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!!!

It all started out with the perfect plan. Yesterday was to be the first quiet day we would’ve enjoy in weeks. Just a simple day of retirement starring the two newlyweds. The plan was quite an easy one. We’d practice being lazy. Stay in jammies all day. Watch a movie or two. Prepare for Halloween. That would be our goal, even though Winterpast is in total disarray with boxes stacked to the rafters. We’d ignore the mess for one day.

Closing our eyes to immediate sleep, we opened them a bit later than usual. The clock showed 5:15 AM when I got my first cuppa and went to our desk to write. Early risers, both, we’re also very quiet morning people. With the news playing softly in the background, I blogged. Writing comes as naturally now as when I used to write with my only company being Oliver as he snored at my feet. The day’s plans were unfolding perfectly.

Around 8AM, I made us a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs. After that, I refilled our cookie jar with Tollhouse Chocolate Chip cookies made with semi-sweet and milk chocolate chips from scratch. A still lazy HHH inquired about the delicious aroma wafting in the kitchen.

Then, the fun began. With our brand-new freezer at the proper temperature of 6F, we decided to move all our frozen foods to their new home. I cannot tell you what fun we had organizing our combined frozens on the proper shelves. It was during this time I realized we both have meat hoarding tendencies. It’s delightful to open the door to see a vast array of available food ready for our nightly dinners.

A bit of Autumn advice. It’s a great time of year to go through your pantry. Inspect the expiration dates on each item and discard the old, while keeping a replacement list. The oldest thing we found had expired in 2016. Some things never expire, no matter the date. Dried beans, rice, or pasta to list a few. But, other things should go. Be on the look out for dented cans or bottles of liquid that have collected sediment in the bottom. Food poisoning isn’t a way we want to start wedded bliss.

With much sorting and purging, our kitchen is coming together. A new set of Ninja Never-Stick pots and pans that arrived, requiring unpacking and storage space. By then, the day was half over.

No jammies.

No movies.

No cuddling on the couch.

Just a suggestion that it would be nice to bring another load of belongings to Winterpast. With both of us agreeing it was totally necessary, off we went across town. Sixteen boxes and a load of clothes later, we decided that a pizza created by Chef “Papa Murphy” would be delicious followed by and ice cream desert created by Chef Steve.

With all the boxes needing unloading, we finished as we were greeted by Wookie and Oliver who both wondered just WHEN we might be thinking about giving them their dinner. Dogs are the best when it comes to helping us humans remember to stop and eat.

All in all, our quiet day of relaxation didn’t unfold the way we’d imagined. And yet, the best days are often spontaneous. The kids got a great brushing from Dad-Oh, while Mom-Oh went to work organizing late into the night. With continued work, Winterpast will again be orderly, just in time for our first Thanksgiving as a married couple.

As for moving, it’s exhausting and rewarding all at the same time. I had forgotten how much fun it is to be married to someone you like more than anyone else in the world. No matter what mundane tasks of life arise, if you’re with your bestie, it can’t help but be a great time.

By the way, Halloween was a bust in our neighborhood. We had only three littles that were brave enough to ring the bell. YES, we did buy candy especially for the event, and YES, we did leave the light on. The cold temperatures must have kept them away.

Whatever you do today, be thankful that you aren’t in the middle of a move. If you are moving, take a day off and don’t work through it like we did. Getting married and moving are two of life’s greatest stressors. Self-care, Pizza, and an ice cream sundae are essential to get through.

****** Today is the first day of “National Write A Novel Month”, more fondly referred to as NaNoWriMo. Here’s the plan. You write 1500 words a day for the month and you have a novel. There are no other rules than to write. Please look up their website for more information. I’m starting today. Happy writing.

More tomorrow.

If only moving was effortless! The Mrs. in the pic doesn’t seem to have a sore back or tired arms like we do.

Our move is in full swing with my Hubba-Hubba-Husband doing the heavy lifting while leaving the unpacking to me. Unpacking can be fun if the things you are unpacking weren’t just packed up the day before. In this case, the boxes unpacked yesterday held the content of one kitchen which is being moved to another.

Under the watchful eye of the most adorable little kitchen talisman made from a true Maine Lobster claw, no fragile items have been broken. Ten kitchen boxes have been unpacked, with the contents run through the dishwasher and placed in new cupboards. I’m pretty lucky to be acquiring new gadgets whose purpose HHH will demonstrate.

HHH is our Master Chef. Each morning, he peruses recipes on Facebook to find the right one for our dinner. He thinks nothing of dropping everything to run to Walmart for one missing item. He SINGS in the kitchen, yes he does! With a dreamy voice, he gets lost as he dances in the delicious aromas he creates. Am I Dreaming????? This is the best. EVER!!!!

Every Master Chef needs lots of pantry and freezer storage. With a purging of some wonderful cabinets, our garage storage is ready for the winter. The new upright freezer arrived yesterday, complete with the internal temperature on the door. For those garden parties for 40, the freezer can be turned into a giant refrigerator. Never have I ever seen a convertible freezer/refrigerator and now, we own one chilled to 6 degrees per the chef’s orders.

Of course, living alone for so long, I never never a second refrigerator or freezer in the garage. As far as I’m concerned, this honeymooner will enjoy every single snow, hoping for the one that renders us housebound. We’ll be prepared.

We’ve transported the 2023 potato crop to Winterpast. From HHH’s garden, we harvested 30 pounds of Russets, Yukon Gold, and Baby Reds. Growing potatoes was a garden highlight, for sure. If you haven’t attempted this, you must. The plants themselves are beautiful, but harvesting is even better. You just never know what lays just below the surface. These potatoes taste like no others.

From another mover across town, HHH scored on a stash of canning jars. All sizes. Next year, we’ll be gardening with purpose as we grow our own food. It doesn’t get better than that. The old apricot, Granny Smith apple, plum, and pear trees, and blue berry bushhad better sleep well. We’ll be depending on them next year.

There are some things that will stay behind. HHH’s favorite peach and nectarine trees. His grape vines. The cutest yard and garden areas. All will be left for the new renters enjoyment. And just like that, we are a married couple of two with our very own rental over which to fret.

Wookie and Oliver are a bit perplexed by the events of the last few weeks. We are home for a short time, leave, and then return with boxes. It’s all been very strange for them since Mom-Oh and Dad began walking around with beautiful new wedding rings. This move can’t go on forever, and then things will settle down.

Today is the second Halloween we’ll treat the kids to candy. Last year, we were across town at HHH’s house. It’s always fun to see the costumed littles as they brave the long walk to the front door. This year, the temperatures are really low with a current temp of 28F. Once the sun sets, it’s downright cold. We’ll see how many littles come to Winterpast. The porch light will be on for the first time since April 2020.

As we combine two homes, there are so many things that we no longer need. Currently, we have four bedroom sets and only three rooms in which to place them. We have two dining room sets with only one dining room. And so it goes with every room in the house. As things have happened so many times in the last year, another happy accident occurred.

After no inquiries on a perfectly good queen size bed, frame, dresser, chair, and bedding, HHH called the thrift store to come retrieve everything. We’d no sooner made the decision and placed the call and we received a call from The Mayor.

A family member signed necessary paperwork to lease an apartment yesterday. As it turns out, they’re just starting out in life and need everything. Quick as a cricket, we set them up in fine style. One bedroom, a love seat, AND a dining room table. They had strong bodies, a truck, and trailer with which move the items. A great combination resulting in room for our new guest bedroom room set! Win-Win!

As the World Series continue, it’s a lovely time to chase dust bunnies and then cuddle in with HHH. I can say that married life has been adorably sweet and comfy. It’s wonderful to laugh and talk with my best friend. I’d forgotten how much I’d missed companionship while talking about life late into the night.

With the new changes to my blog site AND all the other activities, I’m turning in early these days. Fall is such a lovely time of year to be a new bride in love.

I’ll be back tomorrow with the latest.

Happy Halloween!!

What amazing things have happened in the days in which I’ve been absent. The most life altering change is that I’ve married a most wonderful man, perfect for me in the most imperfect ways. To consider myself blessed is an understatement. Happiness has come to live at Winterpast in stacks of boxes and new belongings.

While being in the middle of the organized chaos of a move, life has been a whirlwind including the World Series, packing tape, and two dogs that have taken up fence barking with the neighbor’s dogs. No more the quiet and mundane life of the past, things are ripping around here like the King Tides of the central coast.

I promise I’ll get to the details leading up to the big event, however, I want to start with a quiet little story about the rings. During the honeymoon, the story about our wedding rings brought a tear to the eye of one or two. Perfect for the first day back at the keyboard.

When my Hubba-Hubba-Hubby (now HHH, formally known as My Mysterious Marine and Fabulous Fiancé) first proposed, we were a little stumped. If you’ve just happened to look for wedding rings, you know. If not, trust me, it’s a daunting task. Diamonds or another precious stone? Gold, titanium, or something else? Tattooed rings? The list is endless.

Both HHH and I enjoyed long and beautiful marriages to high school sweeties before cancer and COPD changed all that. Those relationships made us into two people that fell in love over the last year. Two heavenly angels now watch over us and might’ve even had a lot to do with us ending up together. We’d like to believe that they’re dancing a jig in heaven celebrating that we’ve found earthly companions with whom to continue our journey.

After becoming a widow and widower, there were many times we thought about what should be done with the rings that remained. Sell them? Gift them to family? Make them into something else? Nothing seemed right for either of us so they sat in jewelry boxes at two different houses in the same town.

After thinking about the situation, we decided the rings were a symbol of the wonderful lives we shared with former spouses. They were also a statement about the people we’d become during those relationships. What better materials from which to create rings that will be with us until we die?

And so, the plan came together.

HHH just happened to know a guy that just happened to be an amazing jeweler who just happened to be married to a jewelry design genius. Together, like old friends, the four of us sat together at their little shop and visited while a design was drawn on paper with pencil. From there, the wax prototypes were created for our approval. In a month, the real rings were ready to be picked up. I will tell you, they are blindingly spectacular.

By using our past, we created a present that we’ll enjoy long into the future. The love embedded in the gold was there long before I ever said my vows to the most handsome guy standing at the end of a very long aisle.

In the first days of our married life, we’ve found it delightful to ride around in a luxury car with painted windows. “Just Married”. “J Loves B 4-ever”. “He asked and she said “Yes””. With those few words written in white paint, the waves, honks, and well wishes have warmed our hearts. We have made more than a few people tear up as they’ve listened to our love story while sharing their own.

In the next weeks, the plan is coming together. Grievinggardener.com will remain to help those just entering the nightmare of widowhood. From the sadness, loneliness, and grief, good things can again grow. Just as the devastation remaining after a forest fire, with rains, sunshine, and the passing of time, new life comes. So it is with the journey of widowhood.

In the next months, look for a new blog that will chronicle life as a 67 year old bride. It isn’t for the weak or timid, I can assure you of that.

Whatever you do today, reflect on the first days of your own married life while remembering the beauty and fragile nature of a new marriage. That’s where HHH and now I stand as we enjoy things like Thursday Night Football and the World Series. Our Winter has past. There is so much to celebrate. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.

Working on fall cleaning late last night, I found my own space has changed so much in the last four Autumns. I spend much less time watching movies in “Zero Gravity”, floating in the weightlessness of self pity. Nope. No more of that. This woman has things to do and places to go. I’ve chosen a purposeful course of action with my eyes focused forward instead of looking down.

There is now an empty dresser in my room in which my new husband will place his belongings. There is an empty side of the closet that will hold his clothes. Every part of Winterpast is different now. That frightened young widow of 17 days who stood next to the empty pantry shuddering in sobs is healed.

During those years of self discovery, there was something that only a widow or widower understands. I was A-L-0-N-E. Before baptism and spiritual rebirth, I was in an even darker place of loneliness. For widows everywhere, my heart breaks for you. Although I only know my grief experience, I know I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. No matter how its described, its thousands of times worse and then some.

In the beginning, VST was everywhere here at Winterpast. On every wall and counter, there were pictures anchoring me to 32 years of marriage. So blessed when I met him at our class reunion, I can honestly say, we saved each other. No matter the ups and downs of married life, we were safe together. And then, the only together left was photos and old cards.

Over time, everything has changed. Winterpast is a reflection of the woman I’ve become. Although still alone, I’ve filled the void making friends with myself. That took a little doing, as I realized there were things about myself I didn’t much care for. Things I was angry about. Things I needed to change. So, with God’s help, I did.

When I remembered who I was, things changed. For the better. I stopped accepting poor treatment from others. I learned to try new things while realizing simple truths like “I hate mayonnaise now and forever more.” Somethings will never change and I learned that’s okay, too.

A little over one year ago, a wonderful guy came into my life. He lives just six miles away in a grey and white house that helped him heal. He’d lost his high school sweetheart AND his beloved dog of 16 years. He was A-L-O-N-E, as only a widow or widower can understand. He spent the same four autumns purposely changing. He painted. He gardened. He softened his heart to the Lord. He prayed. And, he found me.

Everything has changed just as everything always does. When the nights are the loneliest and the days so dark you wonder where the sun went, just keep going. Make one little, tiny change. And then another. Pretty soon, you’ll be on the road to better. Don’t miss that turn towards “Happy”. Sometimes, it’s lost behind the trees, but trust me on this, it’s there.

For the next bit of time, I’ll be a laughing, crying, doubting, embracing, quivering, shivering, bitching, forgiving, loving, sleepless, nightmare-plagued, cranky, coffee-guzzling, detail-oriented bride. One minute I’ll be singing songs from The Sound of Music, and the next minute, I’m sure I won’t have a voice at all.

By THE DAY, I’ll have ordered every possible evening dress in THE certain desired color, only to have returned them all, except one. THE DRESS. I’ll have spent time with the people in this world that I love the most. And then, I’ll walk down a very short aisle that will seem like a million miles. I’ll only make it to the end because there will stand a man with the most beautiful blue eyes waiting to take my hand. And there, the first chapter of our life’s story together will begin.

I’ll be back on October 30th. By then, I’ll have a new last name and be enjoying the honeymoon year of our new marriage. Shortly after, there’ll be some changes. I can no longer be writing as the Grieving Gardener, as I’ll certainly be Glowing and Grinning. My Mysterious Marine and Fabulous Fiancé (MMFF) will have a new name, already selected. Come back on the 30th to find out all the news! Just embrace it. Everything Changes!

Well, the last of the major details are ironed out and plans for the big day are on hold until it arrives. Ceremonial protocols are in place. Biblical scripture has been chosen. Seating charts are in place. Flowers ordered. Menu planned. All the hard work is done. If so, why do I feel there are some important details forgotten? Because I’m the bride and we’re supposed to feel that way (or so I’ve been told).

Yesterday, it became REALLY REAL. While talking to the pastor in God’s house, the ceremonial details of The Big Day became finalized. There are still details to work out with the timing for the photos. It’s always hard to wait at the reception for the couple to arrive. I hate that part. But, it’ll be necessary to take some photos after the ceremony.

My Mysterious Marine / Fabulous Fiancé has only made one request. He doesn’t want to see me on the day of the wedding until I walk down the aisle. Easy enough. Our church has a little playhouse in which to hide. Complete with little tiny chairs, the hens will squeeze in a few minutes before the service begins. I’ll be listening for the correct place in the music and then, down the aisle I’ll glide.

Yesterday, the pastor if we’d like to record the service. At first, we both gave a confident “NO”. But, video is something you can choose to never watch again. However, if you don’t have the video, you don’t have a choice later on. There are also some important people that won’t be there. For them, we changed our minds and agreed. We did request that he ask people to turn off their phones and pay attention to the service. No extra pictures in the church.

Our beloved friends and family members are being so supportive. They’ll begin arriving the Thursday before the big day, and then party will begin. Until then, there are yards to mow and cobwebs to sweep in preparation for their visits. I’ve cleaned the guest room and bathroom many times over, wanting a 5-star review from my guests.

As the last of my houseplants die, I’ve been buying replacements. The African Violets should be in bloom when our big day arrives. Autumn is here turning Winterpast into a mural of reds, yellows, golds, and browns from leaves that are now falling. What a show the roses have given us this year! Thanks to MMFF, the yard has 8 new rose bushes, 1 apple tree, two Japanese Maples, and three hosta’s during the summer of 2023.

Next week, it’s again time to turn off the water for the year. It’s quite the routine, opening a valve here and shutting one off over there. The watering system of Winterpast is intricate and extensive, keeping the 1/2 acre of gardens watered twice a day. It’ll be nice to take a break from the demands of constant repairs and upkeep of the aged system, a chore about which MMFF never complains.

Today, my attention we be focused on shopping for the honeymoon. It’s time for new jeans and hoodies. We’ll need them as we start out on our new life together. Thankfully, our vacation won’t involve airplanes because in this crazy world, it might take us a week to arrive at our destination. We’re depending on a more traditional and luxurious form of transportation to whisk us away on our honeymoon.

Whatever you do today, enjoy the fall season. Check out the Halloween decorations that are appearing everywhere. If you live close to the Goddess of the Central Coast, you’ll already know that you can find a beautiful array of scarecrows in residence for the month of October. If you’re not, start a tradition of your own and put a few up in your neighborhood. Enjoy that morning cuppa and relax!!! It’s fall!

More tomorrow.

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 the place, guide us with your grace
To a place where we’ll be safe

I pray we ‘Il 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 day
Help us find 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 he mended
And we’ll remember we are all God’s children
Reaching out to touch you
Reaching to the sky

We ask that life be kind, and watch us from above
We hope each soul will find another soul to love
Let this be our prayer, just like every child

Who needs to find a place, guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we’ll be safe
Needs to find a place, guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we’ll be safe _{Written by David Foster}

Last night was full of music and laughter as we created the play list for a reception. I couldn’t help but reflect on how times have changed. Once, not that long ago, one needed to hire a disc jockey to play real records. Now, two sexagenarians can sit on the couch and listen to any genre of music while selecting their favorite tunes.

The wedding party and I will be entering our little church to the English version of “The Prayer”. I just found this song yesterday, and by the end, I was crying. Last night, I played it for my Mysterious Marine and Fabulous Fiancé. By the end of the song, he, too, was crying. So, it’s a winner. The whole church will be sniffling.

So far, we’ve selected everything from Motown to Sinatra, with a movie tune thrown in for good measure. With our reception being five hours and our current list three hours, we need 20 more songs to complete the list.

If you decide to make your own Alexa-compatible playlist, you need to install the Amazon Music app on your phone or iPad. Then, you simply request the songs you like and create your own list. You can make it public or private, and then ask your Alexa to play the songs in order, or randomly. As simple as that.

We had several songs that we both chose. There were a few that were new to one or the other of us. But, for the most part, MMFF’s selections mirrored mine and mine his. Just another area in which we are so similar.

Today, we are meeting with our Pastor to go over the details. I’m hoping we don’t need a rehearsal, but perhaps we do. I’m thinking it’s pretty easy to walk through a door and down an aisle. In reality, it will probably be the longest 45′ walk of my life. Thank goodness there will be bright blue eyes waiting at the end, and warm hands to grab mine that will be shaking. Everything else will fall into place.

We are writing our own original vows. No surprise there. MMFF has limited the word count to 100. That will be tough for a writer. Actually 100 word manuscripts are tough for anyone. Try it if you don’t believe me. To have an impactful message in 100 words is almost impossible on the first try. I will honor his request, but am hoping he’ll grant me a higher word count.

Today will be my day to work in the yard and garden, while escaping wedding madness for a bit. I’m still replacing house plants after the terrible tragedy of death last week. A few more have passed on. The Ficus benjamina is dropping its leaves after such a hard lesson learned.

Whatever you do today, keep listening to music. Go back to your high school days. If you have an Alexa, ask her to play 50’s, 60’s, or 70’s music. Back then, people actually played the instruments and sang songs that they wrote themselves. Incredible artists help raise us into the unique individuals we are today.

As the days get closer to the wedding, I’m really enjoying the life of the bride! As my “To-Do” list gets shorter another important detail pops into my head. And so it goes around here.

I’m finding that the more that MM and I share our news, the more fun this engagement becomes. It doesn’t matter who. Friend or stranger. The news of two sexagenarians marrying makes people smile.

Saturday, found us traveling to a nearby valley to attend the wedding of a young relative. The couple was of the appropriate age. In their 20’s, it was only fitting that they had six bridesmaids, six groomsmen, a junior bridesmaid, and one darling flower girl.

The weatherman had been threatening rain for two weeks. On that very morning, bright blue sky broke through heavy clouds, giving them the weather that every bride would love. I’m pretty sure their pictures will be fabulous, as the light had that perfect fall quality that I hope to see at my own wedding. The only droplets falling when they married at 2 PM were the bride’s tears.

The Mayor, (soon to be my brother-in-law), did a great job with the ceremony. As this was HIS oldest grandchild, it was hard for him to get through some of the words himself. Especially when the cutest bride was speaking her vows through tears of her own.

After the ceremony and a wait for pictures, the party moved into a barn. Not a moment too soon, as the rain started.

It’s hard to compare weddings, especially when the bride and groom are at such different seasons of life. The wedding of a couple with their entire life ahead of them is different than that of a couple that is in the Autumn of their lives. Each union has its own unique qualities.

This week, it’s time to buckle down and get the last details ironed out. We’ll be meeting with our pastor to talk about the marriage ceremony. There are vows to be written and music to be selected for the church. The venue, food, cake, and music have been selected, but now need fine-tuning. When thinking of the normal cost of weddings these days, I’m proud to say we’ve kept under budget.

A new friend who just happens to be a professional is going do the photography. Not only does he do an occasional wedding from time to time, he is THE photographer for the huge rodeo in the biggest little city to the west, along with their air races. If this man is shooting rodeo competition from inside the ring, he’ll be able to get some great shots of our family as they celebrate our day!

As all couples do, we’ll be off on a beautiful honeymoon to parts kept secret for now. I’ll be taking at least a week off to enjoy my new married life. But, that’s a little while from now.

Through all of this, I guess I’ve been glowing. It’s been a long time since I’ve glowed about anything. People smile and tell me happiness looks good on me. Let me tell you all, it feels great.

When I think back through my experiences since January of 2020, I thank God that MM was waiting for me at this fork in the road. Sweet MM with his enchanting smile and sparkling blue eyes. There is no doubt in our minds that God planned the next part of our journey just for us.

Whatever you do today, listen to some of your favorite tunes. Music lightens the load and can brighten your spirit. If you have a chance to attend a wedding, do it while wearing a smile. Remember, happiness is something wonderful to share with others.

More tomorrow.

Oy.

Vey.

Me, oh My, a stick in eye!

Down to the last of the details, my head is swimming with so many little bits of nonsense. Just what is the perfect shade of rose to compliment my dress (which isn’t white, by the way). Which shoes will let me dance until my legs are about to fall off? Who will join my reception crew? I can see how a bride turns into a crazy, detail driven BRIDEZILLA and I can’t let that happen to me.

Yesterday, I visited the venue. The doors to “our” room were closed, but the reception coordinator was there to take payment and give advice. There is one small detail that has me worried. At the very minute I put one satin slipper on the aisle towards MM, we get the keys to the reception hall. At least the tablecloths will be on all the tables. Other than that, in a very short time, the room will be transformed into our reception hall. I’m still looking for willing friends and family that’ll miss a few minutes of the big moment in order to help us with the hall.

We knew this little detail when we booked the venue. Another group has the room rented until 4:00. Somehow, in jeans and t-shirts on a sunny day in August, it didn’t seem like a big deal. Now, I’m beginning to recognize our flawed thinking. We are decorating minimalists and know our guests will make the wedding, not centerpieces. The delivery of the food and cake are a bit worrisome , but I know the reception crew we choose will make it happen.

With the hall paid for, I was off to order the food. Meats, cheeses, fresh rolls, and three types of salads are on the menu. With chocolate and cake, the food should be delicious and no guest should leave hungry. The very young woman who helped me with my order was adorable. Likewise, she thought it adorable that someone so old would be getting married. Lovely child. Just lovely. All I need is a food angel to pick up the trays and get them to the reception on time.

The last detail on yesterday’s agenda was a trip to the local flower angel. She’s my sister in Christ and will make sure that everything is perfect on the big day. She’s even letting us borrow a couple arrangements for the wedding. My bouquet will look as if was picked from an English garden that morning. That’s a skill to be able to create that look when one lives in the desert. Hanging out with the flowers was my favorite task of the day.

The jeweler touched base with us yesterday. Custom rings will be finished in a week. I can’t wait to see the final product. How amazing it’s been to watch a handful of gold and diamonds turn into something entirely different! Our pasts behind us, we’ll pledge vows and then step into the bright new world together. The jeweler has assured me he will make rings garden friendly. Good thing, because I don’t plan to take mine off very often. Diamonds and cashmere. Doesn’t every girl garden that way?

Tomorrow we’re attending our first family wedding as an engaged couple. The bride registered for a mop system. You heard that right. An “O-Cedar Rinse Clean Mop with 3 Heads”. I have that very system and love it so much. This bride is delightfully practical. Now, I can’t say for sure, but, a mop just might be in her future. If you don’t have one, check it out. It’s worthy adding to a bridal registry.

There are many more details still to cover. From music to a guest book, these things are starting to disturb my normal bedtime routine. Last night, I finally finished assembling 100 adorable favors, each taking several steps to complete. Another project completed.

Whatever you do today, think back to your own wedding preparations and day. Think of all the work you did, or didn’t do because you were smart and eloped. Then, say a little prayer for this Desert Bride who will be in full freak-out mode for the next few weeks. All prayers and good vibes are certainly appreciated.

With Monday stuffed with out-of-town appointments, I’ll be back on Tuesday. Until then, keep calm and carry on.

Wedding coordination continues as the excitement builds every day. These tasks more suited for youngsters, but MM and I are holding our own. Every aspect of THE big day has been visited and planned. Some parts have almost completed themselves, which is a good feeling. Details seem to have been preplanned with us being the last to know.

MM’s sweet mom was fretting about a wedding present. With two full homes, we have most things you would consider giving a young couple starting their lives together. We’ve got two kitchens, twice the wall decorations, and furniture to give away. She was really struggling over finding the proper gift so she asked what we would like.

The perfect gift just popped into my brain. Winterpast doesn’t have a proper apple tree. Now, we do have apricot, plum, and pear. There ARE two apple trees of Chinese origin. Let me tell you, the Chinese were trying to overthrow our country by introducing us to this variety. The fruit isn’t good for cooking. For that matter, it’s not good for eating being prone to worms and rot. A cardboard tasting version with very little apple flavor. A worthless variety, every summer I need to clean up after the abundant crop these two trees produce.

And then, we have the Crab Apple, which is almost as bad as the Chinese Apples. Worthless.

Yes. A Granny Smith apple tree would be about the best gift any person on this planet could give us. Sure, we need a peach and a nectarine, but a Granny Smith tree would give us pies and applesauce for the rest of our days together.

When I mentioned that this would be a gift we’d both love and cherish, she just gave me a look. It’s not every day a new bride would celebrate the thought of a new tree for her garden. But then, I’m not your average, everyday new bride. These days, I’m a Glowing, Grinning, Gardener.

After deciding on the gift of a tree, MM and I jumped in the pickup and visited a REAL nursery. The kind of place that charges the correct price for the quality of plants they sell. Not a big box store that sells off brands that are prone to early death. There, in the tree section, sat the last two Granny’s. All the other types of fruit trees were in groups that would create small orchards. In the Granny section, there were just two left, and one would soon be ours.

After carefully looking over the trees, we selected the better of the two. A young employee delivered it to the pickup as we talked along the way. Enjoying his second year of work at the nursery, he was lucky enough to have another job and loved them both. Even the employees were of high quality at that place.

When we arrived home, MM again worked his magic, properly planting the Granny next to the little bridge in the back yard. There, we’ll enjoy many seasons with her.

MM’s mom did ask that we buy a big one so we can enjoy its apples together. All being in the Autumn of our lives, I understood her words all too well. Plant apple trees while you still can. Make pies while you can still serve them to your family. Applesauce works well when you have fewer teeth than you started your life with. Nothing finishes a great dinner better than a fabulous piece of pie.

Our first wedding present was a huge success. Gardeners love nothing more than gifts for the garden. Winterpast is our favorite place, holding memories of family, friends, and us. Welcome home, Granny. Enjoy this most beautiful season of life with us!

Whatever you do today, consider visiting to a REAL nursery or farm. It might involve driving a few miles if you live in a city, but try. A winery? An apple orchard? A pumpkin patch? Take a day and experience a little Autumn fun. Don’t forget to take a sweatshirt or coat. Enjoy a crisp fresh apple along the road . It’s Autumn!!

More tomorrow.

Well, things didn’t go so well for the first inhabitants of the greenhouse. In fact, the 12-hour visit to the lush and very humid oasis resulted in the death of five seasoned plants. Total destruction, with no chance for recovery.

Two days ago, with Autumn breezes churning the air, I took all my houseplants out to the greenhouse for a little rejuvenation. Rest and relaxation. A change of scenery. My thoughts were that I could do fall cleaning in preparation for the wedding while the plants enjoyed some sunshine.

Everything was fine in the beginning. With many trips from one house to the other, the plants seemed to be loving it when they were all in place. Using the nearest hose, I gave them all a good shot of Miracle Grow as I watered the pea-gravel floor again. After they were all settled I shut the door and went back inside. It was late afternoon, with the greenhouse receiving three more hours of full sun.

I never gave the plants another thought until yesterday around 11. I thought the sun was high enough in the sky to create some humidity creating water droplets on the walls and leaves. Expecting happy plants on a day with cool mid-day temps, I opened the door to be overcome with horror and disbelief.

The inside temperature in the greenhouse was 100+. Even with gallons of water applied to the floor, there was zero humidity.

The plants were either in a state of true stress OR worse. D-E-A-D. I think I could’ve suffered a major sunburn myself. Springing to action, I removed those plants that hadn’t yet burned.

The pathos plants that’ve lived with me for over 10 years were burned to death. Their lifeless little leaves were now blackened. MM had just commented on how well they were doing in rooms with very little light. Well, no more.

The Dracaena’s all died, frying where I’d placed them. Each pot was so hot, it was hard to carry them to the trash were they received last rights.

Surprisingly, the Ficus bejamina tree, which I thought would’ve been the most fragile, survived.

The Sanseveria were on their way out, but luckily, I arrived in time. Another hour, and there would’ve been more reportable deaths.

Thank goodness, the new African Violets didn’t make the trip. Even I know they are just too fragile to survive such a change. There would’ve been nine deaths to report. As it is, they are growing well with new blooms to open soon.

Fifteen healthy plants went on vacation. Only ten came home. They are resting, still traumatized by their trip to the other house.

Today is a new day, with plans to order the greenhouse shade cloth. Before guests arrive at Winterpast, replacement plants will grace my windowsills.

“Oh, what lovely plants you have! What a green thumb! I wish my plants would grow this well! What’s your secret? The greenhouse?”

Welllll……..

Actually……..

Yes.

That, and a really good nursery at which to buy replacements. Let’s keep that one our little secret. Okay?

Whatever you do today, if it involves the unknown, start small while checking for unknown results. If you move a plant to a new location, check on it every few hours for the first few days. You might save yourself some grief. Happy Gardening!!!

More tomorrow.

At Last! My house plants have some respite from dry desert conditions. Yesterday, they all moved into their new digs until the wedding! Nothing like some humidity to spruce them up a bit. It’s time I give an update on the greenhouse.

Greenhouses are the desired possession of the suburban home owner in these parts. They do come with drawbacks, many discovered over the summer.

1. Unless you live in constant 70 degree weather, (in which case you don’t need a greenhouse), there is some down time. In fact, there are times of the year they are unusable without extreme effort. Even then, questionable. Under the intense desert sun, my greenhouse is just too hot. Think of burning weeds with a magnifying glass. Similar heat in the greenhouse. Next summer’s goal is to find a way to ventilate. Perhaps I need to remove a couple side panels? A drape of shade cloth? Something can and will be done, but I haven’t found the answer yet.
2. Greenhouses must be watered. A Lot. Meaning, the ground in the greenhouse, not just the plants inside. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I didn’t expect the amount of water it would take to saturate the ground, providing consistent humidity. It will take some time to season the soil under the pea gravel floor to provide the necessary humidity. The water bill will reflect the luxury of my new hobby, no doubt.
3. Heat will be necessary in the winter. The smaller part of the investment was a thermostat for heating and cooling. The larger expense will go to the electrician that will need to run power to the little house. And so, the project will take on a life of its own.

The positive points of owning a greenhouse are obvious. It’s a tropical paradise in the middle of the desert. When I need a little humidity and extra oxygen from all the growth, I can step into my little oasis. 10′ x 14′ of lush greenery and soothing humidity. My ferns and geraniums will overwinter there, being safe from the winter storms and snow. Our prize strawberry plant will find a safe spot and continue to bloom and produce a little longer than normal. As soon as the heater is installed, that is.

So far, I have two potting benches on which to play. Today, I’m going to get some needed accessories, such as a garbage can to store my potting soil and mulch. Pots and tools will find their place. Slowly, it will turn into a playhouse of wonder and a most loved spot here at Winterpast.

If you are thinking of a greenhouse of your own, be sure to get the biggest one you can afford. This size is big enough for two people to work without stepping on one another. Choose the appropriate material for the “floor”. (Pea gravel is working well.) Carefully consider the foundation. Having a concrete foundation on which to anchor the greenhouse made a big difference here in the high desert wind.

Speaking of the Zephyr winds….

Our first wind damage occurred last week. One of the roof vents and panels ripped away from the greenhouse. Poof. Ripped off. The fix will take some careful design work and MM is on it. These aluminum structures are not for the winds of the high desert plains. Although mine is in a protected area of the gardens, it’s still vulnerable. Other than that one panel, the rest of the structure survived.

It’s ability to withstand snow pack remains to be seen. It will be a chore to remove the snow from the roof each day. The good thing is that we don’t get much here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

With Autumn officially here, the trees have started dropping their leaves and the next phase of work begins. Fall clean-up. I hope the roses will continue blooming a little longer for wedding photos in the back yard. In just a few weeks, life will change here at Winterpast. For such blessings I am so grateful.

Whatever you do today, think about poking around outside. If you don’t have a garden, think about raising a plant. Terrariums are a wonderful hobby. Tiny little greenhouses that you micromanage from your kitchen table. Plants clean the air and add something to a home. Give it a try.

More tomorrow.

Blessings surround Winterpast. Ollie and the Wookie are having the time of their lives racing through the first leaves of fall. I’ve put the first bit of water in the greenhouse, which is just now cool enough to use. There are roses to trim and trees to feed. MM and I continue to plan our upcoming nuptials. But, a sense of loss looms large.

A dear friend has now been a widow for seven long days. I met her while VST was still alive. In fact, it was she who introduced us to the magic of Winterpast. Her expertise as a realtor helped me through my first week of widowhood while I was selling one home and moving into another. We both lost our husbands suddenly in violent and tragic ways. I know exactly how I felt when it happened to me. I haven’t a clue of what she is experiencing right now, but I’m pretty sure it’s hell.

This weekend, I decided to put together some gifts for her because at this time, words are clumsy. There’s no advice. No magic wand that can given her a short cut. Time WILL make things better, but the question is “How much?”. In her case, their love will last until the 12th of never, and that’s a long, long time.

Remembering back to April 2020, there were some things that kept me moving forward. They weren’t given to me through the advice of a counselor. All the grief specialists were hiding behind their locked doors, fearing the virus. They were little things I dreamed up that worked.

My first comfort, then and forever more, has been God. Plain and simple. God. I began studying the Bible. The most fascinating book on the planet. Real miracles changed my life after I was baptized December 12, 2021.

There were earthly rituals and items that helped, as well.

This very friend, now in anguish and shock gave me a special gift when I was a new widow. A garden angel that would light the night. For four years, this solar angel has glowed throughout the night, reminding me that real angels surround my life and keep me safe.

Another friend had given me a solar rainbow-maker for my window. Just when I’d least expect it, little rainbows would appear throughout the house. Little promises that life won’t remain dark and daunting.

For twelve long months, released balloons on 8th day of the month at 10:30 AM. You’d find me on the back lawn crying as I watched balloons ascend towards the heavens. Each month, there’d be one more added to the bunch. Making my fingers release the string became easier with time. 111 balloons released over 365 days carried a lot of grief heavenward.

I bought very soft, comfy pajamas in which to quarantine and hermitize. In some ways, Covid came at the perfect time for me. There didn’t need to be an excuse to stay home and avoid others. It was provided by the government. In those early days, I spent time unpacking and organizing, two chores that showed obvious results. About the only two things I could control as I started on my journey as one.

I chose a focus word a month. Single words described my life with VST. Friendship. Love. Adventure. Each time I became overwhelmed, the word of the month would remind me of countless memories, all precious and cherished. After remembering all the reasons I chose the word, I’d feel better and could continue on.

Each month, I bought one Christmas gift that represented the monthly word. On Christmas Eve, 2020, VST and I shared a private party. I’d written a letter to myself each month which reflected a life headed on a healthy journey.

Writing is life. Remember that. I journaled. Even if I had nothing to report on but the weather, I journaled. The time I got up. The time I went to bed. Everything in between. It’s all there. Some of it is cringeworthy. Other bits hilarious. There are a few books wrapped up in those journals that are neatly tucked away, unlike Grievinggardener.com, which also helped.

Yesterday, I filled a bag for my friend with items to help her begin her journey. Included was the little garden angel. She has a new job watching over her rightful owner. I put a ribbon on the rainbow maker, because everyone needs a promise of hope during their darkest days. A soft comfy nightgown will warm her on the crisp fall nights. A journal and pretty pen will help her put her thoughts on paper. And finally, a canister of helium and a box of tissues.

The sadness I feel for her is deep. Sometimes, it’s necessary to do something because nothing else that can be done. Right?

Whatever you do today, contact one widow and brighten her day. Tell her a new joke. Find out the latest news on her end. Spend time listening to her. Let her know you love her. Widowhood isn’t for the faint of heart. It takes courage, fortitude, resilience, and a community of best friends.

More tomorrow.

In the last week, two close friends have experienced the unexpected and tragic loss of a close family member. This is a tale of two families that chose differently. One family prepared a trust while the other meant to, but never got around to it. Both losses were immediate and final.

Planning for the future can involve things like engagements, rings, and honeymoons. It should also involve a trip to the attorney to make sure all legal aspects of one’s life are in order. I’m taking my turn at adulting today to visit my new best friend, Mr. Lawyer Man. I’d scheduled this appointment two weeks ago, before I received the tear-filled phone calls from my friends. Not totally unprotected, my own family trust was created on January 7, 2008 and revised in Nevada shortly before VST died in 2020. Thankfully, we both agreed it was important.

As for my friends……

A California farmer was the soul caregiver for his medically fragile wife and son until he died last week without a will or trust. The estate is now locked, from the credit cards to the safe. Without a trust, the state will take over and plan for the family, while their current needs continue. Funds to help care for the son and wife are available, however, they aren’t accessible right now. This process is quite lengthy, leaving a burden for the extended family.

There could be answers in the locked safe, however, no one can remember the combination. Even that small bit of information could be vital. While adulting, tell someone, somewhere, the location of your important documents and how to retrieve them.

The second family lost their beloved husband, father, and grandfather after he kissed his wife goodbye and left on his drive to work on Tuesday. Rear-ended in a horrific accident that made the news, he died at the scene. At an age most men retire and golf, he preferred to continue with his career. He was one of the finest men I’ve ever met, adored by all that knew him. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

A professional man, he prepared for those he loved. His family now grieves their loss without locked bank accounts.

My understanding is this. A trust is like a virtual box in which you place your valuables, holding instructions that will be followed when you die. It protects your assets for distribution to those you chose to include. I am not an attorney, just a very protected widow who planned while I was still the very loved wife of VST.

Decision making regarding ones own death is never comfortable or fun. Just remember, it’s the adult thing to do and this is one of those times adulting isn’t fun.

While planning your trust, there are other legal issues to consider. Create a medical directive, Power of Attorney, and other essential documents. A lawyer will give you advice on the documents you need.

There are online sites that generate these documents for free. If you choose to use them be sure to complete the final step and have them notarized. Without that step, the documents aren’t valid and you return to the group in probate. A terrible thing for any family to experience at a time of grief.

As for my two dear friends, I hope their heavenward journeys were on the wings of angels. For them, the suffering and earthly work is over. For the surviving family members, I send prayers and love.

For those of us here on earth, it’s time to get prepared for life’s one certainty. We’re all headed down the same road, not knowing the time or day. Leave a paper trail of legal wishes for the family you love so much because it will make all the difference in the world when the time comes.

Whatever you do this weekend, have some fun! Tomorrow is the first day of fall. Get out and kick up some leaves. Enjoy some hot apple cider on a crisp morning. Just be grateful to be alive. Summer 2023 is behind us!!! We made it!!!!

I’ll be back on Monday.

Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.  Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony. _{Colossians 3: 12-14}

In these crazy days, that’s a tall order. With scammers, hackers, and cheats around us, those souls trying to do the right thing are often victims. But, not always.

Last Saturday, a UPS delivery woman rang my doorbell. She wore her scowl like armor as she shoved a package towards me. Who knows the reason she was upset. She WAS a UPS driver. I can’t imagine her days jumping in and out of a hot truck to deliver heavy packages while avoiding the hazards of the job. In the case of one poor soul Monday, a rattlesnake that put her in the ICU. Dogs are not always friendly, either.

This woman didn’t have time for a smile. No chit chat. No wave goodbye. Just the delivery, Ma’am. Nothing but the delivery. And a package for an entitled “Karen” at that. UGHHHH.

Until…..

She looked at me.

All of a sudden she broke into a brilliant smile. This actually transformed her into the beautiful young woman she was! Her eyes sparkled. She was actually grinning. For goodness sakes, there seemed to be an immediate glow!

The morning had already been filled with dead cell phone battery craziness and an unplanned trip to Walmart. I’d answered the door in haste and forgotten something silly. I was wearing my golden “BRIDE” tiara while making apple pies for the party that night. Alexa was playing our wedding play. I think “Happy” by Pharrell was on. She probably heard me singing off key when she rang the bell.

“Are YOU getting MARRIED?????” she asked, as if we’d been besties forever.

Then it was my turn to put a smile on my flour-dusted face!

“Oh MY! I forgot the tiara. YES, I AM!!!” I replied, as my hand immediately went up to grab the tiara.

We were both giggling by this point.

“CONGRATUATIONS! This is the best news of my day!”

The young woman sprinted to her truck, turning to wave once more before she drove away. She was still smiling.

She changed my morning, too. It’s okay to be silly while baking apple pie. A woman shouldn’t be shy about wearing a “Bride” tiara when she is one! No matter the age, being the bride is an exciting time in life.

If I’d grabbed the package and slammed the door, she would have continued on her grumpy way. This tiny exchange was enough that it made its place in my wedding journal.

Our upcoming nuptials seem to have that affect on the people around us. It IS delightful that two sexagenarians (one six months from becoming a septuagenarian) have found something that people look for their entire life. LOVE. How wonderful that we are the ones that can spread some happy news. We both paid it forward in our separate journeys through the wilderness of widowhood. We’re drinking in every single smile from family and friends. It’s our turn to Be Happy.

Whatever you do today, reach out to a person that’s having a rotten day. All it takes is a smile. Think about someone gruff and offer them a little tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. You might be surprised how nice they look sporting a smile.

More tomorrow.

Well? Sometimes you need to come up with a creative fix. Hat’s off to the mom that figured out a round-about way to fix a problem with technology. Screenshotting still has me a bit baffled. I’ll remember this hack.

Last weekend, MM and I had another type of techno-failure. Much to our horror, MM’s very expensive iPhone was unable to charge from the cord. No small problem, as our phones have our lives on them. Along with communications with the outside world, most people have phone numbers, addresses, photos, calendars, and even banking. I wish my eyes were young enough to do banking on my phone. I’m lucky enough to still be able to text.

Well, this dying cell phone gave us both a fright. With a house full of guests arriving at 5 PM, we’d need to jump in the car and make a 40 minute trip to the biggest little city to the west. Then, we’d hope to get an appointment with a specialist to diagnose the problem. All the while the battery life was dwindling.

10%.

9%.

8% .

With every plug and brick we tried, there was no improvement.

7%.

Just when we though things couldn’t be more dire, MM had a marvelous thought. With the phone at 2% remaining battery life, he remembered that the new luxury car in the garage could charge the phone without a cord. This feature only works with iPhones, but that was exactly the phone needing charging.

Racing to the garage, we started the car and gently laid the phone on the charging station. With that, we both returned to the house to wait for a few minutes. Ten minutes later, the phone was charging. Disaster averted. Thank goodness. With the approaching nuptials and honeymoon at hand, a new cell phone isn’t exactly in October’s budget.

After diagnosing a fix for the phone, the next move was to purchase a pad charger. Of course, the obvious source for this device would be Walmart. For $40, the problem was solved. While we were paying for the device, the associate was kind to let us know this problem happens quite frequently.

Some days I long for the olden years when phones were wired into the wall. Not even with removable cords. Wired in. I remember sneaking late night calls with my boyfriend at my father’s desk. The phone cord was just long enough for me to lay on carpet and talk. Of course, all calls were monitored and timed unless they were made after the very tired farmer and his wife were asleep. Such sweet innocence.

As a young mom of the 90’s, I rocked a 50′ phone cord which allowed me to do housework while catching up on the latest with my bestie. CC and I accomplished many domestic tasks at the ends of those extension phone cords. Didn’t seem to slow us down one bit.

Who would have thought that battery life would become an issue? That photo albums and scrapbooking would become a thing of the past? That a phone would display the 10-day weather forecast or announce messages from people that really don’t like to talk anymore? I almost wish a cell phone wasn’t so necessary for daily life in 2023.

MM’s phone is fully charged since Saturday. It was a wake up call that a techno-fail could cause us to derail at any point. Just another thing that can happen here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Whatever you do today, think about the age of your phone. If it’s been a few years, you might want to start saving for a new one. Some of them cost more than my first car. Remember to keep your phone clean, shiny, and on a charging schedule. Things just work better that way.

More tomorrow.

The very things we think will never happen to us sometimes do. The following situation has been affecting me for the last three days. I guess I’ve been lucky to enjoy shopping online for all these years without incident. After this experience, I’ll change my routine a bit.

Like everyone, Amazon has lulled me into becoming an internet shopper over the years. I first learned of Amazon back in 1996 when, as a teacher, it was the best place to find and buy books. In the beginning, they started selling books. As a newbie, I attended a librarian’s conference. It was there the word “Amazon” was the buzz among educators. No more trips to Barnes and Noble. Amazon would deliver books right to your door. Imagine that!

Through the years, I’ve often joked that you could probably get a live pony delivered by Amazon. I certainly have ordered weird things like a rototiller and snow blower. Slowly, Amazon has become my go to place for spa chemicals, garden tools, and party dresses. That was, until last week.

Seven days ago, I started receiving weird text notices on my phone. They were notices involving a two-step authentication in order to proceed with my purchase. The funny thing was, there were no purchases on the days I received these notices. I simply blocked the sender and didn’t give it another thought.

Now, every bride-to-be understands the necessity of Amazon Prime. At the moment, I’m receiving deliveries of cutlery, tablecloths, and clothing. Each day, I only need to think of something I need for the wedding and I’m off to place another order. Online shopping saves time and gas. It also helps to assure that the needed items will arrive. The mind of a bride is often a little foggy.

With the notices dismissed, I didn’t give it another thought until Sunday. Needing to order something, I attempted to sign into my account. Low and behold, my password had been changed. No problem. They would send a two-step verification notice to my e-mail. Except that, the emails never came. I was locked out of my own account. Frozen from my purchase history. Estranged from a return for which I hadn’t yet received a refund.

If anyone else lived here at Winterpast with me, they would’ve been suspect. Heck, Oliver might have been questioned, but he’s been at puppy camp for a little respite from the bride. Some devious soul had hacked my account and changed the password. I’m just fortunate it hadn’t happened since 1996.

And so began the phone calls with Amazon associates that live in far away countries while all named John, Mike, Dave, or Sue. Each one would assure me that they’d fix me right up as soon as they sent me an email. No emails ever arrived. Through four different people, each reading the same script, no emails ever came. Although I received other emails successfully, there are none from Amazon. Not in the inbox. Not in the Spam. Not in the Trash. And so, there was nothing that could be done, they told me. Sorry. No can do.

My association with Amazon is effectively over. The hackers won.

The dear associates trying to help me need a new script. Over and over they read the same instructions. The directives that didn’t work on Call #1, #2, #3, and #4. Doing the same thing over and over while getting the same results is a cesspool of frustration. I’m appalled that a company as large as Amazon doesn’t have a fix for the hacker that got me. Let me assure you. They do not.

Their advice to me? Contact my email provider. It must be THEIR problem.

OY.

VEY.

Maybe I should just chill and watch a movie on Amazon Prime?

One small problem with that idea.

“Please sign into your account. We will send you a verification code via email.”

Not happening any time soon.

The best advice I have to share is this. Do not leave your credit card on file anywhere online. Just do not. It takes very little time to type in a credit card number each time you order something. Although it’s very convenient, it’s not safe. For that matter, really consider whether or not you need an account. Shop as a guest. At my current level of frustration, I’ll be looking for other options. Perhaps Walmart and Costco Online.

In the mean time, I reported fraud on my credit card and requested a new number. It’ll be necessary to contact everyone that charges me on a monthly basis. Unnecessary work that shouldn’t happen, except that it does when one lives in the world in which we do.

Living in remote places is difficult at times. With only one Walmart within 30 miles, my shopping will now be severely limited. Great for the budget. Not so great when trying to plan last minute details for a wedding.

That’s the news for today. Stay aware. Vigilant. Alert. At the first sign of any strange messages or e-mails, investigate to make sure they aren’t from crafty hackers. Don’t open anything that looks suspicious.

Whatever you do today, make a plan to check on your financial accounts at least once a week. Most banks have user friendly services in which you can take a look and make sure all charges are yours. Alert the bank immediately if you have any fraudulent activities. Just use the number on the back of your credit card. Better safe than sorry.

More tomorrow.

What a beautiful Weekend! Although I need a few weekdays to rest and recover, I will say that it’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed such fun. Thinking back to the events of Saturday and Sunday fills me with amazement and wonder. For the blessing of friends and neighbors I am so grateful.

The weekend did start differently than MM and I had planned. The invitations arrived a day late, making Friday night crunch time to address them. My Mysterious Marine, and soon to be husband, arrived with his names and addresses at the ready. I was prepared with my trusty address book. Together, we addressed, stuffed, stamped, and licked each one. Someone asked if MM watched TV while I did the addressing. Nope. He was there every step of the way, even when ingesting the retched envelope glue. A Ride or Die friend. That’s my MM.

Saturday, we’d planned a little dinner party with neighbors to announce our engagement. Just a few guests. Seventeen to be exact. MM had been over most of the day beautifying the gardens here at Winterpast. We set up tables and chairs for 18 as the first leaves of the season were falling.

For our menu, we chose Rustic Country BBQ. We started with Chips and dips, crackers and cheese. For the main course, we served BBQ Chicken with Sweet Baby Ray’s sauce, baked beans, green salad, and homemade Mac N’ Cheese. There were two homemade apple pies for desert. The food must have been good, because most of it was gone by the end of the night.

Laughter floated on the evening air. Just a bunch of neighbors from houses on the block getting to know one another better. I learned the following.

1. We have a bowling champion and master quilter living just a few doors away.

2. My new neighbor across the street has the most precious smile.

3.Everyone loves a good glass of wine and conversation.

4.My margarita maker is still the hit of any party.

5. Ninja Neighbor and her tribe are a blessing to the entire street.

I learned about neighborhood parties from my Auntie TJ. She started this whole thing years ago with a Christmas party. Just an open house that started at 5, because 5 is the most elegant hour to start a party. The same magic occurred at her house, whether at Christmas or 4th of July. She knew how to draw the neighbors in and slowly, a family was formed. Even today, when I visit her small coastal town, I still need to visit the neighbors, because they’re my friends too. Heck, I even met a real, honest to goodness Goddess of the Central Coast along the way.

Saturday night, the Dolls of the Desert Plains and their men-folk were delightful. We’re already thinking about our next party, to be held in December. We’ll still be honeymooning. A perfect time to celebrate new beginnings.

Of course, we had wedding invitations for everyone with hugs all around as this was neighborhood NEWS. I couldn’t have been more proud of MM. While BBQ-ing, he visited with everyone, being the perfect host and fiancé.

Sunday was a day for worship at our little church. Twenty more invitations were delivered followed by more hugs and squeals of delight. In a few days time, a little desert church sitting on a wide spot along the interstate will be the place to be. SRO. Standing Room Only.

There, at the end of the aisle, my Mysterious Marine will be waiting just for me. As long as he’s there, everything will be alright. Somewhere along the way, I must’ve done something good.

More tomorrow.

As we plan to squeeze out the last bit of summer fun this weekend, I share a rare picture of the gardens of Winterpast and Wookie with you. If you look closely, you’ll see the greenhouse towards the top, just left of center. Blessed with this oasis, gardening is something that is a pleasure, without demanding too many days of back-breaking labor. At least for me. MM might tell you a different tale.

This year, MM has planted three hostas, seven roses, and two Japanese Maple trees. To accomplish this, he used his own trusty pick ax to make holes in the desert soil. Any Mysterious Marine that owns a pick ax is a good guy! Then, he went on to pour a concrete foundation and, with the help of his trusty “go-for” girl, build our 10′ x 14′ greenhouse.

This summer, the back yard has come to life. This is, in part, due to the wonderful plant supplement called “SuperThrive”. If you garden and haven’t found this product, do some research and buy some. It’s not cheap, it’s used sparingly. On an average yard, 4 oz. will last a season or more. It’s worth it’s weight in gold. Unlike “Miracle Grow”, which works on leaf production, “Super Thrive” works to stimulate root growth. The two together produce amazing results.

Earlier in the year, we went on a garden tour in the land of Top Gun, just to the east. A woman had the most beautiful hydrangea. Not the usual one found at Grandma’s house on the coast, but a very different plant thriving in the hot desert sun. I fell in love with it and purchased my own at the local nursery.

After bringing this delicate beauty home, I did a very stupid thing. Replanted, I set the new plant in full sun as the directions said to do. However, full sun in the desert isn’t the best idea when you have just repotted something. This gorgeous plant lost almost every leaf, even with lots of water and Miracle Grow. She was stressed to the max.

MM assured me no worry was necessary. After all, there is always the magic of “Super Thrive”. I lacked faith the magic would work. He proved me wrong. The plant, moved to the shade of the back patio, is thriving. With thick green foliage, she’s a happy plant that will winter in the greenhouse.

Twinkling lights grace all the trees in the yard. Up-lighting illuminates my “banyan” apricot tree. The Christmas present of outdoor lighting that MM lovingly installed in early spring, provide a soft glow to the perimeter of Winterpast as the days shorten, turning into cool desert evenings. The best kind of evening for a block party.

With hand written invitations already delivered, 20 neighbors are coming over tomorrow night to enjoy BBQ chicken, Mac N Cheese, fruit, green salad, and signature homemade apple pie. And the great news of upcoming nuptuals. It’ll be fun to spend the evening visiting with friends from our block.

In the background, the wedding favors are in the final phase of completion. Little stickers are secured on the bottom of 300 Hershey’s kisses. Plates, cups, and cutlery for the wedding sit waiting for the big day. THE dress is selected. Shoes are purchased. Thirty favorite songs are now part of my first-ever personal play list. Invitations should arrive today to be sent out ASAP. During this past week, progress has been made, eliminating the need for bridal nightmares.

With a life full of friends and family here on the desert, happiness brings with it laughter and a peace that surpasses all understanding. Memories of a wonderful past life are as beautiful as the blooms of Winterpast. The present is rich and overflowing with fulfilling activities. The future, just like the rose, will unfold under God’s watchful eye. It’s just the way life is.

Whatever you do today, make it count. If you are a person of faith, read some in your Bible. If you already do that, don’t just read it, study it. Such a rich tapestry of life and all the lessons it holds. If your eyesight isn’t the best, listen to the words. Biblegateway.com is a wonderful website offering most languages and versions of the Bible online. Check it out!!

Have a wonderful weekend. More on Monday.

All my attention has been towards music in these past days. Music that will be the backdrop at the best reception of the years. Ours. If you’re a vicenarian or tricenarian, musical choices are fresh and obvious. Just turn on the radio and choose the songs you know and love. Us sexagenarians have extra decades full of musical choices. Old songs carry us back to simpler times.

I grew up in a house full of music. My parents loved music and made sure that we were exposed to it. My father played the trombone in high school. His instrument stayed in the closet until they sold the ranch, a brass object of mystery. My mother played the piano beautifully. The oldest sister escaped and became a twirling majorette. The next played the accordian, the middle one chose the clarinet. And then, there was me.

I learned a little of this and a little of that. Is started with percussion and piano. As I grew, being too cool for the marching band, I stuck with choir, using the instrument God gave me. I played the guitar for a few years, learning enough chords to accompany many popular ballads of the 70’s. Yes, music has always been a part of my life.

Having hours to fill, MM and I came to a quick agreement. Each one of us will pick 25 of our favorite songs. They will be added to a computerized play list, one of his, one of mine, until we have 50. At 3 – 4 minutes a song, that will cover it. Sounds easy, right? Take the challenge, yourself. You’ll find lots of instructions online. Keep trying until you get it.

My list takes me back to a time when my sisters were in high school and I was 5 years old. Having older siblings, I gained a broader appreciation for musical selections outside my own age group. Sam Cooke and Etta James will make a special appearance. But, Jason Mraz also made the mix.

The DJ we chose will be a brand new nephew of mine. This young guy will control the room and get the party started. If you can’t smile in his presence, you might not be in a mood for a wedding reception. At least, not ours. He’ll be the perfect DJ to guide a wonderful night.

One requested dance to happen sometime during the night will be La Conga. Other than that, it will be dancing as usual. No German Polkas. No chicken dance. No electric slide. Just a lot of people on the dance having a great time.

Whatever you do today, enjoy some music. It can lift you right out of a terrible day. Turn on the radio and dance a bit. It will get your blood flowing. Just ask Alexa for your favorites. She will help you find some tunes.

More tomorrow.

There are hundreds of decisions to be made when planning a traditional wedding. Ceremony. Vows. Flowers. Music. Food. Cake. And most important of all, THE DRESS.

Oy.

Vey.

One of the most stressful things for me on any day is the hunt for THE right dress for THE day, quickly approaching. There is a a weird comfort that we are not yet in our wedding month. But, that isn’t reality. The reality is, I need something stunning to wear as I walk down the aisle towards my awaiting groom. Men have it so easy. A suit and tie. Good to go. I must find this form fitting stunner in 28 days or less. The heat is on.

It’s not like I haven’t been trying. Amazon is a great place to buy all kinds of things. Anything you can think of can be delivered to your door. Heck, I even bought my snow blower and lawn mower using the site. The two potting tables sitting in the new greenhouse came from Amazon. Heck, the greenhouse was ordered online. They have anything and everything but the perfect dress.

There has been the need to involve the bank fraud department when I didn’t receive my refund for a July return. There have been dresses that were designed for an XL child. All tawdry and overpriced. Yet, the need for a dress overrides the obvious fact that it’s very hard to find clothing that’s perfect when shopping online. Almost a miracle if you find something.

I did receive the perfect dress, in the perfect size and shade of blue. It was lovely in every way. From Amazon, I held my breath to see how it would fit. Indeed, it fit perfectly. Just one little problem. It had been treated with something around the neck, and was now purple in those areas. A perfectly wonderful defective dress.

Returned.

I’ve visited a tony Bridal salon. It didn’t go well either. Ball gowns, mermaid designs, fit and flare, and just plain “out-there” designs. That was my experience as I looked at traditional gowns. There is nothing traditional about me. I’m a gardening, 67 year old grandmother of 12 that does best in a tee-shirt, shorts, and flat shoes. I don’t wear jewelry or pearls. I’m not a 21 year old bride walking down the aisle while flashing a veiled blush at her new groom.

White is out. Cream is right there with it. No greys or muted colors. And for goodness sakes, it goes without saying “NOOOOOO VEIL”. This sexagenarian does need some color in her dress.

Although the exact color will remain a secret, I was in search of MM’s favorite. I wish I could say that I found a dress in that color. It’s hard to find. So, I went with a color that enhances my natural beauty.

Yesterday, I met with my future Step-Daughter-in-Law-and-Love. Taking off work, she met with me for support as the hunt continued. We looked at all kinds of formal attire. From pant suits (I’m not Bea Arthur from the Golden Girls, although we were both retired teachers), to skirts, to dresses in every color of the rainbow.

I asked for two things. Sleeves and length. The need for long sleeves should be explanatory to anyone with arm wings. I cannot expose the wings to be documented in the eternity of wedding photos. Not. Going. To. Happen. With Size 11’s in flats, the longer the dress the better. Yes. Length. No pants. Sleeves.

And the circus began.

I finally found one dress that would do. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t horrible. It just didn’t feel exactly right. But, with nothing else that was close, it was the front runner.

Until………

I decided to do one more walk-about the store to make sure there was nothing I might have missed.

There, hiding between many other dresses, I found it.

Color — Check

Arms — Check

Length — Check

Fit and Finish — Check

Everyone agreed. It was THE ONE.

A heart-felt thanks to the sweetest of friends for taking time from her busy day to come and help. Not only did we find success with the dress but we also decided on the cake, which she’ll be designing and creating for her dad and me. She’s an amazing woman!

With one big worry off my mind, I was about to leave the store when I remembered that I do need a pair of flats. In 10 minutes, I found, tried on, and purchased the cutest shoes. If you wear a weird size like 11 Narrow, you know, this NEVER, EVER happens on any day in any universe. But it did. Yesterday. In the biggest little city to the west of me.

Whatever you do today, go through your wardrobe and see what you are missing. Do a little shopping. Find something new that makes you feel as special as an October bride. It doesn’t need to be sparkly or expensive. Just crisp and new. Everyone needs a new look once in awhile on their journey towards home.

More tomorrow.

This is a very view of the classroom in which I learned about respect for self, others, and country. Although this photo was taken a few years before my time, the elementary school I attended impressed upon my classmates and I the importance of self discipline. We learned to attend to the lessons at hand and then, learned about the wonders of the world. My teachers could grab the attention of the most squirrelly child, and they did. One way or the other.

Moving forward to 9/11/2023, it’s much more difficult to reproduce this picture. From my recent classroom experience, there’d be breakfast wrappers and juice boxes on the tables. There’d be plenty of nonsense blaring from the loudspeaker in the room. I would’ve just finished passing out breakfasts, taken attendance, wiped spills, opened juice boxes, all while teaching the emotional-social lesson for the day. No time for skippidity-dippity kiddos rushing in for their morning hug and report on the birth of six kitten during the night. Just the rigors of mandated programs and procedures.

I’m sure it’s even more intense this year than last. God bless the teachers and students as they search to find meaningful experiences in the classrooms of today. In my very small town, a handful of teachers made sure that happened on September 11, 2023.

How and why is it that the history of September 11 is not the first thing kids learn about every year????? Just how???? Without a teacher that knows the importance, it’s become just another day. The fifth day of the 2023-24 school year.

Our town will NEVER forget 9/11. Each year, there is an amazing program at the firehouse with the biggest American flag hanging from a boom truck. All the firemen attend in their dress uniforms. The firehouse is scrubbed and shiny, as you would expect a firehouse to be.

My fabulous fiancé who will remain MM for now, and I took our spot in the front row a few minutes before the program began. In the crowd, there were plenty of people I’ve met over the four summers I’ve been a desert gal. Town folk that I now consider friends.

Ninja neighbor started things off by singing the National Anthem. Along with being prettier than Carrie Underwood (and I am not kidding on that one), she jumped right up and belted out the most beautiful song. A cappello. Never drifted off key. I got the feeling that if she wanted too, she could have even been more powerful with her gorgeous voice. A local super-star!!! Who knew?

There were poems and thoughts about the day. My soon-to-be-Brother-in Law-and-Love, The Mayor, gave a rousing speech. And then, we were all hit by a powerhouse of a man.

Major General Ondra L. Berry — Maj. Gen. Ondra L. Berry is the adjutant general of the state of Nevada, the highest ranking officer in the Nevada Guard. He works as the chief advisor to Nevada Gov. Joe Lombardo on all matters affecting the 4,400 soldiers, airmen and civilians in the Nevada Guard.

There were all kinds of people in the audience, but there was a special group of dignitaries that sat outside on the asphalt. Criss-cross-applesauce, butts on the ground. Sixty youngsters. I’m guessing 5th or 6th grade. In a school district of almost 9,000 kids, 60 were treated to the speech of a lifetime. Rising to the occasion, they sat at attention when the Major General began to speak.

He talked to all of us about love of country and what it means to be a first responder. Bravery. Honor. Courage. Faith. Self-respect. Love of Country. Pride. Dreams. REMEMBERING. Being Battle Born. Battle Trained. Battle Ready. Being Proud Nevadans.

Those children, along with the rest of us, drank in his every word. I have no doubt that if one of those kids misbehaved, he would have stepped in to chat. They knew that. It didn’t matter because he commanded the attention of the entire room in the best way possible. He praised the courage and wisdom of the teachers that had made THIS lesson, one of life’s important ones.

As he spoke, he physically turned his body and attention to the children. The speech about the adult topics of patriotism and service to others was delivered to these children. He made eye contact with them as he delivered the message. Never, ever, ever forget.

By the way, he needed no microphone. This man controlled the room, not with volume, but with content.

His speech should have been mandatory viewing for every sing student in our huge school district. The entire event should have been zoomed into every classroom across our high desert plains. But, it wasn’t. Just 60 very lucky kids and their teachers, sitting criss-cross-applesauce for an hour.

Amazing Grace was performed by kilt-wearing pipers.

A 21 gun salute boomed as spent shells hit the ground.

The 5-5-5 bells tolled for the fallen firefighters.

Long before telephones and radios, fire departments used the telegraph to communicate. When the handle was pulled on the once-familiar red fire alarm boxes found on nearly every street corner of America, a special code was transmitted to every fire station. When a firefighter died in the line of duty, the fire alarm office would tap out a special signal. That signal was five measured dashes, then a pause, then five measured dashes, another pause…then five more dashes. This became universally known as the Tolling of the Bell and was broadcast over all telegraph fire alarm circuits. This signal was a sign of honor and respect for all firefighters who had made the ultimate sacrifice and has become a time-honored tradition.

I’m so proud to live in a patriotic town. I’m glad personally know the Sheriff that keeps us safe from harm. How lucky to have a brother that is steering the direction of our town. Blessed am I to have a Fire Chief that is a man among men. I chose well a town that values the ideals of our country as I do.

What a meaningful day of remembrance!

Whatever you do today, think in terms of kindness. Give others the benefit of the doubt and focus on the good that is all around us. Negative thoughts only eat away at a happy heart. Turn your own thoughts towards something happy. It’s good for the soul.

More tomorrow.

Twenty-two years ago, there were things I hadn’t experienced yet. At 45, I hadn’t yet celebrated the first birthday of my 1 month old grandchild. I hadn’t harvested the 12th crop of raisins from our Thompson Seedless vineyard. I hadn’t finished my 5th year of teaching 3rd Grade in Room 20. I hadn’t experienced an all-out attack on the country I love so much. I was just a young teacher driving across the countryside to work another day.

I’d just become an empty nester with two sons serving in the United States Air Force. One would just be leaving the gates of an East Coast base for reassignment to a west coast base. The other son was translating information from bad guys while eavesdropping high above the clouds over England. My sons were grown men on their own. My full attention focused on 20 high-energy 8-year-old’s who loved their teacher, Mrs. Hurt.

Although I was a seasoned traveler, I’d never traveled to New York. It never appealed to someone like me. A concrete jungle is too confining. This country girl needed wide open spaces, often feeling claustrophobic by the miles and miles of perfectly groomed vineyards. New York might as well have been the wilds of Tanzania or Zimbabwe. To this very day, I’ve never visited and have no desire to change that.

The morning of 9/11/2001, I was “Any American Teacher”. Papers in – Papers out. Corrected assignments in the roller cart in the trunk of my car. Black line master’s for the new assignments ready to copy. Just one last thing to do. Kiss VST goodbye for the day and head out to get my XL Diet Coke at the 76 station. Same routine every day. Rain or shine. Bloom or harvest. Just another normal day.

I loved my morning soda stop. The owner of the store happened to be of Middle-Eastern descent. Never gave it much thought. Thought about it a lot in the days to follow.

“Hey, Meez Hurt! Ready to teach today?” He’d always have a nice greeting for me. I’d just grab the soda, run.

On this morning, he was watching his TV screen.

“What’s up? Hot news?”

I saw the initial smoke from the sky-scrapers. Didn’t look too exciting. Something in New York. But, wasn’t there ALWAYS something in New York? The news said a small plane had hit the World Trade Center. Ahh, how sad for the families involved. I wished him well and went on my way.

Along the way, the radio filled me in on how the world had just changed in an instant. Arriving at school, I wasn’t the same Mrs. Hurt that’d just left the safety of the ranch. In an instant, I was the mom of two Airmen. I was the daughter of parents that had just flown across the Atlantic while returning from a golden anniversary trip to Europe. I was the grandmother of a little baby that would live his entire life in a world changed in horrific ways.

20 kids would enter Room 20 at 7:45 am. 20 kids would need answers and 7.5 hours of love and care from one traumatized teacher that just needed a minute to scream, “WHY????”

9/11/2001.

The teachers all wore dark glasses to hide our shock and tears that day. We took turns cramming around the secretary’s desk to watch the coverage, while making sure the kids outside had yard duty teachers to watch over them. We tried to carry on as we would on any regular school day. That’s what you do when you’re in charge of littles. No matter what, count heads and keep going.

Children figure things out. One child knew. Then another. Then another. Finally, with little eyes focused on one very scared teacher, we sat on the carpet in a big circle and talked about what had just happened. They asked questions. I told them I really didn’t know, because teachers certainly don’t know everything on a day like that. They cried a little bit. So did I. And then, we brainstormed.

One child had a brilliant idea. Could they write letters and draw pictures for the nurses and doctors in New York? What about the firemen? And policeman? Could they watercolor?

“Mrs. Hurt, we don’t know how to write a letter! Can you help us? “

“How do you spell doctor?”

“Where is New York City?”

“Are the bad people coming here?”

So many lessons were covered that day. The geography of the United States of America. Art. Kindness. Love. Support. Penmanship. Spelling. Grammar. As a family 3rd Graders, we were a class on a mission. Together, we clawed our way through the first day of a new way of life. The blue-sky, happy-go-luckiness of before was gone forever more.

Years, later, in 2014, I went to my last 9/11 remembrance at PELCO in Clovis, California. PELCO was one of the companies supplying surveillance cameras in the World Trade Center. Throughout the horrific order, the employees had maintained a special relationship with their friends in New York and held a yearly service that was something to experience. A block of land in the California parking lot had been deeded to New York. A piece of beam from the World Trade Center rests in a small museum there. Family born of blood.

After the ceremony, I was getting ready to leave when someone tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned, two young adults stood before me. I couldn’t place them at first.

“Mrs. Hurt. It’s you!”

“Hi there! I am so sorry. It’s been a morning and a few years have passed. You’re going to need to help me out.”

As quick as anything, the young woman shared a memory and code that only a member of Room 20 would know. And then, she smiled. It’s always in the smile. Just like that, my heart remembered her. My little student from long ago. My Allegra.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hurt. You were there for us. You kept us safe that day.” 13 years later, it was she that comforted her teacher. We both cried as we held each other tight. Just like that, we tumbled back in time to the horrible day we tried to make things better with crayons, paint, and a lesson in letter writing.

So much lost and so much found on September 11.

Whatever you do today, REMEMBER. Sit for a moment. THINK. Find one thing you could make better today and ACT. Each 9/11, I give one gift to a place it will do the most good. Say Hello to someone that looks down. Help a neighbor that needs it. Call a lonely friend. Do something really good, on a day that, long ago, was really bad. Please, just REMEMBER. Never, ever, ever forget. But then, how could anyone forget what we lost that day?

A quick note. If you have not heard of Gander, Newfoundland and the miracle that occurred there on 9/11 learn about it. TODAY. There is a wonderful play online. Come From Away. Read the back story about the 30+ jumbo jets that had to land in on an airstrip, emptying all their passengers into a town of 6,000+. Learn about it and the love shared by strangers. It will change you in a good way.

More tomorrow.

Another step closer to OUR day. There are so many things on my “To Do” list, I had to make one dedicated to bridal activities. Having much more energy in my younger years, I need to find the proper pace. One task at a time. One day at a time. Yesterday we knocked two important chores out of the park inviting exhaustion.

In a few short weeks, we’ll meet with family and friends in a tiny little out-of-the way chapel to exchange vows. But for now, we’re an engaged couple needing to make a major decision on rings. Not just any rings. Custom rings with bling. Rings that can handle a beautiful night out as well as a shovel and mulch. Rings that will be notice to everyone we meet that I am his wife and he is my husband.

MM knows more people and services than I thought possible. In our village or the surrounding towns, he knows where to go and who to see. When the subject of rings came up, he immediately knew of THE guy. Friends since high school, this sweet man remembered the high school track record that MM still holds to this day. While this man competed in Track and Field events different than those MM did, he knew the legend that walked into his store yesterday afternoon.

His beautiful wife of 32 years set out to work. Picking our brains while sitting together like four old friends, they presented us with the perfect design that will be handcrafted just for us from four rings that hold memories of two precious lifetimes. Our old wedding rings.

Without our late spouses, we wouldn’t be the people we are today. VST and Sunflower have teamed up to help us along the way. I love hearing stories about her. I probably tell too many stories about VST. It seemed like the perfect way to bring them into our lives in a special way. Four rings never removed for a combined total of 50 years. Now, that’s some seasoned gold and diamonds that will forever sparkle and shine!

Stunning creation. That’s all I can say. Our rings will be absolute masterpieces. And, custom. No other rings in world will be like ours. With not a day to spare, we’ll meet them for a final fitting and approval in two weeks. The rings will be complete by our wedding day.

• Rings — Check.

Like some kind of royalty, I get deliveries of wedding dresses on a daily basis. Thank Goodness for Amazon!!! I think you could have a small pony delivered from Amazon if you needed one. This service has saved countless trips to the store. Everything ordered has arrived within 1-2 days. Not quite right? Drop it off at the UPS Store for an immediate refund. With time short, this shopping option has been heaven sent.

It’s time to set up a Hen Party here at Winterpast to get final opinions from my home-town Ride-Or-Dies. Mimosa’s and the fashion show to help me pick the most important dress I will own. I’ll need to put out more chairs for the viewing gallery.

I will say that at my age, white isn’t a good color for many reasons. I plan to be wearing a color that suits me. The dress will be an evening gown with sparkles. Right now, that’s all I’m divulging.

• Dress– 1/2 checked.

MM is busy selecting his “Jerry Garcia” tie. The poor groom gets little to be excited about. It is the bride’s show. I can’t wait to see what he picks to go with his black suit and fedora. They’ll be one sharp dressed man waiting for me at the alter.

• Groom’s Attire – Check

Today is a day to celebrate with Virginia City girlfriends over lunch. I can tell you that the outpouring of love and support for MM and I has been more than I could have ever imagined. In this my 10th fall as a Nevadan, my roots are healthy, strong, and desert bound.

*Bridal Hoopla – Check

When VST and I first found loveliness in the home now named Winterpast, we’d found home. There wasn’t a question for either of us. Cancer already had him in a death grip, but no one had told us that yet. The place would be perfect.

On the way home that first day, VST asked me a very strange question.

“Will you be happy there, Darlin’?”

At the time, I was not happy with that question, telling him so. Wouldn’t WE be happy there? Just WHEN hadn’t I been happy with our life together? And so on.

As things turned out, I moved out of VC into Winterpast on the 17th day as a new widow.

VST, as you enjoy heaven’s life, you already know the answer to your question about my happiness.

Yes, VST. I am happy here.

Winterpast is everything it has needed to be and more. This dusty little town is my dusty little town. The high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada hold my heart. Thanks for helping me find the perfect place to heal and grow into this phase in my life. Thanks for being my Northern Star. You’ve guided me well. Rest In Peace.

Whatever you do today, choose a project and start a daily march toward it. Develop something in the garden. Repaint something. Re-arrange your living space into something new. In my case, I just happen to be planning a wedding. I hope you’re enjoying the ride!

More on Monday.

Some days, I just shake my head and smile at the obvious. Blessing abound in this beautiful world. I don’t believe life is made of random accidents. Day by day, we’re presented with certain circumstances, dealing with them as we see fit. Some seem like delightfully happy accidents that open a new world. In my life, divine intervention occurs on a daily basis. This desert gal is no accidental tourist.

Consider my story.

One broken widow grieved in Virginia City. One sorrowful widower in grieving in a small town to the east. Both grieving deeply for the long time loves they lost, while working steps to heal their hearts. Two Grieving Gardeners.

Now on her own, she moved to his town alone. He began redecorating his home and life. She found complaint with one very stubborn little grieving dog. He lost his canine companion of 16 years and started over with a crazy puppy who liked to hop. She nearly lost her mind caring for the place that would help her winter pass. He fished. She wrote. The both gardened while God watched over them as days turned into years.

With long days filled with with loneliness, they both longed for the 4th chapter of their lives. They had raised themselves, and kids. They had made a living and a life. It was time to live again. Happiness was a choice they both made every day, even in the stranglehold of loneliness. Separately, they took a chance and ventured onto the world of online dating. And there, with only six miles between the two, they met.

Her first texted question was about the actual size of the fish he was holding in one of his internet pictures. His first texted answer was an actual answer about the size and species of fish and location caught. Text. Text. Text. Dinner. And just like that, a friendship bloomed.

Those short sentences make it seem so simple and the last year has been just that. Fresh, clear, simple, and obvious. No drama. No secrets. No devious motives. A friendship between two “60-Something’s” that became much, much more. Two dogs that jump and twirl at the mention of the other’s name. All beginning with a simple question about a fish.

Over the last year, my life’s mural has gained color and form. The gardens of Winterpast have benefited from the care of two gardeners instead of just one lonely lady watering her plants with tears. Our potato crops are bountiful. The tomato worms don’t stand a chance. We’ve erected a complete greenhouse. I’m learning to enjoy a little golf or football, and eagerly await the next season of “Wicked Tuna”. I’m remembering how to cook good food while serving it to a man that really enjoys a tasty meal.

When selecting my life’s puzzle pieces, I want no harm to come to others. Many times, I spend more time thinking about the resulting fall out then what’s really best for me. As the survivor of a farming family, in the past everything came before self. The animals. The crop. The creditors. At the very end of the list was “Self”. When I found myself alone, I had to learn that I am the only person that matters right now. That’s still an adjustment.

When piecing together a good and happy life, one needs to use brain power and discernment. Our brains were turned on at birth. Throughout life, we’ve made billions of decisions. So many people forget to use lists of logical pros and cons to make the right choice. If your brain is in a fog, like mine these days, borrow one. We are surrounded by so many every day. At least one will be functioning properly, we would hope. Ask friends. Ask professionals. Ask. But, then, look at all the possibilities and complete your very own puzzle.

Staring at the blank page before you, open up the window and let the sun illuminate the words you could not find.

Reach for something in the distance so close you can almost taste it.

Release your inhibitions.

Feel the rain on your skin because no one else can feel it for you.
Only you can let it in.

No one else.

No one else can speak the words on your lips.

Drench yourself in words unspoken.

Live your life with arms wide open.

Today is where your book begins. _{Natasha Bedingfield — Unwritten}

Every decision has a proper season. If you’re finding road blocks at every turn while choosing a path, maybe that decision isn’t for you. I have always wanted to volunteer in a remote location for six months. Just drop out of life and go. It might have been a groovy idea when people still used the word groovy, but today, that ship has sailed. I learned that all too well when I accepted the teaching position last year. For everything there is a time and season. A graceful woman knows all about proper timing. A faith-filled woman stops to listen for guidance from a higher place.

Throughout life, I choose to believe that something WONDERFUL is about to happen. Miracles are everywhere. Think back to the widow and widower. Miracles traveled through the nothingness of the internet and the blue light of a computer screen, to connect two great people. Two mending hearts found strength while holding hands and watching The Chosen. Two Christians found a new church family in a dusty little wide spot in the road off the interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. If the last year isn’t one heck of hundreds of amazing little miracles, then I just don’t know.

Whatever you do today, try looking at random things as beautiful miracles. Start really looking at the changes in your yard from dawn until dusk. Arise before dawn and listen to the world as it wakes. Choose the puzzle pieces of your life wisely. It’s all up to you. Make the picture of your life your own. No one else can paint it for you.

More tomorrow.

Roses or Calla’s? Invitations? Menu? Guests?

Oy.

Vey.

This wedding stuff is for the young. Each day there are hundreds — maybe even thousands — of decisions that are waiting to be made. With only 1 month and 8 days until the big day, the heat is on. And these decisions aren’t all that straightforward when one is a 67.75 year old bride. Things have changed a bit since January, 1988.

All the while, MM is right there in the trenches with me, enjoying every moment of fun. I didn’t know God made men that are wired to be helpful with wedding decisions. He is busy choosing songs for the DJ and collecting addresses and phone numbers for his relatives. He has an opinion on every aspect of our upcoming day. If there ever was a groom that is 100% dialed in to the process, it’s MM. Thankfully, it seems we have the same vision. Our focus is all about our commitment and not so much the hoopla or physical party.

Yesterday, the volume, complexity or potential impact of the decisions waiting left me so physically and mentally drained that last night I simply transported myself into a movie until I fell asleep. I’m looking into the abyss of decision fatigue. Thank goodness I recognize it from my travails as a widow. The stressor now identified, I’m going to prevent it from derailing all hopes of sheer bridal bliss. I’m not jumping off the cliff into the world of the……BRIDEZILLA!!!!!!! Not happening.

According to registered psychotherapist Natacha Duke, MA, RP, decision fatigue is a phenomenon (as opposed to a diagnosable medical condition) where the more decisions a person makes over the course of a day, the more physically, mentally and emotionally depleted they become. A person experiencing decision fatigue struggles with executive functioning. This can have a wide range of consequences, including impaired judgment.

Just so you know, this isn’t something this clever writer made up. It really exists.

Yesterday was car maintenance day. In the normal world, this would involve sitting in an uncomfortable mechanics lair. But, when you purchase luxury, it comes with some benefits. Like an Uber driver at your fingertips to drop you at the mall or appointment. A barista to prepare your favorite coffee and fresh donut. Comfy chairs and a spectacular view of the mountains. The list is long at the luxury service department.

It turns out my beautiful car has a few glitches that couldn’t be fixed in one day. So, what does this fantastic dealership do? Send me on my way in another beautiful new luxury car with less miles than mine!

Oy.

Vey.

Cars these days are full of many different tricks and tips. My car is like driving a giant iPad. This car was full of different technology. Only 4,235 miles of shiny new. Probably worth twice what I paid for mine. These things cause decision fatigue. Do I chance the freeway or take empty side streets on the way home? Is this the navigation system or just the back up camera? 37 miles is a long way to encounter possible dings and dents. Luckily, she’s in the garage, safe and sound.

Yesterday also held a stressful trip into the world of finance. So many decisions to be made before October 14th. Thank goodness I have a trustworthy advisor that hasn’t steered me in the wrong direction yet.

All these are not life or death decisions, but they add up. We make hundreds of decisions every day that impact others. Getting married is one of life’s biggest stressors. Having perfectionist tendencies while being faced with the uncertainty of life is a recipe for stress. And, we all know, stress is a killer. Thank goodness this wedding is a short-lived experience. In Mid-October, the seas will calm as our new life together begins.

In 2020, decision fatigue attacked me as a new widow. I fought procrastination or decision avoidance. Some days, I refused to adult and stayed in jammies all day. And then there was the Widow’s Fog. Well, I assure you, Bride Fog isn’t much different. Hiring a bridal planner might not be such a bad idea.

I do remember my Auntie reminding me that nothing lasts forever. Father Time and Mother Nature made sure of that. And there is plenty of time to enjoy normal life as an old lady.

What might continue for awhile is the mani/pedi schedule I’m beginning next week. Now I find out that MM rather likes manicured fingers and toes. Okay, I can roll with that! There’ll be at least one massage for this bride during the next six weeks. I plan to schedule some protective measures involving self-care, while taking time to enjoy this very magical time in life. It is truly a lot of happy fun!

Guys need down time, too. MM will be enjoying the beginning of the NFL season. I would hope he’ll take some time from invitation addressing to enjoy a round of golf with his bros. We’ll throw in a little laziness from time to time while delegating tasks to others. There are plenty of people we can trust to handle some of the minor details.

Whatever you are planning to do today, try not to become overwhelmed. Schedule some down time every day in which you take time to breathe. Unplug and focus on the silence. Find your happy spot and take time to be grateful. The world will keep spinning even if you stop twirling about for a bit.

Twirling into my own state of butter, I’ll be back tomorrow with updates.

What a journey it’s been! Loneliness that no one else can even begin to understand. Learning to live again as a young widow takes guts and determination. It means taking chances and making tough decisions. While putting one foot in front on the other, I’m at the end of my 4th summer as a widow and sailing along pretty well on my own now.

In April, 2020, I was in blackout mode, having lost VST, my husband of 32 years, to a sudden cancer of nine weeks. For 24 hours a day/7 days a week for 63 days, I watched him wither away. As a horrified wife, I stood by, helpless, as the once brilliant man lost every bodily function until his breathing ceased. Demons circled our home like buzzards as I chased them away with prayer. Alone, I gave hospice care to the person I loved the most in this crazy world. My VST.

My story isn’t especially unique. My tears are just as salty as the next. I’m just a writing woman that lost someone she loved. Along the way, I’ve found words to put my grief into writing. Pain sucked write through my Germanic fingers, released to the universe. For me, it’s been a healthy outlet.

Widowhood is the darkest experience. In the beginning, I was lost without direction and being lost is a horrible place to be. It’s even worse when you have only one friend in a town of 23,000. Pretty black when it becomes necessary for her to move away. Terrifying to fly solo. Me, alone. No close family. No friends. Quarantined in Covid’s grip. Just Oliver and me, sheltered by the lovely gardens of Winterpast.

I made it through my 1st’s, 2nd’s and then 3rd’s while learning so much about God’s grace. I’ve learned about relationships. I’ve witnessed personal miracles through the months after my baptism on December 12, 2021. I gained some street smarts along the way, learning that everyone isn’t always who they claim to be. A hard lesson for someone that values honesty, optimism, transparency, and positivity. Most importantly, I’ve finally become the woman I’m meant to be and I like her. A lot.

On this crisp September day, almost four years from the beginning post on this blog, I have a new story to share. It’s the sweetest. Some will say a peek to far into personal issues. But, that’s what the truth of life is all about.

On August 28, 2022, I met a rare man. In this blog, I refer to him as the Mysterious Marine. As the days have unfolded, he has shared his own tearful experiences as a widower, having cared for his beloved wife for seven years during her battle with COPD. During the last year, I’ve spent at least a portion of every single day talking, walking, cooking, eating, or watching a variety of sports with this guy. He is my very best friend. In my eyes, he’s a “Top Two Percenter” of men.

This man is a master gardener. He can fix anything that needs fixing, even a broken heart. He’s decorated his home to reflect his own tastes. After sending his high school sweetheart off to heaven, he collected himself and started on his own journey of self discovery. From 2020, we healed as we sat just six miles apart in this a dusty, wide spot on the road off the interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Two grieving gardeners taking like one step at a time.

Monday, August 28th, we celebrated 1-year as a dating couple, a milestone for any new twosome. Reading through the last months of my personal journal, I smile at posts about life as a happy woman. Still a widow, but also a gardener with grief healing. What a lovely year it’s been. Through each holiday, this man has made life special. Little celebrations. New family. Special traditions. Woven through all those things, love.

Finding just the right card is tough, but when you’re a writer, there’s an internal need to add a letter. And so, in preparation for a special dinner date, I wrote. At the bottom of my letter to MM, I transcribed the verses from Song of Solomon 2: 10-12. Our winter’s have passed. Our garden is blossoming with love and happiness. The birds are singing. The turtles are singing (I found this version of the verse is found in one of my bibles. Missing the word “dove”, I rather like the vision of singing turtles.)

On the evening of August 28th, we exchanged our cards. He read the letter I wrote to him, while commenting that I always write so much. Well, I’m a writer. Go figure.

His card was beautiful. His written thoughts were heartfelt and penned in perfect handwriting. But, it was the front of the card that took my breath away.

Song of Solomon 2: 16. (The first sentence only.)

The end of my chapter was there, printed on the card he chose for me.

Without endless hours of Bible study or long, drawn out discussions about Winterpast and her name, without any earthly guidance, we both ended up in the same chapter in the Bible. Some things in life are so obvious they slap you right in the face. In life, there are no coincidences. Miracles are real and abundant.

And so…………..

He asked the one question that still needed asking.

Through tears, I gave my answer.

I said “Yes”.

Autumn is my very favorite time of year and this autumn will be even more beautiful. In front of friends and family, in our own little church, in a dusty little town on a wide spot on the interstate on the high plains of Northwestern Nevada, we will exchange vows and start off on a new path together.

Now you know.

After hundreds of blogs, thousands of words, and many, many private tears, the blog will tell of new adventures about two gardeners who grieve once in awhile about two people they loved and lost. Two 60-somethings that found a new chance at love and grabbed it. Stick around. The adventure is just beginning.

Whatever you do today, know that although you grieve, you will heal. Through your healing, your new life will be something wonderful in ways you might not expect. It is always darkest before any dawn, but the brilliance of the sunrise promises a new day. When you think of me, think of happiness and light. God has amazing things planned. I can’t wait to see what adventures are waiting just around the bend!

As we move on towards Autumn, I’m taking a well-deserved vacation to parts unknown. I’ll be back on September 5th. Until then, enjoy the archives and don’t forget to journal, and enjoy life!

Autumn!!!! Fall!!! Harvest Time!!!!

During the last week, things have been changing around here. The nights are a little longer and the mornings are crisp and fresh. The shadows are getting longer while fall sneaks up on us. How delightful! Autumn is my favorite time of year her on the high plains of the deserts of Northwestern Nevada.

Spending time with Louise yesterday was informative, as always. As she chattered away about her classroom, I realized I’m very thankful for retirement. Each August, millions of teachers around the world beautify their classrooms for the first day of school. They spend millions of their very own hard-earned money to make an educational nest for their new students.

New teachers enter the building. Old teachers are missed for a moment. Then, alliances are formed and the new year begins again. It’s all consuming. Talk to a fired-up elementary teacher and you’ll find yourself conversing with a whirlwind of ideas and energy. I loved every minute of it, but these days, retirement is a much better fit for me. Being just a few months older than me, Louise feels her time is near, as well. And so it goes.

Most of the children in the towns around Winterpast are already “cheeks in the seats”. Kids have their own school rituals handed down from mom and dad. Those who come from parents who loved school, love school. Those whose parents struggled have a different perspective on the situation. There are friends missed over the summer and then, those with issues.

And so it begins again.

It’s always fun to shop with Louise, as she is petite and adorable, always finding the cutest outfits that fit like a glove. When shopping with others, I’ve found it’s much more fun to watch them find the perfect purchase than to visit the dressing room while looking for something for myself. I’d much rather pull 1,000 weeds than spend a day shopping. Truly.

After an afternoon at the mall, I found a plant. That was the extent of it. An adorable little plant.

Along with school plans, we discussed this weekend’s annual Cantaloupe Festival. Although they won’t repeat the Greased Pig competition of 4th of July, there’ll still be something for everyone. Angel of the Aluminum Cloud shared that her daughter showed guinea pigs in 4-H years ago. Now, that is the cutest mental image possible.

Spirit wear is on the racks at Walmart. We are the Vaquero’s. Not sure of the history of the name, but MM and all his brothers wore the orange and black for the Vaquero’s way back in the 1900’s. MM’s track records still stand to this day. Nobody faster than that boy. So, I picked out my 2023 spirit wear hoodie. Knowing the group I run with now, we’ll be attending high school functions with The Mayor, coaches, school board member, teacher, and past athletic director of the high school. I must be wearing the correct spirit wear.

That’s another weird thing my Mysterious Marine and I have in common. Even though our high schools were in located different states, black and orange were the colors for both schools. My high school mascot was the Grizzly and remains so to this day. Even though it’s true there are only so many possible color combinations, it is odd that we both graduated in orange and black.

Today, I need to inspect the gardens of Winterpast for hurricane damage. As we had no strong winds or torrential rains in our area, I don’t expect to find any. I plan to sit and watch the horses for a bit, as they are all down from the mountains after the storm. Hundreds and hundreds in big groups. Sand Ornaments so numerous that one was hit by a car and killed yesterday. Wild horses and people in cars. A tough combination.

Whatever you do today, if possible, drive by your old school. Take a walk through the school section at your local Walmart to see what the kids of today are putting in their back packs. Call a high school friend and chat for awhile. Sing your old alma mater. Love it or hate it, school is a huge part of our lives.

More tomorrow.

Today is a day for “goin’ to town”. Now, if you live “in town” you don’t need to go there. You’re already there. For those of us that live life in a wide spot off an interstate, town is a necessary destination at times.

Yesterday, as we were “goin’ to town”, we searched for an illusive Farmer’s Market. Never have I ever. Very strange procedures, indeed. One visits the “Farmer’s Market” ahead of time to fill out an order. Then, one must return to the same spot on Tuesday to retrieve the goods the farmer has selected and boxed for you. In my world, that dog don’t hunt. Sorry. I can pick out my own veggies at the local Raley’s.

Yesterday also included dining at a beautiful restaurant, dark and swanky. Nothing of the sort in the little town I call home. No restaurants with cloth napkins and employees wearing fresh black uniform serve to the residents of my town. But then, that’s why people like us “Go to Town” to experience the finer side of life.

Today, I’m making two trips to town. Again, it’s that time of the month. Oliver is off packing for puppy camp at this writing. In case you are new to Grievinggardener.com , Oliver is a 5 year old. Like all 5 year old’s, he is rambunctious and head strong. Oliver is a cream, piebald, standard-sized wirehaired dachshund with a liver nose and green eyes.

As his Mom-Oh, let me assure you there are times he needs to be with his own kind, to swim, play, and bring down the house. His friends at camp really can’t start the party until he arrives which will be at 8:00 am on the dot this very morning.

Then, after a 90 mile round trip trek across the desert, I’ll be picking up Louise (to my Thelma) and we’ll be off for a day of shopping thirty miles to the west. When you live in a small town, it’s easy to ignore fashion norms. One doesn’t need a nice outfit when helping to assemble a greenhouse, mow the lawn, or spray the weeds. Nope. Just a comfortable pair of shorts and an old t-shirt.

Well, next week, I’ll be taking off a couple days to visit a fancier place. When vacationing, it’s nice to have something new to wear for dinners out on the town. Today, I’m hoping Louise can steer me towards the latest and greatest in fashion. She’s wired like that. Thank goodness, because I think I missed those lessons as a young girl.

As for other news, there are plenty of Burner’s who are bugging out of their own towns and coming to a desert new mine. Burning Man is the cultural event of the summer. Certainly not a place I would ever feel comfortable, it’s interesting to observe those that make a yearly pilgrimage to the desert, come rain or shine. They are some strange dudes. Peaceful. Off in their own world. I hope their experience is everything they want and need.

30 miles to the east, there’ll be a different kind of celebration. The yearly Cantaloupe Festival. Now, that’s something straight out of my past. Every year, a little valley town named Firebaugh held the Cantaloupe Festival. People came from miles around to enjoy a harvest celebration in a tiny town of 200 people. This weekend, there’ll be 4-H exhibits, country music, food vendors, and an evening dance. Just a small celebration in the kind of town I love the most. A small one.

Whatever you do, pick a neighboring spot and “go to town” yourself. Take a drive and visit a new place. Have some lunch and shop for a new look as you visit with a bestie. Visit a farmer’s market or a harvest festival. It’ll brighten your day and you just might find that “goin” to town” is a fun thing to do.

More tomorrow.

These days, life here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada is great. I begin every day telling myself that very thing, repeating it often. I practice smiling a lot and try to avoid triggering things like unnecessary dosses of the news. I focus on positive plans, like my date with MM to the upcoming Cantaloupe Festival, or watching the weird Burners as they roll through town.

I don’t talk about the loss of VST in April of 2020 all that often anymore. Most days, I’m a gardener that grieves, not a griever that gardens. New friends don’t know my story, and I really like it that way. Revealing it to newbies opens the wound all over again. I’ve been traveling this road for more than 1200 days now, and some days still, putting one foot in front of the other is the best I can do.

In the beginning of this journey, I convinced myself that I should write a book about my personal experiences. As the years have gone on, I now see the arrogance of that thought. My story isn’t any different than the innumerable heartbreaks suffered from time’s beginning. Looking back, I told myself a thousand little lies just to get from one day to the next, always assuring myself that grief had vanished out the back door. But, a little grief hides in every memory, waiting for an ambush. You just never know when.

Writing the days away has given me new fulfillment in my life. I’ve become one of the bravest women I know. Not by choice, but by fire. Sure. I’ve coped. Poorly at times. Marvelously at others. Life has been a rollercoaster in which I’ve held on for dear life while concealing screams of terror under the laughter of exhilaration. Even after all the days since the biggest loss of my life, more healing is still needed.

The days, weeks, months, and years have aged me considerably. The outer wrinkles are quite obvious. Other’s are hidden deep inside my heart. Grief puts on the years.

I remember my silent celebration when reaching the two year milestone. I’d read that it’s very common for widowed spouses to develop serious illnesses during the first two years after their loss. It was also two years since I’d retired. Double whammy. I did live through those two anniversaries, a little wiser, but definitely older.

I’ve always been great at writing about the gardens of Winterpast or the latest hurricane in the desert. What I’m not so great at sharing is that widowhood is the most wicked thing I’ve ever gone through in my entire life.

Don’t take that the wrong way.

I don’t want pity.

What I do want is to be remembered.

Some days, I’m truly invisible. Like a gecko on a leaf. There in plain sight but totally camouflaged. Living in a new town, there aren’t old friends around to let me know they still remember VST. Old farmers to share a story about the year we almost lost our entire crop to rain. High school buddies remembering the athlete extraordinaire, VST. Moving to a new town erased those chance meetings with old friends. Out of sight. Out of mind. Countless things have ended. After all these years, ashes are ashes and dust is dust.

As my fourth widowed summer is coming to a close, I’ve learned a few important things.

I cherish new connections with neighbors. Winterpast is smack dab in the middle of great people. Ninja Neighbor, Miss Rose, Little Man, Great Grandparents. People in this neighborhood leave their garage doors up and wave with big smiles. Only strangers until the first “Hello.”

I’m so lucky my dear friends listen when I need to talk. They are also great at talking when I need to listen. They accept that I spend more time than I may realize remembering a wonderful life spent with VST. They notice when grief is knocking at the back door. They are there to celebrate new life with me as I heal and to give me space to grieve alone when needed.

I’m so thankful MM is always ready to share a meal or just hold my hand. I’m blessed when the Angel of the Aluminum Cloud asks me to join her on a morning trip west, or when Louise (to my Thelma) offers to go shopping with me for the 28th. All my beautiful friends are fully alive and present, anchoring me in the here and now. They are true blessings in my life.

Whatever you do today, try to think past the “I’m fine” statement. As a widow, there are many times we’re the exact opposite of “fine”. That’s called “NORMAL”. Healing takes time. No one ever mentions that the TIME it takes continues forever.

Stay busy.

Stay Calm.

Carry On.

More tomorrow.

What a crazy world, this planet Earth!!! Maui is devastated by fire. The desert plains are devastated by flooding. In the midst of it all, California has a magnitude 5.1 earthquake. Of course, only in SoCal would an amusement park stay open or an NFL football game carry on as usual. There is no explaining California.

Here in Northwestern Nevada, the meteorologists have been in a non-stop tizzy since Friday.

“Hurricane’s coming, Hurricane’s coming. Hunker down and stay home.”

In my huge county, sandbags were distributed at 13 stations. Sand and bags. Bring your own shovel. All weekend, we were reminded THE storm was coming. A hurricane affecting California, Nevada, Utah, Idaho, and even Montana. Heck, it might make it to the Atlantic.

Reporting here from the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, just east of the Biggest Little City in the West, I’ll give you the latest report. As the hurricane swooped down upon us, it rained last night.

Hurricane-force gales weren’t to be heard in the night.

It simply rained as it does from time to time in the summer.

No thunder and lightning.

No tornados.

No hail.

No snow.

Just a normal, quiet rain. As of this writing, Winterpast has received .34″ of rain in the last 24 hours. Although that’s a respectable amount, it’s not torrential. Our friends in Las Vegas or Death Valley would have a different tale to tell, but those places are at least six hours south of Winterpast.

Like everything else these days, the news-makers get themselves churned into butter as they chase their tails about every potential catastrophe. Spin the story until you have everyone’s full attention.

I’m so tired of disasters. I’m so tired of the news. Exhausted, really.

Today, I plan to stay inside and enjoy some old movies. I may even make a bowl of popcorn and stay in my jammies all day. If the hurricane sweeps Oliver and I off our hill, I may not be able to write tomorrow. At this time, that seems very unlikely.

Whatever you do today, turn off the news. Silence all political talk. Think about having a friend over for coffee, or begin a little fall cleaning. Keep your mind on things you do control in this crazy world of the uncontrollable.

Remember, Keep Calm and Carry Your Umbrella as you Move Along. Silence is golden.

More tomorrow.

• BY ELAINE SMOOKLER

The breaking day was shimmering with the buzz of nature going about its business. Breathing in, I felt awakened by the delicate bite of the early spring air. Breathing out, I felt my warm breath rise like a morning prayer. There was nothing special going on, only gently bubbling stillness and beauty all around. A moment of peace. I felt grateful to be present and noticing.

What does it mean to be grateful? Thankfully, it doesn’t mean convincing yourself of some bogus notion that everything’s fine and dandy. Living your life with gratitude means choosing to focus your time and attention on what you appreciate. The goal is not to block out difficulties, but to approach those difficulties from a different perspective. Appreciation softens us. It soothes our turbulent minds by connecting us with the wonderfully ordinary things, great and small, that we might otherwise take for granted.

Go ahead and take gratitude for a spin right now. Think of anything at all in your life that you can feel thankful for: that driver who yielded when you realized you were in the wrong lane, the fact that the sun rose this morning, any quality in yourself that you admire. When you’re thankful, how does your body respond? Is there a sense of lightness? Tingling? Warmth? In what way does expressing gratitude change your outlook? Might there be a connection between gratitude and happiness?

Gratitude can help us see that not everything is terrible—not all the time, anyway. Practicing gratitude can keep our hearts open to the tenderness in our daily experiences. There are so many things to be grateful for. Take trees, for example. Trees freely provide fruit and shelter and even offer themselves as climbing gyms for the young, the old, and what-the-heck-are-you-thinking-get-down-from-there Nana! The wild kingdoms of plants and animals are exuberant, colorful, and extravagant. We are surrounded by abundance and yet mindlessly whirl into automatic pilot, losing sight of life’s nourishing wonders.

The same is true of people. Have you ever picked up someone else’s socks, or stayed late at the office to help out, or held a door open for a stranger, or let someone else have the remote? When no one bothers to thank you, how does it feel? And who do you fail to thank? Remember: Offering our appreciation to one another is a powerful way to strengthen and even repair emotional bonds. Try it. It’s free.

Offering our appreciation to one another is a powerful way to strengthen and even repair emotional bonds.

As we cultivate greater appreciation for what is around us, we can include being thankful for what’s inside of us. We can delight in and feel grateful for our own unique talents and strengths. Perhaps you have a knack for making people laugh, or for being an astute listener. Or maybe you can thank yourself for just getting out of bed and making it through the day. We can be grateful that we have a heart, a mind, and the wisdom to know how to live with kindness and compassion.

Here are some simple gratitude tips that you can try starting right now:

1. Say “thank you!” Who doesn’t want to be appreciated for their efforts? Saying thanks can be a gift, and one that feels pretty good, too!
2. Remember what you appreciate most. When you’re feeling low, take a moment and write down some things that spark gratitude in you, like:
   • The pleasure of the spring sun
   • A stirring piece of music or art
   • A delicious or nutritious meal
   • A child’s laughter, a stranger’s sweet smile, a shared moment of joy
3. Pay attention to your emotions. Describe in as much detail as possible how your body feels when you express gratitude. Which emotions accompany these bubbly feelings? What kind of thoughts do you notice? When you begin to turn more frequently toward the things you appreciate, the world increasingly opens to reveal that there is always some small thing for which you can be grateful.

This article appeared in the April 2018 issue of Mindful magazine.

Preparing for a tropical storm and Burning Man here in the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. I’ll be back Monday with my own stories from an exciting weekend! Until then, if you just can’t get enough, go back September 24, 2020. There you’ll find a young-ish widow in the first year of widowhood. Happy reading!

I’m so blessed. I’m so blessed. I’m so blessed. Repeated 1,000 times over, it wouldn’t be enough to confirm how, on this very day in August, I AM SO BLESSED. I’m a 67 years old woman in great health with time to do as I please. I’m loved by family and friends every minute of my day. For this moment on this day I’m choosing happiness. Not borrowing troubles from tomorrow, for today, I’m so blessed.

After blogging yesterday, I made a list of a few things I needed from Walmart. The Tuesday night dinner with the neighbors convinced me the gardens of Winterpast need more hummingbird feeders. I tried this a few weeks ago and the ants won. Crawling up a tiny pole and then down the wire suspending my feeder, they back-stroked in the syrupy food. I was done with the entire mess. But, the neighbor’s hummingbirds, zipping this way and that, put on a real show. I’ll try again.

I need to be a little fancy for a special date with MM on the 28th of August. In order to accomplish that, I needed makeup more suitable for 2023. With my list in hand, off I drove towards the Walmart to the East.

What.

A.

Disappointment.

Having abandoned the Walmart in my little town over a year ago when our sweet Naomi vanished in the darkness of the parking lot, I’ve been happy to drive 35 minutes to the closest country store. It’s always been clean and well stocked. Well, that ship has sailed. Not sure what is going on with stores around here, but, they are making it impossible to find everything on a shopping list. Eggs are the only thing cheaper in price. And they are still double what they used to be.

Bacon has been hit or miss. Because of California’s plan to ruin every industry, hog ranchers are quitting. Farmer John has gone out of business. If you don’t believe me, just go to the store to find a package of bacon. I dare you. Here in Nevada, it’s slim picking’s. Sausage is still available, but only until they sell the last of it. And, so it goes.

So after hunting and pecking around the store, I’d found most things on my list. There was a little old lady who was struggling to get in line for the only human checker in the store. I had beat her there, but immediately felt horrible. She was having a hard time walking while fighting with the cart. I moved out of the way, putting her one cart closer to check out and we started to visit.

Adorable in every way, she had to let me know she had just sold her lawn mower, because it was just too much anymore. She talked of her love for her neighbors. How blessed she was to be alive on such a pretty day. She was a military wife, having followed her husband all over the world.

Independent.

Smart.

Kind.

God-fearing.

I learned she was all those things as we waited.

Sometimes the smallest act of kindness are the most appreciated. When someone gives up their place in line, starts an uplifting conversation, or says “Thank You”, we feel respected and valued. Often these little gifts of courtesy and compassion have a larger impact than anything anyone can give us.

When we give these same gifts to others, we have no idea how we’re impacting someone’s day. Little niceties add up and remind each of us, both the giver and receiver, of the simple beauty of kindness.

She was 20 years my senior. Her back was killing her, but she never revealed that through words. She was full of praise about the beauty of the day. As we stood in line waiting for the customers in front of us, she was becoming weaker. Finally it was her turn.

The checker was near exhaustion herself. Really, Walmart?????????? Is it beyond your ability to open more than lane for assisted checkout? The associate was a young woman of 43 with her own health issues, but she stepped up to help this woman. She went to the manicure station and borrowed a chair in which the woman could sit while her groceries were scanned. She placed every bag into the woman’s cart, speaking kindly to her the entire way. When it was time to pay, the associate took her card and ran it through the machine, saving agonizing steps for the lady. It was moving and quiet kindness I was lucky enough to watch.

By the time the octogenarian toddled off on her way, the checker now had at least nine people waiting in line. We’d all been waiting quiet awhile, yet, none of us were agitated or impatient. Maybe some of the guests DID observe the kindness that I did.

A higher kindness is indeed unfailing and always present in everything HE does. Even if we can’t see or understand what HE’s doing, HE is there. HIS ways aren’t our ways. We can still know that HIS kindness remains a key ingredient. My friend at Walmart would wholeheartedly agree.

Whatever you do today, let your attitude of kindness reflect the kindness HE has showed to you. Kindness costs nothing. What’s a few extra minutes in line? Who knows? In those few minutes you might be a witness to what HE would’ve done. It’s a thought.

More tomorrow.

In 2020, I found my forever home here at Winterpast. Every morning, I’m so grateful to have had the luck to find such a wonderful town in which to live. I’m a true desert gal. Under the bluest skies dotted with the puffiest white clouds, there is peace here. Even when summer storms come to visit, the complaint of the thunder adds a little excitement. The winds whip up the trees. All those things cocoon Winterpast and the homes around me.

To some, my neighborhood would be considered pretty boring. There are no late night arguments to keep us up. No trampoline jumpers. No barking dogs (other than Oliver). A natural quiet that blankets this neighborhood. With good reason.

Many of the neighbors are still original owners. Winterpast was built in 2004. At this time, this was a little more expensive than some of the other neighborhoods, and so a little older group moved in. Many were just beginning the golden years of retirement. At this writing, I’m surrounded on three sides by octogenarians. Some are in great health while others are holding their own. None of them are partying night owls. That’s a good thing.

So, when the house across the street finally went up for sale, I was a little worried. Just WHO would buy the house?

Would it be a young family prepare their daughter’s first nursery?

A family with five kids that have failed to launch?

Or a very nice single gentleman and his mother?

Only time would tell, as one buyer after another stopped to look at the home for sale on our nice, quiet street.

In the end, the very nice gentleman and mom moved in. With life being pretty busy these days, we’d see each other in passing. Wave when we visited our mail boxes. Talk from the middle of the street.

One day, in passing, Miss Rose (his mom) was outside and we started to talk. She just retired. Things in her life are changing. She and her son are rearranging. We spoke of a little of this and a little of that. Nothing too earth shattering until she brought up my home town in the Central Valley of California. It just so happened she grew up there. 14 years older than me, she would have gone to school with my two sisters.

When I told her where I went to school, she shook her head in disbelief. Her ex-husband went there, with my two sisters, cousins, and neighbors. Why, he was a sophomore when my Grandfather and father were on the school board.

Oy Vey.

In the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, how does it turn out that “almost family” moves across the street? Life is amazing sometimes. There are NO accidents. There are plenty of miracles. We just need to wake up and see them.

Last night, MM and I accepted the sweetest dinner invitation from the new neighbors across the street. Just a lovely last minute “Would you come for dinner?” The best kind. How nice is that?

Ninja Neighbor and her husband, the Sweet-Family-of-Three-Plus-2.5, and MM and I all enjoyed a wonderful evening under summer storm clouds. The weather was perfect for an outdoor picnic. A lovely evening was enjoyed by all.

During that time, my fellow alumnus and I marveled at how strange life is. Of all the people that could move across the street from one another, it would be two that have a valley connection.

To say the evening was magical doesn’t even begin to cover it. Arriving at 5:30. MM and I never stopped talking and laughing until we left at 9 PM. We are gathering our very own military unit, as we have another Marine on the street. Welcome to the neighborhood! We’ve been waiting for you to get here!

I have a feeling the street may liven up a little in the upcoming weeks. Over the summer, four houses sold. Four new families have quietly taken their places on the block. MM and I will host the next neighborhood get together, inviting everyone on the block so that no one can complain about happy noise. MM and I love a good party, good food, and good friends. Nothing better than that.

New neighbors are like presents under the Christmas tree. Each family brings something new and shiny to share with the community. Everyone has unique talents and tales. Winterpast continues to bless me with surprises.

Whatever you do today, watch for new neighbors. If you have a little something out of the garden, share some. If you make a batch of cookies, take a few over. Make small talk. You just might find out you’re 2nd cousins from the same town. Life is funny like that.

More tomorrow.

At some point, its just time. Time to look at possessions in a new light and get busy lightening the load. The day before trash day is a great choice. You can fill up empty cans and set them by the road with little time to change your mind. Yesterday was a day for that activity.

Old teachers often like to keep a few things because, “You just never know…” Just a year ago, I was in a euphoric state of mind as I returned to the classroom.

A little more than a year ago, I’d returned to college to complete a needed course. I’d fought with the State of Nevada to reinstate my teaching license after I finished the course. I’d spent more money than I like to remember buying things for an empty classroom. Happily, I returned to teach for one more year. My year lasted weeks.

I learned so many valuable lessons in eight short weeks. I learned that some owls are wise and some are otherwise. Some schools are places of love and light while others are a breeding ground of dark despair. Who needs teachers when you have artificial intelligence?

You can’t always get what you want, but more importantly, “You cain’t get nowhere on yesterday’s train.” (Misspelling intended.) Truer words were never spoken.

After blogging yesterday, the gardens of Winterpast needed some attention. The apricots are finally gone, but plums took their place. After the flower beds were tidied up, the lawn needed mowing. Well, after the beds and lawn looked great, the patio needed sweeping. And so it went for a few hours on a most beautiful morning on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

After the back yard was company-ready, I rolled all the trash cans to the front yard in preparation for trash day. It’s a puzzlement to me. Here I sit, a party of one. Every week, I have four heavy trash cans for pick up. The limit is seven. No sorting or any of that nonsense. Fill ’em and set them out. Tuesday morning, everything disappears for another week. That’s how we roll here in Nevada.

One woman with a 1/2 acre = 4 trash cans per week.

This week, the cans weren’t empty, but they weren’t full either. It was then I realized the day had come to get rid of the last of the teacher materials I’ve hoarded. In some aspects of my life, my future is unknown. However, of these things, I am quite sure. I will NEVER teach in a classroom again. I will NEVER teach General Math, Algebra 1 and 2, Geometry, or anything mathematical ever again. Never. Never. Never. Ever.

The three boxes of outdated materials are now gone. Over the years, I’ve asked plenty of people if they were interested in math materials. The answer was always “No”. People that use these things have hoarded their own favorites. These materials needed to go.

Just as hundreds of VST’s Psychology books met their fate, the books of a former math teacher have left the building.

Oh, there were other things that hit the cans. An automatic bread maker from 1990. Two splintery chicken wire compost bins inherited when I moved here. A variety of things no longer needed or wanted. And so, it goes.

By 8 AM, I’ll have 4 clean cans and the purging can begin again. This time, things from the ranch. Tractor parts. Industrial spray rig parts. Old gloves. Broken tools. A can of dirt from a far off farm loved so much that I had to bring a little to the Nevada desert.

When VST died, everything had a memory. Even an old stapler brought a flood of tears. But as the years have gone by, theses anchors to the past have lost their hold. They’ve become obsolete items that can no longer tether me to a rich and wonderful past that’s been gone a very long time. It’s time to let go of burdensome things . The good stuff is safe in my heart.

Whatever you do today, spend 30 minutes going through items from your past. Look at the things you find and think about a person would cherish them. If no one that comes to mind, it’s probably time to let go. Use the 10% rule. Out of 10 things, choose one to lose. And then, keep going. Whatever will you do with the new space you find?

More tomorrow.

Good Morning, Monday Readers! I enjoyed a lovely weekend here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. The weather here has been perfect. Cool enough in the morning to be crisp and then hot enough in the afternoon to remind us all summer isn’t done with us just yet.

The project for the weekend revolved around air movement in the greenhouse. I purchased some very cute solar fans before the foundation was even poured. Cute little dollhouse fans measuring 6″ square, two run by a 20W solar panel. It seemed the perfect fit, until MM installed them under the hot desert sun.

Back to the drawing board.

Ventilation is critical in any green house. They reduce the air temperature inside and move fresh air into the greenhouse. They also help regulate the relative humidity inside the greenhouse. Humidity above 80% invites fungal growths. And no one needs to battle fungus.

I’ve now learned that a greenhouse like mine (10’x14’x6′) needs a fan that puts our 3600 cubic feet per minute in the summer. The air needs to change 1 time per minute according to a greenhouse guru online. That’s quite a bit of movement for a small space.

The idea of solar power is a magical thought. Heck, the energy of the sun helps plants to grow, right? So why can’t we run everything efficiently with solar? Sadly, technology doesn’t match our lofty ideas. I’d need a huge solar panel to run the fan I need to cool the greenhouse. It seems that I’ll be using a very long extension cord and a nice big industrial fan we used on the ranch. I’m too excited about this greenhouse to give up the summer months.

The next projects will include building pretty benches on which to set beautiful pots. Pea gravel needs to be hauled in for the flooring. I’m going to have a lovely potting bench, a stainless sink with running water, and motion lighting, just in case I feel like gardening in the evening. By the time MM and I get this thing finished, there won’t be a more lovely greenhouse in the land. It’ll just take a minute to get everything going in the right direction.

As I create a little oasis here in the desert, my thoughts remain with the people of Maui. Keep them in your prayers. If you happen to have an extra prayer, send it to them. Their nightmare won’t be over in our lifetimes. Something special is gone forever. It only took 30 minutes to destroy their way of life.

Whatever you do today, think about growing something. Anything. Plants clean our air and help the planet, so get busy. There are still plenty of growing days until winter!

More tomorrow.

The last few days have taken the wind right out of my sails. Strange that an event an ocean away could have such an effect on one old desert gal. Of course, it’s my heart that accepts the sorrow as my own. Once, very long ago, I was a Maui Babe. A rat pack of four women celebrating a 50th birthday of the youngest of us.

I never moved up the rank to be a Maui Goddess like my dear friend, the Goddess of the Central Coast. Nope. I’ve been happy to be a Maui Babe all these years. One of four in our royal court.

So many of the places now reduced to ash held special memories for me. It was at “Burger’s in Paradise” that we discovered the birthday girl had a special guy in her life. A wonderful man that would befriend us all from that day forward. I formed a spiritual connection with the Old Banyan, covering a city block. If she could’ve only shared her stories with me, I’d tell you now. I couldn’t get enough of the clean air and trade winds. We made the best memories cherished to this day.

VST and I visited Maui on other occasions and made memories of our own. Standing at the very site of Lindbergh’s grave was almost as amazing as the drive to get there. Lindbergh’s grave is marked with a simple granite slab laid upon lava stones in the yard behind the church. The epitaph is a quote from the Bible: ‘If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea.’ . Psalms 139:9

The beginning of the Psalm is as follows:

You have searched me, LORD, and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely.

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. (Psalms 139:1-10 -NIV)

Remembered is the wonderful dinner enjoyed at Mama’s Fish Hut, or the hilarious day VST humored me, agreeing to take a hula class. Memories that connect my heart to a devastated little island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I’ve learned one important lesson at this early stage of this tragedy. When vacationing, I’ll give careful consideration to Disaster Preparedness in the area. It’s easy to get lulled into a belief that tragedy can’t possibly occur in paradise. It does. It just did.

When vacationing, have a plan. Many people left their documents in hotel rooms to which they couldn’t return. Hard to get a flight out without a driver’s license and credit card. People were separated from important medications. Not too hard to carry a couple doses of medication if it’s truly essential. Have a plan. If you separate from travel companions, choose a “meet up” spot and time. Tell people where you’re going and when you’ll return. You just never know……

This weekend, I plan to spend time in my garden and focus on all things Winterpast. As always, she is here to comfort me through grief. Her demands are simple. Water my gardens. Fertilize my roots. Take time to rest in the shade of my trees. Set down your burden for a little while and get to work. Autumn is just around the corner.

I’ll be back on Monday.

Two words should never find themselves in the same sentence.

Maui.

Fire.

Hawaii has always been my safe space. So many nights, the memories of time spent with VST have lulled me to sound sleep. It was our happy place for 32 years. When things got overwhelming we’d pack our bags and go. It was our second home. A place to reconnect and dream about the future. We considered ourselves visiting locals.

Each person leaves Hawaii with a unique mural etched on their heart. A little bit of paradise tucked in the suitcase. Once you’ve fallen in love with the trade winds, moonlit beaches, and nature’s music tumbling on the waves, you’re just never the same.

Today, pray for our island Brothers and Sisters on Maui. Today, I grieve for them. Something wonderful is gone.

So much loss.

Unthinkable.

Hold sweet memories close today. Take some time to remember one of the most beautiful places in the world.

More tomorrow.

De-Cluttering and hot August days are meant for each other. For the last few years, I’ve held on to boxes of memory filled cell phones and lap tops. Although electronic devices aren’t usually considered sentimental items, looking at them takes me back through my years with VST, as we upgraded our electronics.

Although we weren’t obsessed with having the latest and greatest, every year there was something that needed updating. There was just one small problem. VST wouldn’t get rid of the old. He was just like that. Everything was secreted in his office because, as he would remind me, “You just never know……”

Well, as I sit here in August, 2023, I do know one thing. I’ve had to learn a bunch to retrieve old memories off these devices.

Oh, how I long for the days of Costco Photos. I’d drop off rolls of 35 mm film and then wait a few days until the photographs were ready. I’d always order two sets, because of course, “You just never know….” Although in those day with time being a precious commodity, I scrapbooked every school year from 1996 – 2010. The first copy of each picture would go into the scrapbook while the second one would go home with a child. Those photographs were precious.

Last week, as I collected up the phones, laptops, and desktops, I felt overwhelmed. How would I ever learn how to retrieve the information off the devices? No longer was I going to hold onto this junk. The problem was that it wasn’t junk as long as it held old memories.

And so I began to learn.

The first thing about retrieving information is that you can’t really do anything wrong. If you do, shut the machine down and then try again. If you get dangerously close to deleting things, the device will ask several times if that is your intention. That should give anyone attempting to do this a little piece of mind.

You need the proper cords for the proper devices. So far, I’ve found all the right cords. This, in itself, is a miracle considering I had phones from 2007.

Look to You Tube for advice. There videos explaining steps for retrieving data from every type of device. Take notes and get started.

As I went through phone after phone, I realized how much our society is losing by capturing pictures using this method. How many people forget the thousands of images they’ve taken on this day or that? For me, if it’s not printed, it didn’t happen.

Going through the phones was emotionally draining. When I work with old photos and mementos, I’m transported back to the Land-of-Long-Ago. Going through that portal takes a lot of mental energy, but, it’s also healing. Everything in due time. At this point, I’m down to two tablets, two phones, and a laptop. The video tapes wait for another day.

When all the important documents and photos have been retrieved, return the device back to the factory setting. Then the fun part begins. Retrieval of the hard drive or SIM card. Again, turn to YouTube to find out how to disassemble your desktop, laptop, or phone. With a small screwdriver, a dining room table, and patience, you’ll be done in no time.

An important note. Remove the SIM cards from old phones when you are finished. These little chips hold all your personal information. Once those are removed, reset the phone to factory settings. Throw the SIM card away. For computers and lap tops, the hard drives should be removed before you discard the device. This is rather like working a puzzle to get to the prize.

Then comes the fun part.

DOING THE HILLARY.

Take the biggest hammer you own and smash the hard drive with all your might. Strike it over and over until it is really bent. This is great for relieving your self of any angry thoughts. It’s also much cheaper than visiting a rage room. Remember, be sure to wear eye-protection.

Once the computer is in pieces, bag it up and put it in the garbage. Unless you live in California, of course. There, you keep that stuff forever.

Reclaiming data and place it in one central place feels wonderful. The thought of losing those connections to the past kept me clinging to those devices for almost 20 years. For, in the real world, kids grow up and move away. Blonde hair turns grey. Cancer comes knocking. The unexpected happens.

Oy Vey.

I just never knew………

Whatever you do today, look for old devices and their cords. Charge them up and reclaim your memories.

More tomorrow.

Just seeing this picture takes me back to the mid-1900’s when life was so much simpler. As a farm girl in the vineyards of Central California, I had no access to high fashion, let alone a strapless swimsuit, high heels, and sunglasses. Even in a house of five daughters with a mother that sewed all our clothes, there were no issues of Vogue magazine scattered about. When I got my first Barbie, the game was on.

Barbie was like another sister. We’d go outside and I’d take her on farm adventures. When Ken came into the picture, he was just her accessory. Barbie was the main focus. She could do anything I could do, but have not doubt, I showed her, not the other way around. Barbie became Farm Girl Barbie and she loved it.

Throughout the years, Auntie TJ spoiled me with handmade high fashion created just for Barbie. Even her very own handcrafted wedding dress more beautiful than anything sold in the store. Pretty soon, Barbie’s wardrobe was larger than mine. And not long after that, I outgrew here and she lay forgotten on a shelf. But, Barbie was never discarded, being my all time favorite doll. I still have her and her wardrobe.

So, when Barbie came out in movie form I was a bit interested until it became polarized. This part of society loved it. That part of society hated it. Sexualized opinions. Politicized opinions. All over a doll. A silly doll. From the things I read, I decided I’d never see the movie.

Until yesterday.

It had been a quiet morning. MM was busy with his own day and Oliver was sleeping away the morning. Even the mustangs were bored.

I was looking through comments about the movie and it struck me. Since when had I morphed into a lazy woman that would accept the opinions of others as mine. This was BARBIE for goodness sakes. I had to go and see for myself.

So, this old, grey, conservative woman got in the car and drove 45 miles to the east. I’d not figured the time correctly, and barely made the beginning of the movie. You really shouldn’t miss the first two minutes if you decide to go. Interesting.

In my very humble opinion, this movie wasn’t a normal kid’s film. The plot was often confusing. There were very few scenes that involved real places. The children in the theater weren’t laughing. It was very pink and Barbie. And yet, for some reason, I couldn’t walk out. There were no overtly sexualized scenes. I never noticed gender issues, but then, I’m not of the generation that would.

Throughout the movie, I kept wondering how much longer it would go on. Although clever in a few spots, there were not great acting, dancing, or singing. Just a lot of pink. That was until THE monologue I hope I never forget.

The following words were written by the actress, America Ferrera, for HER character to say to a distraught Barbie. Playing a young Hispanic mom, she referred to things that every woman on the planet has been through, (even a young farm girl from Central California).

You be the judge.

America Ferrera’s Powerful Monologue in Barbie (Spoken to a distraught Barbie who didn’t feel pretty anymore)

It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don’t think you’re good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong.

You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas. You’re supposed to love being a mother, but don’t talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman but also always be looking out for other people.

You have to answer for men’s bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you’re accused of complaining. You’re supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re supposed to be a part of the sisterhood.

But always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful.

You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.

I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don’t even know. (Barbie Movie)

America Ferrera, You Go, Girl. And yes, so many times in this crazy world…...I don’t even know.

Whatever you do today, step out of your comfort zone to question the opinions you hold dear. Do something out of the ordinary. Try something new. You just never know what pearls of wisdom you just might stumble upon.

More tomorrow.

Naomi Irion’s Murderer is DEAD.

High Desert Plains of Nevada: The LC Sheriff’s Office has reported the death of Troy Driver, who was awaiting trial for the murder of Naomi Irion. Driver died as a result of self-inflicted asphyxiation while held without bail in a maximum-security jail cell with no contact with other inmates. Deputies conducting a routine hourly cell check found him unresponsive on Sunday, August 6 at approximately 6.15 pm.

Despite immediate life-saving measures, including CPR by jail personnel and medical assistance from YM Fire Department, Driver could not be revived. Subsequently, an outside agency, the Nevada State Police Division of Investigations, has been called upon to conduct a thorough investigation into the circumstances surrounding his death. Further details concerning the investigation and the events leading to his death have not been released at this time.

Troy Driver, 43, “was in custody on multiple charges for the murder of Naomi Irion,” a press release announced.

The following is a very thorough and factual video on what happened. Take some time and listen to the details of the case. Listen to her brave Mom and take heed of her advice.

Naomi was just a girl. She was exploring a fresh new life and on her way to success. After moving from South Africa to live with her brother, she was independent. Working at a great job, she was already being considered for advancement.

Naomi loved rainbows. She loved The Beach Boys. She was just a girl living in a small town on her way to a job she loved. This monster stole that innocence from her. He stole peace from our tiny little town. She is missed.

Be light and love! When you see a rainbow, remember Our Naomi.

More tomorrow.

With so many crazy things happening these days, the thought of “What If….” visits me often. Just what if I needed to grab Oliver and get out of dodge? Would I be ready? What if all town services stopped? Could I survive for two weeks on what I have on hand? Something to consider in these days of uncertainty. Whether sheltering in place or hitting the road, being ready is a good idea.

After an emergency, you may need to survive on your own for several days. Being prepared means having your own food, water and other supplies to last for several days. A disaster supplies kit is a collection of basic items your household may need in the event of an emergency.

Make sure your emergency kit is stocked with the items on the checklist below. Visit Ready.gov to download a printable version to take with you to the store. Once you take a look at the basic items, consider what unique needs your family might have, such as supplies for pets or seniors.

Emergency Supply List

Basic Disaster Supplies KitTo assemble your kit, store items in airtight plastic bags and put your entire disaster supplies kit in one or two easy-to-carry containers such as plastic bins or a duffel bag.

A basic emergency supply kit could include the following recommended items:

• Water (one gallon per person per day for several days, for drinking and sanitation)
• Food (at least a several-day supply of non-perishable food)– Don’t forget a little chocolate.
• Battery-powered or hand crank radio and a NOAA Weather Radio with tone alert
• Flashlight
• First aid kit
• Extra batteries
• Whistle (to signal for help)
• Dust mask (to help filter contaminated air)
• Plastic sheeting and duct tape (to shelter in place)
• Moist towelettes, garbage bags and plastic ties (for personal sanitation)
• Wrench or pliers (to turn off utilities)
• Manual can opener (for food)
• Local and state maps — Yes. The paper kind.
• Cell phone with chargers and a backup battery

Additional Emergency Supplies

Since Spring of 2020, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has recommended people include additional items in their kits to help prevent the spread of coronavirus or other viruses and the flu.

• Masks (for everyone ages 2 and above), soap, hand sanitizer, disinfecting wipes to disinfect surfaces
• Prescription medications. About half of all Americans take a prescription medicine every day. An emergency can make it difficult for them to refill their prescription or to find an open pharmacy. Organize and protect your prescriptions, over-the-counter drugs, and vitamins to prepare for an emergency.
• Non-prescription medications such as pain relievers, anti-diarrhea medication, antacids or laxatives
• Prescription eyeglasses and contact lens solution
• Infant formula, bottles, diapers, wipes and diaper rash cream
• Pet food and extra water for your pet
• Cash or traveler’s checks
• Important family documents such as copies of insurance policies, identification and bank account records saved electronically or in a waterproof, portable container
• Sleeping bag or warm blanket for each person
• Complete change of clothing appropriate for your climate and sturdy shoes
• Fire extinguisher
• Matches in a waterproof container
• Feminine supplies and personal hygiene items
• Mess kits, paper cups, plates, paper towels and plastic utensils
• Paper and pencil for journaling the event
• Books, games, puzzles or other activities for children

After assembling your kit remember to maintain it so it’s ready when needed:

• Keep canned food in a cool, dry place.
• Store boxed food in tightly closed plastic or metal containers.
• Replace expired items as needed.
• Re-think your needs every year and update your kit as your family’s needs change.

Kit Storage Locations

Since you do not know where you will be when an emergency occurs, prepare supplies for home, work and cars.

• Home: Keep this kit in a designated place and have it ready in case you have to leave your home quickly. Make sure all family members know where the kit is kept.
• Work: Be prepared to shelter at work for at least 24 hours. Your work kit should include food, water and other necessities like medicines, as well as comfortable walking shoes, stored in a “grab and go” case.
• Car: In case you are stranded, keep a kit of emergency supplies in your car.
• (_Ready.gov)

While thinking about this, take time to copy everything you normally carry in your wallet. In the event that your wallet was lost or stolen, you’ll have a handy record of license number, credit card numbers, and Bank contact numbers.

Whatever you do today, think about being prepared for the worst while being so very thankful for the best.

I’ll be back Monday.

I have always been a writer. From a very young age, words gave meaning to a world I didn’t understand very well. Expectations for a “Good Farm Girl” included being “seen but not heard”. Any of you older than a minute will understand what I mean. Any words from a child had no meaning at all. Go outside and play. Period.

Going outside didn’t hold Hollywood images of Mayberry, RFD. For me, outside was a wild place with danger just outside the acceptable boundaries of our ranch. Believe me when I tell you there was enough danger inside those boundaries for any child. It was there my nose was badly bitten by a really friendly dog. It was there steel crushed my 3-year-old-toe, squishing it to 1/2 shoe size larger than the other. It was there animals were ushered in as adorable babies and turned into dinner just weeks later.

My outdoor life also included wonder and happiness. There was always food to be found hanging from big beautiful trees or sprouting in the garden. If were quiet enough, I could spy a coyote or new nest of birds. I learned the calls of birds and what they looked like circling in updrafts. I would watch in fascination the murmurations of the starlings making their own version of moving art.

Through the harvests of my childhood while journeying into teen years of confusion and loss, I longed to journal, but had no safe place in which to write. A writer needs a place in which their written thoughts are undisturbed by other. A shy girl couldn’t reveal her heart safely in a house that afforded no personal space.

In those days, even bath time was a family affair. In a house of 7, baths were shared by the children. This wasn’t like Little House in the Prairie. Built in the 1950’s, we had running water and all the modern conveniences. The “girl’s bathroom” was even covered in pink tile and porcelain. We just relied on a modern pump to bring up well water from the ground, delivering it to shiny faucets in the house.

The bath schedule went like this. The oldest would have some alone time and privacy. As the water cooled, more was added for the Princess of Everything. Then, the oldest in line would lounge around a bit. The third girl always whined and got her alone time, carefully timed to to “Get In, Wash Up, Rinse Off, Get Out.” And finally, the two littles would be washed together before the tub was emptied until the next day.

Nope. Not even bath time was private. And so, journaling waited.

There were times when journaling would have helped me through. College struggles. A young bride living in Tiraspol, Moldavia, USSR at 21. A very young mom trying to navigate a life of violence. A single mom with two little boys. A new wife and Step Mom. A professional woman. Three decades a wife. A grieving widow.

It wasn’t until I moved to the safety of Winterpast that I finally found my writing space. Journals in which I could write down my own days, even if the words just reflected the weather and the time of day I got out of bed. Journals in which I write to show I was alive that day. I did something that mattered and was worth noting. And so, since 2020, I’ve kept journals.

In the beginning, I wrote much more about feelings. Reading them now, I cringe at the silly thoughts that spent time in my head. Reading back to the first time I met someone for a cup of coffee make me smile. Cried the whole way to the restaurant and the whole way back, all the while twirling my wedding ring and missing VST with all my heart. Such a mess, all written on tear stained pages, day after day.

Words are a powerful way to document healing and growth. Looking back at the lost widow of 2020, I hardly recognize myself. All those missteps had to be. Just like a toddler learning to walk, I had to go the path I chose. I had to learn how to watch for my own dangers and boundaries, just as I’d done when sent “Outside to Play” on the ranch. I’m totally blessed I was raised as a feral child. It’s served me well through the years.

There are six or seven old journals now, sitting quietly in their resting place awaiting their fate. The problem with journals is what to do with them? Keep them for reflection? (Cringe-worthy in my case). Keep them for possible publication? Absolutely scandalous, although an interesting thought. For now, I’ll let them lay silently in the dark. Seems the best answer.

If you’re starting a new chapter in life, as a widow or widower always is, try writing down your daily activities. Each day, be sure to add three things for which you’re thankful. You’ll probably be shocked at how your tone changes over time as you heal. Jot down the number of hours you sleep during the day. Or the number of hours you can’t sleep during the night. As you reflect in a few months, those numbers will change, affirmations that life is getting better.

Write as if no one is watching, because no one should be. If you live with others, make it perfectly clear that these are private thoughts. Written on private pages, they’re off limits to all unless you invite them to take a peak once in awhile. Make firm boundaries and then, write.

If you already have stacks of journals and can’t decide their fate, here are some suggestions.

• If full of entries that will do you no good, or a reminder of a sad or bad part of your life, have a bonfire/journal burning party. Who wants all that negativity stored so closely? Do away with it forever.
• If full of memories that make you happy, creating smiles and laughter each time you glance through it, keep it!
• If a combo of trash and a few goodies, modify your plan. ? Tear out and keep the good pages and toss the rest.

Do this once every year or two, and you’ll find yourself laughing, crying, or disgusted that you’ve wasted so much of your life avoiding the pen and page. As one of my favorite students once told me, “Writing IS Life.” I’m waiting for her first book. She’s busy with high school at the moment.

As for those that have a partner that journals, one boundary must never, ever be crossed. Never, ever, ever peak without permission. Journals are sacred, safe spaces that hold personal truths. That doesn’t make everything uttered truth for the world to discuss. Just truth for the writer as they heal through the horrors of grief while discovering their new life.

For now, I’m not sure of the fate of my journals. The current one is a scrap book of used tickets, programs, and memento’s from the best year any woman could hope for. Memories of giving Halloween Candy to a huge chicken, watching a lighted Christmas parade down Main Street, welcoming a new year, a 1st Valentine’s Day together at the beach, and a Mother’s Day BBQ for 40. Words that question. Random thoughts. Happiness. Worries. Everything swirling together on the rich pages of a journal of growth just mine.

As a former teacher of writing, I’ll share with you what I always told my students.

1. Neatness doesn’t matter. Make it suit you.
2. Spelling and grammar don’t matter. If YOU can read the story you’ve written, then Mission Accomplished. You can fix spelling and grammar later.
3. Just tell your story. Tell your side. Tell it loud and proud. Just tell it.
4. Date your writing. Always.
5. Instrumental music can help the words get out of your fingers. A 3rd grade student of mine added that one to this list. (Not music with lyrics–because those words mess with YOUR words.)
6. Never write on loose sheets of paper. Journal in a journal of some kind. I would suggest buying one you really like.
7. Nothing is off limits. Words cannot come off the page to cause mayhem.
8. Find YOUR time and place, and then get to know yourself.

Whatever you do today, try journaling for at least a week. You just might find it fixes what ails you.

More tomorrow.

I was married to a wonderful guy for 32 years. A high school friend, we reunited at our high school reunion 14 years later. He proposed in eleven short days. We were married shortly after that. His name, I’ll share one time after 700+ posts.

Terry Lee Hurt.

For these past years, I’ve kept his name as my own little secret. It was the last thing I had that was his and his alone. The last part of him that was still mine. He was a force of nature all on his own, right next to the wind, the rain, and the sun. He flamed out, never wanting to rust away in the corner.

I share this, because not everyone has gone back to read my entire blog, beginning in September, 2020. Covid had sucked the life out of everything around us. But it wasn’t Covid that took him. Cancer finished Terry off in nine weeks from start to finish.

Someone once mentioned that losing him in the way I did was rather like losing a loved one in a car wreck. No time to think or prepare for the worst time in life. No time to alert family and friends. No long, tear-filled goodbye’s. Just here. Then, gone. The gone happened 17 days before I moved into Winterpast. The home we chose together on a cold January day almost 3.5 years ago.

A French Man lost his spouse the same year MM and I lost ours. 2020. So many deaths occurred that year that had absolutely nothing to do with Covid. Silently, we all lost our loved ones after handling their hospice care. We stood in the shadows of grief without benefit of support groups or even a proper funeral. Everything was closed. We were left to our own devices during those darkest of days.

French Man is living through his fourth summer as a widower. Turtle-shelled in his grief, he let life go on without him. Time passed, while his wife’s cremains sat waiting for the proper time for release. While he’s been tethered to yesterday, the possibility of today lives just 1/2 mile away at my bestie’s CC’s house. A bright new future hindered by ashes of the past.

The subject of cremains is a little taboo. No one tells you about their weight. No one mentions that each urn has a specific and unique way to be opened. No instruction pamphlet tells a person how to properly release ashes. And then, there is the most difficult decision on where to release them. Because of these things and million other reasons, Terry sat on the shelf until last year.

It takes absolute courage to walk to the garage to get the screw driver needed to release four of the tiniest little screws holding on the top of the urn. Fortitude to open the lid. Bravery to open the bag, preparing the contents for release. Gutsiness to drive up the mountain on unpaved roads to a place filled with rocks and tumbleweeds. The love of a devoted spouse to finally let them go in the wind. I didn’t know all that until last year on that windiest of days here in the desert. I found strength I didn’t think I possessed.

French Man’s wife is still confined to her box. Today, he’ll take his turn with a final Goodbye on a quiet stretch of Pacific Coast Beach. Love has nudged him towards today’s release of the past. He’s finally looking forward to moving towards happiness. Today, he’s found his strength.

Everyone finds their own strength, time and place, eventually. If your situation is similar to French Man’s, know you can always take the next step, releasing ties that bind. I can’t explain how my life changed that day when Zephyr Winds of the high deserts of Northwestern Nevada carried my love away. From the loneliest mountaintop, the wails of a grieving widow were carried away with him. Like the removal of a festering sliver, releasing Terry allowed me to fully embrace my new life.

We are BOTH finally free.

Whatever you do today, think about what’s holding you to the past. Consider what your loved one would say if they could give you one last pep talk. Terry would tell me to live my best life. “The day’s a-wasting, Darlin’. Burn out, don’t rust out. You can’t get no where on yesterday’s train.”

More tomorrow.

I can only imagine the above picture was taken from some gutter in the deep south or perhaps on a tropical island in Hawaii. Here in the desert, we have a different kind of problem. Sand and dirt blowing in from here and there do a fine job clogging gutters.

Gutters are an important feature of any home.

No matter how gently rain falls onto your roof, the water builds up as it runs off and creates a powerful surge that, if not diverted, can hammer the ground next to your foundation—and water and foundations do not mix. Pounding water along the foundation line erodes the soil and can seep down along the foundation, increasing the risk of basement leaks and structural instability.

Gutters that safely manage storm water do more than simply protect your house. They also preserve your yard and your neighborhood. Without fully functioning gutters and downspouts to control runoff in a safe manner, rainwater could cut pathways through your yard as well as your neighbor’s, creating ditches, pooling in low-lying areas, and even killing lawns, flowers, and other vegetation. In my area, water over sand causes severe erosion problems. Storm water needs to be controlled.

Last winter was brutal here on the high desert plains. Inches of heavy snow, quickly melted. Water dripped through cracked gutter joints causing a skating rink of thick ice below in two different places here at Winterpast. Slipping on ice is one of my major fears, and this ice was located by the two doors leading to the back yard.

Summertime is the perfect time to take care of maintenance. Along with cracked joints and seams, my gutters hadn’t been draining properly. Clogged with debris of summers past, the gutters would get attention in the summer present.

Over the past year, I’ve looked for companies specializing in gutter repair. Sadly, in my area there are zero. Not a handy man one would like to spend hours on a ladder cleaning, mending, and realigning gutters. I could understand. Doesn’t sound very fun.

As a retired-farmer-now-little-old-widow-woman, ladders are not on my “I-Can-Do-It” list anymore. With poor balance, aging skin and bones, and Size 11 feet, a tumble into the hospital is a given. It’s hard enough remaining upright when on the ground.

My search for this elusive repair company had gone on long enough. I’d need to bite the bullet and get an estimate from “Leaf Guys”. In my area, they’re the only company that will clean, repair, and realign gutters. The catch is, they sell a pricey filter on top of your gutters when everything inside is squeaky clean.

The estimate was sure to be financially painful, but their advertisement made a few important promises.

#1. FREE Estimate. (What’s the saying? Nothing’s for FREE?)

#2. Lifetime Transferable Guarantee.

#3. Guaranteed work backed by a local company.

Yesterday, at the time promised, a professional man came to Winterpast to do some inspecting. It turns out that my gutters have many problems, verified by pictures. Pictures don’t lie.

A deep layer of dirt, silt, and sand lay cemented to the bottoms of the 100+ feet of gutters surrounding my house. Oy Vey. Not a leaf in there. Just sediment deposited over the last 20 years. That’s one of the problems. Along with the cracks, they’re clogged, so they overflow.

The product presentation and estimate were informative and interesting. In the end, after throwing in a 30% discount, I agreed to receive gutter cleaning, repair, and filter installation on Thursday.

Winterpast will go from this–

To this.

Later in the day, when carefully examining the gutters from the far side of the property, their age was apparent. After 20 years, some parts are bent up, some bent down. It’s the perfect time for a tune-up. Not an expense I was planning for this summer, but maintenance that needs to be done before 100+ feet of gutters need replacing. Someday, I won’t need to worry about home maintenance. For now, it’s “Suck It Up, Buttercup”.

Whatever you do today, If you’re the home owner, take a look at the gutters. Stand back from your house and really look at them. Is the fascia board behind them looking stained or crumbly? Do they drain? Are they securely attached to the house? Find someone to climb up there and look inside. Are they full of debris? If so, August is the perfect month to address this problem. This winter, you’ll be glad you did.

More tomorrow.

Happy Monday morning to everyone from here at Winterpast. What a productive weekend! MM and I finished assembling the greenhouse and is it ever a beauty!!!

Last weekend, The Mayor and my Mysterious Marine (MM) came together in brotherly fashion, forming and laying the best foundation a girl could ask for. The perfect width and depth, it turns out it was measured correctly. After an application of construction grade Gorilla Glue between the frame and foundation on Saturday, we let the project cure for 24 hours.

During that time, MM and I enjoyed an afternoon of play. We took turns rolling the dice as we played a variation of the board game, Monopoly. This version was named after our town. Considering that we know the Mayor pretty well, it was fun to land on a space that granted lunch with him. Each space on the board was named after something we know, like “In-Town Park”, “Main Street”, or La Fiesta Mexican Restaurant”.

Play a board game on a Saturday afternoon is something I haven’t done for years. MM was a formidable opponent. I’m sure he deployed strategies learned over the years as the oldest brother in a house of five boys. It mattered not. It was great fun, and he won. With shared laughter and happiness, we both came out winners.

Sunday was construction day. Beginning at 6:30, we began our first project as a team. I’m totally amazed at how well we worked together, finishing our project in just over six hours. There were a couple tough spots in which this piece or that one didn’t quite go as we wanted. MM knew which bolt to loosen or tighten, and the project was completed without a single broken panel. A 10′ x 14′ greenhouse is something to behold. It’s the perfect size for us, having plenty of floor space for two gardeners.

I’m so thankful that Veikous Greenhouses (purchased through Lowe’s) has their kits dialed in. If not, things could have gone differently. Every piece was labeled with a number that coincided with detailed instructions. Easy to follow. Great results.

Beginning while the structure was still shaded, the front and back walls were soon standing. Then, the sides went up. Finally it was time for the roof.

By 1:00 PM, we were done. The temperature? Hovering around 100.

Never having constructed a Greenhouse before, there’ve been a few surprises along the way. Like the fact that all joints need Silicone caulking. When complete, the Silicone will cost 1/3 of the total price of the greenhouse.

Solar power is so handy for little items. Many of the back-yard garden lights are powered by solar. The fans in the greenhouse will be powered by solar, keeping the temperature more manageable. To avoid the need for wiring, I’ll use solar lighting in the greenhouse, too, for the nights that I work a little past sundown.

Another fun item I just found is a solar fountain pump. I’ve always loved little garden fountains, but hate the cords and need for additional outlets.

MM and I are already dreaming of all the annuals we’re going to start from seeds next year. With the price of plants at Lowe’s, this structure will pay for itself in no time.

As for today, I’m turning my attention to gutter repairs. A company is coming to give me an estimate a little later this morning. They specialize in gutter filters to keep your gutters leaf and clog free. If you buy their product, they will include gutter repairs. I find it interesting that there aren’t more gutter-repair companies in our area. This seems to be the only one. I have a feeling, when I hear the price, it will encourage me to practice my ladder skills and figure out how to repair them myself. Such is the life of the homeowner.

Whatever you do today, take a walk around your house and see what improvements you can fit in before Autumn is upon us. Only 54 more days remain until the Autumnal Equinox on September 23rd. Take care that your animals and plants have plenty of fresh, cool, water, and while you’re at it, stay hydrated yourself!

More tomorrow.

A military chaplain once created a “Worry Table” based upon the problems men and women brought him throughout his years of service. He found their worries fit into the following categories:

• Worries about things that never happened — 40%
• Worries about past, unchangeable decisions — 30%
• Worries about illness that never happened — 12 %
• Worries about adult children and friends (who were able to take care of themselves) –10%
• Worries about real problems — 8%

According to his chart, 92% of all our worries are about things we can’t control — things that are better left alone to solve themselves. The truth is , anxiety multiplies when these worries are our focus.

For people of faith, we sometimes forget He is big enough and caring enough. He can help with our problems, giving us the desires of our hearts, while keeping our loved ones from harm. God is that awesome.

Once we remember his character, we can easily see how we worry for nothing most of the time. God is more than big enough and cares more than enough to help us, bless us, and protect us. Give your worries to Him and He will replace them with His peace. That’s what faith is all about.

_{(Inspired by God’s Little Devotional Journal for Women –Honor Books– 2000.)}

Time and patience heal so many things. In 1977, I spent some time working for a veterinarian. He had an interesting way of looking at illness and pets. According to this seasoned professional, 90% of illnesses in pets will resolve themselves with little or no human intervention. Of the remaining 10%, 75% of those will improve with intervention and 25% may be too ill or injured to survive.

So many times, frantic pet owners would call deep in worry, when, with patience and time, the animal would heal on its own. It’s the 10% of “What If’s” that nail us every time, either with our pets, or our own lives. Remember, if in doubt, alleviate your worries and call the vet.

Everyone wants a quick fix through the hard times. A magical elixir that will make everything better in minutes. An easy answer to the pain caused by our grief. There are just some worries that have no immediate answer. The journey through the wilderness of widowhood is a brutal one. There is no way to cheat time when you’re struggling through. When the sunshine breaks through for a little while, put down your load and rest. Take time to breathe. With patience, it’s one foot in front of the other. With perseverance you’ll make it to the other side in time.

Whatever you do this weekend, take time to unplug and enjoy some quiet moments. Remember, you’ve suffered a great many catastrophes in life and most of them never ended up happening. Try five minutes without worry. It’ll do your heart and soul some good! Tonight, Give It To God and Go To Sleep.

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

Living amidst the desert orchard of Winterpast, there’s been plenty of time to observe the other residents in the garden. Hummingbirds are quite happy that I’ve finally remembered to fill and hang their feeder. Brilliant yellow butterflies are resting awhile since the planting of the Butterfly bush in the spring. The birds have a lot to say about the place, singing their happy tunes. Even the wind chimes ding-a-ling-a-dong with the wind And then, there are the fruit trees.

This year, the yield has been abundant and of the highest quality. Totally organic, my apricots have no fungus or worms. Just bright, orange, offering the sweetest flavor in their firm flesh. All this beauty appearing in a few short months since the late snows of 2023.

The early apricot is quite the show-off. Coming on strong, this tree produced the largest apricots I’ve ever eaten. Like small peaches, really. An early variety, she made it through the crazy spring of snow and rain, holding tightly to her blooms. Turning them into fruit, she held onto each cot until it was all too much. In three days, she had nothing left on her branches. They all fell at once.

Just as her fruit fell, the fruit on the wise old apricot tree began to ripen. As this happened, her limbs began to sag. Her shape has been groomed over 20 years to produce a tree resembling the Hawaiian Banyan. She is now a smaller version of this magnificent banyan.

Her limbs are way too long to support much weight. As the summer days have past, I worried that she would snap a limb or two, changing her look. Having left my heart in Hawaii so many years ago, she is a little reminder of such a place waiting for my return.

The tree itself hosts so much life. She’s helped me with heavy thoughts during grief-filled days of healing . Her branches lift my eyes upward towards the brightest high desert sky. She brings birds and their happy songs to cheer me. And, she has given me beautiful fruit which holds the magic of this most beautiful season. Summer.

Her seasonal routine was a little different than her friend across the yard. Her fruit was smaller and more plentiful. Ripening at a more reasonable pace, I’ve enjoyed her fruit for two full weeks. Every day, I hope for the last apricot to fall on the paths around her. Her branches hold hundreds more and the harvest continues.

Life is very much like the seasonal journey of this tree. Love blooms in springtime splendor. During the spring snows and rains, some blooms become fruit, while others don’t make it through. All the while, the tree lives on. Through the summer, the crop ripens until the tree can hold it no longer. Released from the heavy burden, the tree enjoys the rest of the season, until fall.

Autumn leaves take their time dancing in the wind. Changing colors, they turn into things they’d only dreamed they’d one day become. October winds whisk them away to new places. The cycle is done and the tree can rest in peace until the next year, when the beautiful dance begins again.

Through it all, there are bound to be broken limbs. Disappointments. Spoiled fruit. Pests. Disease.

What kind of tree would you be if you could choose?

A fruit tree? An ever-green? A banyan on some sunny tropical beach?

This poem was given to me by my bestie, CC. It sums up the kind of tree I’d love to be.

Whatever you do today, remember, you’re the tree, not the fruit. Always know your branches are strong and capable, even in the strongest Zephyr winds the desert sends your way. You can carry your burden without breaking. The load will soon drop. Be ready. You have many more beautiful summer days to enjoy.

More tomorrow.

An old woman found herself dying of cancer. Her heartbroken husband came to sit by her bedside, deep in his own grief. Having shared a lifetime of beautiful days together, it seemed impossible that he would continue his life’s journey without her. Although he desired to be strong for her sake, he found he was unable to control his emotions and began to cry.

Focusing on the tears streaming down his face, she gently said to him, “Now honey, please don’t take on so. While I’ve been sick, I’ve had lots of time to think and know one sure thing. A moment of happiness is a miraculous gift, and we’ve shared a lot of happiness. Focus on those beautiful memories and find your smile when you do.”

Happiness doesn’t come wrapped in brightly colored packages as a gift given to us by others. Happiness comes when we uncover the gifts that lie within us and begin to use them to please and bless others. We each possess our own unique gifts. It’s our life’s work to discover what they are and put them to good use.

Happiness comes when we least expect it. It might lighten an ordinary morning while weeding the garden with a friend, or come on a common evening as dusk ushers in the night. It’s life way of smiling at us.

Happiness flows from within. It’s found in the moments of life we label as “quality” rather than “quantity”. It rises up in life’s greatest tragedies when we choose to smile at what we know to be good and lasting, rather than to cry at what temporarily hurt us. As the pain of loss changes over the years, tears morph into smiles as we share happy stories about those we love and carry close in our hearts.

Happiness also comes as we find ways to help others.

In the words of one very smart man,

“This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. Be a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can.

I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live.

I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I’ve got hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.”

― George Bernard Shaw

For heaven’s sake, don’t choose to be a feverish, selfish little cold of ailments and grievances. Be the splendid torch. Choose happiness.

The only person who can truly make you happy is yourself. You simply need to decide.

Whatever you do today, remember, the heart is the happiest when it beats for others. Choose happiness, one day at a time.

More tomorrow.

The heat is on here at Winterpast. Summer 2023 is proving to be a warm one, even after such a lovely beginning. Once it warmed up, it’s been desert hot.

Heat makes people do strange things. Listening to the news this morning, it was reported that contact burns are a problem now in Phoenix. Contact foot burns from hot pavement. MM and I were reminiscing about our respective desert childhoods in Nevada and California. When running barefoot outside, one would pick spots of shade and dash from one to the next. No problem. Our feet were like leather by the end of the summer. We suffered no burns. We were outside from dawn to dusk. Never any contact burns for us.

It might not have been the best idea to pour a greenhouse foundation on such a hot weekend, but the great thing is, it’s finished. Watching The Mayor and my MM get lumber, measure twice, cut once, assemble forms, and pour concrete over a two day period was amazing. The resulting foundation is curing at the moment. Then, assembly can begin.

There were great things discovered along the way. Water is easy accessible. This means a misting system, sink, faucets, and perhaps even some drip and emitters will be added to the plans. Pretty exciting to find the water line runs right under the new structure.

The greenhouse will be bolted to the foundation, added strength and stability. As it’s becoming a reality, the excitement is building. Just what will we grow there? How will it fit into our gardening plans? Not sure yet, but one thing is certain. We will have fun tinkering with it, making it part of the Secret Gardens of Winterpast. The more plants we add, the more its personality is taking shape.

As the men were working, I decided to start mapping the gardens, notating the location of water lines and emitters. To say this yard is complicated is an understatement. Buried drip lines snake this way and that, always seeming to appear right under the tip of the shovel. Covering 1/2 acre, there are 9 drip stations serviced by two different control boxes. It’s time I map out the property. For me and for any future residents.

As I was mapping flower beds, I found a good use for the phone app, “Picture This”.

With just the click on your phone, any plant is identified, along with requirements for growth. It will even tell you if the plant has meanings. I found that the crab apple tree in my yard signifies love, marriage, and fertility. Some plants are featured in their own poetry. If you find a plant you like, take a picture and send it to your library. Then, when shopping for new plants, you’ll know what to look for at the nursery.

I plan to map the entire yard with valuable information. It was fun remembering the names of the new rose bushes planted in 2023. “Happy Go Lucky” and her twin sister are yellow roses from WEEKS nursery. They haven’t stopped blooming for a second. The “Grand Dame” is taking her own sweet time. “Mr. Lincoln” is working on putting down roots before giving us many blooms. Some roses are taking longer than others to settle in.

Playing in the yard is one of the most rewarding things a grieving gardener can do. Making sure everyone has plenty of water and food. Placing plants in a spot with the correct amount of shade or sun. Worrying about insect and fungal attacks. In the garden, there is always something to keep the hands and mind busy. If you spend enough time and energy, the outcome is breathtaking.

Whatever you do today, consider a small place that would benefit from plants and begin. Map out a little big of heaven for yourself. You can always ask neighbors what grows well for them. Do a drive about your neighborhood and sneak a few pictures with your new phone app. You just might meet a new friend.

More tomorrow.

Small town life is found throughout our great country. People who choose to live in downtown New York City just couldn’t ever understand. Not anymore than I can understand how they can stand to live in Downtown-Big-City, Any State, USA. I almost get hives just thinking about the traffic, grumpiness, and fast pace of life in large cities.

Give me a Nevada style “Night-in-the-Country” any day of the week. Stars so bright it seems you can reach out and touch them. Nights so dark it’s hard to see your own hands, let alone anything else. Mustangs and their foals right along side the roads named after desert plants. There is nothing like small-town living.

Just this morning, with heavy wind warnings up for my area, I noticed the mustangs are down from the hills. With the heat, their water and food sources are drying up. They can always count on small-towner’s to help them out. I would imagine the battle with the horses will be intense this year.

These days, with such polarization in our country, small town people are being attacked for being good, kind, decent, honorable people who love country music. Weird. What happened to the Live-and-Let-Live, laid back feelings of the mid 1900’s? It would be lovely to return to the ways of those days and try it awhile. Yes. There were social problems back then, too. My memory just tends to drift towards the kinder parts of those times.

Last week, the Angel of the Aluminum Cloud and I enjoyed Tuesday Frolics. Such a day we enjoy when traveling to the biggest little city to the west. There’s never a lack of conversation. Sometimes spiritual. Sometimes philosophical. Sometimes, historical. Sometimes social. Always rich and interesting.

On that particular Tuesday, she arrived right on time. Springing out of her car, she announced that she had a little something for me. Opening her trunk, she produced the beautiful wall hanging and handed it to me! Absolutely the finest craftsmanship, she’d even remembered a hanging wire on the back.

The galloping mustang is a true wonder of nature to behold. I noticed a REAL lasso, a shout out to my love of Wyoming. Only the best place in the entire world, and her home for many years. A hint of barbed wire keeps things organized. Rusted barbed wire. My favorite condition of metals is rusted. Unless the metal is galvanized, which I love just as much.

I was so touched when I found out she had made this gorgeous piece just for me. She has access to a “junk” pile, although, nothing in this piece even began to resemble the junk piles I knew from the ranch. They looked more like this.

A little bit of this. A large piece of that. Scraps from projects throughout the years. All kept because, “You just never know……..” A ranch wife’s worst nightmare. The junk pile that just keeps growing and growing in hopes of a future purpose.

Anyway, Angel of the Aluminum cloud started explaining her art project. She KNEW I love the mustangs and had found the equine anchor piece, aged to perfection. The piece of lasso was, indeed, something they had from life in Wyoming. The barbed wire was added for a nod to Wyoming, as well. All mounted on fresh boards.

This was all amazing enough. But, being blonde, (even though the hair is grey, my roots will be forever blonde), I didn’t focus on the most amazing part. The street on which you’ll find Winterpast and me is named after one of the items in this art piece. Truly personal, well thought out, and heart warming!

That is small town kindness, thoughtfulness, and ingenuity. Things from the “Some Day” pile used to create something of beauty that will be appreciated for years to come. A handmade gift from one dear friend to another.

Whatever you do today, stop thoughts that might take you to a place of judgment or distaste. Just stop. Think of this instead. Live and Let Live. Unless its someone that threatens your very existence, just try tolerance. I going to take my own advice and try it too. Maybe New York City IS a wonderful place to live. I hope city dwellers everywhere have a wonderful day. As for me, I’m off to walk with the mustangs in the desert for a bit.

More tomorrow.

The internet is such an amazing place. There are so many great things to be seen, in the midst of the crazy world. A few years ago, I stumbled upon one such amazing park. There, a young man was playing his ukulele while other children played in the background.

Past time for a haircut like the other boys. His pants rolled at the bottom because he hadn’t yet grown into them. One little boy. One little ukulele with FOUR strings. Only 4. He was playing his very own composition on this little instrument, usually sold as a toy. The first time I saw this, I knew I would never forget his name.

Feng-E

As boys do, he grew a bit and went on to compete in a televised talent show. At just ten years old, he rocked the stage. Showcasing three different songs, he’d earned a golden shower of confetti, but he wasn’t done growing.

Through the years, I’ve watched him evolve as an artist. He started with a simple ukulele and quickly advanced to the amplified version. He also plays six and 12 string guitars beautifully. All while being in some sort of musical trance. Totally focused and in control of his instrument while delivering every time.

He’s been asked to duet with grey-haired professionals who marvel at his natural talent. A true child prodigy, he never missed a beat when playing with Tommy Emmanuel in the following duet.

Not really being a fan of hard rock, I enjoy listening to his softer pieces. Sometimes it seems like the camera can’t even record all his finger movements. His concentration and awareness of the old musician is amazing at such a young age.

On this Friday morning, look for something wonderful to watch on the internet. Ignore bad news about heinous crimes. Use this wonderful tool to enliven your spirit. Listen to some great music, taking time to focus on the notes and the way they are delivered. Remember, Artificial Intelligence, (AI — Remember, that’s two letters according to our AI czar), will never, ever replace human creativity and talent unless we forget to applaud talented child prodigies. Go forth and prosper, young Feng-E.

Have a great weekend. I’ll be back on Monday!

Farm girls are no strangers to harvests. Some years are heavy with disappointment, and some years are bountiful. This year, with the perfect weather, the entire region is experiencing huge fruit crops. The plums are ripening next, followed by peaches and nectarines.

I’m dealing with the second harvest of the year. The first tree dropped the entire crop in less than four days. My “Banyan apricot” is takin her sweet time, giving me a couple buckets a day. Just enough to keep my attention on using as many as I can. Truly, there is only so much one old woman can harvest alone.

Reviewing the past four seasons, there are been two harvests and two years without any crop at all. The barren years were hit with frosts and snow during bloom. The uncertainty of desert fruit makes a bumper harvest all the more precious.

The Mysterious Marine has his own harvest of garden vegetables. The potatoes are plotting, not yet revealing what’s hidden just beneath the surface. The garlic and onions are almost ready for harvest. The purple bell peppers are taking their own sweet time, while the cherry tomatoes have almost outpaced their biggest garden pest. Me.

With all this produce, it’s hard to keep ahead of recipes to use these things. Especially the apricots. I’ve used the following methods, and the tree is still loaded.

Apricot Pie – 1

Apricot Jam — 28 jars.

Canned apricots — 16 pints

Dried Apricots — 5 dehydrator trays.

Apricot Leather — to be attempted this weekend.

Apricot Galette with Cream Cheese and Pisatachios– new recipe for tomorrow night

Apricot Jam over Turkey Roast — Winner-Winner Turkey Dinner

I’m losing the fight. Last night, I raked up and disposed of pounds of fallen apricots, full of ants and bugs. I’ll battle on today.

Offering the excess fruit for the picking, I’ve called the Mormon church. Neighbors. Church Sisters. Finally, Ninja Neighbor and her friend, Grasshopper, came over last night to take a few off my hands. I met young Grasshopper almost two years ago at a neighborhood garage sale. To say he is impressive doesn’t even cover it.

“I can help you with whatever chores you have!” he said last night, beaming through clear eyes and a wide smile. I’m not sure of his age, but his heart is so pure.

“Are you saving up for something special?”

“Yes. I want to buy a dress for my mom.”

Okie-Dokie, then, I need to find some jobs for this guy. He’s the real deal. Ninja Neighbor keeps him pretty busy. Just yesterday, he helped her thin her apple tree (Hmmmmm. My apple tree is as loaded as the apricot tree.) He sliced apricots for her dehydrator. He tends her garden. Yes. I need to think on this and become a client. Quickly. He’ll soon be booked up!

As Ninja Neighbor, Grasshopper, and I picked apricots, I thought about the blessing of great neighbors. People of faith. Solid neighbors that are there, day or night. Fence neighbors that always have time to visit. Neighbors who will come to get some fruit during a bountiful year. Ride or die, neighbors.

We decided that a September block party is something we all need to welcome the new neighbors to our hood. There are many moving in. A BBQ will be a great way to meet the new folks. Ninja Neighbor, young Grasshopper, and I are going to think of this and make it happen. Welcome Home, 2023!

In this face paced world, it’s easy to hit the garage door button, drive in, and hit it again. Keep the curtains shut tight and live in your own little world. At times, the life of the hermit is necessary. But, there’s so much life missed by staying behind the front door. Get out for a walk and see what’s going on just down the street and around the corner.

Here’s the challenge. In the next week, meet one neighbor with whom you haven’t spoken. Just one. Even if it’s just a “Hello” and quick compliment about their yard. Make one contact. You just might meet a young man who needs work because he’s buying his mom a new dress.

More tomorrow.

Fieldtrips are always fun, even for adults. Yesterday was the perfect time to beat the heat and head 30 miles to the west to see something wonderful. Art museums are a great place to get lost in thoughts. Even though there were small displays in a very large building, Angel of the Aluminum Cloud and I walked away with lots to think about.

The clever sculpture of the mustang in the picture above was made of desert wood found in the surrounding hills where they live. Thinking about the fight that continues about the future of the mustangs, it seemed fitting the image was made of something quite dead. Although the statue had form, you could see through it to the other side. Almost like they were vanishing, which they are. Their days on the plains of Northwestern Nevada are limited. Horses and high density housing don’t mix. Sadly, the horses will lose every time.

Entering the museum, these colorful quilts, made of light and transparent strips of cloth, took the eye upward through the four floors of the museum. This was, itself, an art exhibit by a very talented seamstress. A perfect exhibit for summer days on the high desert plains. The exhibit gave life to an otherwise cold and sterile environment.

We had chosen this field trip after I recently learned of a fascinating combat troop of World War II. Known as the US Army’s 23rd Headquarters Special Troops, or Ghost Army, they used deception to fool Adolf Hitler’s forces.

According to Museum information:

“Ghost Army: The Combat Con Artists of World War II relates the unique story of more than 1,100 men who deceived, sketched, and painted across Europe to manipulate Hitler’s armies during World War II.

Activated on January 20, 1944, the 23rd Headquarters Special Troops, known as the “Ghost Army,” was the first mobile, multimedia, tactical deception unit in US Army history. Consisting of an authorized strength of 82 officers and 1,023 men under the command of Army veteran Colonel Harry L. Reeder, this unique and top-secret unit was capable of simulating two whole divisions—approximately 30,000 men—and used visual, sonic, and radio deception to fool German forces during World War II’s final year.

The unit consisted of a carefully selected group of artists, engineers, professional soldiers, and draftees, including famed artists such as fashion designer Bill Blass, painter Ellsworth Kelly, and photographer Art Kane. The unit waged war with inflatable tanks and vehicles, fake radio traffic, sound effects, and even phony generals, using imagination and illusion to trick the enemy while saving thousands of lives along the way. Armed with nothing heavier than .50 caliber machine guns, the 23^rd took part in 22 large-scale deceptions in Europe from Normandy to the Rhine River, the bulk of the unit arriving in England in May 1944, shortly before D-Day. The 23rd, along with the 3133rd Signal Service Company in Italy, helped liberate Europe from the grip of Nazi tyranny.

Produced by the National World War II Museum in New Orleans, this exhibition brings together archival photography, historical artifacts, uniforms, sketches, and life-sized recreations of inflatable military equipment used during combat.”

This mission was kept Top Secret for decades just in case it was ever needed again.

When I first read about this, it brought a huge smile to my face. Consider this. Bill Blass starting his career designing high fashion while sitting in fox holes fooling the Germans! The life size planes, tanks, and artillery were made of rubber. Only one full size tank made it out and is on display in at the World War II Museum in New Orleans. Everything else was burned when the missions were completed.

This group of a very few soldiers fooled the enemy with sounds recorded on wire. Regular recording tape hadn’t been invented yet. In a lab, different sounds were combined to make tracks of river crossings, tank movements, vehicle caravans, and soldiers moving along on their way. They were blasted throughout the night, giving the other side something to think about. Yikes. 30,000 Americans were moving in. It worked time and time again.

There are several great documentaries on this wonderful group. Search “The History Channel” and you can find out more.

Of course, as is the case in any museum, some rooms held me for longer than others. The original watercolors and pencil drawings of the Ghost Army Soldiers were so raw, you could almost hear bombs exploding in the background. Other’s, like the minimalist work of Ellsworth Kelly just made me shake my head, wishing I’d thought of it first.

These brave artists, although never in direct combat, saved thousands of American lives with their talents. The art they left behind remains a silent testament to wartime. Lovely in the saddest of ways.

I’ll remain our day for a long time to come. Museums provides personal experiences for each visitor. Artificial Intelligence will never be able to replace a museum experience. The actual uniforms adorned with medals behind the protection of glass cases are REAL. REAL wins every single time. I hope future generations protect our precious artifacts of times long ago.

Whatever you do today, think about visiting a museum in your area. See if there are new exhibits that might be of interest. Plan to stay awhile. Do lunch. Take a friend. If you’re lucky, your adventure might let you visit another time and place long ago. Priceless.

More tomorrow.

APRICOT JAM – 2023

That magical summer was stored on a shelf. Spring rains, zephyr winds, and the clickety-clack of random mustangs passing by. Back porch evenings enjoying the quiet. The soft touch of a shoulder’s brushing while watching TV. A frosty bowl of Vanilla Bean Ice Cream. A sweet goodnight kiss.

Richness beyond five pounds of sugar are preserved in those jars. Happy summer molecules hold memories of new roses and strolls through gardens. Their time is marked forever. The date memorialized in Sharpie on “BALL” gold. A luxury that can’t be bought.

Winter dinner guests will note the rich hue, similar to the orangish red of July’s dusky sunset sky. Resembling the intensity of a summer’s child resisting sleep.

The tongues of that December’s dinner-party will be enlivened by summer’s harvest, glowing like fireflies in a jar. The hues of that lovely summer are now saved for winter’s cold, by an old lady, canning in the kitchen. Summer’s magic, settled on a shelf. Joy’s Apricot Jam 2023.

_jhurt2023

Now, let’s get down to the truth about canning. It isn’t fun. It isn’t romantic. It’s hot, sticky, and a total mess. There you have it. My real feelings on canning.

Yesterday was a busy day. Before the sun was up, it was time to pick two buckets of apricots. Now, that doesn’t seem like a lot. In reality, these weren’t five-gallon buckets. Just buckets my Grandmother would have loved. She was always looking for a new bucket because my Grandfather would swipe the one she’d just bought. During the Mid Century 1900’s, buying a bucket was a big thing. Not a bucket from Japan, either. Made in America. And make it a nice. Grammie always had to have a NICE bucket.

Well, Grammie, I get that now. I have my favorites. These were now full of apricots and old instincts kicked in. Pit and cut the fruit. Boil the jars, lids, and rings. Measure the sugar and lemon juice. For six, tiny jars of jam. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat……………

Yesterday, I canned 28 jars of jam. The day before, 11.

Fruit left on the tree?

That’s only one spot in a huge limb.

My tree a mature, 20 year old apricot tree. It’s as loaded as I’ve ever seen. Rich, beautiful fruit that hasn’t been sprayed or touched in any way, except by the hand of God. A bountiful crop.

Now, what to do with this glorious fruit.

I’ve asked at church for takers. Crickets.

I’ve made one pie. 1/2 is still on the counter.

I’ve run out of jars and plan to buy more today to can halved-apricots for winter.

I’ll try my hand at drying some. Perhaps some Fruit leather?

If we enter another depression, I’m sure the products can be used for bartering.

One thing is for certain, by Sunday the apricot harvest will be over.

Make hay while the sun shines. Keep Calm and Can On.

Today, The Angle of the Aluminum Cloud and I are going West to enjoy some time together in the biggest little city we know. She’s the only REAL, TRUE, and HONEST fighter jet mechanic I know (Aluminum Cloud — fighter jet). A girl’s day to get caught up and compare notes on our apricot harvests.

Whatever you do, if asked if you need some fruits or vegetables, be kind and say, “YES!” with gusto. Take a few minutes and listen to my favorite story about excess produce. The end is priceless.

What a weekend!! Saturday, my MM and I have lived through the hottest temps of the year, so far. We’d both been watching the news about predicted weekend temperatures. For once the meteorologists guessed too low. The highest temperature since last Friday has been 112. We were expected 106-107. At any rate, it is very, very hot. (But it’s a DRY heat. LOL)

A few weeks ago, we visited a garden center new to us. Ninja Neighbor had raved about the owners, and, yes indeed-ee, she was correct. This crew loves their product and their customers.

That weekend, they were having a “Buy-Three-Get-One-Free” rose sale. If you’re into roses, you know that’s a great sale. I never thought I’d spend so much for one rose bush, let alone, buy three to get a fourth free. “WEEKS ROSES”. Ask your nursery to carry that brand. They are hardy, transplantable, and beautiful. Besides. They have cute names. Who wouldn’t love a rose bush named “Happy Go Lucky”. Winterpast is now home to two of those yellow hybrid tea rose bushes.

As MM and I chatted away at the register, my attention was drawn to a small sign.

“Garden Tour — July 15th — $25/per person —

Well, never had I ever. Neither had MM. We were guests #4 and #5. The associate at the register told us to return the morning of the 15th to get a map. There’d be prizes and refreshments at each home.

Saturday, we were early to the nursery to grab our map and off we went. Navigating through MM’s phone because my navigation system is persnickety, we visited six very different homes and gardens. My, oh my, oh my.

Using MM’s app, “Picture This”, (plant identification app — if you garden it’s a must), we saved many plants to his library for later purchase. We got ideas for raised beds. One gardener had planted a log that was adorable. There was one home that had seven bee hives, something we want to develop here at Winterpast. There were miniature donkeys and chickens along the way. At each home, snacks and ice cold lemonade were served. The gardeners were so kind and helpful, we hardly noticed the heat at all.

Of course, there were two mansions on the tour. Lovely in every way. One was river front, while the other was built in the middle of lush alfalfa fields because the owner just loved the color purple. Her husband obliged.

Stop #4 was a working, organic flower farm run by a woman and her daughter. Rows of straw flowers in yellow, white, and purple were ready to pick. We did step into a greenhouse to check out the summer temperature inside. With the ventilation she’s provided, it was pleasant.

The last stop was a visit with an 80 year old gentleman farmer, showcasing his mature yard of 30 years, complete with a beautiful waterfall and stream. Funny. One stop was nurturing the bees. At his house, the chemical of choice was the broad spectrum “Seven”, which kills over 500 insects, including bees. The tour had something for everyone, from the organic gardener to those that would prefer a sterile garden environment.

Happily, we returned to the garden center, as we had been told there’d be a surprise.

Homemade lunch was served riverside, on the lawn under the shade of trees by the owner of the nursery. Tomato Pie and fresh fruit with a Lemon Cloud topping. What a perfect ending to a perfect morning. If you haven’t tried Tomato Pie, try the recipe below.

Garden’s Gift Tomato Pie

Ingredients

• 1 (9-inch) pie shell (homemade or store-bought)
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 3 to 4 large tomatoes, cut in half horizontally, squeezed of excess juice (approximately 3 cups chopped tomatoes)
• 1/2 cup chopped yellow or red onion (about 1/3 onion)
• 1/4 cup sliced basil
• 2 cups (8 ounces/225 g) grated cheese (combination of sharp cheddar and Monterey Jack, or Gruyere or Mozzarella)
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
• 1 teaspoon Frank’s Hot Sauce or Tabasco, or to taste
• Freshly ground black pepper

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).Place the oven rack in the center of the oven.
2. Pre-bake the crust. If you are using a store-bought pie shell, follow the directions.
3. Salt and drain the sliced tomatoes, while pre-baking the crust.
4. Layer pre-baked pie shell with onions, tomatoes, basil. Spread the chopped onion over the bottom of your pre-baked pie crust shell. Squeeze as much moisture as you can out of the sliced tomatoes, using paper towels. Spread the drained sliced tomatoes over the onions. Sprinkle the sliced basil over the tomatoes.
5. Make cheese mixture, spread over tomatoes. In a medium bowl, mix together the grated cheese, mayonnaise, Tabasco, a sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper. Spread the cheese mixture over the tomatoes.
6. Place in the oven and bake at 350°F (175°C) until browned and bubbly, 25 to 45 minutes.

We were surprised with two $25 gift certificates, which were used to buy two more plants. All in all, the morning couldn’t have been better.

Never would I have believed this would survive in the desert until I saw one thriving in full sun. This plant is hardier than it looks.

With the temperatures hovering at 112 by late afternoon, the two plants will be living in kitchen until things cool off a bit. Funny. I’d love nothing more than turn my home into a jungle. MM’s house is already jungle-like. We share the love of gardening, which is lovely all on its own.

Today, Oliver and I are off on a western trek across the desert to the “Mop Shop”, where he’ll be getting his summer hair cut. Then, it’ll be back to Winterpast to deal with the 2023 Apricot crop.

Whatever you do today, research fun little events near your town. Farmer’s Markets? Garden Centers? Senior Center tours? When you start looking for fun, you’ll find every little town has something. Sometimes, its something grand, just waiting for you.

More tomorrow.

A writer’s best friend is often coffee. Writing in the dark of early morning, it’s surely mine. As darkness turns to shadows and then full sun, I sit clickity-clacking away while Oliver sleeps on his bed. He knows. We got to work every summer morning at 4:30 AM. There’s time for rest later in the day when the temperatures soar past the century mark.

Coffee is such a strange drink. I started drinking it my Freshman year in college. Over the last 50 years, there have been times when I’ve consumed a pot a day, and other times when I’ve gone a year without any. At present, the pot starts boiling each morning while I’m still half asleep.

There is a story about a young widow that I’d like to share on this beautiful Friday morning. It’s good to take a look at how we handle adversity, whether it’s something minor, or a biggee such as widow-hood. Think about it.

The Story of the Carrot, the Egg and the Coffee Bean

A young widow went to her mother to explain about the struggles of her new life as a widow. She didn’t know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired struggling each day. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots.

In the second she placed two eggs.

In the last, she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. Next, she pulled the eggs out and placed them on a plate. Finally, she filled two cups with the steaming java. Returning to the kitchen table, she placed the three things in front of her daughter.

“Tell me what you see,” were her words to the troubled young woman.

“Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” the daughter replied, punctuated with a significant eye-roll. With a knowing smile, she then asked her daughter to examine and describe the carrots. She did so, noting they were soft and mushy.

The mom then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it, pull off the shell, and share her observations about the hard-boiled egg. She did, telling her mom although the egg looked the same on the outside, the inside was now fully hardened.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter relaxed and released a smile as she tasted its rich aroma. They sat together for awhile, two women looking out upon the garden while enjoying the morning joe.

“So what’s your point, Mom?” The young widow had relaxed a bit, wanting to get to the bottom of this strange experiment. She needed her mother’s wisdom at this time in her life. Her mom didn’t disappoint.

Each object faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. If boiled long enough, it would’ve become mush.

The egg had started out as something fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected the liquid interior. After sitting in the boiling water for a time, its inside became hardened.

But those coffee beans found a unique way around the situation. Before they were boiled, they were hard and bitter. Not many people munch on a cup of coffee beans in the morning. After boiling, it was the beans that had changed the water.

“Which are you?” she asked her daughter. “Adversity knocked on your door and came right in. How are you going to respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean? You’re smart. You’re strong. You’re beautiful. Even though life is hard right now, it’s also as beautiful as the garden outside this window. Be brave. Be bold. Be yourself. But, always strive to be the coffee.”

I got to thinking about this analogy that the mother used and I had to ask myself.

Am I like the carrot that starts strong, but with adversity, wilts to a soft and mushy pulp?

Am I like the egg that starts with a malleable heart that hardens with the heat? When faced with a difficult trial – do I become hard boiled? Does my outer shell look the same, while on the inside a hard bitterness has taken control??

Or am I like the coffee bean, actually changing the hot water, the very circumstance that brought the pain in the first place. With hot water, the bean gives the best of itself to create something totally wonderful while simmering in boiling water.

When the hour is darkest and trials are at their greatest, how to handle adversity?

Be the coffee. Try your best to be the coffee.

On this beautiful Friday leading up to a fantastic weekend, remember to be the Coffee. May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy. The happiest of people don’t necessarily have the best of everything—they just make the best of everything that comes along their way. Be the coffee and carry on.

I’ll be back on Monday!

During the last week, I’ve been trying to deploy all the tips I spend time writing about. Grievinggardener.com went down last Friday. I’d been working on some writing, saved it, and decided to log on to the site like a normal reader. I just wanted to see what y’all see. To my horror, y’all were seeing nothing at all. All 780+ posts were missing. Only the titles appeared.

Blogging since September 24, 2020, I thought of all the words that were gone forever. I’ve always intended to print a hard copy of my work. Then, I’ve had the false sense of security that the days of printed work are long past. My words are safe in “the cloud”. For a time, there was no access at all.

I also enjoy seeing how many people read each day. Which blogs are the most popular? How many readers have I had since I started? (677,896). In which countries do my readers live? (Over 80, at this point.) Everything was zero-ed out.

For days, I enjoyed international travel time to Indian, Pakistan, and Malaysia. Taiwan and the Philippines. Who knows, maybe Beijing. Through the many countries to which I traveled by phone, no one could seem to identify that there was any problem.

“No, Miss Joy, all is fine. All working. No problem. Ask your technical advisor. They be back on Monday.”

Well, that didn’t work out too well, as I am my own technical trouble shooter. Probably how the problem started in the first place. It took many calls, and then, “POOF”, like magic, things started working again on Tuesday night.

With no blog on Monday and Tuesday, the alarm was sounded. If I were having a medical emergency, I know of four wonderful friends that would each send a posse of help. Please, never stop checking! Living alone is a precarious place to be. I so remember lying on the living room carpet just days before Christmas 2020. I’d managed to trip over Oliver’s dog bed, spraining my ankle in the process. With my “Help I Can’t Get Up” necklace hanging on my lamp in the bedroom, I was stuck for a bit and left to ponder my next move.

Miss Firecracker, The Goddess of the Central Coast, CC, and Angel of the Aluminum Cloud all checked in to make sure I wasn’t buried under the apricot crop. Please, never stop checking. Long days of heat and fruit picking ladders can be a bad combination.

Living alone can be a lonely existence. Those of us who do, know.

Don’t forget to keep hope alive.

H.O.P.E.

HOLD.

ON.

PAIN.

ENDS.

Accepting life “As It Is” has become the norm here at Winterpast. The “As It Is” part is includes excitement, fun, and love of friends and family. For this moment in time, I’m the most blessed woman in the world. I live on a street with real neighbors who sit in the front yard when they want to visit. Oliver has turned the corner into a real good dog. My Mysterious Marine is convincing me that I CAN cook some pretty good meals. God lives in my soul, making sure I’m safe and healthy. It just doesn’t get better than this very moment.

Hope and acceptance involve hard work. It’s difficult when you just want to pull the covers over your head and hide. It’s an uncomfortable, out-of-your-comfort-zone, in-your-face challenge that starts the very day you become the one that still has to move forward alone. The one who still has a Forever.

Whatever you do today, try something just a little different. Cook a new recipe. Even a new radio station can give you a different perspective. Focus on the positive. Forget the negative. Life is a beautiful journey. Don’t waste it.

More tomorrow.

The desert is a wonderful example of life not being as it first seems. To the traveler, it is a barren and forlorn place of loneliness void of meaningful life. If circumstances had been different, I never would’ve had the chance to understand the magnificence of this amazing place. Unforgiving, for sure, but also full of life and hope even on the hottest summer days.

Summer 2023 has been mild in comparison to the three others I’ve survived. The very minute the sun slips behind western mountains, breezes cool things down a bit. Before the next sunrise, the temperature drops to more comfortable level. Until now, some nights have almost been sweater weather.

I’ve found widowhood and loneliness to be a lot like the desert. At the worst of times, grief is as unrelenting as the midday sun. Just like the desert, relief is hard to find unless you learn how to survive. Even the hottest of days holds a sunset, when one can take a deep breath of relief. So is the journey through the wilderness of widowhood. Ups and downs. Good and Bad. Turmoil and Peace.

One year ago, sitting at my kitchen table, I’d just finished my morning Bible study. Loneliness had me by the throat as I sobbed. Where in the world I’d meet some new friends? Covid quarantine was over. I was a widow of over two years in a town that I still didn’t know very well. I had neighbors who were in different stages of life than I was. Many were shut-ins confined to the privacy of their own homes. Bird songs amid the gardens can only amuse one for so long. Through my tears, I prayed that God would provide new friends.

My day held earthly plans full of errands and chores. Through a very strange route, Jesus had other ideas. HE took the wheel of my Jeep and drove me straight to an answer.

The gardens of Winterpast, my lifeline, adding a few new plants would certainly make me feel a little better. On the way to the garden center, I remembered a little church just across the tracks across from Main Street. What if they had something to offer? I decided to follow the persistent little lightbulb going off in my head and stop by.

After parking and following the signs to the office, I entered. There, 14 women sat around a table, welcoming me with their smiles.

“Why, Hello! You’re just in time! Have some fresh pie! Here’s our study materials. What’s your name? Tell us your story.”

The time? 9:58 AM.

The starting time for the weekly Bible study group? 10:00 AM. God gave me two extra minutes to settle in.

Sitting in front of each lady was a sheet of paper holding one definition in very large font.

Friend \frend\ noun

Someone who gives you freedom to be yourself;

One of the nicest things you can have;

The best thing you can be.

Miracles often appear when we’re too sad to recognize them for what they are. That day unfolded into the miracle I needed at that very moment in time. Friendships formed then and continue to this day.

If you’re trying to kick the loneliness of widowhood, the only thing you can do is put one foot in front of the other. “Fake it until you make it”, as VST used to say. Get out and nose around a bit.

Whatever you do today, do something positive in the present moment, putting aside the negatives of yesterday and the worries of tomorrow. Life is a beautiful, wonderful journey. You Gotta BE! Sing it!! You Gotta Be!!

More tomorrow.

The heat. Oh, the drama surrounding the heat. How will we ever bear it? Yesterday, TV’s weather-children were wringing their little hands as they told of the hottest day ever recorded on the planet. Now, how they figure out the planet temperature is a puzzlement to me. Only interested in the temperature of my little desert town, yesterday it managed to top out at 93.

Last year, the high was 93. It’s summer and the mercury rises. Of course, I’m a product of the Central Valley of California where the temperatures can be above 100 from May until November. At that time, the tule fog rolls in bringing misery all its own.

93 in the desert is nothing to complain about, especially when waking up to a beautiful 71. It’s important not to forget to hydrate and use sunscreen. Then, there’s nothing to do but wait until Friday, 22nd September 2023 at 11:51pm when we get to enjoy another autumn. At this writing, that’s only 77 days, 18 hours, and 37 minutes away.

With the afternoons a little warm to enjoy the gardens of Winterpast, I decided the closet had grown into a project. How does this happen? Repeatedly. It’s time to purge. A few short months later, it’s in a bigger disarray. Mine is a walk-in-closet for one. This would have been a problem had the two people that bought Winterpast actually lived to move in together. Sadly, it was just me and this closet has major issues.

Sorting through my shoes, I had to laugh. Black Suede heels of varying heights for those unexpected dinner dates. (Black Suede and desert dust are not the best combo.) Sketcher “Da-Lites” for gardening. Sketcher’s “Go-Walks” for little hikes. Leather sandals. Sensible flats. Winter snow boots. Summer flip-flops. I really don’t like buying shoes, but when the size you need is 10.5 Narrow, you buy when you find something that fits, usually black or brown to go with everything.

Well, I was putting shoes back in their boxes when I came across a brand new box. Nestled inside lay brown suede hiking boots. A forgotten purchase, still sporting tags. Smiling, I remembered the reason they wait.

Santiago de Compostela. The cathedral sitting at the end of a very long walk.

According to Wikipedia, “The Camino de Santiago (Latin: Peregrinatio Compostellana, “Pilgrimage of Compostela”; Galician: O Camiño de Santiago),^[1] known in English as the Way of St James, is a network of pilgrims’ ways or pilgrimages leading to the shrine of the apostle Saint James the Great in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwestern Spain, where tradition holds that the remains of the apostle are buried.”

To have bragging rights to this trail, one must walk at least 70 miles of it. People take this walk for all sorts of personal reasons. They carry those reasons in their hearts as they walk through the Spanish countryside. Pilgrims have been taking this walk for more than a thousand years.

Two dear friends hiked it over 10 days, during which they found food and lodging along the way. Planning with a tour company, they didn’t carry anything but a small pack for water and snacks. Their luggage was waiting for them each day at the next stop.

This is quite high on my personal bucket list. Something I want to prove to myself. Something I want to DO in memory of VST. Of all the places we traveled over 32 years, we never made it to Europe. I’ll easily carry his memory in my heart as I put one boot in front of the other until I stand in front of this magnificent cathedral in Spain at the end of the journey.

If I’ve got you thinking, you can research this very pilgrimage on line. There are plenty of great documentaries about the journey. Travel companies that can help you plan to the last detail. According to my friends, the first day was the worst. 13 miles on Day One. After that? A piece of cake. They took 10 days. It could take as long as 20.

Of course, a seasoned old bird shouldn’t undergo this alone. MM is interested in joining me while carrying his own angel passenger. Although both VST and MM’s passenger are on the other side of heaven, they’ll come along. It’s for them, we’re planning to walk. Well, their memory and to honor the last days of my 6th decade in the summer of 2025. Now you understand the hiking boot situation going on in my closet.

The very first thing to remember is that you need to wear comfortable shoes. You may need a couple pair to make the complete journey. Pretty sure one pair of Merrill hiking boots will do 70 miles. The first mile of preparation began yesterday, as I strolled around my neighborhood sporting very stiff hiking boots. Quite different from the squishy Sketchers I’m used to.

I don’t know what I’ll learn about myself along the Camino. Not sure what kind of amazing miracles will be experienced. What kind of new foods we’ll eat along the way. How the stars shining in the Spanish night sky will watch over us as we sleep in cot filled hostiles full of other pilgrims. I just know I need to get in shape, because each day is one closer to our journey.

Hiking boots are a good thing to own. Even better when they get broken in. There are so many places to hike in our own back yard, here in Northwestern Nevada. Finding these boots hidden in my own closet made me remember that 67.5 years is not elderly. It’s just getting tuned up for adventure.

Whatever you do, remember this quote. As a retired teacher, it’s one I’ve never forgotten and remembered quite often. As for me, I’m off for my second day of training. I have a 70 mile trail to walk. Need to be ready.

“You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself any direction you choose.

You’re on your own.

And you know what you know.

And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”

― Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

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

Oh, I have days I lose the fight
Try my best but just don’t get it right
Where I talk a talk that I don’t walk
And miss the moments right before my eyes

Somebody with a hurt that I could have helped
Somebody with a hand that I could have held
When I just can’t see past myself
Lord, help me be

A little more like mercy, A little more like grace
A little more like kindness, goodness, love, and faith
A little more like patience, a little more like peace
A little more like Jesus, a little less like me

Yeah, there’s no denying I have changed
‘Cause I’ve been saved from who I used to be
But even at my best, I must confess
I still need help to see the way You see

Somebody alone and lonely just needing a loyal friend
Somebody with a tear I could have dried
When I just can’t see others in need
Lord, help me be

A little more like mercy, a little more like grace
A little more like kindness, goodness, love, and faith
A little more like patience, a little more like peace
A little more like Jesus, a little less like me

Oh, I wanna feed the beggar on the street
Learn to be Your hands and feet
Freely give what I receive
Lord, help me be
I wanna put You first above all else
Love my neighbor as myself
In the moments no one sees
Lord, help me be

A little more like mercy, a little more like grace
A little more like kindness, goodness, love, and faith
A little more like patience, a little more like peace
A little more like Jesus, oh, a little less like me
A little more of living everything I preach
A little more like Jesus, a little less like me
Oh, a little less like me

_{Written by Zach Williams – with a few changes by me}

Such beautiful words we sang in church last Sunday. Usually listening to Acoustic Chill Radio on Alexa, I hadn’t heard this song before. In my state of unusually happy days, the words grounded me. There is so much suffering in this world. Horrible, awful situations that are seasoned with evil and baked in struggles. As much as Winterpast provides one, I can’t live in a bubble and not use the gifts God has blessed me with for good.

A year ago, I started donating to three organizations. I’ll leave them nameless, because there are hundreds from which to choose. Their monthly amounts were so small, I haven’t missed them at all. But, my money with the money of thousands of others is building houses for war widows or helping parents with their sick kids. It’s helping Veteran’s get their lives back together.

Growing into the woman I was meant to be, I’ve been thinking about the next thing I have in abundance. Time. When retired, we have lots to share. Volunteers make the world a better place. I’m just figuring out where I might do the most good. Because that’s what it’s all about. Choosing the good and helping to create it.

Along with —

Mercy.

Grace.

Kindness.

Goodness.

Love.

Faith.

Patience.

Peace.

Trying to live everything I preach.

Whatever you do today, think of those words and what part they play in your life. As widow’s and widower’s, we need every one of them. They are gifts we need to give ourselves first, as we grieve the loss of our loved ones. With healing, you may find your heart has a little extra to spread around.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.” _{Galatians 5: 22-23 KJV}

More tomorrow.

Well, as promised, I’m reporting back over what was a most splendidly outrageous Independence Day Celebration along a dusty little wide spot in the road on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Make no mistake about it. Nevadan’s aren’t interested in some ridiculous drone show or replacing the 4th for any other day in any other month. Nope. Not happening here. We desert folk like us some old fashioned Independence Day fun!

Yesterday started early, with a pancake breakfast at the Masonic Hall here in town. In the 100+ year old lodge, the men made biscuits, gravy, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage. Grandparents got breakfasts for their littles while parents kept watch on jittery kids who just wanted to know when the parade would start. This was a place for locals to enjoy each other’s company.

Just outside, main street was clogged along the parade route with thousands. People began arriving the night before and camped along the route. MM overnighted his truck at the perfect spot so we wouldn’t be disappointed in the morning. From Alt 87 to the Round-A-Bout ( about two miles?) there wasn’t a parking spot to be found. Pop-Up tents shaded the more prepared of the visitors. The out-of-towner’s parked a mile away and walked in. The town was expecting 10,000 attendees yesterday. It seemed there were that many, or more.

In a last minute decision, Miss B, MM’s octogenarian mom, and her friend decided to join us. With MM’s brother and sister-in-law bringing their chairs, we made quite a lovely family as we waited for the Mayor to pass us by. In case you’re a new reader, the town’s Mayor just happens to be MM’s brother.

Now, it’s not every day while watching a parade that you can make it STOP to get a great picture with The Mayor. We did just that. Three brothers enjoying a great 4th!

The floats were old fashioned and lovely. The girls of the State Champion Softball League were all smiles as they threw candy to the children lining Main Street. There were church floats and car clubs. The only thing missing was a few men on horseback and the high school marching band. While watching all 60 entries march through a blocked-off Main street, everyone behaved. It was hot. Desert hot. Yet, there were no complaints. From the month old baby being passed from relative to relative, to our beloved Miss B, there were smiles all around. Patriotic in the most lovely way.

After the parade, it was off to Out of Town Park, not to be confused with In Town Park. Those are their true names, not something I made up, which is another thing I adore about my town. Under the shade of gigantic cottonwood trees, MM and I found a cool spot to sit and people watch. Again, it was very, very hot, but there were no grumps in the bunch. Just a happy day for happy people.

There was plenty to eat and drink, and of course, the Republican and Democrat booths. One was heavily visited, while the other sat empty in the corner of the venue. A DJ played a great mix of music, while a breeze helped cool things off to the low 90’s in the shade.

At 5PM, the most entertaining part of the day began. The Greased-Pig Contest, run by MM’s Nephew, a son of the Mayor. Between five brothers, their children, and grandchildren, the family has won more than 20 pigs over the year. MM, himself, took home the bacon on several occasions.

This year, the stars were some Hungarian Mangalitsa pigs. Big ones.

Have you ever?

The competition was fierce. First, it was the Fire Department against the Sheriff’s Office. Four men on each team faced a Hungarian Mangalitsa on the softball diamond. With the men one hand to the fence, the hesitant domesticated omnivorous even-toed ungulate was released on the field by four coverall-ed pig handlers.

“On Your Mark. Get Set. Go!”

And it was on! In the end, the Sheriff officer were quicker. They won and will keep the pig for themselves.

After that, it was boys against boys, girls against girls. No confusion there. Divided by age, 8 separate challenges were run. The adults needed to tackle and hold 90 lb. pigs. The younger kids chased piglets. No people or animals were harmed in the activity. The winner decided whether to take the pig home or trade it back for $75. Not a bad payday for under two minutes of effort.

Now, in case you were wondering, PETA didn’t show up and protest. If they would’ve tried, it wouldn’t have gone well for them. There were no injuries, not even a skinned knee. The pigs happily returned to their trailer to enjoy an afternoon snack, as peaceful as you please. I know, I found shade by the trailer and watched them a bit. Such fun on an All-American 4th of July.

Well, the day ended with the longest display of fireworks in Nevada. At least that’s what I’ve been told.

Sitting in the desert, surrounded by sage brush and tumbleweeds, with Venus shining over head, MM and I watched the desert sky change from an orange sunset to a deep blue-black night. Sitting with him, while listening the soft sounds of families waiting with us for the show to begin, my heart was full of so many feelings.

I’m so blessed with our friendship, almost one year old. I’m so lucky to have found a wonderful family with which to spend time. My heart is truly happy for the first time in a very, very long time. A moment of peace in life that I cherish as time ticks away. Life is truly beautiful as I enjoy “right now”.

I’m so very grateful to live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. My land, now. After nine years, I’m as Nevadan as they come. A desert gal. I don’t long for the vineyard tendrils of my long ago life, or the misty air of a Pacific beach. A beautiful desert evening in the most wonderful country in the world will do me just fine.

Whatever you do today, think about the richness of our American way of life. Not the new stories people are trying to make into historical reality, but the real history of our country and what it took to build it. Pioneers had no privilege when they settled the west. Until you have seen the west, you cannot begin to imagine the hardships they endured. It’s summer. Maybe it’s time for a road trip. The West will change you, I promise.

More tomorrow.

Today, the local news is buzz about the upcoming holiday! Finally, a day to celebrate our country without the threat of deadly viral outbreaks. Hard to believe that it was only three years ago that fireworks were canceled due to Covid. Now, how it could have been harmful to be out in the fresh air on a pleasant evening to watch fireworks is still a puzzlement to me. Happily, those sad days are behind us, for now anyway.

Of course, there are a million reasons the powers that be want to outlaw real fireworks altogether. Fire Danger. Explosive danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. So sick of girly-boys running the show when it comes to 4th of July. Get with it and blow up some beautiful fireworks. Big ones.

Our little town is humming with excitement about the upcoming activities. A town just to the East of us is starting off the holiday weekend with a Bronc and Bull Bash Saturday night at the local rodeo area. Nothing more American than cowboys trying their hand at keeping their seat on a wild animal for 8 seconds. One of my favorite things to do.

Having been raised as a farm girl, I can tell you one thing for sure. The bulls and broncs enjoy this as much as the cowboys and cowgirls do. Until you stand next to an animal of that weight and size while observing them for a bit, it’s hard to understand. These animals are tough. Their skin is thicker than the leather our purses and shoes are made from. They are ornery. Along with that, they’re the prize livestock owned by a very proud farmer. They get the best feed and veterinary care.

From the bull or bronc’s point of view, the 8 seconds is a mere irritation and interruption of time at the food trough. When watching some of the more famous bulls, I’ve come to the conclusion they look forward a change in their routine. After a ride, you don’t find them huddled in the corner in a mass of nerves. They always have the look that says, “You want a piece of this? Who’s next?”

After that fun evening, the countdown will begin towards the 4th!

The day will begin with an early morning pancake breakfast at 7, followed by the parade at 10.

Our church and the Mothers of Preschool-ers (MOPS) group are preparing a float for the parade.

Now, our local parade isn’t a little one. It stretches through the entire town, while thousands of county residents line the streets on either side. Our county boundaries surround over 2,000 sq. miles of high desert plains and mountains of which 2300 sq. miles are covered with water. A large percentage of the locals will show up on Tuesday to enjoy the day! MM is planning to secure us a spot with his truck. With a big umbrella in place, we plan to have front row seats as we watch all the entries stroll by. I’m sure there’ll be a long line of red, white, and blue following the lead of the town’s Sheriff’s car, and ending with another Sheriff’s car bringing up the rear.

Clowns from the Shriner’s, local business, churches groups, and service organizations will all make their way along the route. Horses will plop along and the poop scoopers will follow behind. Of course, no real parade would be complete without hundreds of pounds of candy to be thrown out to the kids. It’ll all happen on the 4th.

In the afternoon, there’ll be horseshoe throwing contest, a chili-cookoff, lots of food, vendors with the freshest treats, and a greased pig contest. MM’s family won this event for years and years, so he tells me. Many a year, he went home with the pig, himself. Although he won’t be entered, I would guess a few of his great nieces and nephews will participate. We’ll be there to cheer them on.

At dusk, the fireworks will light up the night sky. The county claims this very show is the largest and longest in all of Nevada. I wouldn’t doubt it. We plan to be there from the beginning of the celebration until the very end.

After the sparkling finale, there’ll be dancing until midnight. If there isn’t something that sounds enticing, I didn’t explain things correctly. This is going to be a wonderful celebration.

Somewhere in the middle, there’ll be time to visit with family and friends. Of course, we’ll eat way too much. Even with hats, dark glasses and sunscreen, the desert will surely be hot, the way the 4th of July is supposed to be.

Whatever you are doing this 4th of July, remember the reason for the holiday. Our country, with all it’s positives and negatives is still the best place in the world to live. I lived in Russia during the Cold War. I’ve seen extreme pollution in Europe and Mexico. I’ve crisscrossed 50,000 miles of this great land of States United. I would never choose another place on this great planet to live. We are blessed to call this wonderful land home. If you don’t believe me, travel abroad and do stay there awhile. When you come running back home, we’ll talk.

With so many things to ready, I’ll be pretty busy for the next few days. There’ll be brand new stories to share on Wednesday, July 5th. Have a beautiful holiday.

Spring temperatures are still hanging around even though it is almost the end of June. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. In the desert, it’s not often you can work in the yard all day without breaking a sweat. This has been an unusual year. Just this morning, my outside temperature was 59 degrees. Delightful.

Summer is the time to focus on sprinklers and a proper watering schedule. With MM’s help, we’ve got this handled. I’m happy to report that both Oliver and Wookie have outgrown their taste for drip emitters. With an abundant apricot crop hanging on the trees, they’re waiting for the first one to drop.

This time of year comes with a warning to pet owners. Apricot pits are considered toxic to dogs. After reading about this I found they would need to eat 10 of them to get in trouble. I would assume they would need to be chewed up, as well. Cyanide poisoning can occur. If you have apricot, cherry, or peach trees and pets, please watch their behavior.

According to the internet–

If your dog ingests cyanide, symptoms can begin as early as 15 minutes afterwards or may not begin for a few hours. Symptoms can include:

• Watery eyes
• Vomiting
• Drooling
• Right red mucus membranes
• Convulsions which can lead to death
• Aggression
• Bloody stools
• Spasms of different limbs
• Weakness
• Urinary incontinence
• Seizures
• Abnormal breathing
• Diarrhea

If these symptoms occur, get to the vet, immeidiately.

Now, that being said, animals are pretty smart. Oliver doesn’t eat the pits. Maybe this is because his throat is too small. He spits them out in nice little piles. He loves apricots and there are always a few on the ground. Of course, Oliver eats plastic solar lights and rocks, too. He’s not a normal dog. But then, we’ve established that.

With July 1st arriving on a Saturday, it’s the perfect time for some real gardening. Trim up limbs that are in the way. Remember any young trees and make sure they’re getting enough water.

The picture above shows the healthy base of a tree. The major roots should be apparent and spread away from the tree. If your tree is surrounded by plastic or garden cloth, trim it away from the base of the tree and mulch as pictured above.

If your plastic or garden cloth looks like this (as mine did), your tree isn’t very happy about it. It might try to commit suicide with girdling roots. Let your roots breathe. This also creates the perfect environment for destructive beetles and fungus.

As your roses are blooming, be sure to trim away the dead blossoms. If you don’t deadhead your rose, it will put energy into producing hips – these are rose seed pods. Deadheading means that the rose is instead encouraged to put energy into growing more flowers, keeping your rose in bloom and looking fantastic. Dead blooms can also be unsightly to look at, ruining the effect of the whole plant in flower.

Try to keep ahead of all the weeds. I’m enjoying the benefits of an early spring application of Preen, a pre-emergent. Use this only where you won’t be planting seeds. Sprinkle in the granules and then water. It doesn’t work for every variety, but it certainly does work for many. If you missed your opportunity, clean up the area and then apply.

As you enjoying your garden, no matter how large or small, look for those plants that aren’t thriving. It might be that a rose isn’t getting enough full sun, or that the Hosta’s are getting too much. Maybe your plant is getting overwatered or isn’t receiving enough. Check the underside of the leaf for insects or fungus. Slowly, you’ll get to know your yard.

If you aren’t sure what kind of plant you have, download the free app called “Picture This” on your smart phone. By simply taking a picture on the app, your plant will be identified, along with growing information. After watching MM use this app, we have yet to find an incorrect identification. Pretty amazing. Extremely helpful when gardening or purchasing new plants.

Some plants are not meant to grow in the environment they were sold. Our Lowe’s sells hydrangea and hibiscus bushes. Really?????????

Summer is the time for harvesting. With a bumper crop of fruit, MM and I are considering our options. We plan to can, freeze, and dehydrate a good portion of our crop. Family and friends can come pick some. Then, we might try selling our excess produce at the local farmer’s market. Next year, that may be a new source of income. The greenhouse will be fully functional by then.

Remember, it’s a great time to plan for next year. With the cost of everything going up, it’s nice to budget for major yard expenses. After three years as the head gardener here at Winterpast, I’m just now replacing missing plants. It’s been an expensive and time consuming endeavor to clean up, repair, remove dead trees, and trim the healthy ones. By planning a garden budget, it will continue to look better and better.

All these things involve lots of research. If you get stumped on a certain problem, don’t forget your local garden center. When driving around, look for plants that are thriving in your own climate. This year, you can’t drive a block without seeing another beautiful rose bush in full bloom. With the beautiful weather and daily rainstorms, it’s been their year, for sure.

Whatever you do today, enjoy nature’s beauty. Open the curtains and look up at the sky once in awhile. Enjoying a crisp summer morning is one of life’s little pleasures. Get out there. Your yard is waiting on you.

More tomorrow.

The sun is ready to rise this morning on my little piece of heaven here in the desert. Although the picture above isn’t my reality, it’s how I feel in the summer here in the Great Big Empty. My water bill is so high you would think I’m supporting a spread like that. On Google Earth, my house supports one of the few green spaces left. Xeriscaping is popular here. Such is life on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Xeriscaping (Zera’-scaping) is the process of landscaping, or gardening, that reduces or eliminates the need for irrigation. It is promoted in regions that do not have accessible, plentiful, or reliable supplies of fresh water and has gained acceptance in other regions as access to irrigation water has become limited, though it is not limited to such climates.

In my opinion, Xeriscaping is loved by non-gardening types. Here in my town, it’s taken to a new level. Entire lots are xeriscaped. With rocks. Zero plants. It does nothing for me. I need soft green lawn and my banyan apricot tree for shade.

After living on a farm for most of my life, in 2007, VST and I moved to a mountaintop in the foothills of California just below Yosemite. The gate to the National park was a 30 minute ride through majestic pine trees. Of course, Yosemite Valley was another hour’s drive. After the greenest of springtime’s complete with California poppies, there were summers full of waterfalls and autumns full of golden grasses and bronze oak leaves. There were four seasons, but they blended into one another in a non-stop symphony.

Gardening there wasn’t necessary, as the foothills provide the plants. A natural setting for oak trees, with pines just a little higher up the road. The deer would eat everything green, so there was no point in even trying a garden. It wouldn’t survive the wildlife.

Around here, most people have no troubles with destructive wildlife. Living on the fringe of civilization, as I do, we host the mustangs. For now, my gardening party is in the back yard. Until there is some sort of barrier to prevent the horses from munching in the flower beds, it’ll stay that way. Unplanned xeriscaping for now.

Here in the desert, when one season turns into the next, it’s definitely a new song. There are four distinct seasons, each with its beauty and difficulties. We’re just now coming off of the most mild spring in many, many years, and the gardens of Winterpast are singing right now. It’ll be interesting to see what tune they sing on Saturday when temps will reach 100.

This was the spring all my trees and plants needed. There are things blooming in the yard that I never knew I had. Yellow day lilies are going crazy! Thanks goes to my MM for working his magic on everything green and blooming. With heavy doses of Miracle Grow and Super Thrive, along with temperatures that haven’t yet reached 85, Winterpast is a true desert oasis, watered twice a day.

Gardening provides the opportunity to work through grief. Planting a garden is believing in tomorrow. From the tiniest seeds, miracles sprout. It is magical to watch.

This year, even yards that don’t receive the loving care they need are beautiful. It’s been the Spring of the Roses. They’re everywhere in every color. If people have rose bushes, they’re blooming like they never have before. Roses are the one sure plant that thrives in this desert environment. Give them enough water and watch out. They’ll take over.

MM has his own thing going at the bachelor pad just to the East. Harvesting strawberries every evening for ice cream sundaes, he is the one with the real green thumb. In his garden, the zucchini are ready to pick. Russet potatoes were harvested over the weekend. (Fresh produce is something just this side of heaven). His tomato vines are covered with cherry tomatoes. He’s got a great crop of garlic and onions. Three varieties of grapes cover his fence. All these are watched over by trumpet vines. I haven’t even begun to mention his flowering plants.

Between the two of us, our water bills are as much as a mortgage. We try to justify the amount we spend to keep our two patches of green alive. Here’s the deal. We don’t gamble, except when deciding whether it’s too early to plant our crops in the spring. We don’t drink, except for ice cold water while weeding on a warm day. We don’t travel much, unless you count the many trips to the garden center for supplies. No need for therapy, as gardening under the bright blue Nevada sky provides all we need. Water and plants are our vice. On that, we are in lock step.

Not all is sunshine and lollipops. This week, the aphids are after the new roses. It’s time for a dose of some insecticidal soap. The apricots are as big as I’ve ever seen in my life. When the crop hits, it’ll be time for canning, dehydrating, and sharing. Oliver will have plenty to keep him busy. The pits of apricots are dangerous for dogs. He somehow figured that out. He spits them out in tidy little groups of six or seven. Funny how he already knew.

After the apricots, my plums will ripen. MM’s nectarines and peaches will be ripe for the picking. We’re considering getting a table at the Farmer’s Market to sell our excess. We’ll have plenty.

The pieces for the new greenhouse are awaiting assembly in the RV barn. There’s a foundation to pour first. Things have been busy around here. How was there ever time for an outside job? The gardens are a full time job all on their own.

Whatever you decide to do today, go outside and water something. Choose your favorite plant and really take time to nurture it to see what happens. Gardening is such a healing hobby. If you’ve never tried it, start small. Lowe’s offers a money back guarantee on plants that die, even if it wasn’t their fault. You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Give it a try.

Owning a home is one of life’s sweet privileges. Over years of patience and loving care, the mortgage becomes smaller. Our home comforts us in time of loss and grief in a place filled with memories of happy times with loved ones. But, make no mistake, ticking time bombs await us like hidden land mines. Our appliances and plumbing. And so begins the tale of two dishwashers.

The dishwasher of Winterpast is an amazing machine. Installed new in 2020, it has settings of all kinds. It even has a setting for washing baby bottles of which I have no need. Gleaming stainless steel, both inside and out, it worked fine until two months ago when it stopped. Just like that. It hummed but refused to do anything else.

As a widow, the worst feeling occurs when something big breaks. Roofing, electrical, and plumbing are things I know nothing about. Along with the lack of knowledge, I’m limited in my strength and the ability to be on ladders. Each day that nothing goes wrong with the roof, plumbing, or electricity, I’m grateful. As a widow or widower, we are often left alone to figure these things out. As a widow, we are at the mercy of repairmen who know we might not know.

Widows and widowers everywhere. Before you call any repairman, google some information. YouTube is full of helpful videos for small fixes. At the very least, learn some terminology so that when the repairman tells you your flubbermagee has exploded into the thingamajigger breaking the twixbiscuit, you will know if HE knows what he’s talking about. And so my story continues.

Over the last ten months, I’ve been blessed with my Mysterious Marine’s knowledge about most household problems. Up until he died, VST was “the guy”. When you’re lucky enough to know “the guy”, you don’t need to CALL “the guy”. Calling “the guy” is costly and, on some occasions, creates more trouble than you had in the first place.

I’m pretty happy with my home warranty at this point in life. An insurance policy, it covers every appliance in the house, and a few outside. After an annual fee, if something breaks, there’s a $125 service fee. Period. If your appliance is no longer repairable, you get a new one. Over the years, home warranties have replaced my garage door opener and fixed many air conditioning compressors. Pretty good thing to have at this vulnerable stage of life.

In May, my dishwasher stopped working so I called the warranty company. Within a few days, a repairman was in the kitchen letting me know that the mother-board in my three year old GE dishwasher was fried. Toast. Not repairable. He’d need to order parts and return at a later date.

I forgot how nice it is to prepare a meal, wash the dishes, and have a clean kitchen afterwards. Totally clean and ready for the next meal. No dishes waiting to be washed in the stainless box. In the beginning of this ordeal, I didn’t mind washing the dishes at all. It reminded me of simpler times. But, that was in early May. It’s now late June. The bloom is off that rose. There’s nothing romantic or simple about washing dishes after cooking a meal.

Throughout May and June, I made weekly calls to the warranty company, each time being reminded about problems with the supply chain. I was surprised they didn’t blame Covid. Two parts were in, one was coming. Soon, they promised. And so, the ritual of dishwashing continued.

Finally, the day arrived. Yesterday, the nicest repairman arrived with three parts to make my dishwasher whole again. But, there’d been leaks. Now, the floor has warped because of those leaks. Two problems for the price of one. BUT, the dishwasher is working. A win!!!!!

I was so excited, I invited my MM over to enjoy Taco’s. I’d cook, and then put all the dishes in the dishwasher for the first time in almost two months!!! We’d celebrate!!! And we did just that. A lovely evening it was!

My MM awakes each morning at 5 PM to enjoy peace and quiet in his bachelor pad. A simple routine shared by humans everywhere. Enjoying that first cup of steaming coffee we all love to enjoy in the safety of our own home. A time to slowly wake to the day. A favorite time of day, UNLESS…………….

“Joy. You won’t believe this. Something leaked last night. Water is everywhere. I think it was the dishwasher.”

When one thing’s fixed, the next breaks. Such is the life of the homeowner. Double that if you’re dating someone that also owns a home. Groundhog Day of the dishwashers.

Whatever you do today, if nothing is broken in your house, dance a bit!!! If anything in your house is leaking water, prioritize and get it fixed. Leaking water is one of the most damaging things we can have in our homes. Small leaks lead to BIG problems.

As for me, I’m off to help my MM sop up his kitchen. Being “the guy”, he’ll have this fixed in no time.

More tomorrow.

Whatever you do today, try something totally different. Think about all the tomorrows you have left and plan a little adventure all your own. You just never know what you might find, right around the bend.

More tomorrow.

Today, my MM and I are Celebrating the Life of a native Nevada son, gone too soon.

Whatever you do this weekend, make sure it involves good food, upbeat music, and some sunshine. Enjoy the first weekend of summer and live a little.

I’ll be back on Monday.

First things first, this is NOT an accurate picture of me. I have no piercings and don’t wear earrings.

I do, however, love polka dots in the summer time. With the Summer Solstice 2023 passing yesterday, I need to find my collection. Summer will arrive someday. When it does, we’ll go from our costal-like spring to desert bake. All in one day, most likely. For now, we’re still in the mid-70’s this week.

I need to get some things off my chest about Oliver. Sneaky little brat. After reading yesterday’s blog, I must agree. Every story has two sides. Let me tell you a little about mine.

Oliver came to me through God. There is no other explanation. VST and I looked and looked for months for the right dog. A few days before Christmas 2018, I found this little picture of Oliver on the internet. What a porky little DORK!! All his brothers and sisters had been snatched up, leaving him to hang out alone.

How much trouble could one little dog be? Really. He was 12 lbs. when we met him on Christmas Day in the parkin lot of a huge casino. With snow everywhere, I couldn’t even watch him walk. From the breeder’s arms to mine, into the truck, and home. On our long drive up the mountain sat one very scared being, trembling at the thought of the unknown.

I settled down by the time we arrived home.

Oliver grew up on the side of Mt. Davidson in Virginia City, Nevada. He looks a lot like the character, Falcor on the movie, Never Ending Story.

After 4.5 years together, I know some things about him and he knows some things about me. I have learned to accept his shortcomings, which are more than just his 4″ legs. On most days, we get along pretty good. But, no mistake. Oliver is a difficult dog. Sneaky. Stubborn. Persistent. Cunning. Adorable. Loveable.

It’s the adorable and loveable parts that keep him here at Winterpast. There are days when I wonder why I torture myself with this untrainable hound. Many days……… Through his puppyhood, it was MOST days.

Early on, I came up with the 3/4 plan. 3/4 of the time, I’m on call as HIS pet. I’ll do whatever he needs to remain happy. I’ll attempt to train him, while becoming more trained myself. I’ll be patient and loving. I’ll do my best to be a good dog mom. One week a month, Oliver must go have some fun at puppy camp for his mental health and mine.

Extreme? There IS something extreme about this. Life with Oliver 3/4 of the month.

Oliver comes when he wants. He might sit, but it’s hard to tell because he is so close to the ground. He pees outside, but only because he likes too, usually on the patio. He barks whenever he feels the need. He loves stealing things only to hide under the dining room table, where he’s quite safe. He has learned to beg effectively and incessantly for anything he wants. He attempts to counter surf, but so far, can only jump about four feet in the air from a standing position. Oliver is ON much more than he is OFF. It can be exhausting.

Sunday, as he told you, he disappeared. So many things run through one’s mind when their dog runs away.

WHY???

Was the dog food not tasty?

Not enough treats?

More ear scratches needed?

Or, is there just no brain matter in that little skull. Just the will to follow a scent.

With Oliver, the last thought is probably close to the truth.

In those 90 minutes, I did think about life without Oliver.

Peaceful.

Non-stressful.

Freedom to go without planning for him.

No hidden poop to step in.

No responsibility for another life.

As the minutes ticked away, my inner voice was becoming louder with one dreadful thought.

NO MORE OLIVER.

Oliver is draped with my phone number. He has his Rabies tags with his vet’s number. His collar is stitched with his name and phone number in bright yellow letters. Another tag hangs around his neck giving all necessary information. If someone found him on a day he went exploring, they’d call. They might be sucked into his cuteness for a moment, but, make no mistake, within 24 hours, they’d pay ME the reward to take him back.

By minute 89, while creating a “Missing Dog” post, my heart was breaking at the reality of his absence. Oliver is really a good match for me. He might not be as stupid as he is creative, giving me something to worry about. He certainly has stepped up to the plate when it comes to being a Grieving Gardener’s partner. He lost VST, too.

When Oliver was found in the garage by his new best friend, MM, there was a celebration. He zoomed around with Wookie and immediately begged for a Greenie. He went outside to water the flowers and came in for a bite of dinner. Finally, he came, and for a very long time, snuggled next to me on the couch. Two old friends that need each other. Two best friends that have a complicated relationship.

Since being locked in the garage, Oliver has turned over a new leaf. Just a few weeks from his 5th birthday, he is taking life a little slower these days. Not as many immature antics. He still goes crazy when Wookie is around, but only to show off a little. Then, it’s back to the new Oliver. The one that really likes his naps.

As for me, each day I’m more appreciative of this little roommate of mine. I need to help him out a bit. After all, life without thumbs is a beast. I’m his ride to visit Wookie because he’s way to short to drive himself. I know how he likes his breakfast and dinner.

That sums up my side of the story. All’s well that ends well. As Joni would say, “You don’t know what you’ve lost ’til it’s gone.”

Whatever you do, do something extra for your pet. Five minutes extra with the ball. A few extra pats for being good. A extra snuggle now and then. If they could only talk, eh?

More tomorrow.

Good Morning,

I’m Oliver. I’ve heard there are lots of stories about me floating around the web. To set the story straight, I thought I’d wake up for a little while and let you know the truth about what goes on around here. I’m a 4 1/2 year old standard cream piebald wirehaired dachshund. If I let myself go, I can look like this.

Except that I have a liver-colored nose AND green eyes. I can get a lot by begging with my eyes. Have you heard about my MM? Well, he’s really a softy. I’ve trained him to give me treats after meals when I’m around. My girlfriend, Wookie, and I have that dialed in.

My favorite things include my frequent trips to puppy camp. Mom-Oh and I are so excited when it’s my time to go. Melissa, my friend there, always has great activities. I get to swim. Sometimes we even take pictures and I pose really cute. A couple of weeks ago, there was huge summer storm and Corine let me play in the rain. I always have fun at puppy camp.

Life around Winterpast is pretty cool. I let Mom-Oh think she makes the rules, but we both know I have her trained really well. She never forgets to prepare my food twice a day. When I stand at the pantry door, I get a Greenie. I have bones hidden all over the house. I try to keep them hidden because Mom-Oh trips on stuff. I want you all to know I really try hard to be good.

Sometimes, there are smells and sounds that are so interesting, I need to follow them. When the garage is open, I can’t help it. I just love running across the street to visit the neighbor’s house. This upsets Mom-Oh, but, a dog’s got to do what a dog’s got to do. There might be badgers over there. Or TOADS. I LOVE toads.

Father’s Day, we were hanging out with my MM and Wookie. It was a great day. Wookie and I were “behaving”, whatever that means. Late in the afternoon, Mom-Oh had to go out for a minute and my MM was making dinner. I was more interested in the kitchen than the front door and stuck with my MM. Like glue. Like a shadow. He’s the best guy in the whole world. Wookie and I both know that. I guess Mom-Oh thinks he’s okay, too.

Anyway, there was chicken involved. I love me some chicken. My MM took a package and left the kitchen so I followed him. I mean, who wouldn’t.

C-H-I-C-K-E-N.

A few minutes later, Mom-Oh came back.

Now, I couldn’t hear everything, but let me tell you something. Mom-Oh was talking some smack about me. Yes she was. She might have even said some bad words. Something like, “How could he?” “He’s in trouble” She even said I was “ungrateful”. Yikes.

Mom-Oh and my MM started calling my name all upset-like. Well, I was right there waiting like a good dog. I heard them clapping and my MM was even whistling. I like it when he does that. It means, “Come quick, I have something to eat.” I waited like a good dog. My treat would taste so good.

After the front door closed, their voices got really, really far away. There were other voices, too. Like a lot of other voices. Kind of a party. Everyone was calling my name in funny kinds of ways. Wow. People are sure stupid. I was right there waiting for them and getting ready for some kind of treat. There was nothing else to do but take a nap until they came back. And, finally, they did.

Mom-Oh was telling on me to T and K. She was tuned up now. Something about me being the last dog. Well, let me tell you, I hope I am. Mom-Oh and I are a pair. Wookie is a great friend, but we can’t get carried away with any other dogs. Wookie and I have it pretty good the way it is.

Well, it was over an hour now. Even though Mom-Oh was sure mad, I could tell her heart was breaking. I know her pretty well, since we’ve been together 4 1/2 years now. We’ve been through some stuff together. I was getting worried, too. It was dark and I was ready to play with Wookie. Where was she? I wouldn’t bark because we’ve been working on “NO BARKING”. So, I waited quietly in the dark.

All of a sudden, the door by which I sat opened and it was my MM!!! My hero!!!!! I ran out of the garage so darn fast.

WOOKIE!!!

MOM-OH!!!

Where have you all been? I just followed my MM into the garage to put the extra chicken in the freezer. I thought he’d give me a treat for being a good dog. But, instead, I got trapped in there.

Well, Mom-Oh was pretty happy. She hugged me a bunch. She kissed me, too, on the top of my head. My MM gave me another treat!! Wookie and I did zoomies to make everyone laugh. Everyone was extra happy to have me back. I don’t get it. I was just waiting by the door the entire time.

I heard poor MM tell Mom-Oh he walked six blocks. I wonder what’s there? I might have to find out the next time we visit him. The neighbors all know what I look like now. I heard Mom-Oh and my MM tell them. It’s nice to be loved.

So, whatever you do today, remember two things. You can get a Greenie if you look really, really cute and sit nice. It’s all in the eye contact. And, if you follow someone for chicken, make sure you don’t get locked in the garage. It just makes everyone happier that way.

Thanks for reading.

Signing out,

Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall of the High Desert Plains of Northwestern Nevada

The cutest wire formed into words hangs over my kitchen table. I put it there so each and every day I can remember my best friend, CC. She’s the one that gave it to me as a housewarming present three years ago. Two words. “CHOOSE HAPPINESS!” That’s something everyone in the world needs to do right now. Just sit down and be truly grateful for the blessings in our lives. Face it. No matter the trials we face, we all have an abundance of things for which be thankful.

You can’t buy a jar of “Happy” through Amazon. The biggest jackpot at the local casino won’t do it. Even living in the best house on the best street in the most wonderful desert town won’t do it. It sprouts from within. Very quietly at first.

Happiness strikes a chord in our heart when we find THE ONE THING we are supposed to do with our lives and do it. I’m finally healed enough to go on with my journey. MY ONE THING used to be teaching. It was my passion. A fire that never went out, but instead, was dwarfed by the flames of grief, sadness, and loneliness that’ve consumed me over the past two years. The time is now to search for new gifts and talents.

No one can leave a box of happiness on your doorstep. It doesn’t appear with prideful demands or expectations. It just happens.

There’s no measure to tell you when you’ve found enough. Like painting, a small stroke turns into a smear and pretty soon, everyone who sees you knows you’ve been painting the hallway. You might not even see it at first. Internal happiness oozes out like that and friends begin to notice a change.

“This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.” _{George Bernard Shaw}

Now, isn’t that is just the best quote ever? “Feverish Selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy?” I just love that.

I intend to be thoroughly worn-out before I’m thrown into the scrap heap.

I refuse to waste another moment as a “feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making me happy”.

I choose to be a force of nature.

What affirmations! The only person who can turn on the happy is me. It’s a choice.

A year ago, I had the most wonderful lunch with three couples and a mom and daughter. Each individual couple carried heavy burdens. One couple would enjoy their mother on this earth only a few more days. One couple shared only three legs between the two of them. Everyone had scars from Covid. I was the “Plus 1/2” that no one wants to be. Each one of us had reason to dominate the table with tales of woe. But we didn’t choose to do that.

Instead, there we sat after church, brand new friends enjoying each other’s company. For two hours, we laughed, enjoyed our meal, and got to know one another. Even the teen daughter, who had ever right to be very unhappy due to the 50 year age difference between us, added humor to the lunch, enjoying little conversations with everyone at the table.

The man that had the best attitude of all had just had his leg amputated a few months before. With an infectious attitude of kindness and gratitude, he had us all laughing with his amazing stories during this most special lunch. It was an afternoon I will remember.

So, make a choice today. As VST would always say, “Fake it ’til you make it.” We all have our “somethings” that are unpleasant and painful. If we truly take inventory, we’ll see that the basket that holds our “beautifuls” overflows into a colorful puddle that can look a lot like happiness.

More tomorrow.

Some Saturdays are perfect for a picnic. The breezes keep the flies away, while beautiful clouds float across the bluest Nevada sky. Saturday was just that kind of day. Rather like it was special ordered, just like the wool puffs that were served to the brave. But, I’ll get to that in a minute.

Although this photo shows a handful of people, let me assure you, this event was sold out. 1500 attendees gathered to show there support for a young presidential hopeful. Not that he might have been everyone’s first choice, but, he certainly is an interesting guy. Young, handsome, a good dad and husband, and one heck of a governor. This guy has a bright future ahead of him. 1500 of us wanted to hear more from him.

Although the event officially started at 10 AM, MM and I left our town at 7. World travelers come from all over the globe to see the beauty we sometimes take for granted. Driving west through the high desert plains, we passed herds of wild mustangs towards the Sierra’s. The Eastern Sierra Nevada mountains are my happy place. Different in every way from the Western slope, the highest peaks are still covered with deep snow after this crazy winter. The runoff from this year alone could fill our reservoir three times and still flood the surrounding land. The Sierra’s haven’t looked like this for awhile. Switzerland-ish.

In the picture above, the tallest peaks surround Lake Tahoe and Heavenly Valley Ski resort, and others. This event was held at a historical cattle ranch that can be rented for such shin-digs. I was disappointed there weren’t more farm animals in attendance. Probably scared off by what happened to the lambs.

Wool Puffs.

“Wool Puffs” is a phrase I coined and you can’t have it. Normally, they’d be called Rocky Mountain Oysters. On Saturday, they were called “Lamb Fries”. The technical term is “testicles”. Yes. A side dish made from the the south end of male lambs, battered and deep-fried. Usually found in pairs. Crunchy batter with a center the consistency of liver. Not much taste. There is nothing about this that tastes like chicken, just so you know.

I didn’t stand in line to get my serving of one testicle. That’s all they were giving out. Even at one per attendee, it took 750 little lambs to feed 1500 guests.

Of course, MM DID stand in line and was quick to come back with two. Who could resist his smile? Not the gal serving up 1 wool puff per person. Bless her little heart.

Well, there was nothing to do but give it a try. Resembling a piece of fried zucchini, I insisted on taking only 1/2 a puff, leaving the rest for my Mysterious Marine who seemed to enjoy them.

I can now say that I’ve eaten a wool puff.

The event was sold out. Sunday’s Newsweek article claimed there were a handful of people there. They also claimed it was put on by the Veteran’s of Foreign Wars. After reading that article, I was more disgusted than ever at journalism these days. I doubt the article’s author was even there. Just stole some pictures off the internet and called it good. Probably writing from his basement with his mask securely in place.

Anyone that was there experienced a sense of the love of God and country. They saw Nevadan’s in their casual dress, eating green salad, fries, Chorizo, lamb stew and Sheepherder’s bread in a picnic setting. They’d have suffered through the hour long wait to get freshly scooped ice cream in one of four flavors. They couldn’t have helped tapping their toe to the music of The Jakota Wass Band.

His lyrics sum up country living here on the high desert plains of Nevada. Watching the energy of this band added to the festivities.

Whatever you do today, don’t believe everything you see on television or read online. Get out. See things for yourself. Make your own opinions out of real experiences. Stretch a little and listen to all the candidates. Watch their actions and make decisions from what you see them do. Our country is an amazing place we need to cherish and protect. It’s not too late.

** A special Happy Birthday to Miss Firecracker!! I hope your day sparkles!!!!! Celebrate YOU!!!! I love you.

More tomorrow.

Even when living the best life, sometimes a girl just needs to get out of town. Booked at a newly renovated version of the room pictured above, I’ve spent the past 24 hours enjoying the most beautiful views from the 9th floor. I’ve munched on my favorite meal of prime rib dip, and then enjoyed room service last night while watching TV on a 65″ flat screen.

While here, I bubbled in front of wall to ceiling windows to the world outside. I found that a shower can have three shower heads, two of which are flush with the wall and shoot out at the person standing there. I’ve play I’ve also discovered that a marbled shower wouldn’t be complete with a steam feature, separate from the shower heads. I played with the automatic drapes and slept under the stars of this the Biggest Little City just to the west of me.

All in all, I feel like I’ve been the star of my own movie for the last 24 hours. Just me enjoying a grown up adventure all my own.

This weekend, MM and I are going to a Lamb Fry. I’m not eating, as the main course is Deep Fried Prairie Oysters.

Think about it.

Nope. No can do.

Unless it’s salad or beans, I’m not touching it. The picnic is a political function in which we’re going to see the first major speech of a major Presidential candidate. I hope to get some pictures and look forward to meeting people that make decisions for our state and country. All this will be held at the eastern base of the Sierra Nevada’s on a historical ranch. Check out the news this weekend. We just might be on television. I’ll be the one in red, white, and blue.

Whatever you do this weekend, star in your own little movie. Do something wild and crazy. It might even be as simple as enjoying a backyard picnic on a spring day. Write the script and then go for it. Do something you love and love doing it.

I’ll be back on Monday to fill you in on the weekend. I can tell you right now. It won’t involve eating wool puffs.

Attempting to remain positive, I’m focusing on the good these days. There is good in every single situation, even when it means being locked up to wait for paving and meat. Yesterday was full of good and bad. Life is like that.

Now, the good that remains great is that I’m retired. No matter how bad the days get, they are always brightened by the fact that each moment of the day is mine to plan and enjoy. It took some time to accept that I’m on the young side of old now. My days of getting up at 4:30 and racing out the door are just a memory. I still get up at dark:30, but the racing about occurs later in the day.

Monday, I received a quiet note tucked under my mat. The message from Mr. John Smith was brief. “Please Stay Home on Wednesday, June 14th. Paving. Thank you.”

The road work in my little town has been unbelievable. Every pot hole and crack is being filled and replaced. Old roads are now repaired, adding to the great ride of my new car. Now more bouncing down the dusty road. We’re styling now. My neighborhood has needed road work for some time. Paving is in full swing.

Planning for Asphalt Lockdown, my focus was on relaxation and fun. I’d craft and watch a few more episodes of Clarkson’s Farm. It’s an English program about a gentleman farmer that decides to do the farming himself. 2,000 acres and a Lamborghini tractor. Didn’t know they made such things, as we always went with the green. John Deere all the way.

Along with the farming show, I’d throw in a good murder mystery and craft. I’m working on a miniature Chinese shop that folds away to look like a book on the shelf. Truly, one of the cutest projects I’ve ever seen, it’s one of those things that takes extreme patience while working on fine motor skills. I’d have lunch and dinner in. It would be a grand day, and for the most part, it was.

Last weekend, when visiting with the Mayor, the subject of beef came up. On the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, beef rules. Good beef. The kind that melts in your mouth. The Mayor had recently enjoyed that kind of steak and shared information about the farm. The rancher lived in a border town, too far away to drive, but I should really try some of his meat. Meat could be ordered online.

In this crazy world, thank goodness for the internet. Finding the cattleman’s website, I drooled over the fancy cuts of meat, settling on a brisket, a tomahawk steak, 2 filets, and 3 burgers. Pricey, they’d arrive by the evening of the third day. I’ve ordered meat before and never had a problem. Sunday evening, I pressed the “Purchase This Order” to begin the wait.

My order was filled on Monday and UPS tracking was available. It’d arrive on paving day between 3 and 5 PM. Perfect timing, as the paving would be complete. This was a delivery I’d be home to collect. Yummy. Yummy. Yummy.

To warn you, I’m about to get a little ranty.

With an alert from Alexa at 6:03 PM, I found a stained and soggy box on my doorstep. The UPS driver was RUNNING back to her truck and I was left with the goods. A bloodied box labeled with the ranchers name. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience.

Upon opening the dripping box, I discovered four bags of meat, one of which hadn’t sealed correctly. These meats weren’t properly drained, each piece of meat swimming in a bloody liquid. With an empty dry-ice bag, the meat was room temperature. My brisket, once lovely, was spouting large black spots. The four packages of meat were draped with environmentally friendly, biodegradable and very “GREEN” packing (resembling quilt batting), that was now soggy and bloody, as well. Room temperature, all.

My very expensive attempt to support a local rancher was now another problem to be handled with a letter requesting a full refund. How has our world turned upside down so quickly? Even a small town rancher trying to grow a business gets vital part of his business terribly wrong. Everyone knows, you have one chance at a first impression. You’d better get it right. This was a colossal fail.

I might add this. The shipping on the meat was pricey. Now, my kitchen needed disinfecting and I have the new problem of a bio-hazard disposal. My garbage day isn’t until next Tuesday. Nice. Nice. Nice.

Before bed, I decided to check my e-mails. At 9PM, the rancher wrote: “Oh my goodness, Joy. I’m so sorry. Your refund has been issued.” I checked. The refund was complete. That fast.

Ranchers have long hours. Raising cattle isn’t an easy job. I could only imagine a very disheartened cowboy reading my email and weeping. His response was immediate and so appreciated. It was just an unfortunate series of events that went wrong, ending up with a bloody box in my kitchen.

From now on, the only meat I’m buying is from the sanitary coolers at the grocery store or Costco. We might not have the biggest selection, but it’s chilled to the proper temperature.

My night ended with the peaceful sound of rain on the beautiful newly paved street outside. With daily rain, I feel like I’m living in Switzerland. Everything is desert lush and green. There are even desert wildflowers blooming here. We’re miles away from the current plague of the Mormon crickets to the East (as bad as any Hitchcock movie). Just the quiet of the night, serenaded by a passing train as I fell asleep.

Whatever you do today, think long and hard before you order meat from an unknown rancher. As well-meaning as they might be, mishandled meat can cause serious illness. If you happen to run into a rancher, thank them. Raising cattle is tough these days. Even tougher when an order goes wrong.

More tomorrow.

Last weekend, we celebrated an educational milestone for one exceptional graduate. A daughter, granddaughter, little sister, and friend. Completing 12 years of school is something worth partying about!

Before I get started on that story, I can’t help thinking about June 1973 and another young graduate. Me. While looking for Hallmark cards and graduation gifts, I remembered receiving my own Living Bible, written in language that I could better understand at the age of 17. In my own Orange graduation cape and black mortar board, I completed the first chapter of a lifelong love of learning and was ready to go on to the next.

That summer, I would fly off to spend the summer in Switzerland after having tragically lost my first true love to a heart attack only months before. In two months, I would gain 30 pounds, while eating my way through grief in the Alps. I don’t remember one person mentioning the word grief or pointing out the stages of the journey I’d go through during that first year. After all, I was a farm kid and farm kids get over things. Just pack the bags and off you go. After all, it was just puppy love anyway. Save your tears for the pillow and get on with life.

In comparison to my own graduation with honors, Miss Johnny Jump-Up learned through Covid during her high school years. Strong, resilient, self-assured, ready to meet the world, positive, and beautiful. It’ll be fun to watch her bloom during her college years. She’s a planner and already has her path mapped out. Watching her put the finishing touches on her beautiful party, I observed a much more mature this young woman is than I was at 18.

For her party, everyone came for near and far. Her aunts and uncles were there with bells on! The Mayor and his wife left a Mayor’s retreat in Ely, Nevada to attend the graduation in Northern California. Driving over 10 hours, it wouldn’t have been a party without them. Of course, they’ve loved her from the moment she came into this world. And, that is the true meaning of family. They would all do anything just to see her smile.

Wookie had a blast, returning to her California home. She never stopped running the entire time. Sitting by the pool and listening to stories about the antics of five brothers growing up in rural Nevada was so fun. Ping-pong-ed memories bounced back and forth, one tale bringing to light three more.

There were a few hot games of Corn Hole. After all, is a party really a party without??? As the beautiful California spring day turned into a comfortable spring evening, guests spent time catching up with old friends while getting to know new ones.

It’s a rare family that makes everyone at the party feel welcome and loved. That’s how I feel every time we’re all together. Whether Mother’s Day at my house, the Highschool Hall of Fame event last fall, or a graduation celebration in California. There are always plenty of hugs and smiles to go around. The respect and love they have for each other has been maturing over a lifetime. Honesty and communication keep the group tight. I wonder if they know how rare it is to find this in today’s world?

Our hosts (MM’s son and his beautiful wife) were amazing. With several guests spending the night, they never missed a beat. In the morning, we were treated to oven-baked bacon and farm fresh eggs from their very own chickens and ducks. Even the livestock were hospitable.

Over a plate of the best bacon I’ve ever eaten in my life, there were more stories and laughter exchanged as I realized, I’m part of their family, too. Everyone there made me feel so comfortable and wanted. I’m one lucky woman.

Weaving through the high Sierra Nevada mountains to return home, the conversation was easy under the brightest blue sky. With all the rains, the pine trees were healthy as they reached for the heavens. Taking the slow and windy road home was the perfect ending to a most wonderful celebration.

Whatever you do today, reach out to someone you know that’s graduated. Send them a card letting them know you applaud their accomplishments. Starting out as a tiny, little 5-year-old Kindergartener and years later arriving at the finish line of high school as a capable, young adult is a milestone to remember. Always has been, always will be.

More tomorrow.

from God’s Little Devotional Journal for Women –Honor Books, Tulsa Oklahoma, pg. 173

Is or was your spouse your best friend?

How privileged you are if the answer is yes. Perhaps an even more important question to ask is this: Are you are were you a good friend to your spouse? In being a good friend, you often gain a best friend!

A true friend will let you empty your heart when it feels overloaded by stress, concern, or worry.

Sir Francis Bacon once wrote: “We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind: you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatesoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confusion.”

Listening ears are one of the best gifts you can give to your spouse or children. Such ears are invariably connected to a kind and patient heart.

Make friends with the four C’s:

Compassion

Caring

Consideration

Comfort

These four traits will never grow old or out of fashion.

A friend is one who comes in when the whole world has gone out.

Remember, to have a friend you must be a friend. Whatever you do today, take some time to listen to another who needs to talk a bit. It can make all the difference in the world.

More tomorrow.

They’re Gone

As you shed tears that they’re gone
Remember to smile because they’ve lived

While closing your eyes to pray they’ll come back
Open your eyes and see all they’ve left

Of course, your heart’s empty because you can’t hold them close
But your heart also remembers the love you shared

For a time, you’ll turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
With time, you’ll be happy for tomorrow BECAUSE OF yesterday

You can remember only that they’re gone
Or you can cherish precious memories, helping them to live on

When grief is new, you’ll cry, close your mind, and turn your back
And then, one fine day you’ll do what they would want:

Smile.

Open your eyes.

Love.

And then….

Go On.

Grief. Up and down. Like being tossed around in the highest seas. More lonely than a desert highway. But, like boats on the ocean or a car in the desert, we’re just passing through our grief. Don’t stay there too long, for all the world’s mysteries and tomorrows are too precious to waste. Keep going, in spite of the grief. It WILL get better.

More tomorrow.

_{Based on original poem “He is Gone” by David Harkins}

Death Is Nothing At All

By Henry Scott-Holland

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet agai

Whatever you do this weekend, fill it with wonder. Look at the activities in your town and pick one. You might be surprised how many things are happening during these last days of spring. I’ll be traveling over Donner Pass to enjoy a family graduation.

More on Monday.

Life is beautiful. We walk through life with all kinds of people that help us through the tough times. Moms, Dads, Sisters, Brothers, Aunts, Uncles, Friends, and even Strangers. Send this love song to the person that helps you through your days.

Life IS beautiful. Life IS wonderous. Those stars ARE shining just for us.

Love to you all.

More tomorrow.

Road work! My little town is on fire with Road Work. It started on one of the main connecting streets in town right in front of the school. They put the finishing touches on the new street on the last day of school. It’s now come to my quiet little neighborhood. We should all be careful what we wish for. Wishes can turn into noisy projects.

Saturday last, a note was left on my door. In part, it advised that this would be the week for Road Work in my little neighborhood. There could be times that I couldn’t leave Winterpast for up to four hours. They would let me know. If I had a valid reason to leave on one of the five days listed, I was advised to call John Smith. It gave his number, the lucky man.

Well, I DID have a reason to leave yesterday. My annual eye appointment. Not such an easy thing to change, but it was moved to September. Sunday, I went to the grocery store and finished stocking up on perishables. I’d be happy to comply with their wishes. After all, I’m retired. Besides, Wookie is here for Doggie Camp. I don’t want to miss out on the fun!

Well, Monday came and I worked outside in the garden without leaving once. Not a sign of the road work. Tuesday came and went as rumbling excavators got closer. In the afternoon, I saw a truck at the corner of my street, while Winterpast rattled during the road work. I would assume that today is the day for my street, but I’m certainly not going to be one of those old ladies bothering Mr. John Smith.

“John, I have Bunco at 3. Where will the girls park?”

“John, can I still walk in the afternoon?”

“John, my dogs are afraid of loud noises, please stop.”

I’m sure John’s phone is ringing off the hook with calls from my Octogenarian neighbors. Around here, we don’t get more noise than the birds bring on the wind. A thunderstorm rattles us. No car or truck noises. Nothing. Just beautiful peace and quiet. Until this week.

In the harsh environment of the high plains desert, the roads take a beating, along with everything else around here. Buildings look ten years older than they are. Roofs are often patched due to random spring hail storms. The wind helps sandblast anything in its way. With the snow in the winter and 110 degree afternoons in the summer, the roads are pot-holed, some resembling swiss cheese. Upkeep is a constant problem.

Mr. Mayor, who just happens to be the Mysterious Marine’s brother, battles fiercely to fund necessary repairs. For the first three years I lived here, nothing was repaired. Our old mayor had fifty reasons at the ready why our roads were not repaired or replaced.

“Why, Miss Joy, that would take $1 million dollars a mile to fix those roads. Our little old town doesn’t have THAT kind of money, Honey.”

Well, HE isn’t here anymore. There’s a NEW mayor in town. One that speaks weekly with the Nevada Governor, Joe Lombardo or shares a cup of coffee with Elon Musk now and then. That’s OUR major. He’s getting things done. (TESLA is just up the road. Elon is in town more than one would think.)

One thing about inviting change, is that sometimes, the change can be painful to those in the middle of it. As I mentioned, one of the best things about our little town is my neighborhood of peace and quiet. I can actually identify birds in my yard by their little songs. No Jake breaks rattling. No traffic noise. Nothing. Just the sound of the wind as it races off the mountains and across the desert.

While visiting with Ninja Neighbor, she shared something worrisome. There’s a new exit being planned for the interstate. A new industrial park. A new stream of activity that will be pouring into my little world, right on the other side of VST’s mountain. Right through BLM land (The ORIGINAL and ONLY BLM — BUREAU OF LAND MANAGEMENT). This highway would travel right behind Winterpast. Right through the horses we love. Right through the quiet of the desert, shattering any quiet we might have enjoyed.

Could be great for property values. True enough.

Might really be great for the growth of our town. Growth is wonderful, right?

Maybe it’d bring a couple new schools and another grocery store out our way. We sure need those!

Listening to the racket from a little bit of street repair, I could think of a hundred reasons it won’t be so good for a very, very long time. I’m old. I don’t have a whole lot of time left to find out if it’s good or not. That will be proven long after I’m gone.

Today, I’m going to be glad that the repairs are just in my neighborhood. So lovely to drive on newly paved streets, it’ll be great to have a center line. We don’t have that now. One has to be careful to stay on their own side of the road.

Change.

It’s inevitable, but sometimes a little uncomfortable. Still searching for a cabin by a meadow where the wild bees swarm. It’s just past the rainbow where the soft breezes blow. Just a little place that glows with candlelight every evening. Until I find it, Winterpast will do just fine, even if it’s a little noisy right now.

Whatever you do today, find a little time to enjoy some quiet. Silence is healing. Find the kind of quiet in which you can almost hear your own heart beat. That’s hard to find these days. When you find that kind of quiet, listen to your own thoughts. Now, THAT doesn’t change.

Wookie and Oliver are a pair. Not only are they color coordinated, their personalities are a great match. Their combined energy allows them to run, roll around on the lawn, dig, bark, and run some more. They play themselves into a ball of teeth and fur over and over again. Then, they sleep.

I, on the other hand, am fairly shredded by this extended sleep over. This has been an experiment in how fun it is to have two dogs. It’s different and it definitely benefits the dogs.

Wookie is a Diva. She has her own bed, but prefers the center of mine. She uses her soulful brown eyes to make sure that she gets at least one bite of every one of my meals. She uses her diversionary tactics to blindside Oliver. Her sense of humor is hilarious, especially when she laughs at her own jokes.

Oliver is a guy. He loves to eat, chew on his bone, and sleep. I can see that he’s aging (just not fast enough). The youngster is stronger and faster than he is, as he approaches five years old. Hard to believe he was that adorable little pup thrust into my arms on Christmas morning in the parking lot of a major casino just west of here.

The breeder had assured me, after very long talks, that Oliver was just the dog I needed. And, he was heavily discounted. His entire litter had been sold. He was the one nobody wanted. Only 4.5 months old, he’d gotten car sick on the way to me. Still a little damp, he snuggled right under my heart and there he’s stayed.

Oliver is the most difficult dog I’ve ever raised. Growing up on a farm, from my earliest memories, I was around all kinds of animals. I became one of them. From the goose that bit me, to the sheep we raised for 4-H, there were always animals at the farm. Not pets. No. Friends for bit until they became dinner.

Fritz was my first dachshund. This red Weiner came into our lives when I was about six. We grew up together. I, the tomboy, and he, the ten pound watch dog. He never lived in the house because NO dogs were allowed. Nope. He just hung out on the farm doing whatever he wanted, rather like I did as a child. He never got any shots or health checks. He ate Purina Dog Chow with the real farm dog. He slept on a burlap sack by the back door. I never learned how he came to live among the vines with us. He just showed up one day.

Dachshunds are funny little dogs. They want what they want when they want it. They’re headstrong and feisty. Bred to hunt badgers, they can be persistent and brave. Oliver is all those things, but there is one problem. I’ve finally accepted that on an intelligence level of 1 -10, he’s a 2. He wouldn’t drown in the rain looking up in the clouds, but he might not realize it’s drier in the house.

He could be experiencing early dementia. He retains nothing. For five years, every day is new to him. Every lesson is a challenge, over, and over, and over.

“Oliver, wait.”

“Oliver, no bark.”

“Oliver, no jump.”

“No chew, Oliver.”

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver.”

Oy.

Vey.

Now, Wookie has the brains. She is an Aussie Doodle. That’s an Australian Shepherd/Poodle mixture. She is so intelligent it’s scary. She’s a quick learner, wanting to please. She is more of a leader than a follower. She knows her name and the commands, “Come”, “Sit”, and “Down”. She’s housebroken, (99.9% of the time). She’s almost done chewing things up. She has a heart of gold and you can easily hurt her feelings, as she just wants to please with a smile. All in all, she is one smart dog, which spotlights Oliver’s mental limitations.

Today, a new device is arriving. It’s a small, battery operated box that emits an unpleasant doggie sound when the button is pushed. Barking at the fence? Push the button. The dog will stop. Call the dog to your side. Praise.

Well, that’s how it works for a normal dog. Wookie will do just great. She knows her name and comes when called. She’s so alert, this device will help her stop barking at the fence.

Oliver thinks his name has been changed to Wookie, too.

“Oliver!” No response.

“Oliver! Come!” Looks the other way.

“Wookie!” The lightbulb sparks and he comes.

That is life during this crazy sleep over experience.

Last evening was Monday at the Movies. We watched John Wayne and Jimmie Stewart in “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence.” Wookie and Oliver weren’t impressed and fell right to sleep.

Tonight, we’ll try “Milo and Otis”. That might grab their attention. Wookie will love it, as she prefers action movies full of animals. Yes. She watches TV. She smiles at appropriate times. She understands this older doggie BFF is challenged and tries to help him out. Two dogs isn’t such a bad idea if one of the two wasn’t Oliver.

Whatever you do today, spend some time with your pet. Learn something new about them. Spoil them a little with an unexpected treat or activity. Realize that not all dogs are Rin-Tin-Tin smart. Some just live off their cuteness. Our pets absorb our loneliness and return the purest love in return. God got it right when he made pets, even if some are more challenged than others.

More tomorrow.

Oy Vey.

Tragedy doesn’t know the day of the week. Bad things can happen at any moment and yesterday turned out to be quite the moment. My beautiful junk tree is committing suicide quietly in the back yard right under my watchful eye.

And so, the story begins.

Winterpast is lush this year. For new readers, “Winterpast” is the name of my home which sits on 1/2 acre of land groomed to Martha Stewart – English Garden status. Well, not quite yet, but every inch IS landscaped. There are paths, roses and 23 trees. Truthfully, there are 25 trees, but, I kept quiet about two of them.

With all the spring rain, everything is thriving. The fruit trees have never looked so great. Loaded with hundreds of plums and apricots, they are looking great. All the trees, except for one of them. Sitting center stage along the back fence, I care for a 25′ Russian Olive. I’ve learned that some states have outlawed this tree, considering it an invasive species. Okay, fine for them. My tree invaded this space about 16 years ago and is now too big to ignore.

I love this tree this tree, as it grows right in the middle of the high plains of Northwestern Nevada. It’s managed to thrive through desert heat and brutal winters. Until 2023. The neighbor hates my tree, having told me so many times. Secretly, it makes me love my tree that much more.

The tree has been failing while the others were thriving. Yesterday was the day something had to be done. Now, if you think going to the emergency vet is expensive, just try a tree doctor on a Sunday afternoon. Or, just get out the chain saw. It would be cheaper.

I’m connected to my neighborhood through an online program called Nextdoor. I’m just learning about the program, and put out an SOS for my failing tree. Right away a suggested name popped up with many other comments that told me he was the guy I needed, so I called to leave a message.

He called right back. On a very late Sunday afternoon. He would be right over.

I learned so many things in a short period of time, my mind was on overload.

Within five minutes of being on the property, he discovered many problems. The tree was strangling itself with its own roots. This wasn’t helped by the rock and black plastic keeping the noxious weeds under control. As he ripped open the plastic to expose beautiful, big roots, I could almost feel the tree take a deep breath. The plastic around the trees would need to go. ASAP. Another tree was also suffering, just not as bad.

The second problem had to do with all the beetles that were living under the plastic around the roots. Opportunistic freeloaders were living in the tree and killing it.

The last problem was the big one. Girdling Roots. The roots weren’t going out to look for water, they were circling the tree. This had been going on a very long time, as the problem roots had made indentations on the bark. As he dug away the dirt around the roots, amazingly huge anchors were explosed. All of a sudden, this tree looked like a real tree. The roots were as amazing as the 25 feet above the ground.

With his trusty ax, he lovingly pruned the roots, chopping off the bad ones.

He pointed out many things about the other trees in my yard. The cherry trees have the softest wood and are under attack of the beetles. Every tree in my yard needs spray. The Russian Olive is so sick, she needs injections and a trim. My apricot tree is the most lovely one he’s ever seen.

What’s a non-smoking, non-vacationing, non-gambling gardening gal to do? The grounds of Winterpast saved me on many days over the last three years. Gardening is my passion and Winterpast my true love. The trees will not die under my watch. Not without a fight.

We made a deal as the sun was setting over the desert mountains. He’ll be back as soon as possible to treat all the trees, except the two that are hiding on the side of the house. For the next few days, I’ll be removing some black plastic to expose the roots.

The roses have had so much pampering, they need to take a back seat for a minute. My Russian Olive needs me.

As he was leaving, we turned around to look at her. I felt that she was already sighing in relief while waving a little “Thank You”. It will take a few months for her to recover from this.

A poem comes to mind that CC gave me when I started teaching. It seems appropriate here.

DEEP ROOTS

“When I die,”

She said,

“I’m coming back

as a tree

with

deep

roots

And

I’ll wave

my leaves at

the children

every morning

on their way to

school

and

whisper

tree songs at night in

their dreams.

Trees with deep roots know

about the things

children need.”

B. Andreas — 1993

Yes, trees know a lot about what widows need, as well.

Whatever you do today, check on your trees. Really look at them and make sure they are thriving. Do some reading and learn about them. Make sure they haven’t decided to commit suicide right in front of you like my sweet Russian Olive. While you’re at it, spend some time in the garden. It’s good for what ails you.

More tomorrow.

Written by The Rev. Dr. D. Scott Stoner — April 7, 2017

It’s the little things in life that make me happy, and one of those little things, believe it or not, is a memorable acronym. A good acronym contains an inspiring message and does so in a format that is easy to remember. Case in point is the acronym T.H.I.N.K.  Originally created as a communication guideline for online social media behavior, the five questions asked within this acronym are, in my opinion, a helpful guide for all forms of communication, in all aspects of our lives.

T is for the question, “Is it True?” The first test for anything we may wish to communicate is whether we know for certain that what we are about to say is true.  If we are not 100% certain that something is accurate or true then we shouldn’t be saying it, and therefore we don’t even need to put our communication through the filter of the next four questions.

H is for the question, “Is it Helpful?” This question asks us to reflect on our intention for what we are communicating. Will it move the conversation along in a way that is productive? Just because saying something sarcastic, for instance, might make us feel superior for a moment, it will most likely not be helpful to the relationship.

I is for the question, “Is it Inspiring?” Since communication involves a relationship, this question asks if what we have to say will enhance and build up our relationship with the person with whom we are communicating. “Speak only if it improves upon the silence,” a quote from Mahatma Gandhi comes to mind in this context

N is for the question, “Is it Necessary?” Is it necessary to point out every small mistake someone makes? Is it necessary to “pile on” criticism toward someone when they are already feeling bad? Is it necessary to be sure you get the credit for a good idea? Will what you are about to say enhance the current conversation? If not, don’t say it.

K is for the question, “Is it Kind?” The world can be a very unkind place, filled with words that are intended to bully and hurt others. We all benefit when we look for opportunities to speak and express kindness to each other.

All of this does not mean that we should avoid difficult conversations. It simply means that before we begin a potentially challenging conversation we pause and think about our true intentions, and then work to communicate in ways that are intended to expand and enrich our relationship with the other.  It is wise to remember that all of our conversations, big or little, impact our relationships, for better or for worse.

I invite you to make an intentional effort to keep the T.H.I.N.K. acronym in mind as you communicate with others over the next few days. See if it makes a difference, not just in what you say, but also in how you say it. If you find that what you want to say does not pass the filter test of the five questions above, you might want to think twice before you say it, for the sake of your relationships.

##

Yes. The world could use a few more T.H.I.N.K.-ers.

Whatever you plan to do this weekend, remember that character is who you are in the dark. This is a possible point to ponder if your power goes out in a thunderstorm after dark. Enjoy these last few days of spring. In an instant, it will be desert-hot here on the high plains of northwestern Nevada. I plan to make the most of the mild temps and afternoon rainstorms. Spring is certainly a beautiful time of year!

I’ll be back Monday!

Last night the heaven’s opened up and it poured buckets of beautiful spring rain. By late afternoon, it’d become quite blustery. It’d been the perfect day to cook a pot of spaghetti sauce for the freezer and stay inside.

Around 7 pm, the afternoon monsoon hit. Lightning, thunder, and then, no power. I know this because my “Help-I’ve-Fallen-And-I-Can’t-Get-Up” machine was blaring to the world “No Power. No Power. No Power.” This machine and I co-exist. I haven’t fallen and if I did, I’m pretty sure I could get up. But, out of a lonely widow’s fear, I pay for the service. Just in case, because you never know.

I probably should wear the pendant with the emergency button. I think that IS the important part of the plan. It hangs right by the side of the bed on my lamp, ready for emergencies. Like I say, I could probably slither to the nightstand with my injuries.

For the first two years of service, when an outage occurred, it alerted all the people on my list. CC and the kids. Slowly, one by one, they’d call me.

“Um, are you okay? Just checking.”

I’m so blessed to have family and friends that love me but I really don’t want to bother them with power outages. Last fall I called the company to change the setting.

“Would you please not call my contacts when the power goes out?” I asked a “child” associate on the other end of the line?

“Ohhhhh. We can’t do THAT! Your children will be upset if we change the settings for YOUR machine.”

Well, hold the phone, Bucko.

First of all, my “children” are adults that don’t like to be referred to as “the kids”, as they haven’t been for decades now.

I bought the machine.

I maintain the machine.

I chose the settings.

I’m UNCHOOSING the one that says “Call my family if the power goes out.”

With a bit of an argument, I prevailed. During last night’s outage of three hours, not one of my contacts was disturbed.

Why is it that when the power goes out, no matter the time, there are 24 things you want to do that require power? How many times can one turn a light switch in a five minute period with no result? I my case, quite a few. In different rooms, even.

With my windows shaking from the thunder, MM asked if Oliver and I would like to visit his house. Safety in numbers. It’d been a long day for us both and it would’ve been nice to see Wookie and her pet, my Mysterious Marine. I changed clothes, brushed my hair, grabbed Ollie, and headed to the garage.

Quite dark in a garage during an outage. Rather creepy.

I was about to put Oliver in the car, trying not to fall, because with the power outage, my unit wouldn’t alert anyone. It was then, I realized a little problem with the plan.

Garage door openers don’t work well when the power is out. Before you mention the emergency pull switch, I’d already thought of that. Below that switch sits my beautiful, shiny, brand-spanking-new luxury car. Nothing would happen to it when pulling the rope to unlatch the door and allow it to be opened. That’s true enough.

It was the woman pulling the rope that could break things that were working just fine. A pulled back muscle wouldn’t help in this situation. The garage doors are super heavy which is why there is a garage door opening in the first place.

In the black of night, Oliver and I returned to the comfort of home. It was an early night.

The outdoor noises are louder during a power outage. One thing I did notice was the moo-ing of a frantic cow. The farmer never came to the rescue and the mooing of one cow continued well into the night. She was still complaining when I woke up this morning.

With the nightly rain, which has persisted for over a week now, the gardens of Winterpast have never looked greener. I just planted a bougainvillea. Three leathery hosta’s will enjoy the shade under the bird houses. The geraniums are blooming like crazy. With the peony’s almost finished for the year, the roses will take over with blooms the size of saucers. It’s the year of flowers here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. The desert is ready for a super-bloom event.

Whatever you do today, try to avoid golfing in the rain. According to MM, it’s most unpleasant, especially when golfing with coaches that must play through to the last hole. Haven’t heard from that boy this morning, but he madder than a wet hen last night.

More tomorrow.

Memorial Day Weekend, 2023 was one I’ll never forget. My little town, nestled right alongside the interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada is home to around 10,000 fallen heroes. Our beloved veterans. With heroes from as far back as the Civil War, our National Cemetery is one beauty. I know. I’ve spent some time there over the past few days.

Saturday, the cemetery needed help. A flag was provided for every grave, but human angels were needed to place them. Placement would begin at 8:30 in the morning. It was hoped that the flags would be in place by Monday. It’s one of two times a year the graves get fancied up.

With the spring weather being about as perfect as weather get, MM and I headed out early to beat the afternoon sun. We decided we’d get there around 8, just to get a jump on the activity. When one places flags, it’s wise to bring a screwdriver to make an insertion hole in the grass. We had that covered.

When we arrived, there were already many flags in the ground. By 9:30, all the flags were placed. Thousands of graves were adorned with the stars and stripes. Waving in the desert breeze, the view was breathtaking. Sadly, this cemetery is one that will continue to grow as we lose more vets every day.

While placing each flag, we read the name, branch of service and dates of birth and death. There were a couple soldiers that were over 100. Wives were buried with their men. The names of the wars were listed on the headstones, as well. The names of the men and women were varied, all unknown to us. Their years of service gave pause for thought. Years away from family and friends while dodging bullets without a complaint. They went to serve, coming home to a grateful nation.

After finishing our part, MM and I felt great. It was the smallest of things we could do to remember the fallen. We’d be back on Monday for the ceremony at 11 am.

Monday’s ceremony brings thousands of people from everywhere. Some parked as much as a quarter of a mile to honor the fallen. People of all ages and walks of life were there at 11:00 for the service.

A special group of men started off the ceremony. A group of veterans. They had walked a little farther than 1/4 mile. They had walked 50 miles from the state capital carrying thousands of dog tags of the fallen men and women that rest in the cemetery. As I was listening to their story, I thought of some days that I barely walk to the mail box and back to the house. 50 miles! An incredible act of love. They started on Saturday and camped two nights along the way. There were thunderstorms both nights. They didn’t give up, arriving at just the right time.

There was a fly over by some veterans, a 21 gun salute, and lots of military brass. There were special words for the Gold Star families who paid the ultimate price during a time of war. The Vietnam Vets arrived on their motorcycles, rumbling along to the back side of the cemetery.

Of course, the colors were presented at the beginning, and the songs for all branches of the military were played softly by a brass quartet. The Mayor, (who happens to be MM’s little brother) led us in the flag salute. The governor of our state had some beautiful thoughts to share. People were encouraged to stay and get to know their neighbors. A nice touch to a beautiful ceremony.

Just when I thought things couldn’t be better, I found out they could.

Yesterday, the task of removing the flags was at hand. Anyone who could help was asked to return at 8 am, Tuesday morning, to remove flags for use next year. With nothing better to do, I was there on a beautiful, blue sky desert morning. The breeze was perfect. For an hour, I had a section of soldiers all to myself.

I spent time thinking about my own sons that gave over 50 years of their lives serving with the United States Air Force. I thought about mothers throughout the United States that served with their sons and daughters as they waited for letters from foreign places. Some parents got back soldiers that weren’t quite the same and never would be again. Such a high price that a quiet group of mom’s paid, right along side their children.

I’d picked up about 250 flags when the strangest thing happened. Like so many times in life, the smallest miracles are missed if you’re not paying attention. I met a wonderful angel woman who was working at the same task. As it turns out, our husband’s both died form liver cancer. One small difference. Her one year heaven-ersary is June 5th. Listening to her story brought memories of cancer. Memories of loss. Memories of what it was like looking forward to that first milestone. One year without. Hoping after that first year, grief would suddenly complete the cycle.

Long story short, I made an angel friend among the heroes today. Meeting her put a bow on Memorial Day 2023 . We both agreed we’re looking forward to December 16th, when we’ll put out Wreaths. Please think about donating to Wreaths Across America. Look them up. It’s a nice thing to do.

Whatever you do today, thank a veteran. Even though Memorial Day has passed, thank one anyway. They gave up a lot to keep our country free. If they were asked, they’d tell you they’d do it again. That’s just the way they roll. Keep your eyes open for Miracle Friends. They’re only strangers until you say “Hello”.

More tomorrow.

Amazing things happened over the weekend! Heartbreak over the “broken” computer turned into triumph! The computer LIVES! Somedays are just a mixture of good and rotten. My Friday was such a day.

I love getting up in the morning to blog. Purposefully, I rise at 4:30, make coffee, feed Ollie, and sit down at the computer. I usually check to make sure the world isn’t on fire, check the banking to make sure I haven’t been hacked, and then get on with the blog. I’ve been blogging since September 24, 2000. You can look on this website and go back to my very first day as a “real” writer and read through the trials and tribulations of my journey through widowhood.

It takes a little bit o fine tuning to get this schedule to work. On most days, I do turn out the lights pretty early. Without the problems of insomnia or restless leg syndrome, I fall right to sleep. The flip side is that if I oversleep until 5:30, I do feel as if half my day is gone. Silly, I know.

Friday started as any other day, except for the first terrible event. When I turned on my computer, it had a mind of its own.

5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu5fu, and so on.

Whatever I tried resulted in 5fu.

I unplugged, waited 20 seconds and replugged.

5fu.

I tried to move the mouse.

5fu.

I unplugged the keyboard AND mouse.

5fu.

Finally, I had no choice but to contact my sweet son, T. He’s been in the computer business since he was a boy. Working for a group of doctor’s, his expertise keeps all the medical scanning equipment up and running. MRI’s, CT Scanners, and other medical equipment that I haven’t even heard of are all hooked online these days. Decades ago, when computers were new, he started his career. He’s tops at what he does. Lives and the doctors that save them depend on him.

Another part of his work involves dealing with frantic employees that can’t get their $%#%$#% computer to do what they want. He hears it all, day in and day out. He reads between the lines and makes things better. I would guess most of the problems he deals with are not even caused by what the employee thinks they are. He has an analytical brain perfectly suited for problem solving.

I never text the kids early in the morning. They have their own kids and lives to get going. But, last Friday, I needed computer help. It wasn’t my health emergency, but rather my computer’s. That’s more critical in my book.

When I saw his text that said “Oh No”, after we had tried ten different procedures, my heart sank. With a three year old dishwasher awaiting a motherboard, it seemed my 2.5 year old Dell All-In-One desktop (dearly loved) would be going to the bone yard. For another $800+, I’d need a new computer. It was just that simple.

Sadly, I used my i-Pad to order another. Thank goodness for Amazon.

All day, this was wearing me down. How could a computer be so new and just break? I had not spilled coffee on the thing. I hadn’t had any sort of power surge. Were things these days built to last two years and fry? My appliance repairman has his own experiential evidence to prove that theory. There had to be one last thing I could try to fix this.

And then, the lightbulb in my brain brightened.

You-Tube.

With that thought, my trusty i-Pad and I and went to work. Entering the model number, I asked for a fix. In seconds, I was watching a video on how to fix all kinds of computer issues. I could add more space or replace the fan. I could remove the hard drive and replace it with a bigger one.

The first step involved popping off the back cover. Just like the technician on the video told me, it would sound terrible. Like I was cracking the entire thing. Assured that it wouldn’t break, I just needed to start at a corner and lift.

I WAS a little scared to to this alone. Not to fear, my Mysterious Marine came to the rescue. After planting two trees and two rose bushes, he wasn’t done helping a damsel in distress. Nope. All he needed was a few screwdrivers and it was on it.

With the cover off, the computer was exactly as shown in the video. With the removal of four screws and a small cover, the tiny battery was exposed. A common flat battery that we’ve all seen many times over. The video suggested that to reset the computer, the battery needed to be removed for 20 seconds and then replaced.

Carefully, we did this while marveling at the beauty of the motherboard. Then, Snap-Crackle-Pop and the computer was back together.

When plugged in, it worked. Just! Like! New!

No need to spend hundreds on a replacement. Amazon will be getting a big return and I’m back in business. All it took was a look-see on You Tube.

As a widow, unexpected breaks can be devastating. From a broken air conditioning unit to a failing irrigation system, life as a widowed home owner is often frustrating and overwhelming. But, You-Tube holds answers for so many fixes. From programing a garage door opener to repairing a computer. With a brand, model number, and brief description of the problem, you too, can fix your clogged sink, leaky toilet, or even a computer that likes to type 5fu over and over.

With that, I hope your Memorial Day was grand. Short of replacing a roof or digging through layers of roots, there isn’t much an old widow woman can’t do. There are those things for which we aren’t strong enough. That’s true enough. But, with a little research, we can diagnose what’s wrong and understand the proper fix. That way, when someone arrives to do the job, we KNOW what needs to be done.

Whatever you do today, think of a small project that bugs you and find the fix on You Tube. You’ll be amazed at the different things you can learn to do yourself. It’s empowering and pretty darn exciting. Of course, a special thanks to my Mysterious Marine. Gardening AND Computer repairs. Pretty darn cool!

More tomorrow.