Winterpast provides a new lesson every day. Just when boredom gets a stranglehold on my throat, up pops something else for attention or consideration, all in the confines of my sweet home. We’re struggling through each day here in the high desert, Winterpast and I. When I get too complacent, life throws something else my way. Life is like that.
When I’m gardening, I appreciate the breathtaking beauty Winterpast is. In every single inch of ground, the decomposed granite paths wind this way and that all circling back to my covered patio. The hot tub bubbles while the new fountain trickles softly by the back door. The bird families continue to hatch and peep. The sink hold might or might not be an issue, but with enough fill dirt, anything can go away for a bit. The lawn is showcase quality and new plants continue to recover with water and love.
With no way of knowing the hours and hours of planning, design, and backbreaking creation of my oasis, I can only promise to tend to it, preserving a dream born 17 years ago. Trim. Dead head. Water. Fertilize. Repeat. That is the way of summer in the desert.
Now, I’m finding time to interject some wonderful new activities. Soaking in the hot tub at sunrise. Focusing on the traffic patterns of the jets overhead, zipping East to West and back again at 30,000 feet. Watching clouds form, grow angry, and turn into afternoon thunderstorms of the best kind, booming and zapping as they race across the sky. I’m finding time to breath in the fresh air while concentrating on doing so. My neighbors, on the other hand, have another lifestyle.
Mr. and Mrs. Fuss Britches live around the corner and to the right. They are frail and elderly. I am YOLD (Young Old). They are OOLD (Old Old). Mrs. FB is the slave. Mr. FB is the master. I hate to judge, trying to live as a loving and non-judgmental Christian. But from observations, this is so. Mr. FB runs his house like the tightest of military installations. Every Single Rock Will Comply. They are placed exactly the same distance apart, each weighing the same amount and being of the same shape and color. These surround 1/2 acre. I first noticed the rock placement about a month ago.
A tip to desert gardeners. One never starts serious gardening in July when the afternoon temps push well past 100. This is not good for YOLD people, let alone the OOLD’s. Every day, Mrs. FB is out on her knees on sharp, pointy gravel, pulling weeds barely visible to the naked eye. The painters came to paint the trim. Everything in the unfenced yard is placed perfectly. The travel trailer, washed and waxed. The garden area, fenced with glistening white pickets. Most recently, an incredible thing started to occur.
Every few days, as I traveled on errands, I noticed that large, expensive vegetation bushes and trees were appearing around the house. A tree over here. A bush over there. In July. In the worst heat storm of the century. Insanity at work from city folks that honestly do not have a clue. My front yard estimate for fake lawn and 15 plants was $20,000. At that rate, these folks have spent double.
I’m not talking small trees from Lowe’s. Full grown trees with guy wires to hold them in place. Fifteen foot trees are arriving slowly. I’d love to witness the process.
In summer’s unforgiving heat, the new bushes are already dying. Mrs. FB is out with a watering pail, without any drip to support this temporary “Oasis”. As the days have gone by, more and more vegetation has appeared. Thank goodness the creators of Winterpast knew what they were doing, creating something beautiful that’s taken decades to come to maturity, like me. I wish Mr. and Mrs. FB well. Someone would should save them frustration and let them know the desert will only be tamed on her terms. It can’t be regimented into a summer’s project.
With my weekly gardening done, and Friday home chores completed, I’m off to have some real fun today. The Junior Rodeo has come to town. Today and tomorrow, Nevada’s finest horsemen and women are going to show their skills, all competing for the coveted First Place Buckles up for grabs.
With a first stop at the local hardware store, I’ll enjoy the morning hours watching horses, riders, steers, and bulls strut their stuff. My little town. Deceptively simple. Delightfully complex. Just a wide place in the road on the high desert of Northwestern Nevada.