. Just eight days ago, HHH and I watched as the seagulls played in the ocean breezes. Tourists were enjoying their time fishing on a lonely little pier on the edge of paradise. Visiting with our favorite peeps, we never imagined that on the high desert plains we call home, things were changing forever. Sometimes, it’s a blessing not to know.

Let’s start with the pier.

Just one week prior to our vacation, storms ravaged the Central Coast. Having precious friends and relatives living in the area, I follow their local news. It’d been reported that the pier suffered some “minor damage”. Just a few little problems that could be fixed over time. After closing the pier for a few hours, it was opened once again. The pier is the gathering place of the little town shown above. In 2013,  the 150 year old structure received major repairs that cost about $3.5 million.

This pier is covered with memorial plaques bearing the names of people from my home town. One of the most interesting benches belongs to “Norman Liddell”. I must have met “Norman” many times during my toddler years. He served on the school board with my father and remained a lifelong friends. His wife, “Iola (eye’-ola)”, taught Auntie TJ in grade school. With his name affixed to the bench, I always felt I could sit and rest awhile. Norman and Iola would make sure things were safe.

The pier holds memories for many. One year, I sat and watched as very young “Life Guard” trainees did their first jump off the pier. Opening a gate, one by one the littles (10-11 year-olds) would hold their breath and jump 20 feet to the ocean below. One after the other, they faced the rite of passage through which they needed to jump.

For one little boy, the task was just too much. He cried on the long walk to the end of the pier while true friends on either side urged him on. With amazing courage, he faced his fear and jumped. We all held our collective breath, waiting for the small head to come to the surface. Sure enough, he came up waving! Victorious!! With confident strokes, he swam all the way back to the beach in record time.

Young lovers hold hand while walking on the pier. New parents carefully stroll their babies while they sleep, nestled in expensive buggies. Tourists converse in the languages of the world. Everyone understands one thing. This is one of the most beautiful places in the world.

HHH and I enjoyed our time on the pier as we watched for marine wildlife and surfers trying to catch the perfect waves. We love our pier as much as everyone else. It does feel it belongs to us when we’re there.

That is why yesterday’s news was a bit devastating.

We stood for more than a few minutes on several occasions on the very end of that pier. Quite a few pilings washed away. In the eye of the storm and in the blink of an eye, the main part of a little coastal town is now closed indefinitely.

At the very time we were enjoying our Valentine’s Day Tradition, things at home were going south.

A good friend lost his battle to cancer. A very young senior citizen, he leaves a family legacy of streets named after his family. He also leaves heartbroken sons, family, and friends. We’ll soon celebrate his life with HHH’s old friends. People known to him since childhood. It will be such a large gathering, we’ll again meet in the firehouse. And, so, in the blink of an eye, our town has changed.

You might remember a very sweet friend of mine owns our town’s flower shop. She’s well into her second year as the shop owner and doing quite well. One problem she faces on holidays is the need for dependable delivery people. Valentine’s Day is one of her biggest days of the year, and she’s always looking for help.

My dearest Harvest Sisters are always up for a challenge. We band together to help those in need and our florist was really in need. If in town, HHH and I would’ve helped, too. On only their second run, the car must’ve smelled of the lovely bouquets in the back. The Angel of the Aluminum Cloud held the directions, while our Faithful Leader drove. Turning off the highway as they had a thousand times before, they were hit by a young boy of 16 who pulled out from a stop sign into them.

He hit their little car squarely on the driver’s side with his huge truck. Airbags went off, burning the young mans forearms and saving the life of our Fearless Leader. Although no one went to the hospital that day, they’re all visiting doctor’s now. The verdict is out on damages other than the obvious. One very totaled little car. Two very experienced drivers left shaken. One unexperienced driver left traumatized. Lives changed in the blink of an eye.

Whatever you do today, take time to look both ways when driving. When walking out on a pier, do a little research to find out when it might have last been checked for faulty pilings. Hug your loved ones. For, in the blink of an eye, everything can change. After that, nothing will ever be quite the same.

More tomorrow.

After a beautiful trip to the coast, it’s good to be back in the desert with our peeps. Every great vacation must come to an end including one to the Central Coast of California. This trip has become a Valentine’s Day Tradition, staying at a private bungalow called “Bella Vista By The Sea”. With breathtaking ocean views from every window in the place, we felt like royalty. That was before visiting Hearst Castle to see the way REAL American royalty lived in days gone by.

Hearst Castle is one of the few places in the United States deserving the title “CASTLE”. In the middle of a vast cattle ranch still owned by the Hearst Corporation today, the castle sits on atop the highest mountain.

“Hearst Castle’s history begins in 1865, when George Hearst purchased 40,000 acres of ranchland. After his mother’s death in 1919, William Randolph Hearst inherited thousands of acres around San Simeon, and over time, he purchased more. The spread eventually encompassed about 250,000 acres.” _{hearstcastle.org}

With a dream in his head and a pocket full of millions, he wanted a something better than a little campsite atop the “hill”. Indeed, he accomplished his mission.

Our drive to the Visitor’s Center filled us with wonder. To the East side of Highway 1, amidst acres and acres of lush green hills grazed a large herd of zebras. Once belonging to the zoo Mr. Hearst kept, they are mascots to this coastal area. Because of governmental protection, no one will ever build on this land. It’s one of the few places along the California Coast that remains natural and wild.

Beginning our tour at the Visitor’s center in San Simeon, we caught a bus to the top of the hill. Through twists and turns on the steep road, a recorded monologue told of days gone by as we climbed higher and higher. We passed by a mile long pergola that shaded horseback on hot days. There were the empty animal compounds that once held four types of bears, including Polar bears.

We’d decided to take the tour of Casa Del Monte and Casa Del Sol, along with the kitchen, wine cellar, and pools. The smallest of the little houses was only 2550 square feet without benefit of a kitchen. The largest was the castle, at 68,500 sq. ft. In between the two was a mass of beauty and wonder.

From the dungeon that served as home to 10,000 bottles of wine and spirits, to the beauty of golden-tiled pools, the castle is a thing of beauty and wonder. If you ever have a chance to visit, do it.

After 28 years, Mr. Hearst and Julia managed to spend $10million on structures and antiquities. The beauty of all Hearst’s possessions combined couldn’t match God’s handiwork. Our sunny and warm beach vacation was enjoyed after wintering on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

The week before we arrived, waves crashed over cliffside homes. The pier at our tiny getaway town was closed due to minor damage from historical waves. Rivers flooded. Tornadoes touched down and hurricane force winds ripped.

From the day we arrived until the day we left, the weather calmed and the sun shone. A few days later, the torrential rains returned and the pier closed again. We enjoyed a window of calm in which to enjoy our time away. Honeymooning. There’s nothing quite so special. I think we’ll be extending this time in our lives for many years to come.

Whatever you do today, you might want to step back in time. If you’ve been to the castle, pictures and videos can transport you back to a magical time.

There are some truths in this world that cannot be denied. One of them is that cuteness protects many pets from their actions. It is certainly the truth here at Winterpast. What one of our “fur babies” doesn’t think of first, the other has already done. Worse than twin toddlers, these two are a handful. I assure you, it’s exhausting at times.

Oliver is a 5.5 year old, 30+ pound, green-eyed, cream and tan piebald, standard wire-haired dachshund with liver accents. In short, Oliver could be a pretty good stand in for Falcor.

This adorable little pup couldn’t be much trouble. Right? Pictured here at 4 months, he hadn’t gotten up to speed yet. Adult Oliver eats rocks, solar lights, and irrigation emitters. He loves leather wallets, but only if he can eat the money inside. He eats beading off expensive handbags, ID sticks for growing garden plants (wooden and sharp), and Wookie’s food.

Oliver has a weight problem, as well. At over 30 pounds, he’s not a small and cuddly doxie but a Standard Dachshund on the hunt for badgers. As badgers don’t live in our area, he’ll settle for anything else that has a crunch to it. He can and will eat all day long if there are things for him to chew on. He also loves any kind of rubber, cloth toys, and the trash bag if it’s left on the floor. He absolutely adores HHH’s favorite new hats. Winner, winner, chicken dinner!!!

Oliver is the pup on the right. I mean, really? How can your heart not melt even under the worst offenses. He has cuteness dialed in.

As for the Wookie, she’s not without blame. A high-octane designer-dog beauty, this one needs a racetrack for her antics. Running like the wind, she darts to and fro, as Oliver gives his little legs a work out. He does his best to catch her, but with her long legs, it’s impossible. Even though they weight the same, the difference in height gives Wookie the advantage every time.

She love to counter surf and dance on the dining room table. The other day she got lucky and stole a 1/2 pound pork chop out of the kitchen. As a past time, she loves watching television. Watching her is more entertaining than most of the shows we watch. Her head will turn from character to character as she listens. We’re still trying to teach her that jumping up on the brand new entertainment center for a better look isn’t a good thing. We’ve had the entertainment center for two months now.

Between the two dogs (always on high alert), we can be sure that strangers won’t get to the front door without a frantic alarm. The two jump, spin, bark, howl, and race every single time we come home creating quite a bit of turmoil in the laundry room. It will be a long time before they have run of the entire house when we’re gone.

We aren’t new dog owners. Each of us have a long list of pooches we’ve befriended throughout the year. For me, I’ve never, ever, ever had a dog as difficult as Oliver. Ever. From Shepherds to pugs, doxies to labs, Oliver is the worst of them all, hands down. I can’t speak for HHH, but as for me, I saved the worst for last. As for the Wookie, I have also never owned such an intelligent dog. Brains and beauty.

After HHH had been robbed of his wallet and money by the little cream thief, he pointed out something very true. We need to suffer through and keep Oliver forever. There aren’t two other people in this world that would put up with him. HHH does have a point there. As the human pets of two crazy canines, HHH and I get gold stars for patience.

Whatever you do today, appreciate and be grateful for your quiet and sweet pets. If you aren’t cleaning up a ripped garbage bag or trying to piece together two $5 bills, be thankful. If you do have a difficult pet, practice patience and forgiveness. They are great traits to have when living with cuties like we do.

More tomorrow.

Before I begin, let me assure you, technical difficulties kept me from writing last week. I received questions about the truthfulness of that claim. A perfect storm of inadequate WIFI, my cumbersome website, and an old laptop combined to make transmission of any posts impossible. Frustration increased with picture-perfect views of a crystal blue ocean complete with breaking waves that glistened like jewels. Now, back on the high desert plains, there are far fewer distractions and much better band-width.

What a week it was wandering out west on the beautiful beaches of the Pacific Ocean. After the insanity of primaries and caucuses, it was wonderful to check out and take a vacation. It’s been a minute since we’ve taken the dogs to Puppy Camp for an escape. Vacationing at our favorite beach town has been on the calendar since last summer. It’s now a solid Valentine’s tradition to travel to the ocean for a week of rest and relaxation. Retirement can be grueling.

As dogs go, ours are pretty normal. As two housebound winter-pups, it seemed they were getting into more trouble every day. From stealing porkchops to chewing up money, the two have been a handful. They were ready for a vacation, too.

Traveling from the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada to the beautiful Pacific Ocean isn’t for the faint of heart. Driving the shortest way, it’s an eight hour trip with minimal stops for food and breaks. I’m so thankful that HHH was willing to drive. Even more so when a large part of the trip involved traveling through snow country over Donner Pass in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. (We packed extra snacks.)

Traveling to visit Auntie TJ and the Goddess of the Central Coast is always worth every bit of effort. There are few people in the world that are more enchanting than these two coastal ladies. To be lucky enough to spend a few hours visiting with each of them is certainly more than lucky enough.

Auntie TJ is twenty years my senior. She wouldn’t mind me saying that as my own age remains a secret. Just four years older than my oldest sister, she’s always been the fun Aunt that everyone loves having around. Throughout her life, she’s shared many truths with me. A few of her newer rules involve avoiding baby showers, weddings, and funerals.

The most important rule of all is that we all need to remember laugh while having lots fun. One must practice laziness because, in our family of farmers, it doesn’t come naturally. Keep a positive attitude, even when life becomes far too serious. TJ is positively sharp and witty, even when sight and hearing frustrate her a bit some days. Every time I visit her, I learn more about life and the way I hope to be in twenty years. I’m so blessed my parents had the insight to choose HER as my God Mother.

Then, there is the Goddess of the Central Coast. I assure you, even if not bio-d on Wikipedia, there is a Goddess and she lives on the cliffs of the Central Coast. Close in age to my Auntie, you’d never identify this woman by the number of her years. She is a beautifully inspired conversationalist who is the best hostess, even in the face of adversity.

Just a few days prior to our visit, she hunkered down in her gorgeous nest as waves crashed over the top of her roof. WAVES. As in OCEAN WAVES crashing from the OCEAN. She explained that it was impossible to know from which direction the most danger could come. From the ocean waves? Or from the 35 foot tree on the street side of her property? Death from exploding windows or a crashing tree?… Hard to pick which one would be worse.

During the last three weeks, the Central Coast of California suffered through hurricane force winds, huge waves, and three tornadoes. All this in a place that usually experiences very mild weather while hovering around 72.5 degrees.

Valentines 2023 will go down in the books as our first as husband and wife. But, it will also be remembered as the day we visited with two of our favorite women in the entire world. Enchanting. That’s the word for them both. Enchanting.

With technical problems over, it’s time to focus the new website. Life returns to normal for a little while. The dogs are happy about that!!! Us, too.

Whatever you do today, be glad waves aren’t crashing over your deck and roof. Be thankful that the winds aren’t hurricane force and there aren’t tornadoes overhead. Most of all, get outside for a bit to enjoy the last days of winter. Spring is just around the corner.

More tomorrow.

Due to technical problems beyond my control, I will return on Monday, February 19th.

More then.

Oy. Vey.

2024 is a busy election year. Here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada nothing would do but to change the way things have been done for decades. Out with the old, in with the new, which is really old. If one election day is good, two will be even better, right?

Last Tuesday, Nevada held the state Primary. Thursday, we caucused. At each event, only one viable candidate running. Party delegates would be awarded to the winner of the Caucus, only. The winner of the state-run primary would receive nothing.

Registered voters would report to the Senior center to cast their ballot. After verifying proper ID, their vote, handwritten on a piece of paper, would be accepted. In theory, this is a great idea. No arguments about faulty election machines. Just old school paper, pencil, and ID’s. What could possibly go wrong? Again, Oy. Vey.

Sometimes very smart people make very dumb decisions. Our little town on a dusty wide spot in the road right off the interstate is home to more than 20,000 residents. Half are conservatives. Now, if half of those want to vote in this important election, you get the number 5,000. If half of those brave the cold and carpool, two to a car, you have the potential for over a thousand cars to roll into a snowy, ice-filled parking lot that holds 100 cars on a good day.

To make matters worse, the hours of the Caucus were from 5:00 – 7:30 PM. Anyone in line at closing could still vote. Can you begin to see a few problems brewing?

One week prior to the caucus, I got a call asking if we’d volunteer to help. Truly, we might’ve considered except that Hubba-Hubba-Husband and I had big plans the next day. Sorry, already booked.

I got another plea to help two days just two days before caucusing. The three “required training dates” had already passed. Just days before caucusing, they’d take anyone who showed up to help.

That very cold evening, HHH and I did attempt to vote. Turning into the midst of a long line of cars, we saw overflow parking in a muddy lot. Stuck in that huge sea of cars, we could be trapped for hours. With skillful maneuvering, HHH turned around and left, escaping potential disaster.

Enjoying a delicious Chinese dinner, we were thankful we’d managed to avoid a complicated evening. Two hours later, we joined our friends at Bible Study.

One of the sweetest women in the group is 91 years young. She drives herself everywhere, keeping a very busy social life. It was no surprise that she’d arrived to caucus two hours early and found a place in line. While waiting, she began chatting with a young couple who’d been married three years. After a little more conversation, it turned out they’d been married by our pastor.

With snow on the ground and the evening desert air quite frigid, the couple sandwiched this little lady right between them to keep her warm. And there, they waited an hour outside in a line that wrapped all the way around the building on that very crazy night.

Another friend was asked to stay and help after waiting in the long line. With not much else on her schedule, she did just that. They got their volunteers one way or another and caucus-ed on.

Oy.

Vey.

As for the State Primary held two days prior, the one viable candidate lost to “None of the Above” by over 30%. I heard her speak the next day. “Nevada wasn’t important to us.” Nothing to see in Nevada, I guess. What a way to insult the population of an entire state.

Elections are such a minor part of life. That’s a good thing.

Whatever you do today, practice a little patience. It’s tough to wait in line when our minds race ahead. Be thankful you have the strength to stand and wait. Smile at someone new. They just might warm your heart.

More tomorrow.

These days, we don’t have space for fancy dinner parties. Too busy growing seedlings, they’ll soon produce the food we’ll enjoy this summer. These tiny plants are entering their third week of life while thriving under an unusually cute grow light. HHH informed me, (the Master Gardener he is), that without stimulation from proper lighting, the plants would be weak and fail.

The grow light is quite an affordable and necessary addition to our gardening tools. Bendable tubes support 12″ positioned over the seedlings in many ways. This device is programmable to come on for the same number of hours each day. For less than $20, it’s a great investment. In just a week, the seedling’s are thriving.

Gardening is a relaxing and soul-soothing hobby. Smelling freshly turned soil while spending time outside, one cannot help but be in the moment. But, there is also the expense. No matter how you begin, beginning gardening can be expensive.

Now that the light has arrived prompting the plants to grow like crazy, the little peat pods are becoming root-bound. Next weekend, it’ll be time to replant everything in bigger pots. This first round of seedlings will be ready for bigger peat pots by the end of next week. Each day, their little stems are getting stronger, fascinating to watch. Some pods that sat empty for two weeks are now sprouting under the grow lights. At some point, I’ll need a bigger table and another grow light. I can almost taste the cherry tomatoes and the Armenian cucumbers we’ll enjoy this summer. And so, the tending continues.

In the 1900’s, I’d enter the nursery and go wild. Two of this plant, five of those. We’d have a full cart of flowering plants and head to the cash register. The bill was always cheaper than a new dress or night on the town, affordable and fun. These days, one young plant can cost $5-$10. Just one. Not a flat of 12, like in the olden days.

Hubba-Hubba-Hubbie and I’ve found our true downfall as a couple. The Garden Center. There was never a doubt that we’d decide to raise our own seedlings this year. It was disheartening to find that a packet of tomato seeds holds 24 seeds. Pretty pricey at $2.00 a pack, but much better than $5 for four seedlings.

Having planted a sufficient number of seeds for a neighborhood farm, I may have found a little cottage industry. After frost danger has passed, the extra plants will be put up for sale to good homes.

As the last days of winter tick by, we’re prepared for spring. The garden shed is clean and organized. The greenhouse is together and waiting for warmer days. The bee hive awaits the queen and her court. And our seedlings are growing. Our late winter checklist almost finished, pruning continues.

Whatever you do this weekend, make sure you remember stressful thoughts should wait until Monday morning at 8. It’s the weekend!!!! Take some time to enjoy fresh air and sunshine if you can grab some. Putting one foot in front of the other, keep moving! With miracles all around, life is truly beautiful.

More on Monday.

Oy Vey.

February has arrived and I’m no closer to releasing the new blog. For new widows and widowers, I must apologize. In September, 2020, I was where you are today. Lost, fearful, heart-broken, alone, and lonely, I poured my sadness into my posts. My life has changed so much since then. The painful and involved journey of grieving finally lead me to healing and peace.

For those interested, I encourage you to start reading the blog from the beginning. There, you may find words that comforts you on your journey through the wilderness of widowhood. It’s been my intention for the start that it would be so.

To go back in time, look to the right today’s post. Click on “Archives”. Scroll down to September 2020. Once on September 31, scroll down again to find the very first post dated September 24, 2020 and begin reading. Repeat that process for each month after that.

There are a few things about the blog that you must know.

1. I don’t have a Master’s in Fine Art in Creative Writing. This blog started with a woman devastated by pain and filled with words begging release to the universe. In the beginning, I’d squeal with delight if I two readers a day visited this Grieving Gardener. As my readership increased, I started looking up IP addresses to identify the countries in which my readers lived. Daily readers slowly increased as I poured out my heart day after day.

For a long time, I wrote every single day. In the midst of Covid while knowing very few people in town, the gardens of Winterpast, (my new home) and Oliver (my little dog) gave me a reason to get out of bed at 4:00 am every morning. I was punctual but not always a very good editor. That remains true to this day.

Some have commented that my grammar isn’t always correct, or my spelling perfect. Sometimes, when deep in thought, I might write “Pants” when I mean “Boots”. Please, please, please, let me know! Unlike Artificial Intelligence, this very real and human woman makes errors. I don’t revisit past blogs very often. I left the pain in that widow’s voice along the way as I healed.

2. My stories are all too real although people or places are usually disguised. I own the many mistakes made along my journey. There were “Northern-Star” moments, calling for corrections in my direction. Every new widow and widower has moments in which they might’ve used better judgement. Just try to remember to continue on your own, authentic path. Most importantly, forgive yourself along the way. Life can be messy sometimes.

Just like Joni Mitchell and her rehabilitation from a brain aneurism, I had to relearn the most basic life skills in a new environment with rules all my own. At 64, I’d never been an adult woman alone in the world. It’s obvious in some of the posts and even more obvious to me when I reflect on things omitted.

3. I can tell you one truth. Everything written was with the best intent to help to at least one widow in the world. I hope my words have accomplished that goal.

4. Winterpast — The name on the plaque my my front door, I dedicated my new home to God in this name. My winter has passed for now and I’m enjoying every bit of happiness I can find.

5. My late husband did have a real name followed by PsyD. For now, I choose to keep that as my own. VST is a nickname given by Auntie TJ on a most special visit. To her, he remains VST to this very day. Keep some things about your late spouse as your own.

6. In the beginning, I taught myself the in’s and out’s of blogging. So simple to begin, I set up my blog site in an afternoon. I’ve learned about the workings of the site, but still the weakest in that area. In the beginning, I didn’t realize I could add pictures and videos. When I found out I could, I probably used too many. I rarely use original pictures, but rather ones I find online. Sometimes, copyrighted music is blocked after publishing. Just life.

7. If interested in writing your own blog, research sites with good reviews. The site I now use is clunky and hard to navigate. I promise the new blog will appear soon. The new site seems to be easier to use, I just need to use it. This honeymooning has rearranged my life just a bit.

8. Is blogging expensive? It can be. Like anything, there are plenty of additional services you can add to your website. Usually, discounts are offered during the first year. Be careful to keep current on your payments. Your Domain Name (ie–Grievinggardener.com) will be yours alone unless you default on payments. Then, it can be snatched by someone else.

Writers must write. Writing is life. Long ago, wise people gave me important advice.

Just tell the story.

Whatever you do today, think about letting your words carry away a little pain and grief away from your heart. Choose a time and place that is comfortable for you and just begin. Tell YOUR story. You might be surprised what your written words tell you!

More tomorrow.

The world is full of one crisis after another these days. Just turn on the news for a moment and you’ll find hundreds of stories too horrendous to believe. The sad thing is, most are at least partly true. Crimes play on video just moments after they’re committed. Watching too much of this dulls the senses and cripples the soul with sadness. There is an On/Off button on the remote for good reason.

This morning, there is one very funny headline important to me because great mornings start with a belly laugh. Nevada held the Presidential Primary yesterday. There was only one current candidate on our ballot with a handful of others that had already quit. Just one person that was crowing about a sure win.

What the candidate didn’t consider was a little checkable box called “None of these Candidates”. Well, this poor soul lost the State of Nevada (NOT PRONOUNCED Ne-VAH’-dah for those of you that don’t know) to NONE OF THESE CANDIDATES by 33%!!!!!!

Oy.

Vey.

To make things more confusing, tomorrow night, there will be a state caucus in which people will wait in the cold to meet from 5 – 7:30. The results of this vote will determine the winner of state delegates for the upcoming election with the winner taking all. Each voter will be checked for ID and then write their choice on a paper ballot. The results will be interesting.

Other than a person loosing to “None of the Above” in a battleground state, the news remains something I love to turn OFF.

Yesterday, I spent quiet time shopping in our little town. Although not the most glamorous group of stores, I found what I was looking for at every stop. Long gone are the days when one could go to any store and find the needed item on the first try. HHH and I have been searching for Glass-Top Stove Cleaner. Having used this product for years, it was always found nestled on a shelf with the cleaning supplies. Suddenly, there is no room on the shelf for this product anymore. So it is with many products when you live amidst the tumbleweeds on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Friends have often asked where the hub of our town lies? Although there’s a street called “Main”, it also doubles as a highway. There are no retail shopping centers other than the one that’s home to our Walmart. Yet, every time I’ve gone to look for specific things, I find them. They’re just not all in one spot, and sometimes, found in very unlikely stores.

Yesterday, it was at our hardware store that I found the Glass-Top stove cleaner. At our Dollar Tree, the deal of the day was on heavy gloves, beanies, and scarves. With the weather returning to winter, (appropriate but sad), these items will help some less fortunate people as they travel through our town.

The associate asked if I was buying them for gifts. Well? Yes. Gifts for some friends I haven’t met yet. I explained our church mission to “Warm one heart at a time”.

“We have a man that sleeps behind our building every night. It’s so bitterly cold…….” Her voice fell away as she finished my transaction. Perhaps I planted a seed? For $3.75, she could make things just a little better for the man behind the building. There are so many things we could all do to make life a tiny bit better for another.

In the next few days, HHH and I will look for any sunshine we can find while preparing for the next storm. We dream of traveling WEST over Donner Pass to find warmth. THE Donner Pass. Not for the faint of heart, it’s impossible to drive through the pass without thinking of the unfortunate travelers that got caught in the winter of 1846. They would have loved a Dollar Store in which to buy gloves, hats and scarves for their group!

Donner Pass is a lifeline between civilization and the wild west in which I live. If closed by storms, products don’t make it to our shelves. Important things like food and toilet paper stay in parked trucks on the west side of the Sierra’s. In an extended snow storm, the shelves become pretty bare around here. It’s always good to plan ahead for snowy day.

Enjoying the amazing blessings of health, an active brain, and a quiet soul, life is really beautiful for two honeymooners here in the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. We hope you enjoy a beautiful and peaceful winter day! Spring is coming!

I’ve enjoyed a life long girl crush on Miss Mitchell. Joni and I have been through stuff together while she remains the one artist I’ve followed since 1973. As my personal imaginary friend and mentor, her very real words remind me to remain strong in the face of storms. Joni knows a thing or two about life’s storms.

I discovered her my freshman year in college. “Court and Spark” was an album that carried me through many flourishing and broken relationships. The one constant was her words. Many times over I’d return to her lyrics. Magically, her words soothed my babies to sleep or helped the housework or laundry be less annoying. She was along for every three hour drive to the beach. Joni and Joy. We’ve been through it all.

After four long college years, we became even closer while I spent many long months in Tiraspol, Moldavia, USSR. Listening through unending hours of solitude, every single note of her “Court and Spark” album was memorized. In that God-forsaken land, during that intensely lonely time, her words became etched onto my heart. To this day, the notes and lyrics of her songs stop me in my tracks.

Alone as a young woman-child of 21, I experienced a harrowing train trip through several communist countries. While on the REAL Orient Express, I lived the next song in real time! Joni and Joy, clickety-clacking through dangerous lands with the moon and the stars to read.

As the years rolled on, VST and I attended way too many “People’s Parties”, always throwing lightness on the sadness while laughing it all away.

People’s Party — Joni Mitchell

All the people at this party
They’ve got a lot of style
They’ve got stamps of many countries
They’ve got passport smiles
Some are friendly
Some are cutting
Some are watching it from the wings
Some are standing in the centre
Giving to get something

Photo beauty gets attention
Then her eye paint’s running down
She’s got a rose in her teeth
And a lampshade crown
One minute she’s so happy
Then she’s crying on someone’s knee
Saying laughing and crying
You know it’s the same release

I told you when I met you
I was crazy
Cry for us all, beauty
Cry for Eddie in the corner
Thinking he’s nobody
And Jack behind his joker
And stone-cold Grace behind her fan
And me in my frightened silence
Thinking I don’t understand

I feel like I’m sleeping
Can you wake me
You seem to have a broader sensibility
I’m just living on nerves and feelings
With a weak and a lazy mind
And coming to peoples parties
Fumbling deaf dumb and blind

I wish I had more sense of humour
Keeping the sadness at bay
Throwing the lightness on these things

Laughing it all away

At different times in my life, I, too, have suffered from the weak and lazy mind while standing in frightened silence thinking I don’t understand. Just a profound and deep connection between Joni and Joy.

Over the decades she soothed my nerves as I waited for far too many “Cars on the Hill”.

Joni has nineteen studio albums from which to choose. In 2015, a brain aneurism became testament to her courage. Dig deeper into her life and you’ll find she suffered far more tragic losses while always managing to heal stronger through her grief. She found her way to the top of the world of entertainment long before the “Me, Too” movement had become a thing. She’s all the stronger for her battle scars.

While looking through her music, I found the last song I’ll share with you. I’ll I ever wanted was to come in from the cold. I think many in the world could say the very same thing.

Forever she’ll be My Joni.

More tomorrow.

These days, HHH and I find ourselves covered by all sorts of blessings. Last week, a brother-in-law (one of four), called to invite us to Friday night dinner. It’s been awhile since we’ve been on a date because HHH creates a variety of wonderful meals. From Chicken Cordon Bleu to Steak and Lobster, the man can cook. A change in pace is always fun, so we accepted the invitation.

In 2020, a widow alone, I knew only two people. Now blessed with a beautiful family, I appreciate the love and adoration in my big new family. Manly men, all, their mom raised her boys right. A band of five adult men that actually love each other! In my limited experience with families, finding one in which all members get along is a rarity indeed.

After a week of texting, we decided to meet at The Oyster Bar just thirty minutes to the west. An old time establishment, it’s been a family favorite for decades. Instead of a table for ten, we’d need one for six, as The Mayor and The Coach had previous engagements.

Worried about appearances on this first family outing, HHH reminded me anything this side of my wedding dress would be great. In the wild, wild, west of 2024, sequins and sparkles are few and far between. HHH would wear his Christmas Pendleton, a grey Fedora, and jeans. I found an outfit that played that played well off his. Fixing my hair and makeup was an exciting beginning to the wonderful evening yet to come.

Dressed warmly in black pants, sweater, tall UGG’s and black wool coat, we were out the door to pick up Little Bro and his wife. On the way into town, it was nice to visit with my “Kentucky Rose” sis. She always makes sure everyone feels love and warmth. Her enchanting accent just melts the heart. Lil Bro would be the first to tell you he’s a lucky man to have her as his wife.

Although the big casino was nearly empty, The Oyster Bar Restaurant was hopping. While our group enjoyed all things fishy and delicious, we caught up on the latest news. The Middle Bro and his wife are wintering in Arizona where the temperatures have been hovering in the 70’s. As the oldest brother, HHH, checked on everyone. Intelligent conversation always extends a dinner party, and Friday night was no different. The evening ended too soon and it was time to head back home to our dusty little wide spot in the road on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

During our time together, new plans formed. There’ll be a retreat in mid-September full of family, fishing and fun. Idaho better get ready, because the brothers and their wives are coming to town. And, just like that, my life has transformed into a happy one full of family, friends, and love. What a journey through a dark and dangerous wilderness it’s been! The brilliant light of love that surrounds me is the most magnificent blessing of all!

While studying the Bible yesterday, a question fit perfectly with the beautiful weekend I’d enjoyed.

What guided the Israelites through the wilderness?

Faith in spite of fear.

Perseverance in spite of fear.

Obedience in spite of fear.

Hope in spite of fear.

Love in spite of fear.

Traveling through the wilderness of widowhood, I depended on all those tools for guidance in spite of total fear and heartbreak. What a powerful journey it’s been! It IS possible to get through the worst situations by taking just one step at a time.

Whatever you do today, take some time to focus on faith, perseverance, obedience, hope, and love. Essential tools to help you through difficult times.

More tomorrow.

Coming from a long line of farmers, I inherited responsibility and drive to stay busy. I developed a strong work ethic at a young age. Every adult I knew during those formative years complained there wasn’t enough time in the day to finish their chores. From planting the gardens, to hanging out the wash and ironing the laundry, the list of chores went on and on.

At school, my teachers struggled, as well. They spent hours standing in front of the mimeograph machine, turning the handle by hand to create copies from a stencil. As a beginning teacher in 1996, I learned to use this type of machine. Websites with adorably cute worksheets to print off by the hundreds weren’t available. Everything was done manually, down to the sharpening sharpening of wooden pencils.

In the 1900’s, no such thing as continuous entertainment existed, with television broadcasting limited to certain hours. There were three stations in my town, those being ABC, NBC, and CBS, none offering 24/7 news feed. Beginning at 6 am, the Pledge of Allegiance was followed by the National Anthem. Next came the news, and throughout the day some addictive and poorly acted shows called Soap Operas played on. Long after I’d been sent to bed, Taps played to end the day.

With no cellphones, a call in the night meant there was a real problem. A relative had become sick or a neighbor needed help gathering up some loose cows. Life was peaceful without listening devices glowing with their blue-light screens.

Growing up in those quiet days, Turning off the day was easier. “Give it to God, and Go to Sleep”. Finishing her day with a crossword puzzle or good book at the kitchen table, my mother would wait for my dad to come in after last minute chores.

Today, downtime is harder to find. Here at Winterpast, we have complete connection to the business of life. We can shop 24/7 on Amazon for anything we might possibly need in life. Today, the news reported that Gen-Z’ers are buying tiny homes to place in their parent’s back yards. Oy. Vey. You’ve got to love Amazon. Free shipping for an entire house!

Technology has made it easier to accomplish more in a day. Turbo Tax takes the guesswork out of taxes with artificial intelligence asking all the important questions. Our printer scans and faxes wirelessly. Answering machines are built right into our phones , along with a camera to capture every adorable moment in life.

After our Covid quarantine, many people now work at home. No more expensive clothing and lunch dates. People could work in their pajamas from 8 to 5, avoiding the subway or crowded freeway. Just roll out of bed and right into work mode. Now, the safest place one could unwind doubles as the office. Instead of working 5 days a week, some are now on call 24/7. This sets the stage for major burnout after a few years. Possessions one has worked to own create a giant prison from which there is no escape.

In retirement, HHH and I have only found one minor problem. Employed for decades, we were plenty busy from Monday through Friday. Come the weekend, the time was ours to enjoy. Now retired, every day is the same. It’s important to purposely plan a portion of each day for rest and relaxation. As Auntie TJ reminds us all, laziness is an artform that must be practiced to perfection.

As this weekend unfolds, remember that most offices and banks close Friday at 5pm. They don’t open until Monday morning. Even the IRS sleeps on the weekend. Take time away from worry to rest your brain. Remember, for peace of mind, resign as general manager of the universe.

Have a great weekend! I’ll be back Monday!

Yesterday, I made progress towards turning our garden shed into a picture of sanitary beauty. A work in progress for sure! Blending two overloaded garden sheds into one is like working a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle. And we’ve only just begun.

An important chore I’ll tackle today is a chemical inventory. It seems that a real Master Gardener has many elixirs and potions designed to cure all kinds of problems. In my old life, I used two products. Rose food and Miracle Grow.

New to Winterpast in the spring of 2020, I possessed many things from my the past. Two gallon jugs holding farm grade Round-Up and Surflan were hold overs from my days of farming. Back in the day, all herbicides were FDA approved for use in vineyards and orchards. Having saved many things from the ranch, these two jugs came along for the ride. I had no intention of using either.

Along the road to my house, I noticed an interesting piece of property. There, the owner had planted an entire grove of cottonwood trees, native to our area. Along with the 80 trees in his front yard, he’d developed dirt roads and walkways covered with young tumbleweeds (also native to our area).

My plan was a simple one. I’d write a note complimenting his forest and then ask if he could use my farm grade chemicals for weed erradication. A win-win. He’d apply the chemicals according to the label and they wouldn’t live in my garage any longer. Sure enough, he took the bait and I delivered the two jugs of chemicals to him.

From time to time, I still use pre-mixed Round-Up in the drainage ditch running in front of my house. When you live in the country, weeds seeds blow in from all directions. Because of the huge tumbleweed problem, many home owners hire a company to chemically sterilize the soil. This winter, I joined their ranks.

When April comes, we’ll need to be sure that anything sprayed is bee-safe. That doesn’t include most insecticides now sitting in our garden shed. Out with the old and in with safe and natural solutions for fungus and insect pests.

We have more shovels and rakes that two people should own in a lifetime. Two lawn mowers, multiple weed eaters, an assortment of pruning shears and saws. As the growing season begins, the garden shed will need weeding, too. Just a list of never-ending fun!

This week, the garden is growing on our dining room table. Everything planted just a week ago is now stretching towards the window. HHH questioned the number of seedlings I’ve planted. I guess it goes with Spring Fever! There could never be too many cherry tomatoes in any summer garden. The spaghetti sauce we made from the garden tomatoes was the best I’ve ever eaten. I predict lots of canning this summer.

Whatever you do today, find some time to pamper yourself with a nice cup of cocoa, coffee, or tea. Take time to watch an old movie or get caught up with a favorite television program. Learn something new on the internet. Just have some fun with whatever you choose! As for me, I’ll be sitting here waiting for real Spring sunshine to arrive.

More tomorrow.

Fifty one years ago, I was an intelligent and pretty high school girl with “Marcia Brady” hair. I liked blue jeans, Biology, hoodies, and my boyfriend, Derrick. Six months older than me on that Wednesday evening, he occupied much more of my brain than he should’ve. The heart wants what the heart wants, especially at seventeen.

That evening was just like any other in my life. My parents were ten years older than those of most of my friends. They had long since forgotten the excitement of high school wrestling matches or basketball games. As farmers, they’d been up since dark:30, and would need to stay up that night to retrieve me from the high school, just six miles south of the ranch. The wrestling match would be over by 9.

My parents themselves had fallen in love at that very high school in 1937, so I never understood how they couldn’t accept that I’d fallen in love, too. Derrick was a year behind me in the grade that I should’ve been in had I not skipped 1st.

As with any young relationship, ours was dramatic and serious. We were making plans for our forever, and I was deep in thought about those plans while gulping down a quick dinner early that evening. Following strict rules, I’d completed my homework and ironed my outfit for the next day. Grabbing our jackets, we walked toward the door, interrupted by the ring of the telephone.

In the 1900’s, all phones were hard-wired. At our house, the phone hung right about the ranch desk with a designated chair for longer calls or book work. Of course, there were no long calls because you were wired to the wall in plain site of the dinner table. There, prying eyes and listening ears would take everything they heard and use it against the sister that was receiving a call. Especially if it was from a B-O-Y.

My father took the call, speaking in a very low tune. Strange as it was, the only thing I could hear him say was “I’ll tell her.” Life was about to transform me from a silly school girl into a grieving young woman.

January 31, 1973. 5:00 pm. Derrick was dead.

When my father told me, my mother immediately insisted that I take two aspirin. Who knows the thinking behind that? To her, it just seemed another thing to insist upon. I declined and sat down to think about whether this could be true. I’d be meeting him at 7:00 pm for a secret kiss and then he’d be off to get ready for his match.

Derrick was 5’10”, 174 lbs., muscular and strong as an ox. He’d never been sick a day since I’d met him. Cleared by the sports doctor to participate in team events, none of this made any sense. He’d been the picture of health.

Earlier in the day, Derrick became unwell after sweltering in a sweat suit to shed water weight and make his weight class. The school nurse was busy filling in for the cafeteria ladies, so she’d called me out of class to sit with him while she tried to reach his mother. As we sat together, his skin tone turned from stark white to bright red. We watched the rhythmic change as the two of us, a couple of scared kids, waited for his mother to take him home.

“Mrs. Wilson, you need to pick up your son. Here in the nurse’s office, he’s become quite ill”, the nurse informed his mom.

“Sorry. I’m in the middle of a perm. Can’t leave. He can take the bus and walk home like usual “, replied the hairdressing mom. Click.

Sorry.

I’m.

In.

The.

Middle.

Of.

A.

Perm.

“Wow”. We both just said Wow.

Walking Derrick to the bus, I did manage to touch his cheek before he boarded the bus. He’d ride for thirty minutes and then walk the 1/4 mile to his front door. There, he’d rest until it was time to get ready for his match. He dropped dead in the hallway while fighting with his mom about attending the wrestling match. In the middle of an ugly argument, he was gone.

February 1, instead of taking my math test, I chose the clothes for his funeral. A “Funky Groovy Threads” shirt I’d given him on Christmas, just the month before, corduroy pants, and his favorite boots. My Senior ring on his finger, he was buried in front grieving friends and teachers he loved so much. Even now, I still remember the smell the flowers covering the front of Stephen’s and Bean’s Funeral home. Funeral flowers just smell different.

The rest of my Senior year couldn’t have been worse. People have a hard time dealing with a death of the young. It’s much easier to avoid the topic and carry on as if nothing ever happened, even when everyone knew it did. On a beautiful June evening, I graduated with honors, in spite of a broken heart.

From time to time, I think of the young grief-filled woman that was me. If only I’d known then what I know now, things would have gone better. The stages of grief hadn’t yet been identified, but I experienced them all anyway. I spent way too many afternoons sitting near his headstone at Mountain View Cemetery. It was as good a place as any to complete college homework.

Whatever the age, losing a loved one is one of the worst times in a human’s life. Even after 51 years, that young grief-filled woman remains close to my heart. I hug myself every January 31st and remind myself that the grief did pass and a beautiful life did follow.

Whatever you do today, remember someone that’s experiencing a loss. Take some time to listen as they tell you about their loved one. Tell someone about the person you lost. It’s a beautiful way to keep their memory alive.

More tomorrow.

Goodness gracious, this beautiful weather has me feeling the effects of Spring Fever. Sunday, the thermometer reached 69 degrees and yesterday, they climbed into the 60’s. With seeds germinating on my dining room table, it’s hard not to believe it’s already Spring 2024. The reality is that we have 49 more days to go.

In a few days, we’ll be suffering through high winds again, and true winter will return. Snow, rain, and a possible need for tire-chains over Donner Pass. Until then, I’ll enjoy every outdoor moment I can.

On the way to the Walmart to the East yesterday, HHH and I noticed that the weather is affecting locals in the same way. Ninja Neighbor was outside watering with her hose, while the neighbor across the street was pruning her bushes. The California neighbor was giving her plants a shot of Miracle Grow. It was then I asked the Master Gardener in the car an important question.

Does he prefer to water during dormancy or not. The answer was No. A dose of Miracle Grow at the wrong time of year coupled with some extra sunshine could cause early budding. With winter winds, rain, and snow, early sprouts and seeds wouldn’t survive.

On the western side of the Sierra Nevada mountain range , almond and fruit trees will bloom throughout the next month. In the early 2000’s, California fruit and nut farmers started hosting “The Blossom Trail”. Many small farms across the San Joaquin Valley banded together to welcome visitors during early spring. It’s a great time to visit different farms, some of them opening stands to sell a little of this or that. Springtime in California is a beautiful thing to behold, in spite of what you hear about the craziness of the big cities. Farmers are farmers wherever they may be located.

Are you experiencing a false spring in your area? Don’t believe it for a minute. Just enjoy the warm, sunny days you get. The high desert plains of northwestern Nevada receive 23 random days of sunny skies during the winter season, according to the internet. These aren’t to to be confused with many more days of serious winter.

If you must, water your bushes and trees, but don’t fertilize. It’s a great time to plant seeds inside your home or greenhouse. Just be sure they receive some sunlight and stay warm.

Your houseplants would always enjoy a little vacation outside should the weather turn nice. Just don’t place them in direct sunshine and remember to bring them back inside before the sun sets. While they’re outside, you can certainly wash them off and houseplants can always use a shot of fertilizer.

A nice warm day is a good time to organize your gardening supplies and tools. If your shovels and hoes need sharpening, a Dremel is a great little tool to use after watching a few U-Tube videos before beginning. As with anything, you can pick up tips and tricks for any garden projects you may want to tackle.

When winter days return, I’ll turn my attention to my solar lights which are in need of cleaning and new batteries. All solar gadgets for the yard need new batteries from time to time. You’ll need a screwdriver and some rechargeable batteries. Take your device apart and replace batteries with the same kind. Do NOT use alkaline batteries. They MUST be rechargeable which can be found at any hardware store or Amazon.

Whatever you decide to do today, enjoy being at peace with the weather you’re experiencing. There can be too much of a good thing. In the middle of summer, we’ll all be wishing for the cloudy skies of winter. It’s just the way things go.

More tomorrow.

Attitude is everything. It’s just that simple. Seeing things from a positive point of view seems almost impossible at certain times in life. No one knows more than a widow how a crushed spirit dries up the bones (the second part of that verse).

I know a man who has been battling an infection in his big toe for months and months. He started with a normal antibiotic at first but it didn’t work. After trying more potent drugs, he received a port for IV treatments using one of the strongest medications available. He still has his toe while fighting diabetes. One of his eyes doesn’t see well but his heart is better after having received open-heart surgery.

This man is one of the most positive people I’ve ever met. Along with all of life’s physical obstacles, he is up and at it every single day. His smile and great outlook on life are an inspiration. I’m so glad he ministers to HHH and me. You see, he’s our pastor.

Yesterday, he chose to speak about Proverbs and explain a little about how the book was written. In the Old Testament, the first five books (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy) are books of the Law. Next come the books holding history. Proverbs is in the section of poetic books. The remaining books holds Prophecy.

Written in modern language, my study Bible also offers insight into the verses. Learning the Bible isn’t one story from beginning to end helped me to better understand. Prolific authors of the books amazing writers, Moses having written the first five chapters. King Solomon wrote most of Proverbs along with Agur and Lemuel. Apostle Paul was one heck of an writer, as well.

Proverbs contains valuable instructions and truths for life. Written in short verses, King Solomon’s words were truly wise. Proverbs 17:22 says, “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.”

According to my Bible, “To be cheerful is to greet others with a welcome, a word of encouragement, an enthusiasm for the task at hand, and a positive outlook for the future. Cheerful people are as welcome as pain-reliving medication.”

Marriage with HHH has given both of us months with cheerful hearts and happy thoughts. This deep and settling contentment has made us both feel years younger. We choose happiness every day.

Yesterday before our service, one of the sweetest church ladies (aged 91 years young), brought two kinds of banana-nut bread. One normal loaf and one sugar-free loaf for our diabetic friends. Just a little something to enjoy before church. Each Sunday, she brings something freshly baked just for us. Even though she doesn’t have to do that, it’s with a cheerful heart that she ENJOYS baking for others! Even at 91!!!!!!

After the service, an annual meeting of the congregation met to go over positions and the budget for the next year. It was heart-warming to see how many people stayed on NFL Sunday. As we discussed available positions, I wasn’t moved to accept any of them.

Until, one was explained.

Stew·ard (/ˈsto͞oərd/) — noun

• 1. A person who looks after the members of a church.

What better job for my Harvest Sister’s and me, than to take care of the needs of our members when they call out for help. There’s something about a little bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup that lifts the spirits when a cold strikes. It’s tough to shovel snow from the drive when you are struggling to survive widowhood. Sometimes life is just plain hard and it helps to get a phone call from a friend. My Harvest Sisters and I can do this for our friends at church. No problem at all.

HHH signed up to help the pastor in another area. Just like that, we’re part of the membership and now considered church elders. We’ll wear that name proudly.

Throughout the meeting, I couldn’t help but watch the pastor infect others with his positive and cheerful heart. His positive attitude is a blessing to us all.

Whatever you do today, think about how you could help your community in one small way. If you’re already doing one small thing, do another. You’ll be surprised to find the more you do, the more you’ll smile. It’s the smiling that leads to a cheerful heart!!

I am absolutely sure our Kitchen Talisman wants to run away at this point. Most retired women use their kitchen counters to make up some great cookies or muffins. Well, our kitchen is just a little different.

After a busy week of shopping, yesterday turned into an extreme work day. I’d planned to stay in and shine up Winterpast for the Playoff weekend. The day started out just fine. One bathroom was scrubbed clean, a hall vacuumed, with plans to dust.

For those of you that don’t live on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, dust may not be a problem. If you don’t have pets, (which would be lonely and sad), you’re not bothered by pet hair. For HHH and I, the hair and dust never stop accumulating, even with two shed-less pooches, which is a joke. All dogs shed something, even the doodle varieties.

While cleaning the kitchen in earnest, HHH came in from his errands. He suggested we go to Lowe’s to price fencing. With two inquisitively rambunctious dogs, fencing them out of our precious garden and bee spaces is absolutely necessary.

The cost of fencing has gone up like everything else in the world. A simple 4′ chain-link fence and gate was once affordable. For two 50′ sections with top rails and gates, we could have gone back to Yellowstone for a few days. Home expenses come before fun.

With e12 cinder blocks intended as a platform for our beloved bee hive, we stopped by Walmart to look for seed potatoes and garlic starts. Of course, it was still too early, however, we did discover the seed section. Like kids in a candy store, we were almost giddy with glee.

The kiss of the sun for pardon
The song of the birds for mirth,
You’re nearer God’s heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth. _{In A Garden Poet: Dorothy Frances Gurney}

I spent time grabbing packets of flowers, choosing varieties with bees in mind. HHH spent time selecting our food. One of his very favorite finds was “Hearts of Gold” cantaloupe seeds. He wanted to buy two packages, but I convinced him that one package would be more than enough.

Returning home with lots of daylight left, we went straight to work on the greenhouse. It was time to strengthen the panels with silicone. Once upon a time, I applied smooth beads of caulking with the best of them. Yesterday, it became apparent I hadn’t tried silicone. After a few attempts on the back side of the greenhouse, my beads improved. By then, my back reminded me it was time to rest a bit.

But, not before we placed HHH’s brand new repurposed redwood garden boxes. As the TV anchors blabbed on, I got to work planting 11 packages of seeds! Two varieties of lavender (our first greenhouse experiment), Armenian cucumbers, hot pepperoncini’s, marigolds, zinnias, two varieties of large tomatoes, and two varieties of cherry tomatoes, poppies, and snapdragons.

So tiny and delicate, it’s hard to believe they will produce flowers and food. In a couple hours, our first hothouse babies were ready.

With beautiful days ahead, we’re looking forward to organizing the garden. Today, we’ll be moving volunteer shrubs into place along the back fence. Splitting plants is a wonderful way to save money. The Iris’s are finally going to get their new home along our dry “creek bed”. HHH has already ordered fancy garden soil, mixed right here in town. How lucky we are to enjoy the very same hobby just behind the fences here at Winterpast.

Whatever you choose to do this weekend, pace yourself. With a hint of spring, it’s easy to start too many projects at once. Start small, or your back might have something to say about it!

Have a wonderful weekend. More on Monday.

Shopping with dear friends is a wonderful time to remember funny stories and plan new adventures. Today was no different. Between the three of us, one is attending a beach wedding, one is planning a trip to Italy, and one going on a honeymoon cruise. After enjoying an amazing lunch, we all needed to use the ladies room. The problem was, there was only two single bathrooms. Sometimes, that’s just the way things roll.

As we stood in a line waiting for the ladies room, the owner of the restaurant came over with a brilliant selection. One of us could play “Guard”, while the other two took care of business. As we stood with her, she talked about the pros and cons of running a restaurant in this day and age.

Restaurant owners endure long days, even with a closing time of 2PM. These days, the cost of food is much higher. She receives early morning calls from employees too tired to work that day. Yet, she’s there every day, remembering how things used to be. Her restaurant is so successful, the customers keep rolling in, no matter the hidden complications.

The town mall is trying to recover as the meeting point of the town. With no empty store fronts, the three of us moved along looking for beach and cruise wear, and a little something for the wedding. Being together with friends is always the best part. Our time together was way to short.

After promising to get together again soon, it was time to speed down the interstate returning to the dusty, little, wide spot in the road I call home. For thirty miles, litter covers the sides of the road. In this day and age, how is this even possible. Isn’t there a huge fine for littering? I guess that in the desert littering doesn’t really count.

Remembering back to my childhood, there was one commercial that comes to mind.

What an effective advertisement this was. We all saw and remembered it. Everyone related to and respected the message. Tossed garbage resulted in hefty fines.

These days, people step over discarded trash. Heck, you might need rubber boots to walk through our big cities. A little more than trash on those streets. In the 1900’s, the incarcerated worked. With a bright vest, trash bag, and grabber, they cleaned the sides of the highways. Cleaning trash wasn’t exactly where someone would like to be seen. A little embarrassment can be a great crime deterrent. But, things are different now.

When you live in the desert, lots of things are not quite as we might like them. There are always those people that think it’s fine to dump their old couch or kitchen table by the side of the road. These things can lay there for weeks, while people look the other way. It’s the norm in some areas.

A few years ago, a conscientious local decided enough was enough. He formed a group called “The Desert Pigs”. This group has picked up thousands of tons of trash and discards over the last ten years. One Saturday a month, they band together, pick a trouble spot and clean up the site. These unsung heroes have grown in numbers, but still cannot keep up with the trash that’s everywhere.

Growing up in the country, I was taught it’s not okay to litter. My dad would have us help when city folk came out to our ranch to dump their discards. He made a game of picking up aluminum with my boys when they were young, letting them have the profits from the cans they collected. His ranch was always neat and tidy, without city folk realizing it takes mindfulness and hard work to keep it that way.

Look around the street where you live. Are the storm drains clogged with trash? Do YOU live in the countryside where people seem to think the entire area is one big dumping ground?

Here’s a suggestion. Take a small garbage bag with you when you go out for your daily walk. You WILL find at least one thing to put in it, yes you will. If not, keep walking until you do. If everyone would just clean up a little, things would certainly look a little better.

Now, if you live in Neat-And-Tidy-Land, then, you need to get our your Gratitude Journal and make a few entries. If you are that lucky, be Grateful.

Here at Winterpast, HHH and I are in the process of beautifying our little piece of heaven. Winter is a great time to purge and carry away stuff that not need any longer. As things are getting organized around here, it’s lovely to enjoy our newly found space. As for us, our discards go right to the transfer station, formally known as the dump.

Whatever you do today, try to help clean something in your neighborhood. Watch for upcoming community work days in your town. If none are planned, call City Hall and ask why not. Our Mayor holds beautification days in our town and shows up to help, but then, he’s a pretty great guy. I know. I’m married to his brother.

More tomorrow.

Yesterday, I spent some time getting to know a new friend who keeps bees and donkeys. Hubba-Hubba-Husband and I met her last year when we enjoyed an outstanding day at a garden tour of the little town to the east. She happened to own the 6th house we visited on our tour. At the time, we had no idea that beekeeping would become our new hobby. We were scouting for ideas to dress up Winterpast in new shrubs, trees, and flowers.

The first thing I noticed about her gorgeous farm was that everything was neat and tidy. Having been queen bee at my very own farm, I know this isn’t an easy thing to do. Even her chickens were strutting around with fluffed feathers. The miniature donkeys were off to the side, cute as any I’ve ever seen in my life. Her beautiful farm was everything a little farm should be, enchanting in every way.

Each home we visited offered an assortment of treats and ice-cold lemonade or tea. Each home owner was there to answer questions about their yard. At the time, we had been dating about ten months. We took notes about ideas for Winterpast.

We learned that she had just split and transplanted hundreds of lavender bushes for the bees. The day couldn’t have been nicer, except another group arrived at the same time we did and so we didn’t choose to stay and visit.

Fast forward to last Saturday, there she was leading a meeting for new bee keepers. These professionals and hobbyists were patient and kind, taking time to answer ever single question our group could think to ask.

Before lunch, she came to our table, letting us know where we should buy our bees. BEEKS (short for beekeepers) from the area would transport the bees, saving us a trip to Cali. No question was left unanswered and we left buzzing with excitement.

Since then, I’ve contacted her several times. As it turns out, we have so much in common, it might take a lifetime to get through everything we must talk about. When two teachers meet, never is there a loss of topics for discussion. Even more so when the two teachers have farmed, garden, keep bees, and blog. God works in mysterious ways when helping humans make new friends. And so, our hive grows.

Thanks to sage advice from our new friend, our bees are ordered and will be arriving April 7th. With plenty of guidance, we chose the Saskatraz variety, originally developed in Saskatchewan, Canada. I don’t know if bees come with little parkas, but these will handle the cold of the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. They love being clean and HATE the dreaded mites.

One of the best things about any hobby is the friends you make. Beekeeping will be no different. Our common hobby is something fun for the young, old, and those of us in between. Even honeymooners like us.

With spring-like weather this week, you’ll find HHH and me outside with our pruning shears. Evenings will find us pouring over seed catalogs, selecting just the right fruits, vegetables, and flowers rich in nectar and pollen. Our dreams will overflow with all the fun plans we’ll make for this summer while enjoying something new.

Whatever you do, embrace change. There might be something different you can try in your yard. Add a new kind of flower, vegetable, or herb. Grow something colorful. Spring is only 55 days away. You’ve got plenty of time to plan!!!!

In 1974, I was a freshman in college, just trying to figure out life as a 19 year old. In another part of the country, a sage woman gave advice I missed. I could have used a mentor like Corey Ten Boom back then.

Corey Ten Boom (1892-1983).

If you don’t know the name, I hope you give this video a try and listen to her story. Corey’s dad, a watchmaker, hid Jewish people during the war. Finally arrested by the Nazi’s, Corey and her family lived and prayed in a concentration camp where her sister, Betsy, died.

Corey smuggled a small Bible and held Bible study. Throughout her time there, she found many things for which to be thankful. She was even grateful for lice and fleas which kept the Nazi guards away. During the most horrific days, she became closer to God.

In the past week, I’ve watched this video twice, learning different things both times. The movie, The Hiding Place tells Corey’s story. Her strong faith and abundant energy allowed her to continue working long after the taping of this video. I’ve no doubt Corey was “promoted ahead of us”. In the sweet bye and bye, we’ll meet on that beautiful shore.

I was a little suspicious of the video because it was a product of the 700 Club. However, when Corey speaks her truths, she commands your complete attention. Her message is timeless and I hope it brings you comfort at whatever stage in life you find yourself. This woman found miracles throughout horrendous experiences in a concentration camp. Her faith became stronger because of and in spite of her struggles.

Enjoy.

The honey bee! Apis Mellifera! A most delightful little animal! In the company of like-minded friends, we immersed ourselves into the interesting world of bees. From 8 until 4, we learned basic things two new bee-keepers should know. Just like that, we have a new set of friends with skill sets that will help us through our first year as we tend to our apiary.

In 1983, I was a young mom with little ones aged 2 and 3. For some crazy reason, bee-keeping became a hobby of mine for a time. Each week, I’d visit our 40 hives and collect the pollen we’d robbed from the bees. At that time, three local health food stores were eager to buy the local pollen.

Pollen is an amazing food that holds many health benefits. I remember cleaning the pollen while my babies took their afternoon naps. I’d carefully sift, weigh, and package my product and then take the babies on outings. For a time, it was a wonderful hobby. But, as babies do, mine turned into little boys. In 1983, my marriage ended, along with my bee-keeping hobby.

Gardening has always been a favorite hobby. When I purchased Winterpast in 2020, one of the main enticements was her gardens. At the time, I couldn’t visualize possibilities. Then, HHH, came along and now, future projects are endless.

For Christmas, HHH received one un-assembled bee-hive. Since then, bees have become our focus. Just a simple hive of 30,000 bees with a queen to run the place. Of course, they all have jobs, which even include undertaker bees that drag the unfortunates out of the hive. There are nursemaids and guards. Drones. The Queen. It’s all so exciting, we can’t wait to begin.

As we listened to seasoned bee-keepers, we learned about all the things we still need to purchase. More importantly, we learned about the time line for a year of bee-keeping. I have a feeling HHH and I are going to enjoy many mornings sitting to the side of the hive while watching their activities.

Bees keep the internal hive temp at 94 degrees to care for the developing embryos. They do this by fanning their wings to either cool or heat their hive. They like things the way they like them. If conditions get too crowded, they split the hive and half of them swarm. They know how to feed the Queen her life-long diet of Royal Jelly, and they also know when to get rid of her.

One thing one must never do is stand directly in front of the entrance to the hive. Nope. It seems the bees are not very happy about people who do. Otherwise with a little smoke and slow and deliberate movements, they can be handled quiet easily. I still remember how much I enjoyed this hobby, even after so many years have passed.

Yesterday, we attended the family baby shower. While lost in a sea of littles aged one month old and up, we learned about a close family friend that’s also a bee-keeper. How great to have an emergency phone number if our hive starts to struggle. Again, small-town nice comes to the rescue!

Our bees will be delivered to us from California in April. As a functioning group known as a NUC, we’ll be purchasing a queen and all her helper-bees. They’ll arrive in a cardboard box, already a complete community living on five frames. And so it will begin.

This year, if everything goes as planned, we hope to harvest 60 pounds of honey off our hive. We’re ready to put up the good fight against mites, which can weaken a hive. We know when to look for the dreaded moths, and when to install mouse guards. Even with everything we learned, there are a thousand more things we’ll learn by trial and error.

And so, our garden plans grow. This week, we’ll going to start seeds in the greenhouse as we choose plants that produce a wide variety of nectar and pollen.

With two very rambunctious dogs that insist on barking at and digging at the fence next to our neighbor, we’ve found the perfect place for our hive. Our friends, the bees, will take care of that problem. The hive will sit right in that very corner. Win. Win.

This week will be a busy one with two trips to the biggest little city to the west. The roses are pruned and we’ll move on to the trees. A fence is planned for the garden area. Some work on the greenhouse. Spring will be here before we know it and it will be glorious!

Whatever you do today, remember one of your hobbies of the past. Maybe, just maybe, it’s still something that holds interest for you. As for me, it’s off to learn more about the bees.

More tomorrow.

One of the very first things HHH and I bonded over was our undying love of watching over our roses. In particular, we both adore Hybrid Tea Roses, which produce one beautiful rose atop a long stem. We like others, as well, but these big ones are favorites of ours. How grand it would be if they came in blue, but sadly, they don’t.

When I moved to Winterpast, beautiful roses were already growing here. Although the home had been vacant for awhile, the roses thrived, surrounding a lush, green lawn. Winterpast doesn’t just have a nice yard, it has gardens so beautiful they are inspire one to plant more of the same.

Over the course of a few months, HHH and I added eight rose bushes. I picked them out and he dug the holes in the hard desert soil. The butter-yellow, “Happy Go Lucky” began as my favorite because of her name of the bush. Our two bushes never stopped blooming the entire growing season. Yellow roses with thick, lush blooms.

Last year, we discovered a wonderful brand of roses. Although there one producer that has better name recognition, the roses best suited to our area are grown by Weeks Roses. They are healthy, hearty, and beautiful. No longer will I wait for bare roots to arrive from the other company. I’ll simply go the nursery that sells bushes by Weeks.

Now that the rose bushes are dormant, the time for pruning is near. Dormant plants in the yard need pruning to increase production and health for the next season. If you have fruit trees, roses, grapevines, summer flowering shrubs (like hydrangea), deciduous shrubs, or ornamental grasses, they need pruning while they are dormant.

One great thing about the times in which we live is the availability of information. With the help of internet, you can learn to write with masters or paint like a pro. You can take drawing lessons. You can also learn everything you need to know about pruning. With a visit to You Tube, you can find out exactly when and how to care for your trees.

We watched tutorials before pruning the trees at the rental. We’ll watch them again before we start on the fruit trees of Winterpast. Interestingly enough, even the angle of the cuts are important to protect the health of the plant.

When focusing on roses, you’ll need good leather gloves. This type of glove will save you from thorns and a wide variety are available. When cared for, they will serve you for many seasons. Long sleeves and jeans will also help to protect you from nasty scratches. Some refuse planting roses because of the thorns. For us, the beauty outweighs a few scratches.

It’s important to choose the right type of shears. For roses, you want to use very sharp bypass shears that will make clean cuts. The alternative is a shear that only mashes the stem and isn’t not for this purpose.

As you trim off dead stems and leaves, try to achieve an open plant. This will allow for plenty of sunlight and air to reach all the stems and buds. Cut 1/4 ” above outward facing buds, or swellings. The lower you prune your hybrid tea rose, the longer the stems and bigger the flowers. When you are finished, be sure to clean up all the debris under the plant, leaving no hiding spots for disease and pests.

Properly pruned roses produce beautiful blossoms and will bring you pleasure for years to come.

This weekend, we’ll take time to clean up the leaves and spray the grasses that have started to sprout. HHH and I will be deciding on which heirloom seeds to buy. We need to order potato, garlic, and onion starts.

Tomorrow, we’ll be enjoying our very first class on bee-keeping. Gardening heals the soul and feeds the mind. We can’t wait to import and care for 50,000 little friends.

Whatever you do this weekend, spend just a little time getting outside. Half of January is gone! Don’t let the winter beauty go to waste.

More on Monday.

Having just married into a huge family, I’m finding myself with invitations to events I haven’t seen in many years. Weddings. 21st Birthday parties, and now, a Baby Shower. HHH and I received our invitation to this shindig weeks ago. The date just snuck up on us. Sunday afternoon. THIS Sunday afternoon.

Remembering back to 1979 when I was heavy with child, baby showers were a thing we all loved attending. The expectant mom loved it the most. During the 1900’s, we kept our baby bumps under wraps. All the more difficult to guess the mother’s waist size, or see exactly how the baby was carried, both important in shower games. Tent-like maternity dresses were created from yards and yards of fabric. A popular pattern in the day added a big bow at the neck. Things are quite different today.

I’m quit sure this pattern was next to my sewing machine. Just slap a bow with that big white color, and that’s what we wore.

HHH and I were just remembering all the ways in which our babies could have died. From smothering as they slept on their stomachs, to dying without a car seat as we held them in our laps, survival was miraculous.

Babies slept in cribs with retractable sides for easier access to the baby. They didn’t smother themselves in the cutest bumpers we made for their cribs. Daily bathing didn’t damage their fragile skin. I guess our babies were just a tougher breed than those of today.

These days, there are no more soft wool blankets with satin edging. Don’cha know, the kids can strangle on the satin, should it come loose? Wool???? Really???? Don’t risk the chance of an allergic reaction. Gender neutral. No pink or blue. (Don’t be mad your darling curled boy is pronoun-ed as SHE, or your adorable bald chunky girl, HE.) Everything is so different, it’s hard to know what present would be appreciated.

Bring diapers if you want to be entered into the raffle. Instead of cards, the new mom would like us to bring a signed child’s book. And of course, one must bring the main gift when invited to a shower!! That’s part of the fun!!!!!

Upon receipt of the invitation, HHH informed me that he doesn’t do Baby Showers. But, with a little wifely persuasion, he even helped select the gifts. It was a new and fun experience we both enjoyed. Now, we can hardly wait for Sunday to arrive.

Yesterday, while in the baby department of a local store, it took a minute to choose the best diapers. We used the cloth type washed and hung out to sun-dry. These diapers are powerful with one brand promises to cling to moisture for 12 hours.

Oy.Vey.

A baby shower is a wonderful time for family and friends to share their excitement for the arrival of the newest member of the family. This little girl will be the 7th Great Granddaughter of The Mayor, and a Great-Great-granddaughter of Miss B, HHH’s mom. Generational members of our little town dating back to the mid-1900’s when HHH and his family moved to the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

I promise I’ll be on my best behavior on Sunday. No advice on colic, breastfeeding, natural childbirth, or schedules. No request for a little pat on Mom’s bump. Certainly no labor and delivery stories from so long ago. Nope. Just a lot of listening about the plans for this little one.

If I DO slip and feel the need to give one bit of advice it would be the following…..

Blessed are we are to receive this little one into our flock!!!! Lucky she is to be loved by us!

More tomorrow.

2024 promises to be quite the year for stylin’!!! In 68 days, HHH and I are sailing away on the Love Boat. Quite right. Under the Golden Gate Bridge off we’ll go to the Mexican Riviera. This year, there are many reasons HHH needs a brand new tuxedo. Of course, every gentleman should have his very own.

Actually, this all started in 2023, when a black-tie wedding would be held in June, 2024. A young relative was planning the huge event, which took all the pressure off of ours. Thinking back to our special day, there isn’t anything I would have done differently. From the absolutely delicious cold cuts and salads we served our guests, to the gorgeous cake made by someone that loves us so dearly, everything was perfect down to the last minute.

Staying within our budget made our day even more wonderful. To consider the price of weddings these days is a mind bender. Young brides think of the silliest things they MUST have to make their day complete. Really, there is just one thing required to make a wedding beautiful and complete. Love. That’s all. Just love. Anything else is window dressing around a beautiful forever for the new husband and wife. At least, that’s how our wedding day unfolded.

So, we’ve been considering options for HHH’s tuxedo. First and foremost, I can’t wait to enjoy an evening on his arm the first time he wears his new outfit! Not sure if it will be at the Captain’s table during our cruise, or on a quiet walk along the ship’s promenade deck after enjoying a movie under the stars. It’s just all too romantic for words!

When we first knew the two black-tie events were scheduled, we started looking at options. Sadly, rental tuxedos are no longer inexpensive. It’s almost cheaper to buy a new one than to reserve a rental. Then, there is the problem with pick up and return, without even mentioning the outrageous cost for merely borrowing a tux for one night. Insane.

Last week, I asked to HHH needed to call the family members to check on requirements for the specific tux they wanted him to wear to this big wedding. He agreed that it was time to get specific. There’d be photographs in which the bride would want all the men to match. Coordinating all these things take time.

And then, yesterday, everything changed. As it turns out, the young bride has decided that the entire black-tie affair isn’t really what she wanted after all. Scraping those plans, the couple has changed course, and will be exchanging vows in their most favorite place in the world! Italy!

Well, we still must consider our need for a tuxedo for the cruise. I’ll be calling to find out if a dapper black suit with matching fedora would work just as well.

One thing is for certain. Whatever my Hubba-Hubba-Husband wears, he’ll be the most sharp-dressed-man in the room.

And from HHH’s point of view……

Clean shirt, new shoes
And I don’t know where I am goin’ to
Silk suit, black tie
I don’t need a reason why

Gold watch, diamond ring
I ain’t missin’ not a single thing
And cuff links, stick pin
When I step out, I’m gonna do her in

Top coat, top hat
I don’t worry ’cause my wallet’s fat
Black shades, white gloves
Lookin’ sharp for the woman love

Wifey comes a runnin’ just as fast as she can
‘Cause every wife’s crazy ’bout a sharp-dressed man. _{(Thanks ZZ Top)}

More tomorrow.

Hard to believe that over the last few days, 17″ of snow has disappeared, but it’s true. From the blizzard of January 10th, there is very little of the white stuff left. Just last week, the short-legged dogs of the town were concerned. The elderly widows of the town even more so. Tomorrow, our temperatures may reach 55 degrees. So it is in the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

I’ve found that after a storm, I know many elders that are terrified of two things.

1. Driving in the snow and wrecking the car, themselves, or someone else.
2. Getting safely to their destination and then slipping on the ice and breaking a hip (or the bones connected to the artificial one).

Shoveling snow IS a pain in the neck, back, and arms. Once the snow falls, there is little choice but to shovel, or ice will form early the next morning. The men of our church went to work the minute the minister’s bird-bath-O-meter hit 17″.

Throughout the following day, the pastor and several friends visited the homes of our elderly friends. When thinking about the members, of the 30 we know pretty well, all are past the age of efficient and effective snow shoveling. One by one, their driveways and sidewalks were cleared. Hearing the story, it seemed almost magical.

The nice thing about small town living is that you get to know each other. Attending services at a small church intensifies this. Pretty soon, you learn who brings the best deserts to the monthly potluck, or who might have the added worry of an adult child feeling a bit down.

Life in a small town is just a little more thoughtful. Word gets around when trouble hits. I can’t help but remember Miss Naomi, (now a sweet angel), and how our town came together when tragedy struck. If the name Naomi doesn’t ring a bell, you didn’t live here then. I did. Forever, I’ll remember.

A small town celebrates things that need celebrating! Like Caucusing and America’s Independence Day! I can hardly wait for the 4th to come around again. I’ll be front and center for the greased pig races while cheering on the contestants. From the early morning pancake breakfast, to the parade, food, and fantastic fireworks, nobody does it better than our small town.

Neighbors come outside to say “Hello” and compliment each other on their yards. People stop to talk awhile. Even the dogs are friendlier.

Last October, 100 people from our small town turned out to watch us get married in our little church. The pews were packed as I walked straight up that aisle towards a very nervous HHH. As I did, friends and family were full of love and kindness. Blessings overflowed that day, as we filled our little chapel to SRO (standing room only). They came to celebrate at our reception, as two little old people enjoyed their first hours as husband and wife.

Small towns enjoy things like intimate candlelight services on Christmas Eve, and sunrise services high up on the side of Olinghouse Mountain on Easter Sunday. They show up to school board meetings to steer the direction of the school their children attend.

When I see pictures of the biggest cities in the United States, I shake my head. I’ll never understand why someone would give up Big Skies and wide open spaces in exchange for concrete jungles. I wasn’t wired to live under those conditions. Just a desert gal here, through and through. Wild things don’t thrive in captivity.

Sunday, all the seasoned widows and widowers were still talking about the day the men came to shovel the snow. Those men even shoveled for some neighbors that lived next to the parishioners. “You’re the Pastor of the Free Methodist Church? Just where is this church and when is the next service?”

Remember, strangers are just friends you haven’t yet met. Especially in a small town.

More tomorrow.

Just when you think you’re all caught up, the seasons change and its time to prune. This chore is especially important because the past residence of HHH has RENTED!!! Yes! Yes! Yes! Our dream on this MLK Day has come true and today, the new occupants take possession.

Just a week ago, knowing the five-hour, 17″ snow storm was on its way, we headed over to prune the peach, nectarine, and plum trees for the new year. In 2022, it seems a certain new lady in HHH’s life got in the way of his seasonal pruning. Although we talked about it many times, we never found the time to prune. This lead to broken limbs during a bumper crop of peaches. There was no escaping it this year. Pruning became a priority.

The first thing one must have when heading out to prune is the proper equipment. Long-handled loppers, a long hand saw, short clippers, gloves, a borrowed trailer, and two workers. Last Monday, two able-bodied worker-bees headed out to complete the job.

It’s less than exciting when pruning trees that will produce fruit for others during the next season. There’s something so wonderful about caring for trees that will produce the very fruit you’ll enjoy over the next year. Here at Winterpast, we’ll wait a bit to tackle our pear, apple, plum, and apricot trees.

In a matter of hours, we had a trailer full of branches, carefully moved from the back yard to the front. Remembering back to the summer beauty of HHH’s back yard, this task was bittersweet for the both of us. His life certainly changed over the seven years he lived there, going from a married man, to a care-giver, to a grieving widower, to a bachelor, a boyfriend, fiancé, and finally husband.

For me, this special place was where we got to know each other, fell in love, and planned the rest of our lives together. Our wedding cake was decorated right inside the beautiful kitchen, where HHH crafted so many beautiful meals just for us. As we worked, memories danced through my head.

It was there I first learned about the abundant crop that can be produced from a single potato plant in the fall of 2022. As I helped harvest his Yukon Gold and Purple potatoes, I was astonished at the yield. We used all of them that fall, amazed at the flavor.

The 2023 crop included Russets, Yukon Gold, and New Potatoes. The harvest was even more bountiful and delicious. We enjoyed many baked potatoes (more delicious than a potato should be) topped with fresh chives from our garden.

Fresh pasta sauce simmered from our tomato harvest. Tomato worm eradication took us both back to our childhoods when our grandparents hated them as much as us. My grandmother would hurl hers at the side of the huge red barn while saying some things I didn’t understand in German. Billy hurled his over the fence into the hot desert while saying some things in English that I did.

It was at HHH’s house that I would pick him up for church on Sunday mornings. There, we put up our first shared purchase of 2022, our Christmas tree. We decided we’d put it up at Winterpast for the 2023 holidays, not knowing we’d be married by then.

At HHH’s bachelor pad, we gazed at the stars while enjoying his hot tub. I learned a Traeger Grill is the only way to prepare meat. I ate my first meals of wild tuna and elk, discovering that not all fish tastes fishy.

During that year, I learned it’s exactly six miles between our two front doors. I also found it’s much nicer to park in a garage than on the street in the wintertime. Oliver and the Wookie created a raceway to zip around the house, zooming through the living room to the hallway, around the corner and back to the living room, even jumping over us and the couch as if in a steeplechase.

On Billy’s bed, we helped bring seven squirming little wooklets into the world at midnight on a cold January night almost one year ago.

Most importantly, it was there I fell head-over-heels in love with my Mysterious Marine. Over 12 months, he became pretty smitten with me, as well. Isn’t that how most really great love stories begin?

With the keys to HHH’s house in the hands of another family, our full attention will now turn to Winterpast. Let the nesting begin. Now that 2023 is a wrap, it’s time for the fun begin.

Whatever you do today, be kind to yourself and others. Think of some healthy habits you’d like to incorporate into your life and begin a new path. Life is short!!!! There’s no time to waste.

More tomorrow.

Our pastor and his wife are great examples for the community. Helpful in every way, they are always on the move, finding ways to spread goodness wherever they go. Never asking for anything in return, they watch over our small congregation. They are very, very special to each and to every one of us.

So, a few Sundays back, it was no surprise they had placed a variety of free books on the “Please Help Yourself” table. More reading leads to better writing. Not in a plagiaristic way, but in a more creative way. Through words, each writer helps me consider new situations through their unique style.

In May, 2020, I hadn’t read a book for over a year. As a matter of fact, I’d written very few words over 32 years. Such a special gift I’d abandoned. With life’s demands for time and energy, the struggle to keep that flame alive was too difficult and I lost my voice and words. Thankfully, a tiny ember remained in my gut, waiting for a time that I’d be free to express myself.

In 2007, I’d purchased a set of books by Jan Karon. An entire series of orange and cream, the books were all about a town in Mitford, North Carolina. When I couldn’t sleep in those first evenings as a widow, I’d just teleport into the little town while I learned about Father Timothy Kavanaugh and his parishioners. During long and lonely Covid isolation, reading brought me words of comfort and new friends that jumped right off the pages and into my heart.

It was there she told the love story about an old widow, her long-a-go love Williard, and the name “Winterpast” carved into the beams of the most beautiful mansion in her town.

As the story went, the young woman and her mother traveled to France on holiday. There she met young Williard, who was working in pharmaceuticals. They became fast friends and took that friendship back home to Mitford.

She had no way of knowing this particular gent was the one person her father would never allow her to marry, even though his intentions were pure and his love for her deep and unwavering. As the years went by, her father’s hatred only grew, as did the wealth of young Willard. His new chemical compounds were sold making him a very rich man.

Years before, he’s promised he would build her the mansion of her dreams. Over the years, her father’s hatred grew even more, until the two shared a secret that rocked the town. The bad thing was, her father lied and Willard paid the price.

As the for mansion, he did build it and it was magnificent. An artist even spent months painting the walls of the ballroom. He’d told her that there was a special word inscribed on the beam of the home and she’d wondered throughout her entire life if he had, and more importantly, what was the word. Bedridden in old age, being more tired than sick, there was nothing else to do but ask Father Timothy to go to that very home and find the inscription.

He did.

There it was.

Winterpast.

At the time of my first reading, I hadn’t found a church, baptism, and my new life as a Christian. I owned several Bibles, but hadn’t opened them to find the treasures within. The word Winterpast had no real meaning, and so, I had to do some research. As it turned out, the word was plucked out of two words written in Song of Solomon Chapter 2: 10-13 (winter passed).

It took no more than a second and I knew a truth. My new home would be named Winterpast. My Winter WOULD pass with time and this would be the home in which that would happen.

Now, back to Sunday at the “Please Help Yourself” table.

There were books written by all kinds of Christians. There were some written by sports figures. There were study Bibles. But in the middle of the table, there was one book that caught my eye.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Jan Karon.

Snatching the book with lightning quick reflexes, I read the cover. A Continual Feast — Words of Comfort and celebration collected by Father Tim. My Father Tim from Mitford, North Carolina, where there sits a mansion built for the one true love of the scientist with the word “Winterpast” carved in the sixth rafter from the northwest wall on the third floor attic.

I think I was cradling this book when the Pastor’s wife came up to me and said, “Joy, that book might need a little explanation. It’s not just an ordinary book. It is tied to a very special series.”

With a smile, I nodded. “I know. I already know. A book from Father Timothy just for me.”

There are small little connections and miracles that surround us every day. It would have been easy enough to go right to our seats in church and never look at the table. I could have overlooked the cover, missing a complete book of Father Timothy’s favorite inspirational quotes. I’m so glad I didn’t.

To close this week, I want to share a quote that Father Timothy inscribed in the book. If you’ve been reading carefully, you’ll find a strange similarity to a musicians lyrics on which I commented earlier in the week. Has she been to Mitford, too?

Paradoxical Commandments

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
   Love them anyway.
If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
   Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.
   Succeed anyway.
The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
   Do good anyway.
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
   Be honest and frank anyway.
The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.
   Think big anyway.
People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.
   Fight for a few underdogs anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
   Build anyway.
People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.
   Help people anyway.
Give the world the best you have and you’ll get kicked in the teeth.
   Give the world the best you have anyway. _{Kent M. Keith. “The Paradoxical Commandments.”}

Whatever today brings, live your best life. Keep on loving, doing good, being honest, thinking big, fighting for underdogs, building, helping, and giving your best. There just isn’t anything more rewarding than that.

Have a great weekend. I’ll be back Monday.

Winter arrived today, with all the

Two days ago, Angel of the Aluminum Cloud and I had a nice long visited. For many years, she actually lived in the wide open spaces of Wyoming, which elevates her to an even higher position in my eyes. In Wyoming, you might live only 10 miles from town, but those 10 miles might as well be 100. We both agreed, it takes a special kind of soul to live and thrive in harsh environments.

People living in the desert, ocean, or mountains need to learn to tolerate Mother Nature, knowing that we are at her mercy. At any time the air-conditioning can go out, and it never goes out when the weather is 70 degrees. Nope. It quits when outside temperatures are 110. It’s the same with heat. It never goes out when it’s 70 degrees.

Last night, when the snow started here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, the temperature was 29. In a few hours, we received an amazing dump of very wet snow. At first glance, everything looks gorgeous. Now comes the back-breaking work of snow removal.

Imagine the excitement I’m feeling when thinking about using my brand new snow blower!!!! I’m so excited I can hardly wait. But, it needs to warm up a bit. Now, those of you that live in Florida might have a little trouble imagining the need for one’s very own snow blower. Mine is battery operated and ready to go this morning. In reality, HHH will probably steal all my fun and clear the sidewalk and driveway.

On the sad side of things, yesterday, at least one young man died in an avalanche in Palisades Tahoe, a local ski resort. Several people were injured, as well. There were serious warnings before this storm. Avalanches are a real and deadly danger. Prayers go out to the families of those lost or injured.

Many schools in the higher elevations are closed for the day, as schools do when the snowfall is very heavy. Virginia City Schools are closed, taking me back to my winter days as their science teacher at the middle school. Things get nasty on Mt. Davidson during extremely wicked storms. Sitting on the side of the mountain at 6,200 feet, one year we got 12′ of snow. Again, it takes a certain kind of strong to survive winter there.

Snow is a strange thing. In VC, I’d laugh at the snow, which seemed to be made of styrofoam. With very little water content during some storms, it was easy to brush it off the deck with a broom. Last night’s snow is heavy with water, which will make it more difficult to deal with. It took a bit to brush it off the top of the hot tub. My town received 17″.

I’m so glad we stocked up before the storm today. I’m even more glad that HHH and I have food stored for a real winter storm. We’ll simply put on our warmest jammies, stay in, and watch old movies together. No better way to enjoy our snow day!!!

While honeymooning in our late 60’s, I guess we do look pretty silly sometimes. Yesterday, as we shopped for last minute things, Janet Jackson’s “Miss You Much” was playing in the grocery store. This is one of my favorites, so I started being silly while quietly singing HHH the chorus. An awestruck young woman walked by and said, “I want to shop with you two.” It’s true. We have fun with whatever we’re doing, wherever we are. Very blessed Newlyweds. I mean, when was the last time you sang to someone in the grocery store?

Last night, we watched a special on Yellowstone National Park, which is special to us. It was there we spent our first week of married life.

“In October, lets honeymoon there again!” HHH announced. We decided continue to enjoy our honeymoon for the rest of our lives.

Whatever you do today, listen to the weather report. With all these crazy changes in our normal weather patterns, be mindful that the weather can change in minutes. Stay safe, warm, and dry! As for me, I’m off for a date with Joe in the snow. Happy Winter!!

More tomorrow.

Wedding gifts come in all forms. Last October, my Hubba-Hubba-Hubby and I were blessed with beautiful gifts from our guests. But, one of the most precious we received didn’t come in a pretty box all tied up with ribbon. It came through a song sung to us by our dearest and sweetest Ninja Neighbor.

Now, Ninja Neighbor is absolutely as real as the day is long. She loves laughter and gardening and became a dear friend the day I moved into Winterpast, in April 2020. She was there for VST’s memorial, helping my to get through that very tough day. She’s been there ever since, always happy to be helpful.

Think of the most gorgeous blonde you can, and Ninja Neighbor has her beat. From her beautiful eyes to her long blonde hair and killer smile, she is a knock-out. But, her real beauty comes from deep within, for her heart is pure and sweet. And did I mention? That girl can SING!!!!

She’s often told me that she’d be happy to sing for me at any time, but I never took her up on the offer. And so, for our wedding, she surprised us and dedicated a song to us that I’d never heard. How did she know the lyrics would reflect experiences I had during my four summers as a widow? With each of life’s disappointments, I’d pray, dream, do, build, and write again, always knowing God is great. She knew all this and chose to sing Martina McBride’s song “Anyway”.

Jaws dropped throughout the reception hall because it was a show stopper. Heartfelt, she belted out every note. It was if we’d been transported to a concert by Martina McBride herself, only a million times later. This was a most precious gift meant especially for HHH and me. She will forever be referred to as “The Singer At the Wedding” by family and friends that are still thinking about her performance.

Please take a little time to think about these lyrics and the message they hold. No matter what, Never, Ever, Ever Give Up, because the life, dream, and love are right there for you to snatch, especially when the going gets rough.

Anyway — _{inspired by the original by Martina McBride}

You can spend your whole life building something from nothing.

Life’s storms come take it all away.

Build anyway

You can chase a dream that seems so out of reach.

You know it might never come your way.

Dream it anyway.

God is great.

But sometimes life ain’t good.

When WE pray, it doesn’t always turn out like WE think it should.

Pray anyway.

This world’s gone crazy and it’s hard to believe that tomorrow will be better than today.

Believe anyway.

You can love someone with all your heart and in a second, illness takes them away.

Love anyway.

God is great.

But sometimes life ain’t good.

When WE pray, it doesn’t always turn out like WE think it should.

Pray anyway

You can pour your soul out writing a story you believe in.

Tomorrow, they’ll forget you wrote a word.

Write anyway.

Yeah, write it anyway.

Remember.

Build.

Dream.

Love.

Write.

Pray.

Anyway.

More tomorrow.

Monday’s are always interesting. You see, each week, I join four of the loveliest ladies I know to enjoy a morning of Bible Study. Since HHH and I tied the knot, on most Monday’s I’ve had to excuse myself after class, missing the fun with my best-est girlfriends.

Now, these women know how to live. They travel to the city in the east to enjoy lunch on a slanted porch before shopping at the sparkling new TJ Max. There is talk of an upcoming trip to the biggest little city to the west. They’ve even been known to take in a random movie from time to time.

If you’ve ever been curious about the what’s in the Greatest Book Ever Written, Bible study is a great way to learn. It’s a window into another world. I used to get stuck on all the hard names of people and places, but when there are girlfriends to help you along, it becomes a wonderful journey. Each woman in my group brings her own knowledge, and what we don’t understand, we simply GOOGLE.

Bible study is never dull. We’ve learned so much while studying the old testament. Already half way through the chapter of Deuteronomy, we’ve gained insight into the beautiful yet very violent world of long ago. Week after week, we gather together to uncover more. While we listen, Max MClean of Biblegateway.org reads the chapters to us one at a time. Each one of us comes up with questions that need some researching, and slowly, we are making our way through the Bible.

Yesterday, it was suggested that we all lunch at the newly re-opened Mexican restaurant, La Fiesta. Months and months ago, a devastating kitchen fire closed their doors. The place just opened last month and the parking lot has been full ever since.

Our town doesn’t have a big variety restaurants. Just recently one of them decided to host a salad bar, closed since Covid in the spring of 2020. The option of a salad bar nearly threw our town into a feeding frenzy. As it stands, we have six Casinos offering a variety of Casino food. McDonalds, KFC, Burger King, Taco Bell, Wendy’s, Arby’s, Jack in the Box, Port of Subs, Subway, and Dairy Queen complete our fast food fare. There are three Mexican and three Chinese food restaurants, and a handful of food trucks. Round Table, Dominos, Pizza Factory, Pizza Hut, and Papa Murphy’s Pizza provide our Italian fare. If I’ve forgotten anything, please forgive me. The choices remain underwhelming in a town of 20,000+, but we’re promised more are on the way.

With the restaurant selected, I called HHH to let him know my plans had changed. Yesterday was pruning day and I’d offered to help. I’d be a little late to that party. HHH was his gracious self, telling me to take my time and have a wonderful lunch with my friends.

After knowing how lonely life can be, I will NEVER again take friends and family for granted. There is NOTHING more beautiful than sitting with a group of the most lovely of lovelies while learning about their lives and loved ones. I hit the jackpot when I met these women, each one intelligent and interesting. Although there are years between our ages, you’d never know it. Yesterday was no different.

It was decided at the beginning of the meal that we’d save the waiter the trouble of writing four tickets. We all ordered the same exact thing, down to the drinks. It would be easy to split the tab at the end of the meal. No Problema.

Our food was delivered, we shared wonderful food and conversations. And then…..there was Mucho Problema.

With the passing of the next thirty minutes, we all became more confused. Looney lunching ladies that’d each enjoyed a glass of water with her $12 enchilada plate were troubled with the math. Somedays, you just need to sit with ladies you love and laugh. We finally DID figure out the math while deciding that next time, we’ll ask for separate checks. I can’t wait for our next adventure.

The pruning at the rental house is almost done. With one more afternoon of snipping and raking, the house will be ready for a new family. All in all, yesterday was a pretty great day.

Whatever you do today, think about joining a new group. Perhaps it’s at the senior center in your town. Possibly your church. Try bowling or golf. A training class for your new puppy. Just get out of the house and meet some new friends.

Friendship. One of life’s greatest treasures!!

More tomorrow.

What an interesting place I live. One minute, in the middle of winter, we can enjoy a 50 degree day of sunshine. On that very afternoon, the temperature can drop 20 degrees, as the winds howl. It is in that situation we found ourselves on Saturday, the first big storm of winter.

It all started out so nice. No wind and beautiful sunshine. My Hubba-Hubba-Husband and I were out of a few groceries and decided to get everything we needed before the upcoming storm. In our town, there are three choices.

1. Walmart
2. Grocery Outlet
3. Raley’s

Just three. You can find good in all three, but on this particular day, we found ourselves shopping the aisles of Walmart. It’s always fun to go shopping with HHH, as he has lived in our town his entire life. From 1st grade on, he’s been here. In those days, there was no Walmart, Grocery Outlet, or Raley’s. Come to think of it, I’ve never asked him the name of the market.

At any rate, this day wasn’t any different. We ran into a school chum of his who was the wife of another school chum. This beautiful and random meeting wouldn’t have happened if I’d run to the store alone. Bring HHH along, and there is always someone that needs to say Hi!

When we began our shopping trip, the wind hadn’t yet started. But upon leaving the store, the temperature had dropped due to the wind chill. A high desert wind carrying along a snow storm can cut right through the thickest hoodie. We both scurried to the car and raced home.

The first damage seen was a portion of the fence which had blown right over, exposing the back yard. What a find predicament that was. The winds were now 30 – 35 mph. If you’ve never tried to stand up a portion of fence as the winds are upon you, you haven’t lived.

But, there was more heartbreaking damage. The greenhouse. As of yet, we have not grown one thing in this greenhouse with a secure foundation and the coolest pea gravel floor. It is complete with two nice potting benches and lots of pots just waiting for spring. Nope, nothing has grown in their as of yet.

Now, you might remember than many of my “Old timer” house plants gasped their last bit of CO2 as they burned to death in early fall. Many others lived to tell the tale but haven’t fully recovered.

This fabulous greenhouse with cement foundation has had its share of troubles. In the last severe wind storms, we lost the roof vents and seven panels. Once they were re-secured, we silicon-ed the roof. Saturday, the sides (still un-siliconed, blew out again). Inside, one strawberry plant and an asparagus fern were just trying to stay out of the weather. Good luck with that.

It took both HHH and I to hold down the flapping panels and temporarily secure them with wide tape until the storm passes. The process of siliconing the sides is first on our list, right after fixing the front fence to prevent Oliver and the Wookie from escaping. And so, it goes when living in wild country.

When the snow finally started to fall, the wind stopped. I’m always amazed at the quiet that falls over Winterpast in the middle of a snowstorm. In a very short time, every dormant plant in the back yard was dressed up in soft white. Until, of course, Oliver and the Wookie ran out to play like two children. Wookie racing this way and that with Ollie right on her heels, littering the backyard with doggie footprints.

The first storm of the year left about an inch of the white stuff, which already turned to ice by morning, as snow has a tendency to do. Winter is here. Although we’re expecting 50 degrees again on Tuesday, that heat wave is short-lived, followed by the rest of winter.

There is nothing more beautiful than the bright blue skies hanging over the snow-covered high plains desert of Northwestern Nevada, Just looking outside make me feel grateful to be alive.

Growing up in the central valley of California, the skies were one of two colors. Winter-grey, or grey-blue. One or the other, unless it was November -February, when you couldn’t see the sky because of the fog. Smog and fog. No puffy white clouds or sparkling snow. Nope. Just smog and fog. I cannot explain enough how I don’t miss either of those.

This week, HHH and I need to fix the fence and silicone the greenhouse walls. I’m sure we’ll make the best of both of those chores. Married life continues to be blissful and full of happiness, the way it should be. There is so much in life for which to be truly grateful.

Whatever you do today, stay warm and dry, if possible. In case of a windstorm, carry heavy tape and something to block the hole in case your fence goes over. It can happen when you least expect it.

More tomorrow.

And the seasons, they go round and round. Under a bright sunny sky, we used the last days of warmish weather to box the outdoor lights. Finally, winter has come to stay awhile with fall temperatures a thing of the past. Snow is coming soon. This morning it’s chilly at 33 degrees.

Wednesday, it was time to take care of Oliver’s grooming needs. On the long drive across the desert, HHH and I discussed the best doggie-do’s for this time of year. Both of us agreed that the Wookie and Oliver should hang onto their fur. But, there are some places fur is just in the way.

Never was it my desire to become a little old lady with a white dog needing fanny grooming. I’ve watched those sweet ladies over the years. Usually holding curly little poodles of the shivering type, they’d have the grooming appointments made weeks in advance. Now, with my own little white dog to care for, I can no longer judge.

The truth can’t be ignored. I’m now the owner of a little white dog that needs a butt shave.

Sam has been Ollie’s groomer since the very beginning. They’ve got a thing going on. I only need to mention her name and Ollie runs to the car door.

In the beginning, there were some haircuts that were indicative of the struggle they shared. Sam used to call him her “bucking bronco”. I can only envision their early grooming sessions. Finally, she resorted to using a sling to hold his wiggling body for foot care. Slowly, his haircuts have improved.

When we finally arrived, she asked what services Oliver would be needing.

“Just the minimum, Sam.”

“Face, Fanny, and Feet?”

I never thought of it in that way. Yes. Exactly.

After two hours, we returned to the shop to retrieve him. Although I hadn’t received a text, I assumed that he’d soon be ready. As I quietly entered, there stood Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall on the top of the stainless grooming table. It was a thing of beauty. A perfectly relaxed fluffy, cream, piebald, wire-haired standard dachshund. His soft green eyes were relaxed as he waited patiently for his foot care.

Whose dog is that??????

This can’t be the same crazy little dog that races the fence barking his head off. The same one that chases the Wookie around the house nipping at her heals. The same one that stole my heart five Christmas’s ago. Except, all grown up.

In a split second he saw me and nearly jumped off the table. The old Oliver returned as I went back to the car to wait a little more. Best haircut in his 5.5 years on this earth.

Yesterday, was my turn for feet and hands at the nail salon. How quickly one can get spoiled to manicures and pedicures. HHH convinced me to spruce up a bit for the wedding, and since then, I’m hooked. It was time for a bit of pampering as the new year roars toward the end of the first week.

I’m always amazed at how many colors are shelved on the walls of my nail shop. From simple black to a bright neon yellow, I always choose the same one. Sparkling Angel Pink Gel. It’s HHH’s favorite color, being rather “girly”. I can’t disappoint.

A month ago, I went rogue and chose a sparkly blue green blue-green. I wanted to try something different, not realizing there are some colors choices better than others.

Racing home, I was quick to show HHH my new nails….. “I got my nails done.”

“Hhhhhhmmmm. You certainly did.”

With that telling response, my nail artist redid them the next morning.

Somethings are just a step too far.

Today, with fingers, toes, face, feet, and fanny, ready for the weekend, our pack has plans to hunker down for the upcoming snowstorm. The first of the season, the Sierra’s should get their fair share of moisture.

Although not covered on the news, the Central Coastline of California has been hit pretty hard. Prayers and love go out to the Goddess of the Central Coast, who experienced waves that broke OVER her house. That’s not the way anyone wants the new year to begin, least of all, the Goddess of the Central Coast. Hang in there, the storms will pass soon.

Whatever you are doing today, pamper yourself just a little. Even taking time for a quiet cup of tea is a lovely treat. Call a friend. Write a letter. All while taking a little time for yourself.

Happy Friday!!! I’ll be back with more stories on Monday.

I know an angel. A real one. Someone that has done amazing things in her life. She puts tiny bits in the ground and produces pounds of onions and garlics. She’s an artist creating original masterpieces, of which I own four. Once, long ago, she produced an entire human being. In her earlier life, she’s spent time protecting our country. She appeared on a sad day a few years back when I prayed to God for friends. Because of those things, some time ago, I chose her blog name to be Angel of the Aluminum Cloud. That will become important a little later in this story.

I’m lucky enough that she trusts me as a good wingman (or wing-person, if you must) for important trips to the Biggest Little City to the West. With a 30 minute drive, coming and going, Angel and I have shared our views on a variety of topics. Each time, our bond strengthens.

Last week, she invited me to visit another type of angel who was to share information about mindfulness. Please look at the picture above depicting the difference between a full mind and mindfulness. The visual explains a lot. When mindful, one takes time to get lost in the present moment. I’d taken my i-Pad and planned to wait until the appointment was over, but instead, was invited to come along for the ride. What a lovely experience it was.

For one hour, in the presence of two angels, I listened, while quietly reflecting, on how many ways mindfulness is a lovely place to rest. While listening, my mind floated back to 1972, when I was 16 and a junior in high school. My lovely teacher, Mrs. Rene Durbahn, knew how I detested PE. She was always trying new ways to help me find enjoyment.

Through her kindness, she led me through the best eight weeks of my year in her PE class. Yoga, Guided Imagery, Stress Release, and Mindfulness. In a tiny little country high school in the central valley of California, this beautiful teacher shared strategies that’ve helped me throughout my life. In present time, these angels were discussing the very topics that’ve helped me survive and thrive through grief. All this while beautiful Zen music played softly in the background.

I must admit, I was enjoying my own present moment when I was startled back to the present by new information. It turns out Angel of the Aluminum Cloud shared something I hadn’t known when I chose her name early on in this very blog. I had chosen her name because one of her amazing skills involved working on military aircraft. I searched for nick-names for such people and “Angel of the Aluminum Cloud” came up. It seemed to fit, so I chose it.

As it turns out, a portion of her training involved metallurgy focused on aluminum. That certainly got my attention. Out of the blue, I chose a name that was more appropriate than I could’ve known at the time.

Once, she did ask me how I came to that name.

Just a happy accident!

Mindfulness just might be something you’d enjoy. Here are some tips to try it.

Smile and feel the cause in your soul.

Pay attention to your breathing for five full minutes.

Spend time in the garden.

Enjoy a nature walk, unplugged.

Practice laziness (one of my personal favorites — in PJ’s)

Feed your soul with positive thoughts.

Walk barefoot to the mailbox while its snowing.

Turn your mind off and….

Just be.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

That day was an unexpected joy on many levels. Although perhaps not so mindful to zoom back to gym class 1972, the memories reinforced practices that help me today to stay grounded in the present.

Whatever you choose to do today, take a moment to be in the moment. Think of three positive things in your life. Don’t take “No” for an answer, even if your brain is insisting there isn’t one positive thing, let alone three. (And, we all have those days). Give yourself a hug and practice some laziness while your at it.

Mindfulness. A great place to spend a little time.

More tomorrow.

The past month was filled with so many different types of JOY, it’s hard to pick a topic from the choices. From celebrating our new marriage to enjoying small town traditions, this Christmas season held it all and this year, it’s hard to move on. Just a few weeks back, we were unpacking our Christmas boxes. In the blink of an eye, it’s time to repack the holidays for next year.

As our Christmas lights glow for the last few nights, I’m reminded of a new experience I encountered during this very new marriage to HHH.

HHH had been itching to do SOMETHING with the front yard. ANYTHING AT ALL. When I moved into Winterpast in 2020, the plants and bushes were so high, the house was hidden. It’s a beautiful place that shines all on her own, however, the juniper bushes weren’t doing her any favors. Everything but the trees were removed in 2021.

Since then, xeriscaping has produced a fine look for me, with plans for zero scaping in the future. With wild mustangs eating everything in sight, there’s no reason to plant anything until a fence is installed. That’s the big plan for Winterpast this year. A front yard fence! But, for now, the barren landscape has been sprayed for weeds and sits awaiting spring.

Each evening until December 1st, HHH would sit on the front porch pondering just what he would do with lights. And then, it was time to begin. It started with white ice cycle lights around the front of the house. Pristine and emitting a soft glow, the look was just right for Winterpast. That would have been an amazing improvement, but he wasn’t stopping there.

Every day was filled with the search for more lights. More extension cords. The location of the GFI breaker when it was tripped. More decorations. A family of deer. Two trees. nets of colored lights. It went on and on. All the while, the Marine-Across-The-Street was observing and putting up a fine display of his own.

The dueling Marines encouraged each other with every new strand of lighting they installed. Lighted candy canes appeared in one yard. Trees came alive with lighting in another. Slowly, our street became a sea of beautiful lights probably visible from space.

My Ninja Neighbor joined in the fun, making her yard into a wonderland of white lighting. Everyone on our street became involved in this endeavor. The mystery neighbor got with it and decorated his porch with lights. The people-on-the-move took time to light up their front door. Little by little the unexpected joy of Christmas lights took over. More than once, I noticed cars driving slowly down our street enjoying the results of our holiday spirit.

H-H-H Marine is already planning for next year. A forest of trees to the north of the drive. A decorated door on the RV barn. Animated figures. Maybe a manger scene with real animals. The possibilities are endless. With 2,000 new white lights, he’s planning to fancy up the back yard for those summer barbeques we’re planning. And the twinkly fun goes on and on.

I must report on one unexpected event that took us by surprise. It involves The Wookie, our girl-fur-baby. Wookie is an Aussie-Doodle who is very, very smart. She is also agile, learning that my dining room table was a fun place on which to jump for a better view out the window. Never have I ever!!!

Monday night, HHH was going to work his magic with two lovely pork chops. Not thin porkchops. No. These were the thick, delicious, delicious, gourmet type. He’d been working on the recipe all day while the chops thawed on the kitchen counter.

Late in the day, I was watering poinsettias, when I noticed there was only one porkchop on the plate. I thought HHH had probably put the second one in the microwave to thaw it a bit.

At about that time, I noticed our Wookie outside on the lawn. In a strange stance, she looked like she was in the middle of something. Perhaps choking. Perhaps relieving herself. Or perhaps……….

You guessed it.

She had STOLEN one beautiful chop from the counter!!!!

We now have a counter-surfing kitchen thief extraordinaire on our hands. What a character!!!

HHH was not amused. He and the Wookie had a very serious meeting outside in which, after much protest, 1/2 a chop was retrieved. An Unexpected Joy for the Wookie. I guess everyone needs to enjoy a holiday moment now and then.

Whatever you do today, don’t underestimate the lengths wo which your pets will go when a beautiful porkchop is involved. They are much smarter and more resourceful than we think. Gee, it must have been her who emptied the box of See’s candy……Yes. We’ll stick with that story.

More tomorrow.

What a difference a month of rest and relaxation can make!!! Throughout the holiday season, Hubba-Hubba-Husband and I were constantly reminded of the miracles in this great world. Although the broadcast news would make us all believe we’re surrounded by grinchy jackals and thieves, we found our little town on the high dessert plains of Northwest Nevada to be a bit like Who-Ville. Small town sweet and kind.

The holiday season can be full of ghosts that lurk in boxes of Christmas past. There were some decorations that didn’t make it to the 2023 display. After playing for 33 years, my set of electrified brass musical bells decided they had played their last song. The little Christmas village lost all power due to old and shoddy wiring. Other smaller decorations lost their luster over the long hot summer. And so, our Christmas decorations were pared down.

As for the exterior lighting, HHH went overboard to win our neighborhood lighting award. From a family of deer to exact lighted replicas of Oliver and Wookie, our house sparkled under at least 50,000 lights. And, during our first Christmas season, we sparkled just as brightly as Winterpast took on a festive glow.

When I moved to Winterpast in 2020, I was a new widow of just 17 days. A week before Christmas, I managed to trip over Oliver’s bed and sprain my ankle. The first year without a husband is pretty rough. Although VST and I shared not one real holiday tradition for 33 years, the lack of tradition was a tradition in itself. I didn’t know any different. We made Christmas Eve our shopping day, and spent more than one enjoying an empty mall while choosing our own gifts. It was just the way we rolled and there is something to be said for simplicity.

So, when my first widowed Christmas arrived in 2020, lights weren’t even in my thoughts. Of course, Winterpast would remain dark, with Oliver and I cocooned on the couch, nursing my bruises.

I did enjoy 9 presents, each one representing a month alone. During that first year, I had chosen a word a month that represented our relationship over the years. Friendship. Love. Adventure. Faith. Etc. With each new month, the word was my life-line when the hours became overwhelming. When about to lose it, I would simply think of the word of the month and all the reasons that word was so appropriate. Pretty soon, I’d be smiling and the crisis would be washed away in a sea of beautiful memories.

That first Christmas, I’d also included a note to my grieving self. Those words, written over the previous 9 months, spoke to the healing and birth of a new woman. And, those words, as words always do, helped heal my soul as days turned into months, and then years. Without actual lights, the soft glow from inside the house intensified. There was life inside, even if battered and bruise. That life would need time to heal until at some point, lights would be appropriate.

Over four years later, there is no doubt two very happy newlyweds live here now. Any light display wouldn’t be complete without a cross. Christ IS the reason for the season and it WAS represented in a huge white cross a blaze with twinkling lights.

This year, HHH and I shared many traditions, new to me. From hurrying to the door to hide presents, to putting up our beautiful tree, HHH was right there enjoying every minute with me. Just two lovely senior citizens enjoying their second month as a married couple. We finished our lovely holiday season by hosting a dinner for friends that were alone. Twelve new friends visited over ham, scalloped potatoes and homemade carrot cake. A wonderful meal was enjoyed by all.

As promised, through the month of December, we spent lots of time talking about the new blog site. Hubba-Hubba-Husband and I finally decided on a name. With a special nod to our love for gardening, it will focus on the surprises of marrying later in life. We plan to share our adventures with you, and yes, you will hear from HHH, as he has a lot to say. Stay tuned for upcoming information on the new blog. It is within days of blooming.

Throughout the years, Grievinggardener.com has helped me through very dark times as I healed through grief. It helped me to find the woman that was there all along. As you all took time to read, I could feel your prayers and love. And slowly, through words, I healed.

Now, it’s time to share our new life. Just Two Romantic Roses enjoying life to the fullest. I promise you laughter and plenty of good gardening tips. I hope you come along for the ride with HHH and me, making happy memories of us.

More tomorrow.

“HoHoHo” on hold, the time has come for a holiday pause. Settling in to married life, I’m finding my to-do list has grown by leaps and bounds, and the time I have left for blogging is limited.

September 24, 2020 found me a very lonely and sad widow writing private and very real thoughts down for the first time in my life. I think back to those early days when I squealed with delight at each new reader. I would spend hours looking up IP addresses to uncover the countries in which my readers lived. I stopped at 80. Each month since then, my readership has increased until today, I’m nearing 850,000 reads.

But, as the morning comes, I no longer awake at 4 AM with little Oliver ready to go to work with me. It’s called life and it’s happening to HHH and I right now. Somedays, it’s fun to sleep in. Sharing retirement is much more fun than going it alone.

By the time the afternoon comes around, I’m finding that my thoughts are racing 100 miles per hour about all the loose ends that need tying up. There are many things to attend to when changing the pace of life. I haven’t found the best writing schedule for creating my best blogs, all the while settling into married life.

Along with those reasons, I must say that I’m looking forward to enjoying my 2nd Christmas with HHH. Tonight, we are attending a small town Christmas tree lighting and dinner out with friends. Saturday night, were staying in town to watch the lighted parade to cheer the friends we know that are in the parade. Our dance card is filling up, without even mentioning that a certain blogger has a December birthday thrown in for good measure.

Christmas time is a great time to catch up on Bible Study, try new recipes, read, and enjoy the Christmas lights HHH put up just yesterday.

During my time off, I plan to work on a brand new blog focusing on the trials and tribulations of navigating the first year of marriage as senior citizens. I must say, I don’t remember the first days of marriage in my 30’s being this much fun. It’s been delightful and I want to share the details on a new blog. Creating that also takes some time and thought to get it right.

For all these reasons, I will be silent until Tuesday, January 2nd, when I will spill the tea about all the details.

I hope each and every one of you have a wonderful holiday season. Whatever you do, try to find something to enjoy each and every day of December. It’s a beautiful time of year to be alive. Thank you all for being such faithful readers.

With Love,

Merry Christmas and Happy New Years!

Joy

On November 30th, Stay Home Because You’re Well Day gives us an excuse to stay in for the day. We all need a break, and it’s nice to take it when healthy to enjoy it. This idea goes hand in hand with practicing LAZY, so I’m wondering if Auntie TJ had something to do with the creation of this National Day.

Remembering back to my days of employment, I do remember taking such days on the first rainy day of fall. Only planning for a one day absence, I would wait patiently while watching the weather forecast. On that first drippy day, I’d call in sick and enjoy a random day of raindrops and solitude. Lovely in every way.

It always fascinates me that people use fake illnesses for all kinds of excuses. Instead of owning the reason for declining an invitation or duty, some hide behind imaginary Covid. It’s not a healthy idea to create a phantom illness because sometimes excuses manifest into something real. This National “Stay Home Because You’re Well Day” is a marvelous idea.

After I’d been teaching for some time, our school district instituted “No-Tell” Days. We were given three per year to use in any way we chose. When using such a day, you would report your absence without a reason. Such a delightful idea. Employees need these days for their mental health.

I also remember enjoying “Mom-Days” with my kids when they were little. Sometimes a Mom/Son day is exactly what’s needed to rejoice and rejuvenate. I know my kids always enjoyed the time spent time together as much as I did.

Being home on a “Well” day is an opportunity to accomplish tasks. But, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with taking the day to practice “LAZY” either. Healthy life choices come in many forms, with burn-out not being one of them. Self-care in a busy life is critical.

If you decide to observe the National Day of Healthy Rest, try enjoying any of the following things.

*Spend time with your pets.

*Read.

*Walk.

*Binge on your favorite program.

*Plant your winter bulbs.

*Put up Christmas lights.

*Write Christmas cards.

*Go to lunch with friends.

*Try a new recipe for dinner.

*Nap.

*Plan a vacation.

*Scrap-book.

*Finish your fall cleaning and organization.

*Just do nothing at all.

Whatever you decide to do today, make it your and yours alone. Tomorrow will arrive soon enough. Take a deep breath and enjoy “National Stay Home Because You’re Well Day”. Peace be with you.

More tomorrow.

My new Social Security card arrived on Saturday. If you’ve recently had the need to change your name, you understand the importance of that first step. It was necessary to wait one month before applying for the card with my new name. This gave time for our marriage license to register with the county. And so, here we are at the end of November facing weeks of the tedious job of changing my name.

Of course, this is a privilege and something I’m very lucky to do. Every time HHH refers to me as his wife to someone else, it makes my heart swell. I’m still learning to say that I am Mrs. HHH, even after weeks of marriage. After almost 40 years of being Mrs. Hurt, both personally and professionally, changing gears is mind bending.

To get the Social Security with the new name, I had to wait for a certified copy of our marriage license to come via snail mail. Once that arrived, I sent it off with my passport. They assured me all original documents would be returned. I have yet to see that happen.

This creates problems when ordering a new passport. Eventually, everything will be in the same name. Mrs. HHH.

So, in the midst of unpacking HHH, Christmas, and keeping up with twice as much laundry, meals, and cleaning, I started thinking about just what advice my Auntie TJ would give. Of course, the best advice she’s ever given, (and she gives the best), was to always remember to practice LAZY. Just practice it, because for us farm girl types, it takes some work to internalize it.

Growing up, LAZY was something you never wanted to be accused of being. Nope. LAZY was a terrible trait when growing up in the 1900’s. There was always so much work to accomplish on the farm, that anyone caught being LAZY would certainly have hell to pay. Just wasn’t done. If you couldn’t find things to keep yourself busy, Mother would help you out and assign more chores. Period.

So, for Auntie TJ and I, practice is a must. As a new wife, I’m still figuring our whether HHH appreciates LAZY or not. He’s wheels never stop spinning, but that might be situational. There is a lot to do around here.

Practicing LAZY starts with an intentional pause in your normal chores. Nothing will collapse if you stop for 2 hours. If you’re lucky, try for 4. At the very least, start with 1. During that time, choose quiet and mindful thoughts of how nice it feels to sit and breathe. In and out. If you’re bold, try staying in your pajamas from morning until night. Take a nap in the middle of the day. Stretch the hours as you luxuriate in your own space.

I used to be great at practicing LAZY. Almost sloth-like, I could stay in jammies for days doing things I loved doing while watching the snow fall. A peace came over me as I took time to do the things I love. I’m going to do that again soon, after the name is changed on ever single contact I have.

For the time being, HHH and I will be scurrying around to prepare for an upcoming small town tree lighting, lighted parade, birthday celebration and family dinner. In a flash, it’ll be our first Christmas Eve here at Winterpast. I really want to enjoy every moment leading up to that. I’m going to do it by slowing down.

Whatever you do today, take time to stop. Just for a bit. Read a book. Take a walk. Sit in the sunshine. Take a drive. Do something you love. It’ll be great for what ails you.

More tomorrow.

Oh, what a beautiful Thanksgiving! Still honeymooning, HHH and I had the best time scurrying town getting all the fixings for our first holiday dinner at Winterpast. With a twenty pound turkey for a party of five, we’ve plenty of frozen turkey for future winter dinners. From the fresh cranberry sauce to the homemade pies, no one went away hungry.

Thanksgiving Eve, we worked the entire day to empty out the last of HHH’s belongings from his house. After five weeks of moving, neither of us ever want to experience that again. The yard is mowed and weeded and all trash has been hauled away as it awaits new occupants.

Now, the building formally known as the “RV barn” and forever more known as the “Man Cave” is filled to the brim. What a super place for five brothers to root for their favorite teams while my new sister-in-laws and I can enjoy coffee time inside the warm and toasty comforts of Winterpast.

Along with all the things my new husband brought along, the Man Cave will also home to a portable outdoor kitchen we’ll enjoy next summer. At the speed at which time is passing, it’ll seem like minutes before we’re cheering for the winner of the greased pig contest at our hometown Independence Day celebrations.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving weekend without some Black Friday fun. As it turned out, there was a deal on a new television that couldn’t be missed, as well as a deeply discounted Shark vacuum. Having just joined Walmart Plus, we ordered both things on Thanksgiving Day. To our surprise, they were delivered before 10 AM the next day. One of the stranger deliveries we’ve experienced, both things were delivered by people in their own private cars. Life is strange these days with nothing as it used to be. Even deliveries.

After doing more Black Friday shopping at places you wouldn’t think of, like a furniture store and travel outlet, we came home to package the remaining turkey and simmer the left over carcass into a lovely broth for use at a later time. Our kitchen talisman observed the entire procedure and approved. All the while, football played in the background.

HHH comes from a family of five boys, all stellar athletes that still hold high school and college records, all being distinguished members of the High School “Hall of Fame”. How my new Mother-In-Law keeps their teams straight is beyond me, but she does.

Now, I came from a house of five young ladies. We didn’t ever watch football or sports, for that matter. Our television, once we had one, was parked on programs like “My Friend, Flicka” or “Flipper”. Our movie choices involved musicals or romantic comedies with Doris Day or Rock Hudson. Not football.

I’m the first to admit that I don’t know very much about the rules of the game. It doesn’t hold my attention any more than my programs fascinate HHH. I needed to find a way to make it a little more interesting. After hearing about a unique method for choosing a winning football team a few years back, I’ve made it my own. It’s simple. Just root for the team with an animal as their mascot, such as the Miami Dolphins or the Chicago Bears.

If two animals play, choose your favorite. If no animal is in the game, pick the team with the best uniforms. So far, I think I’m doing okay. HHH finds the whole thing cringeworthy, which makes the whole idea even more delicious. I will say that choosing a random team each game does make it a bit more fun. My preferred team is the Baltimore Ravens, represented by my favorite bird.

With many days left to enjoy the holiday, it’s time to get on with projects at hand. Today will involve a trip to the Nevada Department of Motor Vehicles to handle name and address changes and all issues related to cars. Then, it’ll be on to take a photo for a new passport, because, a girl just never knows when it might be necessary to have one at the ready. Changing names and addresses are equally frustrating at times. It’s nice that we can share the pain.

Whatever you do today, get some fresh air and sunshine. Think about the reason for the season and get caught up with friends. Heck, break out the pen and send some Christmas cards. Hohoho, let it snow!!!!

More tomorrow.

Family has been coming and going this week. Some of our desert peeps are in Kentucky, while Arizonan’s have dropped in for a surprise visit. And so it goes around the holidays. Families doing their best to get together for a few days of great memories.

This will be our first Thanksgiving as a married couple here at Winterpast. Ollie and Wookie will be hanging out under the table hoping to score some handouts along the way. HHH is a master chef and has been planning our meal for a week or more. I plan to be his sous-chef, already having set the dining room for a party of five.

There is something admirable about a man that needs to cook a 20 lb. turkey for five to insure lots of left-overs. We’ll be up tomorrow morning at dark:30 to stuff our bird while waiting to watch the Thanksgiving Day Parade. With careful planning, there’ll be plenty of time left to enjoy the day.

On this eve, Thanksgiving 2023, having HHH in my life is the biggest blessing of all. I’m thankful for the love of family and friends that surround us all year long. I’m really thankful to be able to enjoy a Mother’s love once more in my life. The beauty of the desert that surrounds us makes me glad to be alive.

Whatever you plan to do for the holidays, please spend time with those you love. Start a list of all the blessings in your life. Once you get started, the list will practically write itself.

I plan to eat too much turkey, sleep in, and enjoy some Christmas movies. I’ll be back on Monday with more stories from my little town that sits proudly on a dusty wide spot off the interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

One very short but interesting stop along the road from Twin Falls to West Yellowstone involved some inscriptions from long ago. Driving along, we’d notice signs mentioning Massacre Rocks State Park and Register Rock.

Located along the Snake River west of American Falls, Massacre Rocks State Park features a famous configuration of boulders along the south bank of the Snake, known alternatively as “Massacre Rocks”, “Gate of Death,” or “Devil’s Gate.”

A famous spot along the Oregon Trail and California Trail during the mid 19th century, emigrants gave this name to the narrow passage of the trail through the rocks, from the fear of possible ambush by Native Americans. According to diaries of emigrants, settlers in five wagons clashed with Shoshone just east of the rocks on August 9th and 10th, 1862. Eleven emigrants and 20 Shoshone died in the fight, which involved four wagon trains.

The remains of an extinct volcano, the rocks were often used as a campsite for wagon trains along the trail. Many emigrants carved their names and dates on the rock face, now protected by a shelter. The actual passage through the rocks is now Interstate 86 along the south edge of the park.

Look closely at the picture above. H. Chestnut signed the rock on August 20, 1862, just days after wagons fought with the Shoshone. How many children sat and read by these rocks, resting their feet after running alongside the wagon trains all day. Of all the things we saw on our honeymoon, this is one that still haunts me.

Troubled by conflicting accounts, I found actual diary accounts to read for myself, after so many have rewritten the facts. History is most interesting when one can find first hand accounts of events that took lives. There are those that believe any talk of massacres were just tales of the wild, wild west. Of course, the Native Americans were the most peaceful of peaceful. The settlers had nothing better to do than kill as they traveled through. Read some actual journals where truth is written on both sides.

Here’s a suggestion. First, go out into the desert on a moonless night, at least 20 miles from the nearest town. Then, only protected by a thin blanket, sit on the ground and listen to everything from breezes to coyote howls. After having listened to stories of attacks all day long and near the point of exhaustion, wait for the attacks to come to your wagon train. Staying alive took courage, stealth, and quick reflexes of people from both sides.

Just this week, there was a televised statement from a Native American man that no indigenous people ever scalped anyone. All-rightly then. Gotta love historical accounts of 1862 rewritten in 2023.

How could there be an actual count of men, women, and children killed in the action from either side? I’m sure both sides embellished stories that never happened, while those accounts too horrendous to tell died with those at the scenes.

In the diary of Henry M Judson 1862, he mentions, Jas Crawford, J Adams, John Walker, A. J. Cassidy and many more were wounded. I’d much prefer to read their journaled accounts to thoughts of historians writing today. As a writer, I’m thankful to Mr. Judson and other settlers for taking the time to write down their personal accounts of their journey.

Windmills???? In such a sacred place???? I hope H. Chestnut and T.J. Wilcox understand. I also hope they understand the need to hide their “Register Rock” behind chain link fencing to prevent defacing. Our world is certainly a mixed up place.

As Thanksgiving draws closer, remember your own ancestors and the bravery it took to survive and thrive in our beautiful country. The sacrifices they made to start new lives in the west were breathtaking. Bloodshed and illnesses be damned, the pioneers of 1862 had set their goals. Taking time to carve their names in rocks, they’re still remembered 161 years later by two honeymooners.

Although still considered the wild west by some, I wouldn’t trade my life on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada for anything. Hope you feel the same about your home town!

More tomorrow.

After the weeks of careful planning, our wedding day came and went without a hiccup. Our guests are still talking about the best wedding that happened on that beautiful October evening. It was truly an event to remember.

Early on, we had a few ideas for a blissful honeymoon. Some had suggested it might be silly to take one but that though never crossed our mind. Of course, we’d enjoy a honeymoon. Deciding on the destination took a bit of time. Many honeymooners choose the largest towns in Nevada. Those certainly weren’t a fit. We’d planned a trip to Maui, but, Maui burned, no longer an option. We’d considered the coast, but those plans didn’t come together like the rest of the wedding.

One evening, I mentioned my favorite place in the world. WYOMING. Our plans quickly came together. Although sharing a bit of Yellowstone with Montana and Idaho, 96% of the park lies in Wyoming. Yellowstone National Park in October would be the backdrop for beautiful memories as a brand new man and wife.

After searching online, we chose a little cabin in West Yellowstone. Not too far from the grocery store and restaurants, this little home would be the perfect place to begin our new lives together. We’d drive there, taking time to stop whenever we’d like, just like HHH had promised me we would as we danced to our song one night while we were making dinner.

We’ll follow the rainbow
Wherever the four winds blow
And there’ll be a new day
Coming our way …_{Keith Urban}

Our little town is 550 miles away from West Yellowstone. We’d need to stay the first night in Twin Falls, Idaho. This was a bonus, as I’d only driven through Twin Falls once, never stopping to see the falls.

After taking Sunday to enjoy breakfast with our kids, worship with our church family, and open presents at Winterpast, we were ready to hit the road on a bright and sunny Monday. The weather was perfect as we drove east on the interstate.

Before we left, I took some water based paint and wrote “Just Married” in big letters on the back of our luxurious ride. It’d be fun to see who would make comments along the way. Little did we know, it would spark some of the highlights of our trip.

After driving for a few hours, we decided to have breakfast at Sid’s in Winnemucca. If you are ever traveling through, do stop. They have the friendliest staff and the best food we’d eaten in a very long time. My white “BRIDE” fanny pack didn’t go unnoticed, as many shot smiles our way. It’s weird to blast along at full throttle for weeks and then STOP to live in the present.

Did you ever take a walk through the forest?
Stop and dream a while among the trees?
Well you can look up through the leaves right straight to heaven
You can almost hear the voice of God
In each any every breeze

You got to stop and smell the roses
You’ve got to count your many blessings everyday
You’re gonna find your way to heaven is a rough and rocky road
If you don’t stop and smell the roses along the way …… _{Mac Davis}

Back in the car, we talked and sang familiar songs all the way to Idaho. On the way, we entered into big-sky plains, still green from the rainy year. The conversations were easy as they always are between us. There were no cross moments, no tensions about the raging war, no mentions of new shootings. Just miles and miles of peaceful driving.

Traveling through the high desert, we saw miles and miles of nothing. Not an antelope or deer, although there were overpasses built just for their migrations. No highway patrol to ruin our moods. Just wide open roads on the way to Yellowstone.

We had lots of time to talk about plans for HHH’s big move to Winterpast, which is occurring as I write this blog. Moving, contacting businesses, and changing one’s name are three things that add to the stress of the moment. Top that with preparing a house for a lease, and you could see there are many stressful things that could have distracted us from our fun. Didn’t happen.

That night, settling into the “Best Western Plus”, we sat in our comfy clothes while watching the World Series.

Watch a little, talk a little, watch a little, watch a little,
Snack, Snack, snack, talk a lot, watch a little more.

That is how HHH and I spend our days together. With sports playing in the background, there’s always something interesting to question, share, or laugh about. Thank goodness for the pause feature on YouTubeTv and a patient husband that uses it often.

Well, that sums up the first day of the honeymoon. Romantically perfect for us in every way.

Whatever you do today, think about planning a road trip. You don’t need to travel far to discover beauty in the surrounding area and also in your travel partner. Be part of the great migration, even if it’s just for a day.

More tomorrow.

Since August 28th, 2022, when I first met this wonderful fisherman who is now known as my Hubba-Hubba-Husband, I’ve been given a precious blessing from God. Having spent many hours in deep conversations about his plans for me, I would often ask God for a strong Christian man to enter my life. He blessed me with HHH.

When we first met, we shared many interesting conversations. One of the more serious ones involved our mirrored desires to honor God before all else. Through widowhood, the single life, and dating, God guided us to that very moment when I walked down the aisle into my new life as a Christian wife.

Our minister had asked what song we’d chosen for the processional. There were so many on the list. Of course, we could’ve gone traditional with “Here Comes the Bride”, but that didn’t see right.

“Bless the Broken Road” by Rascal Flats was a contemporary front runner. Its lyrics spoke of the hard times through widowhood both HHH and I had experienced before finding true love.

“That every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you

I think about the years I spent just passing through
I’d like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You’ve been there, you understand
It’s all part of a grander plan that is coming true” _{Rascal Flats}

We’d already decided on that song, until another made us both cry. It’d be the perfect song to play as I walked down the long aisle towards the man with the bluest eyes and the smile of home. The song was The Prayer, The English Version song by Mikalene Ipson and Eric Dodge. Although their were other versions by more famous people, this version fit the time and place.

The Prayer

I pray you’ll be our eyes and watch us where we go. And help us to be wise in times when we don’t know.

Let this be our prayer when we lose our way. Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace to a place where we’ll be safe.

I pray we’ll find your light and hold it in our hearts. When stars go out each night, Remind us where you are.

Let this be our prayer when shadows fill our days. Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace.

Give us faith so we’ll be safe.

A world where pain and sorrow will be ended. And every heart that’s broken will be mended. And we’ll remember we are all God’s children reaching out to touch you while reaching to the sky.

We ask that life be kind. Please watch us from above. We hope each soul will find another soul to love. Just like every child needs to find a place, guide us with your grace. Give us faith so we’ll be safe. _{Mikalene Ipson/Eric Dodge}

With no time left for last minute changes, the time had come. CC burst through the door.

“It’s time.”

It was time to exit my hiding spot and look once more to the late afternoon Nevada sunshine, nearly finished for the day. The overflow room was filled to the brim with smiling friends and family that were excited to finally see me.

Just me. 67 years old. Wrinkled. Hair, some would say is way, too long for a lady of my age. Standing behind the most beautiful bouquet of flowers I’d have picked myself if they’d been blooming at Winterpast. The retired teacher type who loves gardening, hoodies, jeans, hot coffee, and tall UGG’s. The desert gal who spent the last year falling in love with HHH, who just happens to be in the top 1% of great guys!. Now the Spanx-i-fied bride, feeling the prettiest I’d felt in many, many years, both inside and out. Just me.

Our song was playing. HHH, The Mayor and the Pastor were in place. CC was already floating down the aisle in front of me, and then, it was my turn.

I tried to make it all the way to the aisle without doing anything outrageous, but then, there SHE was.

MISS FIRECRACKER!!

MY MISS FIRECRACKER!!! I have talked about her so often that HHH knew her without an introduction for SHE is the SPICY ONE that no one can miss. Her smile fills the room. I knew she would be there, but seeing her was the best surprise ever!! There was nothing else to do but stop and give her a hug on my way down to HHH.

Family and friends were there, waiting, as the song finished and it was time to get married.

HHH and I wrote our own vows. His made me swell with pride and then it was my turn. The crowd found it humorous that with all my intense planning, I managed to forget my glasses at home and had to borrow his. I think it won’t be the last time he’ll help me out when I’m without.

We promised all the traditional things Bride’s and Groom’s do. We did decide to leave out the part where someone might think it appropriate to object. No objections or rude comments would ruin OUR magical day. Besides, no one would be so rude as to attend a wedding that they weren’t celebrating! At least not anyone with manners.

At that moment, there was no one else in that crowded chapel except HHH and me. With one very sweet kiss, it was done. As Man and Wife, we exited the chapel to “You are the Sunshine of My Life” by Stevie Wonder.

We were both surprised that the husband and wife don’t sign the marriage certificate. Only the witnesses do, so The Mayor and CC handled that for us.

Married, there was nothing to do but head to our reception, and about all that, I’ve already written. We enjoyed cake, threw the bouquet, tossed the garter, and enjoyed every second until the party ended. Memories that will warm our hearts for as long as we live.

Whatever you do today, remember your own wedding day and the sweet memories that unfolded. There are only a few days in life as precious as the one in which you marry the very person that you cannot spent another day without. HHH and I are so blessed to have found one another in this, the last and best chapter of our lives!

Have a wonderful weekend. I’ll be back Monday to fill you in on our honeymoon travels.

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When I opened the door to the little playhouse in which I would hide, there was something for which I wasn’t prepared. THE MUSIC. Our Pre-wedding playlist was playing through a little speaker as well as inside the church. All of a sudden, the songs we’d chosen as soothing “Pre-Wedding” tunes were playing one last time. The thing was, they weren’t so soothing at that moment. This would be one of the last times I’d listen to them.

Tears welling up, so many thoughts raced through my head. 1988 and the last time I’d been a bride. Four long, hot summers traveling on my journey as a widow. 2023 and the very last time I’d EVER be a bride again. So many memories, hopes, and dreams all tied into those six little songs that would play for 20 minutes 45 seconds before the “Down the Aisle” song would play.

Squinting to look out of a lace-covered window, I could see key people in my life as they arrived. There were so many people, I doubted that those inside would even pay attention to the music, which made me a little sad. Each song held special memories. Left up to him, HHH may have chosen a differently, but he agreed to the final selections.

All alone in this little house, there were minutes to calm myself as a few stray visitors who were in the know came to offer support. Of course, CC was nervous as a cat running back and forth to check with Da Girl who had come from so far away to help me with my hair and calm my nerves. My two life-sisters, chosen from the minute we said “Hello”, came to support and love me.

You’re probably curious about the music. You might even want to listen to some of the songs yourself. Here are the songs that made the cut.

1. The Thorn Birds — Henry Mancini
   • If you are a woman of the 80’s, you probably remember a “mini-series” on television. Many of my friends need only to hear the title “The Thorn Birds” and drift away to a sheep ranch in Drogheda, Australia. The theme song is one of my favorite musical selections, regardless of the fact the movie, in today’s politically correct world, seems a little creepy.

1. Better Together –Luke Combs — Well, I had to put one GUY song for HHH

A 40 HP Johnson
On a flat bottom metal boat
Coke cans and BB guns
Barbed wire and old fence posts
8-point bucks in autumn
And freshly cut corn fields
One arm out the window
And one hand on the wheel

Your license in my wallet
When we go out downtown
Your lipstick stained every coffee cup
That I got in this house
The way you say I love you, too
Is like rain on an old tin roof
And your hand fits right into mine
Like a needle in a groove

Would just sound better together
And probably always will
Like a cup of coffee and a sunrise
Sunday drives and time to kill
What’s the point of this old guitar
If it ain’t got no strings
Or pouring your heart into a song
That you ain’t gonna sing
It’s a match made up in heaven
Like good ole boys and beer
And me, as long as you’re right here

3. Can You Feel the Love Tonight — Elton John

There’s a calm surrender to the rush of day
When the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away
An enchanted moment, and it sees me through
It’s enough for this restless warrior just to be with you

There’s a time for everyone if they only learn
That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn
There’s a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors
When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours

Can you feel the love tonight?
It is where we are
It’s enough for this wide-eyed wanderer
That we’ve got this far

Can you feel the love tonight?
How it’s laid to rest?
Oh, it’s enough to make kings and vagabonds
Believe the very best

5. You are the Sunshine of my life — Stevie Wonder

“You Are The Sunshine Of My Life”

I feel like this is the beginning,
Though I’ve loved you for a million years,
And if I thought our love was ending,
I’d find myself drowning in my own tears

You must have known that I was lonely,
Because you came to my rescue,
And I know that this must be heaven,
How could so much love be inside of you?

You are the sunshine of my life, yeah,
That’s why I’ll always stay around,
You are the apple of my eye,
Forever you’ll stay in my heart

6. Chapel of Love — The old version, which is the ONLY version

Fall is here, the sky is blue, whoa
Birds all sing as if they knew
Today’s the day we’ll say “I do”
And we’ll never be lonely anymore

Bells will ring, the sun will shine, whoa
I’ll be his and he’ll be mine
We’ll love until the end of time
And we’ll never be lonely anymore

Because we’re goin’ to the chapel
And we’re gonna get married
Goin’ to the chapel
And we’re gonna get married
Gee, I really love you
And we’re gonna get married
Goin’ to the chapel of love

7. A Thousand Years–Christina Perry

Heart beats fast
Colors and promises
How to be brave?
How can I love when I’m afraid to fall?
But watching you stand alone
All of my doubts
Suddenly go away somehow

Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything take away
What’s standing in front of me
Every breath
Every hour has come to this

I have died every day waiting for you
Darling, don’t be afraid
I have loved you for a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more

While I stayed hidden in the little playhouse, CC helped seat guests while The Mayor helped calm HHH and his nerves. Finally, everyone took their seats, while waiting for me. All the while, I fought back tears listening to beautiful music in the little playhouse, alone with my thoughts.

It would be moments now. Just moments until CC burst through the door.

“It’s time!”

More tomorrow.

Over the past month, we’ve enjoyed receiving pictures from our wedding guests. Every once in awhile, we’ll be surprised with another batch of digital memories. Some people couldn’t wait to share on Facebook. Others sent them privately, for our eyes only. I must say, some were excellent and others cringeworthy. But, all of them reflected the day one moment at a time.

The funny thing about photographs is that they point out one’s worst faults. I never realized how easily I could be identified as a teacher. Oh my. I should practice listening more. So many pictures showed me in the midst of another story. But they also show every human emotion there is. Tenderness, happiness, shock, awe, and the silliest dance moves.

One thing is for certain. Our guests all had a great time at the reception. The food looked wonderful, although I only managed to have one piece of turkey on a delicious roll. The cake looked divine, although the only piece I enjoyed was the one that HHH fed me so careful not to get a drop on my dress. By the end of the reception, there was nothing left, so I guess the food and cake were a hit.

Thinking about pictures in general, so much is lost through them these days. Attention to the present moment is lost when taking selfies. Attention to all the little details that one could absorb through other senses is lost as one reinspects the pictures taken moments before. Other than the professional photographer, I was happy to enjoy guests that weren’t stuck to their phones, but engaging with each other.

The next worst thing is that digital pictures might as well not exist. How many times does one look at a particular day 3.5 years ago to examine the 35 selfies taken that day? Probably never. Change a phone and forget to take the pics? Well, too bad. Years of enters and interactions, gone. I hate cell phone pics. If I can’t remember a special day in my brain, it’s probably not worth remembering.

The afternoon of our wedding, all the kids and families arrived. Shined up, one grandson wanted to know if there would be any other captive children at this shindig. Actually, there were going to be many kids. That seemed to cheer him up.

Then, my dear friend, the flower lady, arrived with the most breathtaking bouquet I could have imagined. I swear she listened to my every desire as I told her what I would like.

“I want my bouquet to look like I walked through a fall garden and created it that morning. Nothing structured. Just natural beauty. “

She created a bouquet proportionate to my body, while complimenting the color of my dress. Embracing the essence of fall, I couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect.

CC’s corsage was one that she wore on her wrist. Intricate and lovely, it had many different flowers that nestled against one another in a tight pattern. Although I never explained CC’s dress to the flower lady, she absolutely nailed the colors in her dress, too.

As soon as the photographer arrived, we moved into the gardens of Winterpast. That day, the Nevada sky didn’t disappoint. With the lighting at the perfect angle, the last of the fall blooms gave us some color with which to work.

He began his magic by spending time photographing me from every angle possible. The victories and losses over sixty-seven years show when you are being photographed in harsh sunlight. Just one big mass of squints and wrinkles on one very happy woman. The only saving-grace is that while they might not be the best pictures I’ve taken throughout my life, they are much better than the ones we’ll take on our 20th anniversary. For that, I can be sure.

We took pictures of the different family groups. Even the rings got their own photo session. And then, there was one last picture of all of us together.

As the minutes evaporated, it was soon time to make our way to the church. I’d almost forgotten to reserve a parking place for the bride. Gosh, if that space hadn’t been reserved, I might’ve needed to park at the Tee-Pee Bar and Grill on Main Street and walked.

Someone questioned whether I was driving myself to the wedding. Well, who else would’ve done that? My car needed to be there to take us to the reception. Just like the rest of the wedding, if HHH and I wouldn’t have taken charge and run with it, the wedding wouldn’t have happened. Weddings are a little different when you are the one planning AND paying.

So, off I set with my bouquet balanced in a vase full of water between my bridal knees. Nothing could go wrong with that, right? Luckily the short drive was uneventful. As I pulled in front of the church, the word was sent out that the BRIDE had arrived. HHH was escorted away, while I could safely run to my safe spot. Those minutes were precious. The last minutes I’d ever be single again.

My safe space at the church happened to be the children’s classroom, which was nothing more than a very small utility shed. There, with the music piped in, I’d wait until it was my turn. Through a cloudy window, I could hear HHH greeting guests. Thank goodness, he’d arrived on time.

Was he just a nervous as I was, sitting alone in that little playhouse? I suppose he was. But then, that’s recorded in another set of photographs of that special day. You’ll just need to come back tomorrow to learn what happened next.

More tomorrow.

Throughout the planning of the wedding, it seemed the stars were aligned for the perfect outcome. Needing a venue, we found the golf course clubhouse could be rented for $75 an hour, (including staff). Searching for flowers, we only needed to call our dear friend at the flower shop. Photographer? A professional walked into our life agreeing to do the job. Friends and family? They were ready to celebrate.

Every detail had been considered and planned except for my hair.

Up or down?

My salon experiences ended in 2020 when all the hairdressers shut down because of Covid. With no opportunity to whack off the locks, they grew. After four summers, my hair is longer than it’s been in decades. Long, straight as a board, and a beautifully appropriate color for my age. Grey with God-given highlights.

Just yesterday, someone commented about how lucky I must’ve been the 70’s. So true. My hair was Cher or Marcia Brady straight. It’s really the only way that I can wear it with any success, as it is truly course, thick, and straight. All the more to experiment with.

On most days, you’ll find me with the mess tied on top of my head in a pony tail or bun. There are many reasons for this, the main one being the Zephyr winds blowing across the high desert plains of northwestern Nevada . They can blow at a moments notice, making it impossible to see very well with a mop of hair flying in the eyes. The next best reason is that it’s just easier to tie it up.

It would probably be a great time to wear it short again, but at this time in life, I really, really like it long. It matters not what the masses think. I like it the way it is, long and straight. Besides, in the winter, it is super warm. No kidding.

So, when my dearest friend (who’s happened to cut my hair throughout our 40 year friendship) came prepared to style my hair for the wedding, she curled the entire mass. I’m told it looked beautiful. I can tell you one thing for sure. It was voluminous.

As my dearest friends worked over me in the bathroom, curling and teasing, I know one thing was certain. The women surrounding me were the ones I love the most in this world. They were there supporting me on my most special day. Rather like an Autumn version of “Steel Magnolias”.

They were also supporting me four summers prior when a different kind of celebration was held at Winterpast. VST’s celebration of life. The same women came to the rescue to help me through that week. Thank goodness the reason for their presence was filled with sheer happiness on my special October day.

Of course, it’d been necessary to slither into some Spanx. For goodness sakes, whoever dreamt up that contraption had some evil intentions. No matter the position in which you start, by time you are into the Spanx, you have done some interesting contortions and gyrations. No one was allowed to watch that show, but for those of you that remember the day I got stuck in a wet, long-sleeved swimsuit, the situation was similar. I started out dry but worked up a little sweat until I was tucked into the thing.

With something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue, the time came to slip on my beautiful royal blue wedding dress. The prettiest dress ever, it was chosen because it was HHH’s favorite color. Completing the look, sparkling navy flats that ended up being the most comfortable part of the ensemble.

Everyone ooh–ed and ahhhh-ed as they do for every bride. On that very afternoon, with loved ones surrounded me, at that moment I felt they just might be telling the truth.

That morning, I never developed nervous jitters or doubted my decision. I continued to think about that very long aisle and the wonderful man that would be waiting at the end of it for me.

I must say that this last month has been the happiest, busiest, and most carefree month I’ve had in decades. Maybe ever. Married life has been everything I hoped for. I couldn’t have married anyone more deserving of the precious title “My Husband”. I love you, HHH!

To HHH —

On our joyful wedding day,

We began a brand new life.

Friends and family gave their gifts

To happy husband, blissful wife.

But the greatest gift we’ll ever get,

A gift from heaven above,

Is love forever, ending never,

Everlasting love.

We’ll share life’s joy and pleasure;

We’ll have plenty of that, it’s true.

But love is the real treasure

For this happy bride and you.

And when life hands us challenges,

As it does to one and all,

Our love will hold us steady

And never let us fall.

Our first month was full of joy

Tomorrow we cannot see.

But one thing’s sure for the two of us–

The best is yet to be.

_{Borrowed from Ashish Gutgutia}

More tomorrow…

That Saturday, some weeks past now, was a day about which I’ll remember the smallest details for years to come. It all started with an 8 AM appointment at our little church to prepare for our alter appointment at 5 PM. The rings were complete. The marriage license awaited signatures after the ceremony.

Planning a wedding is a strange affair. The couple has paid $$$ to vendors who promise to provide a service at the proper time and date. Not a little change, but serious money. There is nothing to do but trust that those in the business of weddings are trustworthy people. With everything paid in full, time would tell if we spent our wedding dollars well.

CC and I ran to the church after sharing a little breakfast. At least, I think I fed the poor girl. As it turned out, the elders of the church had worked the night before to move everything into place for the wedding. There were eighty chairs in the sanctuary, with another 20 in the fellowship hall connected by sliding glass doors.

Guests sitting in the fellowship hall would need to watch everything on the big screen TV. Wow, I never thought my wedding would become the “event of the decade” with overflow viewing on an extra screen. Our sanctuary is very, very small.

As we worked to put flowers on the ends of almost half the rows, reserving them for family, golden morning sun poured through the cross above the alter. The morning light is amazing in this little church. Initially, I’d wanted to marry at 8 AM because of that very fact, but HHH and I decided our guests might have trouble getting there in time.

HHH informed me long before the big day that we couldn’t see each other before the ceremony. That was the only point on which he wouldn’t compromise. Bad luck is real and long-lasting. He’d hang out across town with his daughter as she created our wedding cake.

During the weeks before the big day, we had invited our church family. The buzz about the wedding was exciting, with everyone giving us a cheerful “Yes”. Covid would take out a few important guests, like Angel of the Aluminum Cloud, who was greatly missed,.

The rose bouquets at the end of each row turned out beautiful! A stem of three dusty peach silk roses wrapped with sparkly ribbon. Amazon…. $59.00 for six. Walmart…. $25.00 for eight. They blended perfectly with the fresh garden flowers in my bouquet.

With everything set for the big event just hours away, at 9 we checked on the flowers and then returned to Winterpast. My son and his children had plans to explore in the desert. They’d be looking for antique bottles at the old dump just outside of town. What they ended up finding was gruesome and interesting all at the same time.

A very, very dead mustang was returning to dust in the desert. Mostly mummified and very flat, it wasn’t something city boys would find every day. Wild horses and people have a hard time co-existing. Cars and horses are a deadly mix for one or the other, and sometimes, both.

One of the more interesting things occurring as the mail arrived was a solar eclipse called “The Ring of Fire”. How amazing that on our wedding day the heavens produced a burning ring in the sky! It wasn’t planned that way.

I’d heard about this early enough to purchase “NASA approved solar eclipse glasses” from Amazon. Amazon is great for everything from weddings to eclipses! I’d ordered enough to share.

That morning, as the neighbors were all outside getting their mail, I remembered the glasses. Running next door, I handed them to neighbors that would later be wedding guests. Looking like nerds, we all stood in the middle of the street and watched the sky in wonder. It took longer than I expected. Even the mail lady received her own pair of glasses with which to enjoy the event.

By then, I could no longer ignore the clock. My Bestie’s had arrived for makeup and hair and it was time to morph into the bride. On that very day when the sky produced an amazing “Ring of Fire”, I’d become Mrs. HHH.

Over the previous year, while making the best memories two sexagenarians could’ve, we’d fallen in love. In a few short hours, HHH and I would share our personal vows. Every heart-felt prayer we’d sent was now to be answered at 5PM, when we’d meet, front and center, at the end of a very long aisle.

More tomorrow.

The move continues and as with every move, it seems the boxes are multiplying in the privacy of the garage. It seemed so perfect in the beginning when the first boxes were opened. Of course, those held perishables or beloved possessions that fit perfectly. We are well passed that point. Now, shelf and drawer space are up for negotiation.

I’m in the enviable position of having lived here at Winterpast for four years. Having pared down from a larger house in Virginia City, I’ve spent four summers deciding which things would stay and which would go. Again, initial purging is a piece of cake. College texts. Ill-fitting clothes. Belongings from a late spouse. All those things were obvious, yet maybe not easy choices. I was approaching what I felt were the special things that would make the cut when I’m moved to an old folk’s home.

But no. Not even close.

Why does anyone own a 10 year old electronic foot bath with electronic foot scrubbers that has never been taken out of the box? Or 10 sets of towels in a varying state of decay? Extra bed sheets and linens for guest that never come?

Now, the stash of toilet paper is non-negotiable. Winterpast has a delightful garage area for storing up for winter. There is big savings in buying ahead for things you will use, like extra dishwasher detergent, garbage bags, and 90 extra rolls of toilet paper. Not just because “you just never know”. We did all know in the early spring of 2020, didn’t we? If things get really bad, my two-ply Kirkland brand TP might be worth something we need in the bartering world. Because, really, in this day and age, you just never know.

Wall space is especially sacred due to the fact that Winterpast is window rich. Every wall in every room has at least one. This provides needed light for plants, but is very troublesome when blending pictures.

Yesterday, we officially went from owning three bedrooms of furniture to two, the desired amount. HHH had found the most wonderful queen bed at a yard sale. Solid-oak, this four poster bed was beautifully crafted and without a scratch. HHH created a guest room down to new doilies under the lamps. New quilt and shams. The works. But, there was no room at this inn for two guest rooms. We rarely have one guest, let alone two at the same time. And, this chick-a-dee needs a place to write and craft.

In true gentleman form, HHH sacrificed his gorgeous guest set in order to keep his gorgeous king-sized set and leave my studio untouched. His granddaughter was the lucky recipient of a wonderful and very needed bedroom set from grandpa! How lovely is that?

Today, we are rearranging our storage and then tackling the yard art, shed, and garage. We’re a day away from one very empty house. At that time, cleaning and repairs will begin with a vengeance. Our deadline for renting the house is December 1st, and we’re right on track. Maybe even a little ahead of schedule.

Another relative is purchasing HHH’s extra car, leaving us with three. Our two closets are now nestled into one. You get the idea. Things are blending. At the end of each day, we share dinner and laughs while watching something on the television. Last night, it was Thursday night football and leftover Chinese. All the while, Wookie and Oliver nestle together by the fire while loving each other as brother and sister. Our little family of four is completely happy and happily complete.

Whatever you do today, think about the day you might need to downsize. Do you really need 10 crystal bowls and dinner service for 12? Probably not. If you haven’t looked at something for ten years, it could really go. Consider those in your family that might enjoy these possessions for a time. Hand Me Down’s are always better when they come with a family story. It’s fall. Time for cleaning.

I’ll be back Monday.

Just days before the wedding, we were so blessed to have visitors that came to celebrate. Not just any visitors, but HAPPY visitors that had nothing buy smiles about our impending wedding, just days away. Even better, the visitors included my oldest son and his family from Michigan, and my best friend in the world and matron of Honor, CC.

Looking back, nerves were rampant on that Thursday night when everyone arrived. With HHH’s help, we decided on a favorite meal of BBQed hamburgers, ranch-style beans and chips.

That night, we served eleven hungry travelers, while catching up on all the news. There’s nothing better than hugging a grown son and daughter-in-law while enjoying the antics of three busy grandchildren. CC’s watched my kids grow up since 1979, when we were all babies. A long and wonderful friendship between two women has flourished as we’ve shared everything life has thrown their way.

After serving dinner, HHH left early to catch the end of Thursday night football. The Michigan group left to settle into their hotel, while CC and I were left to visit and plan for Friday’s activities.

All this happened within the walls of Winterpast. Thinking back to my first days of widowhood, it was Winterpast that kept me focused. April blooms were waking when I picked up the key and closed the door behind me. My own secret garden. A place to fall face first in a luscious lawn and cry. A place to mourn and heal. Now, a place to welcome my new groom and life as a wife. Winterpast has been with me through it all.

A house holds love and loss from the past, as well. When I look around at her walls and doors, it’s obvious that during her 20 years, she’s been respected and loved. It takes a lot of work to keep a 20 year old home looking like new, and like her present occupants, she’s now entering her prime.

With a whirlwind of activities the next day, I can truly say that I don’t remember much. There were details about the flowers and food to check. More guests arrived. Another bestie arrived with her husband from Central California. California guests arrived to check into their rooms in the biggest little city to the West. My son and grandchildren went treasure hunting in the desert.

All the while, my rock, Miss CC, kept me focused and grounded. When the nerves started to rattle me a bit, I’d just remember the reason for the entire event. My HHH would be standing at the end of a very long aisle waiting for me. That thought alone was enough to settle any new-bride jitters.

Friday evening, Chef KFC provided dinner for our hungry crew of 15. Sadly, KFC isn’t what it used to be. Arriving cold, we really could have done better ourselves. 1/4 cup of cold slaw cost $3. Stale biscuits. Fake butter. In what world is that okay? The chicken was hours old, wet, and greasy. And yet, no one noticed that our $100 chicken dinner was less than delicious. At least the, empty containers showed everyone ate.

That night was the last time I kissed HHH goodnight as his “girlfriend”. The next time I’d see him was at the church where the music would play as I walked down the aisle into my new life. Everything would change in 24 hours, as everything has a habit of doing.

During my short and fabulous engagement, I remember some people emphatically insisting they’d never marry. There were days in widowhood that I said the very same thing. Getting married is like moving in some ways. You start out with all your possessions in orderly boxes. When you get to your destination, things you held dear have no purpose. It’s necessary to rearrange a lot to make everything work. In the end, the new looks nothing like the old. Marriage is the same, except you’re the box and the contents include emotions and habits. In our case, it’s chaotic, but working well!

Those fiends of mine that have chosen a solitary path are happy and content. It takes strength, courage, commitment, and beauty to embrace life and continue on and widowhood, whether newly married or happily single. Choosing Happiness along the way is am important key to contentment.

HHH and I are enjoying our new life as a married couple. In a few days, we’ll celebrate our first month together. It’s hard to believe that so much has changed in just a few short weeks. Next month, I’ll legally change my name, which will take hours of patience while waiting in long lines at Social Security and DMV. Plenty of time to reflect on the many blessings I received when this wonderful man answered the first question of many.

Whatever you do today, enjoy this season. Try a new recipe. Binge on a new television series. Watch some old movies. Plan a pajama day. Do all these things while remembering the blessings that you find in your life ever single day. They’re all around you. Just look for them.

More tomorrow.

Update! After a crazy day in which my lighting issues are finally fixed, I’m need to draw from the past this morning.

I smile when I read this post written some time ago. At that time, I’d look up each IP number to identify locations of my readers. I stopped when I hit 80 countries finally believing that I AM read in many distant place. As of today, my number of reads is 812,875 and growing. From wherever you read, please know I send you love, peace, and hope for healing.

Writin’ my life to save my soul on a desert’s Nevada road,

A friendly stranger came around to share apple pie ala mode.

If you’re goin’ to stick around for awhile and keep me satisfied,

You can sit and listen while I write all about my sad old life.

He asked me if I had been alone long, in my house on dust and sand

And I replied I ‘d lots of friends, “I’m read everywhere across this land.”

I’m read everywhere, man.

I’m read everywhere, man.

Wrote in the desert’s bare, man.

Of troubles I’ve had my share, man.

I’ve cried in the mountain air, man,

Of troubles I’ve had my share man.

I’m read everywhere.

I’m read in

Belgium, Australia, Brazil, Czech Republic, Bangladesh, Canada, China, Indonesia, Bosnia, Egypt, Germany, Lithuania, Denmark, India, Ireland, Saudi Arabia, Finland, Hungary , Malaysia, Netherlands, United Kingdom, Virgin Islands, and France.
Fans, they’re readin’.

This new friend now listened, quiet, while country names raced off my lips.

Bushy eyebrows raised a tiny bit, while on me he quite transfixed.

With grief this gard’ner told my tale, death’s horror never rang truer.

He listened awhile, at him I gazed; his eyes, bluer and bluer.

I’m read everywhere, man,

I’m read everywhere, man,

I’ve cried in the mountain air, man.

Of troubles I’ve had my share, man.

I’m read everywhere.

I’m read in

France, Greece, Japan, Jordan, Hong Kong, Korea, Mauritius, Moldova, Morocco, North Macedonia, Pakistan, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Portugal, Russia, Romania, Serbia, Singapore, South Africa, Sri Lanka, Sweden, Taiwan, Turkey, Ukraine, United States, Uruguay, Vietnam. Everywhere, and there, the fan’s, they’re readin’.

I’m read everywhere, man. I’m read everywhere.

He started reading, he now hooked. I, on display, an open book.

Two months pass, friendship grows each day, two hearts liking each other’s ways,

The stories real with Winter past, new tales to write are coming fast.

For all my friends around the world, You mean so much to this old girl.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to the 6900 readers that have taken time to support me in my writing. Your sweet comments have made me realize I AM a writer. This has made my life long dream come alive!!! If I have missed your country, please send me a comment and let me know.

I send my love to you and all your beautiful countries. Joy

A special tip of my gardener’s hat to Johnny Cash who inspired this piece.

More tomorrow.

It’s been over three weeks since Hubba-Hubba-Hubby and I exchanged vows. Already, his list of “Honey-Do’s” is overflowing. Along with the move, he is working around the clock to fix all the things that haven’t been working right for some time.

Included but not limited to the list are non-working dimmer switches, a broken medicine cabinet, a dripping faucet, and a vent on the green house that won’t hold. Of course, there are minor little things, like a request to shift the bedroom furniture. So many things that, as an older woman, I wasn’t able to handle on my own. Here is HHH to the rescue. He barely has time for football these days. Thank goodness for the “pause” feature on the remote.

After having such high hopes for Alexa and her ability to help, she is quickly being dumped by the wayside. Two’s company and three’s a crowd. It seems that once Alexa loses her ability to connect to dimmer switches, the fun is over. My Alexa plugs no longer respond. My dimmable lights are now on their brightest setting. All in all, Alexa isn’t helpful, and at some point, she’s downright obnoxious.

When HHH finally took the last of the furniture out of his house, his Alexa threw a tantrum and started glowing red. No kidding. She was none to happy to be abandoned in an empty house. Well, we’ll see how she likes being sent to the Man Cave that HHH is planning in the RV Barn. Lucky her that she’ll have a roof over her head. And so it goes with artificial intelligence. The conventional way of controlling life is so much better.

With everything else that’s been going on, we’ve also been working on our “Thank You” cards. In a normal world, that job would fall to the nesting bride, but not here at Winterpast. HHH has been ready with pen in hand to do his part, thanking everyone that helped us celebrate our wedding day! We received the most beautiful gifts. From an outdoor Flamingo light to the most beautiful crystal platter, we’ve been sending a few “Thank You” cards each day.

As at any wedding, we did receive one gift without its card. We have no way of knowing who gifted us the gorgeous crystal platter covered in roses. So fitting for us, this platter is covered with our favorite flower! If it was from you, please let us know. We LOVE it!!!!

Over the weekend, we got a call from my God Mother, Miss TJ. She just wanted to tell us “Thank You” for the card HHH spent time writing. Never had she ever received a “Thank You” card in which the groom had written a message along with the bride. Well, we just roll that way. It was fun to fill her in on the wedding and our amazing vacation through the wild west complete with bison, bear, and elk.

Writing “Thank You” cards gave me a chance to acknowledge some beautiful women in Ashton, Idaho that made a memory on our trip. I’d taken time to write “Just Married” on our new luxury car much to HHH’s initial dismay. Once we got on the road, he realized how much fun it could be. Seriously. If you just want to have a little excitement in life, write “Just Married” on your window and go for a drive. You’ll meet people that want nothing more than to wish you well.

The women in Ashton were the co-owners of “The Frostop” on Highway 20. If you ever happen by there, you MUST stop and try their food. Amazing ladies have fun coming out to customers to take orders and deliver food right to the car door. Yes. They were both crying when we told them our story and showed them our rings. They needed a “Thank You” for brightening our day.

With all the “Thank You” cards done, our next wedding task will be to sort through pictures, keeping the best ones for an album. Remembering back to our special day, I’ve never attended a wedding more unique, inviting, and full of love. In reviewing the pictures, it made us feel good to see all the smiles as we made memories of our first evening as husband and wife. It just doesn’t get better than that.

Whatever you do today, if you’ve just received gifts for any reason, don’t forget that it’s proper to send an “Thank You”. It’s rude to receive a gift and forget to thank the giver and it’s never too late.

More tomorrow.

Monday, August 28, 2022 is a day I’ll never forget. Although not my first adventure in dating as a senior citizen, it would turn out to be the sweetest and most definitely the last time I’d meet someone new. On this day, I noticed the cutest profile on an internet dating site. Twinkling eyes, fit and trim, there was something special about his smile. Most of his profile pictures were of outdoor adventures involving fish.

Now, there’s a dark secret I’ve never blogged about until now. I. HATE. FISH. Hate the smell. The texture. Even the thought of their bodies gasping as they’re pulled from the depths. Every second year, I might decide to try fish, but it never goes well with always the same result.

I. HATE. FISH.

But, here was this adorable fisherman holding an odd fish I couldn’t identify. Along with the fishing pictures, there was another that caught my eye. Although not fish-related, this same man was standing, arm-in-arm, with two young people. I could only assume at that point these must be the grandchildren that put him up to the idea of internet dating.

Returning time and again to this man’s profile, there was just something telling me to reach out. And so, I did.

I sent a smile.

Nothing.

I sent a “Thumb’s Up”.

Nothing.

I sent a heart emoji.

Still nothing.

Hmmmm.

This man just might be too wild for me.

I’d never seen him around town, so it was doubtful we had friends in common. I doubt any of my Bible Study friends would be interested in helping me identify this cutie-patootie. I was on my own on this quest.

Finally, with nothing left to lose, I’d send him a question about the mysterious fish in the picture. Fishing pictures are often deceiving. Hold a fish closer to the camera and it can look “whale-like”. Stand further away, it can have the appearance of a large minnow. There was no other choice. I had a burning question that needed answering.

It did take a short time for him to answer. Any true fisherman can be reeled-in with questions regarding his most prized catch. He tried his best to resist answering and with good reason.

My profile pictures were not those taken when I was 30 and truly beautiful. They weren’t of me at the beach in a string bikini or even of my outrageous summer tan of 2022. In one I was wearing my black and white teacher dress while holding my new set of Craftsman Tools. The others were without makeup and in my serious, horn-rimmed reading glasses. All featured my smile, but not all were the most flattering. In fact, I wouldn’t have responded to these pictures, except for the fact that they reflected someone real.

But, my Hubba-Hubba-Husband took a chance on that Monday in August of 2022. Tired and not really in the mood to try another relationship, as he healed from a long journey through widowerhood, he decided that my question needed the proper answer. It all started there.

For that reason alone, I just might need to learn how to fish under his careful eye. I might need to take a bite of freshly caught trout eaten under a star-lit sky on our first camping trip together. I might need to try Macadamia-encrusted Mahi Mahi on the beach in Hawaii. Or some other type of fish as we cruise the waters off the coast of Mexico.

Of course, my question WAS irresistible. Why wouldn’t it be? Words are LIFE. It required an honest and in-depth answer that led to hours of conversation and a first date during which he cooked a gourmet meal (including fresh fish) for me at his beautiful home. Two strangers that weren’t strange at all, but just very tired of being lonely while being alone.

The days, weeks, and months unfolded until, on August 28 2023, he asked the burning question that came deep from his heart. Of course, now you know my answer to that one. YES, for that day and to the end of our forever. YES.

But, what question could I possibly have asked that would’ve been so intriguing? Beguiling? Irresistible? There was only one possibility. Please don’t judge. It was the best one I could come up with.

“So….

Just how big is your fish?”

The rest unfolded into our adorably sweet love story, the details of which you need to stay tuned to learn.

Whatever you do today, don’t judge widowed people on their journey to start the next chapter in life. At 64, it took courage, independence and guts to make it through four lonely summers as one solitary woman. Why would an courage, independent, and gutsy 67 year old woman marry? She finally met the right guy. I assure you, waiting for HHH made every twist and turn in the road worth it!

More tomorrow.

Another day of moving is done with not much left except a little bit of this and a little bit of that. In each room at HHH’s beautiful home, there are those items that haven’t made the cut. Now, decisions need to be made about whether things are wants or needs. This is occurring at Winterpast, as well. It seems that the more I clean and purge the more things appear that need cleaning and purging.

Yesterday, our pantry became the focal point. As a bachelorette, I didn’t focus on being prepared for nightly dinners. Breakfast might’ve been a bowl of cereal. If needed, I’d run to the Tee Pee Bar and Grill for a quick burger at lunch and call it good. As long as the pantry was stocked with plenty of chips and dip, I was perfectly happy. Of course, I always kept chicken noodle soup on hand for the occasional cold.

With a tiny pantry for two, the need for more room became obvious. HHH has nifty wire shelves that he attached to the inside of his door, immediately increasing storage space. The first problem is that my pantry door is glass, not wood. The second hiccup is that my shelves need to be 24″ wide and the hardware store only sells the 18″ variety. Amazon always comes to the rescue when you need them.

The second problem is that I have a glass pantry door. Everything on the shelves and the shelves themselves would look pretty tacky through the glass. With a little more thought, my cupboard door is transparent no more. A covering of thick paper did the trick, almost looking like it was meant to be that way. Problem solved, the shelving will go up today!

Hubba-Hubba-Hubby has changed me over the last year. One thing I came to admire early in our relationship was that HHH would always have dinner planned. Usually a great dinner, freshly cooked or grilled, and always balanced. As a life-long athlete, his meals are always nutritious and delicious. Slowly, I’m beginning to love cooking as much as watching the world series and football.

After a full day of moving, when asked about last night’s plans for dinner, the answer was simple. Filet Mignon, grilled mushrooms, home-grown baked potatoes, fresh broccoli, and ice-cream sundaes for dessert. It just doesn’t get better than that.

Tonight, you’ll find me roasting Cornish game hens, stuffed with onions and celery and slathered with a rub of lemon-pepper, basil, poultry seasoning, and olive oil. With that, we’ll enjoy those hens with mushroom rice (from scratch, not a box) and a fresh garden salad. The cuisine is now excellent here at Winterpast.

HHH makes everything a special adventure. Want to plant some bulbs? By the time you turn the first shovel of dirt, HHH will have you so excited, you can’t help but want to plant 15 more. He’s got a unique and positive way of looking at every day life. There isn’t anything that can’t be fixed or rearranged to make things better. I love him deeply for his endearing quality of positivity.

As we settle into our married life, HHH continues to support and encourage my writing. Even though writing requires long stretches in which I need to remain focused in thought, he remains patient and quiet until the computer clicks off. I find writing while he’s watching the morning news is just about the most calming feeling in the world. I guess that’s one of the reasons we’re such a great match.

This weekend, we have two strong Navy seamen to come help us move the last of the heavy furniture. At Saturday’s end, we’ll finally have a couch and love seat in our very own living room. We’ll also have two guest rooms set up for drop in company. Then, it will be time to fine tune, hang pictures, and unpack for the holidays. Life is just one big stack of boxes these days.

Through all of this, Wookie and Oliver have been pretty darn good. They love being together all the time and don’t have so many frenzied moments of zoomies as they greet each other. They are still guilty of fence barking, which remains a focus of their training at this point. Both are pretty darn mouthy, but sincerely trying to do better.

Whatever you do this weekend, try to get outside for a bit. Autumn is such a lovely time of year. So, put on a jacket and go for a walk. As for us, we’ll continue handling the dregs of moving. Don’t forget to turn your clocks back tomorrow night! It’s only the best day of the year! An extra hour of sleep!

I’ll be back Monday to share stories of the wedding and more! Happy Friday!!!!!

Everything can be going along fine. Just fine. Even breath-takingly fine! And then, with the ingenuity of Ghanaian’s (those from Ghana), that sense of safety and “fine-ness” can be shaken to its core. If you’ve never been hacked, count yourself as a very lucky person. If you’ve never been rolled by a Ghanaian, count yourself even luckier. Here’s my cautionary tale of woe.

I’m an Airbnb gal. I’ve used this service many times before, always finding the cutest little places to stay with the kindest of hosts. From my limited experiences, the pictures have been exactly what I’ve received upon arrival. I’ve found things sparkling clean and the hosts ready with helpful hints about surrounding activities and things to see.

On our honeymoon, we were lucky enough to rent a tiny little cabin in West Yellowstone. A gem of a find, it’d been recently renovated. Everything was squeaky clean, which is hard to accomplish when one owns a cabin. I know, having owned my own for a short time.

Our host, Michelle, carefully laid out the rules and regulations, along with sending best wishes for our honeymoon. There was everything a young-ish newly married couple would need. We made morning breakfasts in a teeny tiny little kitchen complete with a toaster, pots and pans, and silverware. You get the idea. Airbnb’s can be much better than a hotel room for two honeymooners.

Since then, I’ve already booked a house for Valentine’s Day, and was looking for another fun place to visit in the next few weeks when disaster hit. by Ghanaian hackers, I was booked at a resort. Not just any resort, but a resort with a PARTIAL down-payment of $599.00 for November 5th-10th for a place that offered a boathouse complete with ski boat. It was Cabin #2 of 5. I was given the address and complete instructions on how to get THERE.

One little problem.

THERE just happened to be in GHANA.

The hackers were in the process of booking massages when I discovered the “Non-refundable” charges. There I was, chatting away with some guy in Ghana about the most delightful times to enjoy spa treatments for me and my friends. To say my eyes were hemorrhaging was an understatement. With a immediate call to my bank to cancel the credit card, and a ringy-dingy to Airbnb, the hackers were stopped in their tracks.

Or so I thought.

About an hour later, I received a call seemingly from Oklahoma. It was the hacker, who assured me he wasn’t a terrible person, but only helping me because all my information is now on the dark web. Really. Isn’t that just a wedding present beyond belief????? I slammed it in his ear. Most likely he is sitting in some tree in Ghana trying to find some scared little woman to scam. Not me, Buster Brown.

Blocked his number right back to Ghana.

Oy.

Vey.

After canceling my card and ordering a new one, changing all the accounts that charges that card, and having a heart-to-heart with Airbnb, I then found my email was also hacked. All this involved a day of frustration while repairing the hack . Thank goodness I’ve got the most loving new groom to hold my hand and tell me everything would be fixed. And, it is.

I’ve no information on how these people got into my account. I cannot understand how evil people get away with so much theft and corruption at the hands of the innocent. I have learned some valuable lessons and have some suggestions.

If at all possible, use a credit card with a very low limit with which to book trips or shop on Amazon. Be sure to use ever single security tool your site offers. If they want you to change your password once a month, do it. Check your bank account on a daily basis, making sure all charges are yours. The very minute that there is a problem, start taking down names, numbers, and notes. Document everything, and in the end, everything will be fixed.

A big thanks to my bank and Airbnb. So many times, these huge companies are demonized. They handled the crooks and will be investigating further. The associates that helped me were kind and detail oriented.

On top of the on-going move, I must admit I’m a bit frazzled at the moment. I had a perfectly clean studio awaiting a gorgeous oak bedroom set. Now, I have a clean kitchen and dining room, with all the overflow moved into the studio. Moving does put me in mind of sliding puzzles I played with as a child. Things move this way and that until finally, everything has a place or is discarded. Heaven only knows how bad it would be without my Lovely Lobster Talisman.

Whatever you do today, don’t let the fear of hacking keep you from dreaming about a little trip somewhere. Airbnb is such a fun way to visit new places. Even after this horrendous little nightmare, I can’t wait until our first Valentine’s Day as husband and wife. I’m already planning and it will be wonderful. And no, Ghana isn’t on the list.

Happy November!!!