As November settles softly over the high-desert plains, I find myself looking back on a year stitched together with quiet blessings. Not the big fireworks moments, although we had a few of those, but the soft, everyday goodness that fills the spaces of life here at Winterpast.
The start of 2025 was a bit rocky as I battled Influenza A. Hoping not to have a repeat performance of that this year, I was so lucky to have HHH by my side during three weeks of fevers, incessant coughing, and mounds of cold medicine. I’ve always said January was one of the two months that could be scrapped, but, in 2026, I hope to enjoy every minute, taking nothing for granted.
February and March were months for tending to seedlings that would become squirrel salad in April. This winter, our selection of garden plants will be limited to less tasty varieties.
I think of the crab-apple tree and her stunning performance in May, her pink tulle dress catching every breeze like she was flirting with the whole neighborhood. The apricot blossoms promised a fruitful summer as the bees hummed happily until their sad farewell later in the season.
With trips to California, Mexico, Alaska, and Yellowstone, our minds were blown with the beauty of our world. From Hearst Castle on that enchanted hill to 75 mph winds off the coast of Alaska, we shared adventure at every turn as we made more memories of us.
There were days we searched for the missing mustangs, wondering if they’d been captured and sold at auction, and then on to those that we wished they’d find another neighborhood in which to feed. There were notes made about plants that survived their destructive ways and trials with Wild Hog Deterrent made from Mountain Lion Urine. All things we plan to continue investigating after a restful winter.
There were early morning sunrises that prompted us to get moving and those glorious breathtaking, stop-what-you’re-doing sunsets when God decides to repaint the sky just to remind us He can. Most evenings, I stood at the window, coffee cup cooling in my hand, feeling grateful for a place that still makes me pause.
Then, there is the blessing of our wonderful groomers that keep Oliver and Tanner safe. Last week, Tanner’s groom discovered a lump in her breast. Today, we’ll make the long trip to our vet to investigate the cause. All prayers are welcome for a good outcome.
Looking back, this year was as close to perfect as it gets. Full of laughter with HHH, projects were either completed or abandoned. Spring winds tried to rearrange the property while Oliver and Tanner’s daily routines kept us grounded.
As Thanksgiving approaches, I’m reminded once again that blessings don’t always arrive loudly. Sometimes they whisper. And if we’re quiet enough, we’ll hear them.
