Author: Joy Hurt

The desert is finally in bloom. With all the winter snow and rain, the plants here at Winterpast are sprouting even though they haven’t done well in the past. Saturday, MM and I went to each tree to identify them with the use of an phone app. The phone becomes a more important part of life each day, doesn’t it?.

The app, “Picture This”, works this way. You open the app and point your phone’s camera toward the plant. It takes a photo and tells you all about the plant. I learned the type of apple and cherry trees I have. I own a Chinese plum. The messiest tree in the backyard is the Crab Apple tree. Pretty for one week, nasty for the rest of the summer and fall. I also learned that I have berries that are blue, but they aren’t called Blue Berries.

By using this application, you can find necessary information to help your plant thrive. Last year, I didn’t pay much attention to the back yard. Other than keeping it weed free, pruned and mowed, life at Winterpast went on without a lot of real gardening. This year will be different.

MM is the REAL gardener. He knows stuff that, (I’m embarrassed to say), I never learned after a lifetime growing up on a farm AND farming for 17 years. MM is a Master Gardener. Watching him plant is a thing of beauty. Lovingly, he unpots his seedlings, carefully inspecting them for signs of bound roots. He digs his holes carefully and places his plants ever so gently into his garden boxes. Generous with the feed and water, MM’s garden boxes are thriving. Garlic, onions, peas, tomatoes, cucumbers, flowers, and more.

Now, here at Winterpast, if the plants make it through the days of neglect before planting, they get plopped in the quickly dug holes, sprinkled, and are left to figure things out. I need to do better.

My biggest problem has been the intricate sprinker box.

Really??????? This is really, really, really my box. When calculating all the possible settings, I came up with 1,972,423 possible combinations. Well, okay. You got me. I’m not that good at math, but just look at all those switches and dials!

Although my box is very similar to the one pictured, mine has a C cycles. Then, it has 12 stations. It needs to run twice a day, but not on Station 3 and 4, because the front lawn was removed long ago. There are directional questions like this…… Just why is the North Flowerbed labeled NORTH when it sits to the WEST of the driveway? All these things were already labeled when I acquired Winterpast. All these things are major puzzlements.

Add one little dog that loves to eat emitters, and you might now understand, there is a time to sprinkle and a time to throw up one’s hands and leave the system for another day.

Troubleshooting your system is a perfect task to tackle this week. Although MM might disagree, my method seems to have kept the plants alive for three years now.

1. Turn your system to manual and start with Station #1. Go for a walk about and find the running water. Check each emitter for clogs or animal damage. Check the amount of water that is coming out of the line. Does the plant look wilted or is it drowing? Adjust accordingly.
2. While checking the plants, check for leaks along the line.
3. Continue with the remaining stations.

Lawn sprinkler heads can become clogged after a long, quiet winter. If they are not spraying nicely, go to You Tube and watch a few videos on unclogging sprinkler heads. With a vice grip, a needle-nose plyer, and patience, I was victorious. Some heads have filters and some don’t. Adjust the sprinklers to make sure the entire lawn is getting water.

Don’t forget to weed and feed.

Now, for the last bit of advice. If you haven’t been to the garden center to make your first purchases of the year, be aware. At our Lowe’s, the average sized garden plants are $10 and up. Some are as much as $25 a piece. A nice size potted arrangement was over $60. This is for normal flowering plants. My geraniums? $10 each. Spices? $4 for $12. These are small little plants that used to be $1.59. No more is gardening an inexpensive hobby. Our world is such a different place these days.

Whatever you do today, plant something. Seeds are great, too. Just remember to follow the directions on the package. There is nothing better than fresh cherry tomatoes on a hot summer day. The garden……to avoid the shrink, go there to think.

More tomorrow.

Lately I’ve been asked to accompany a variety of friends to the Biggest Little City to the West for medical appointments. When asked, I’m happy to oblige. Heaven only knows when it’ll be my turn to seek medical help. It’s wasn’t my turn today, so I was free to help.

This, my dearest best friend is someone so special to me, my heart would break if the outcome of any of these tests were anything but perfect. Although a little more mature than me, this person is the picture of health, energy, and a positive heart. For any problem, this person knows a perfect solution can surely be found. This person is positivity cloaked in human form. A real optimist and a most wonderful friend.

I wasn’t able to tell if these tests were a worry to my friend, but they certainly have been worrying me. For those of you that are new readers, let me fill you in. I lost my husband, VST, in April, 2020 to a rare cancer called Cholangiocarcinoma. In regular English, this is a cancer that attacks the bile ducts. It’s quick, violent, and deadly. VST’s battle lasted only 9 weeks. He was fine until he was dead, with very little in between.

The first test the doctor ordered for VST was an echo-cardiogram to rule out heart disease when fluid began to accumulate in his belly. If only it would have been caused by a treatable disease. For VST, it wasn’t.

When my friend told me of the two tests, a lung CT and an ultrasound right down the road from another hospital that I know all too well, it did give me cause for pause. As a new patient, these tests were ordered to establish baseline results. “Nothing to worry about,” said my friend. My mind had long since left the barn on that one. I’ve been worried ever since I found out about yesterday’s scans.

The waiting room was pristine and pleasant. The television show was about a young veterinarian working in the Yukon. She was busy treating coyotes and musk oxen. I was full of worry.

Not wanting to sit with anyone while my friend went in for the scans, I chose a seat-for-one next to a charging station. I would close my eyes and pray quietly, hoping no one would want to strike up a conversation about their own illnesses and ailments.

Taking a seat in the corner, I looked to the side only to be shocked at what I saw. There, all alone, lay one tiny pamphlet. On the cover of the pamphlet was the word, “Joy”. My name. Under that, the words read “How to Find Happiness in Everyday Living.” My friend had already gone back for testing. There was no one to show or tell. I picked up the booklet and began to read.

It had already been earmarked for me. The booklet fell open to page 12.

“Give God Your Worries”

Plain.

And.

Simple.

“Give God Your Worries.”

Just like that, I felt better. Lighter. Happier. Amazed that such a small little miracle had been waiting there, just for me. A reminder. We need to Let Go and Let God when life gets to be a little too overwhelming.

I’ll share the final paragraph of the earmarked chapter. As if written to me and placed for me to find yesterday morning, I hope that it helps you remember something. At our loneliest times, when it seems we are all alone, we most certainly are not.

“So, don’t be anxious. Don’t fret so much. Don’t struggle so hard. Do the very best you can about everything; then, having done your best, don’t nervously do it over again. Leave the results to the Lord. He is all wise, all knowing, and all powerful. And, he loves you very much.” _{(Guideposts Outreach — From the Writings of Norman Vincent Peale)}

Miracles. They are everywhere. Little bits of truth for us to discover, even in a place as dark as a waiting room in a major hospital in the Biggest Little City just to the west of a dusty little wide spot in the road off the interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. The place I love and call Home.

While having a wonderful weekend, keep watching for miracles. I promise. They are everywhere!

I’ll be back Monday.

Since February, I’ve been getting acquainted with my new used car. How a car can be considered “USED” when it only has 13 miles is a puzzlement. But, that’s exactly the way it was sold to me. A “USED” luxury car with 13 miles on the odometer. Because of its status, it came with a 6-year-unlimited-mileage-warranty. Something I’ve never heard of, but something that definitely fits my situation perfectly.

Let’s see. In six years, I will be well into my 70th year. I, too, will be enjoying unlimited miles of scenic tours from sea to shining sea. My average speed by that time will be 35 mph. This mature woman and her brand new car are a match made in heaven. Until then, I’ve been learning the power and speed of this new car. Just yesterday I found it necessary to pass an overloaded semi on a long stretch of desert roads. Just for a moment, I felt what 102 mph feels like. In this car equipped with its turbo engine, driving feels more like flying over the ground.

The first 5,000 miles have taken me from the Pacific beach to the Sierra Nevada’s. From the Gateway to Yosemite to the high desert plains I call home. It’s carried me to the shore of the most beautiful lake I know. It’s kept me safe in snow storms and warm during one of the coldest winters on record.

My new car has features even Barbie hasn’t dreamt up. It took awhile, but I now know that with the swipe of my foot under the rear of the car, the back hatch opens automatically. Hands-free. Once I’m home, t will bother me with texts if I forgot to lock up. It will also not allow me to lock the car if the keys are inside. It finds directions to places I don’t even know exist. And, like my Jeep, it has gauges for pitch and roll, as well as a compass just in case I ever decide to go off-roading.

When I first saw her right outside the show room on that snowy day at the end of February, the salesman told me I wouldn’t be disappointed in performance or service. So far, he’s been correct. That morning, I had to wait to see her for the first time. She was being filmed for the weekly television ad for the dealership, being so special. I wonder what the advertisement would have said? It never had a chance to run.

“Step right up and buy this amazing used car. 13 miles on the odometer. This is a one-of-a-kind!”

When she was done filming, they drove her down and the rest is history. I still remember being in a daze while getting my picture taken next to a car with a bright red bow on the top. I didn’t get to keep the bow, but it was fun to take possession of a car with a bow.

I did have something to celebrate at that time. Grievinggardener had just passed 500,000 reads. Quite something for a little old lady that gets up at 4:30 every morning to put out a blog meant to help fellow Grievers get through the day.

I plan to name her very soon. Her name will be “PAGES” and she’ll quite possibly by my last car. There are somethings in life that we can’t deny. The passing of time is one of them. Until tomorrow comes, I plan to drive her down my roads of today.

K and T, (my kids that aren’t kids anymore) came to visit before Easter. They were relieved to see that my average speed at that time was 34 mph. Ha Ha Ha. Silly kids. I need to ask the dealership to disconnect that feature next week. Otherwise, it might be a keyless journey of “Off to the Home” for me.

With the weather still unpredictable and very cold, I’m stuck at my desk while planning my next road trip. Summer 2023. MM, Me, and PAGES. Let the adventure begin. No worries. We have unlimited miles.

More tomorrow.

Easter week was small-town adorable around here. There were egg hunts at Out-Of-Town-Park, and even a high school rodeo. One thing is for sure, this is the first time in many years that things seem normal. No masks. Tons of people out and about during the weekend. In general, us desert folk are ready for some fun.

These days, it seems as every car in town is rolling down main to clog up our teeny tiny little one lane round-about. There was barely space for a stop sign next to the rail overpass before they decided to utilize the new concept. Yielding to others. There are plenty of tire tracks on the inside curb, softened to accommodate the big rigs, some with three trailers instead of two. Such is life in our small, simple town.

The day before Easter, MM and I decided to explore. If we were planning to attend Sunrise service, we should know how to get there. “Turn at the first dirt road off Reservation Road,” isn’t the most detailed directions. The GPS in my new car would miss that one, and besides, my new car wouldn’t do well without pavement.

On a perfectly windy and blustery day, off we went in MM’s faithful truck. It’s seen all and knows all the ways of the desert, as does he. Being a resident since the mid-1900’s, he already knows the cool, out-of-sight places up the hill and around the bend. He knew right where we were going.

Well, it IS a bit of a drive.

You need to go over the raging river.

By Papa’s Ranch House.

Turn right at the one stop sign going through town.

Go by the school.

Just a couple minutes past the school, veer off to the left onto the dirt road.

Travel five miles over washboard roads. (According to Wikipedia, Washboarding creates an uncomfortable ride for the occupants. I can confirm this.)

Past the skinny desert cows with their spring calves. (Don’t ever get to close to these mamas.)

Just park at the corral and walk up the hill to the three crosses and you are there.

Now repeat at 5:30 in the morning in desert darkness.

It was wise that we decided to do this during the day. The washboarded dirt road was still an uncomfortable ride, but we knew it wouldn’t last forever.

The service was absolutely beautiful, under a beautiful desert sky. As the sun came up, the message was one of beauty, faith, hope, wonder, and life everlasting.

Whatever you decide to do today, you might want to plan an adventure just outside your own little town. Remember, dirt roads wash out. Never travel farther than you can travel back. Watch out for steep grades and mad mama cows. Be sure to get some pictures. You might need to give directions someday.

More tomorrow.

Today is National Velociraptor Day. April 18th. A day to celebrate this guy. A long extinct dinosaur that was relatively small, measuring only about six feet long or a touch over with that long tail, and weighing around 30 to 40 pounds. Just about the same as large size turkey. It wouldn’t have been able to look you in the eye unless it jumped up, and would have been about 1.6 feet. From the little I know about them, they ran in packs. After all, it’s always better to hunt with friends.

Just look at the illustrator’s ideas about what they might’ve looked like. Claws bigger than 16 penny nails and curved for better tearing. Jagged, pointy teeth with which to devour prey. Great vision, perfect sense of smell, and intense ability to hear. All the better with which to eat up its victims to the last bite.

Somedays, I would’ve preferred meeting up with a velociraptor rather than the cancer that stole away VST. Just as deadly, it stalked my husband for years, long before we knew it was just around the bend. It stripped him of his muscles and mind, leaving only the bones and a soul that left this earth far too soon.

This cancer left me hiding in a wilderness of grief I never expected. With faith, strength, courage, and patience, I made it through to the other side.

I could’ve fought off a velociraptor with a powerful gun. We could’ve sheltered in place until the herd of them went to find other victims. Heck, we might’ve even cooked one up to make a pretty good meal. I bet they would’ve tasted a lot like chicken.

As far as cancers go, Cholangiocarcinoma is one of the worst. Probably more comparable to a T-Rex than a silly Velociraptor.

Today, April 18th, is National Velociraptor Day. I doubt you’ll run into one. They’ve been gone from this earth for years and years. Not sure why it’s necessary to have a National Velociraptor Day. Whatever you do today, celebrate if you are not battling cancer. Hold your loved ones close.

You know that gratitude journal you’ve been meaning to start?

Entry #1 — Great Health!

Now, celebrate that!!!!!

More tomorrow

PS —

Winterpast just 5 minutes ago —

Goodbye, 2023 Apricots and plums. When will this end????

After a wonderful vacation, I’m back to fill you in on the latest happenings in my tiny little town. It’s definitely springtime in the desert, although the temperature was a chilly 43 degrees Fahrenheit this morning. Although the afternoons are quite sunny and comfortable, it’s still nippy before dawn. The winds have been fierce and will continue to be today. The high Sierra’s are expecting snow again tonight. It’s still winter there.

Last week, the temperatures rose into the high 80’s, intensifying worries of flooding. With much of the pasture land under water and reservoirs full, it’ll be interesting to see where the spring run off will go. One thing is for certain, flood waters are rising.

Here at Winterpast, the apricot, plum, and apple trees are beginning to bloom. The blueberry bush is budding. The bulbs are awakening. The lawn is greening up. Spring is here! Sadly, a random frost wiped out the apricots and they will again be ornamental this year. Such is the way of the weather in the desert.

I’m happy to say the horses haven’t been around to visit. They usually return to the high country to avoid people when the weather starts to improve. At 4500 ft. elevation, some would say I already live in high country, but there are many hidden peaks and valleys around here that are much higher.

So far this year, I’ve only seen one foal. With the horse management teams working the herds, many of the mares are now sterilized. Of course, there are the continual round-ups in which the mustangs are captured and moved to holding pens which have a very strange resemblance to cattle feed lots. There are many pretty fairy tales about their relocation. The sad reality is that there are just too many. If this tears at your heart, come adopt one for $125. Bring a rope and a beat up trailer. Just remember, they are 1,000+ lbs. of wild.

As is often the case in the desert, our spring will be a short one this year. In just a couple weeks, it may seem more like summer. That’s life in the desert.

If you love your garden like I do, you’ve probably started dealing with the weeds. The other day, I was out weeding when the first neighbors of the day walked by.

“So much work, those weeks are, eh?”

“Sure are.”

“We pay to have them sprayed once a year. Saves time and our backs.”

Wait, WHAT????? After they shared the cost, I returned to the more affordable removal method of choice. Old fashioned weeding.

About ten minutes later, Ninja Neighbor came out to walk her dogs.

“Hey there, are you going to spray this year? I’m getting my yard done today.”

I’m currently rethinking the weed abatement program here on the grounds of Winterpast.

As the birds are selecting the proper placement of the first nests of the season, the yard calls to me and I must go.

Whatever you do today, don’t let the weeds get ahead of you. Don’t go crazy with the soil sterilant. Use it only where you want things sterilized for the entire year. Check for emerging bulbs and the first flowers of spring. In the morning chill, there’s always spring cleaning that waits inside. Sunshine is sure to put a smile on your face!

More tomorrow.

It’s been 3 years since VST lost his battle with Cancer. Some days it seems like 3 decades ago, while others days it seems like yesterday. During the next few days, I plan to take time to celebrate VST with family and friends as we approach April 8th. After Easter, I plan to enjoy some much needed time to reflect and work on great garden plans for Winterpast 2023!

Please enjoy these precious days before Easter Sunday. VST loved this time of year, while taking care of the fragile new growth in the vineyard. He celebrated his very first Easter in Heaven just days after leaving his beautiful home on Earth.

Whatever you do in the next days of spring 2023, make them count. Create something beautiful! A plant? A place for nesting birds? A new friendship? Reflect in this season of renewal.

I’ll be back April 17th!

Looking back at events of the past year, I want to honor Ronnie and Beverly Barker on this Ronnie’s one year heaven-ersary. RV’ers are strong, resilient people. Ron and Bev were no different than VST and I as we set out to see the country. One big difference between us is that Ronnie and Beverly Barker disappeared in their RV.

Poof.

Gone

They were driving along the lonliest highway in the US one minute, even stopping at a local gas station to fill up. The next, they’d vanished.

The following is a story that has haunted me since it began last spring. Today it’s one year since Ronnie died. Although I don’t know Aunt Bev, her strength is a testament to the faith she shared with her husband.

Yes, Aunt Bev. I now carry a Bible under the front seat of my car, too. Thanks for that special tip.

It took nine days for local authorities to find them. Crazy weather prevented an early search by air. Once it began, they were discovered in a few hours. Along with the weather, legal road blocks cost Ronnie his life. Ronnie died because of Nevada’s legal road blocks on Days 1-8.

Nevada Law Enforcement — #LISTENTOTHEFAMILY — NOW.

The following speaks of the strength and courage of Ronnie and Beverly Barker. It speaks to their faith in God Almighty. It speaks of so many things bigger than us, you just need to read it and find the message waiting for you. The statement was given just days after Beverly and her Ronnie were found.

Written by Ronnie and Beverly Barker’s relatives Travis Peters, Lynn Bledsoe, Chris and Jennifer Whaley. Told by Beverly Barker, survivor.

UPDATE 9:22 EDT 4/6/22

If anyone would like to see my full interview it will be on at 10:00pm Indiana time / 7pm Nevada time. Just open Facebook and go to the WTHR-TV homepage and our Facebook live segment will begin. I’m not used to being on that side of the lens.

UPDATE 8:02pm EDT 4/6/22

I don’t even know how to tell everyone the story… I will try to tell the best I can. About 6:15pm, we received a group video call from Jennifer. Like you all, we were waiting anxiously to hear how Bev is doing and get some details about what happened. Jennifer appeared on the phone and waited for everyone to appear…. she was sitting in the driver’s seat of a car so we assumed she was headed to the hotel after visiting with Bev. There was a gasp of astonishment when Jennifer simply panned the phone over and there was Beverly sitting in the passenger seat of the rental car. You guys cannot imagine the rush of emotion that shot thru us all….

We anticipated Jennifer was going to tell us what happened, but instead we were given the story directly from Beverly.

Through an intermittent cell signal, and the voice of someone that had just spent 9 days on the side of the mountain we heard the details. I will attempt to re-tell this but I will never get it 100% correct but I will try.

Beverly stated that the GPS was to blame for getting them into the pickle they found themselves in. The “highway” switch was not turned on in the GPS settings so I suppose it found the shortest route to their destination and that’s the way they went. I’m unclear of where they were heading on that Sunday evening, that’s a detail I missed when talking with her.

In any event they started down the road, following directions. There never was a fear that they were doing anything wrong. Bev recalls they they saw other cars, I believe she even mentioned another motorhome was seen. The directions had them making turns and they knew they were going up a mountain but I don’t think they ever had a fear that they were doing anything wrong. Bev said that the RV was doing just fine on the road other than the fact that they had to slow down because the trailer dolly that was bouncing around if they went too fast. Eventually the motorhome became stuck in the gravel and sand that was their roadbed. In my mind I pictured them stuck in the mud, but I think it was more of the sand.

They were going nowhere that Sunday night so they figured that they would just sleep in the RV and just hop in the Kia Soul in the morning and just continue up and over the mountain and get help to free their RV.

Without thinking about it, they just got in the car the next morning (Monday) and drove away from the RV. Thought wasn’t given to getting some water or blankets… They were ok, they just needed to go get some help to get the RV. Bev said they continued and came across numerous intersections and they took a wrong turn and eventually found themselves stuck again.

The next part of this story isn’t about the struggle to survive, because yes, that was happening. No, the rest of this story can only be described as a religious experience. I cannot provide a day-by-day account, but I will give you some details only because Beverly gave me permission to tell you all.

They remained with the stranded Kia, roughly 2 miles from where they left the RV. They had no idea how far they had went or how to begin to get back to the rig, especially in the shape they were in physically. They stayed with their vehicle and Ronnie would tap out SOS signals on the horn every 10 minutes. Ronnie taught Bev the pattern and she would do the same throughout the 9 day ordeal.

It was cold at night. Bev said the temps dropped to roughly 27. She never mentioned hunger as an issue, but thirst was their enemy. I’m unsure of when things got to the point that Bev had to begin taking care of my uncle as the dehydration began to pull the life from him.

Bev mentioned finding the strength to walk a long way to get snow that remained along a ridge. She used her walker for balance and she had bags that she would fill with snow before returning to uncle Ronnie. She mentioned using N95 masks that they had in the car to hold the snow. My uncle Ronnie was dying, and there was nothing they could do but honk that horn and try to melt snow for drink.

Bev mentioned the beauty of the area they were stranded in. She recalled how gorgeous the blue skies were and how many aircraft they would see crisscrossing the skies. I THINK she mentioned hearing or seeing someone that was looking for them but the cell signal made it hard to understand her at times. She spoke of the nights and how beautiful the stars were as they cuddled in the backseat of the Kia Soul.

My uncle was having difficulty breathing so Bev would have to position herself in ways that allowed Ronnie’s lungs to get air. She joked about one time she put her leg across his body and he told her it felt good because of the warmth she was providing him.

My uncle began to see Ananias from the Bible and he would talk to Ronnie. Ronnie asked Bev to read to him from the bible and she would do so as they passed the hours and days in the car.

Ronnie blamed himself for getting them into the situation but I do not think that there was any blame for him to shoulder. Eventually peace came upon the both of them and Ronnie Barker passed away at 3:12pm on Monday April 4. Beverly said that she snapped a photo so that she would remember the time of his passing.

She left her husband in the back seat and moved to the front of the car and resumed the only thing she could do….honk the horn….S O S….. She became frightened that the battery had died at some point after Ronnie passed. She went to honk and nothing happened. She waited a few hours and though to try again and luckily it started to honk again.

She remained with Ronnie and the next day (yesterday) unbenounced to her, rescuers located the RV. They were able to see the tire tracks and began following, although they were having a difficult time keeping the tracks as the desert would swallow them occasionally. Finally, after 9 days on Red Mountain, a rescuer heard that S-O-S coming from the Kia and Aunt Bev was finally safe.

Bev didn’t go into details of how she felt when she saw her rescuers. She said that they asked her what she needed and she instantly said “Water!” They asked if she needed food and amazingly after 9 days with nothing to eat she told them that she really wasn’t hungry.

She never mentioned weeping for her loss, I’m not sure she had the water to even form tears at that moment. She didn’t mention fighting anything that was happening around them. It was like they were ok with how it could end.

My friends…….that is everything she told me that I can recall. I was due to record an interview with my evening reporter Scott Swan so I think I staggered from my edit bay and he was the first person I saw so I told him I had just talked to Bev. We were already supposed to record an interview, so with Beverly’s blessing I talked to Scott and told him what I just told you all.

I will post that interview later this evening for you to hear. I still have questions…. where were they trying to get to? When did the gas run out? Bev mentioned that it had 3/4 of a tank when they started down the mountain. Did they ever come close to rescue? Did they see any search aircraft? Minor details that really don’t matter at this point.

The story has been told to me, and me to you….A miracle took place on Red Mountain. There’s no physical way that Bev would have been able to make it to get snow time after time without the Lord carrying her up to that ridge. The story Bev told, while heartbreaking, was uplifting as well. There was way more talk about how they were at peace with the fate that was closing in on them. There were more words of love and kindness to each other than pain and suffering. It truly was a religious experience.

I often tell people that my favorite church is when I’m alone in the woods or out on a creek or lake. It’s real…and there’s nothing fake about my church. Ron and Bev spent 9 days in my favorite church and in a way I’m very jealous of the spot that the Lord chose to bring Uncle Ronnie home.

We told Bev of all the prayers that you all were sending out. We told her of people from England and Australia that reached out to us. All of those dropped what they were doing and went looking for them in that Nevada high desert. She thanks all of you from the bottom of her heart. Thank you all….

The following words are the “official” statement we are now releasing to members of the media. We thank them all for their coverage of this harrowing story, and we ask that they continue to follow us as we try to get things changed so that no family has to struggle for the help we were seeking. Ronnie Barker passed away on Monday 4/4. Beverly was rescued roughly 21 hours later. Had proper steps been taken from the moment they were reported as missing, my Uncle would be alive today. Your inability to deal with this situation cost my uncle his life. I hope that haunts you for the rest of yours.

PLEASE, Law Enforcement — #LISTENTOTHEFAMILY.

You can hear Beverly tell her own story. Google her name. It’s a beautiful interview. A true testament to the faith she shared with her husband.

Whatever you do today, don’t just follow your GPS without looking out the window. Know a little about your destination before you head out the door. Don’t drive an RV up an unpaved, gravel road. But most importantly, keep a Bible handy under the front seat.

More tomorrow.

All I can say for sure is this. When I turn 85, there better be a party.

I’m still a bit groggy from the wonderful party last night at the Cow Hand’s Café. Not knowing how in the heck we kept it quiet, it was a huge shock to the guest of honor, Miss B, my Mysterious Marine’s mom. With all the twists and turns in her journey during the last year, she celebrates her day today, but we kicked off the festivities last night. In the past year, she’s suffered broken bones, moved out of her house to rehab, emptied and nearly sold her home, and then decided to get well enough to move back in to begin again. To watch her heal and return to her life has been nothing short of a string of miracles all worthy of a big party for her 85th. The next chapter of her beautiful life.

The Mysterious Marine comes from a family of five boys. There are actually a couple step brothers I’ve yet to meet, but Miss B started with this core group of five, with MM being the oldest. The baby is about ten years younger and still hard at work as a coach. These five men are a wonderful example of what brotherhood should be. Having grown up in this town, their family is legendary at the High School and community, as is she. After all, Son #2 is our town Mayor. Miss B, you did a great job!

The birthday talk starting weeks ago. With a visit at her home coming to an end, Miss B made one final declaration that night.

“I’m turning 85 on April 3rd and there’d better be a party. A good one.”

Now, I don’t know about you, but when a person almost 20 years my senior says, “There’d better be…” I know there better be. Period. No time to pussy foot around with “Maybe’s” or “We’ll See”-s. Time to put the date on the calendar and run with it, which is exactly what was done. In secret. Sometimes a little hearing loss is a blessing.

After weeks of hushed phone calls and a final flurry of activity, the party started last night when she walked into the room. There were balloons hugging the ceiling. Thirty members of this wonderful family came together to celebrate their Mom, Grandma, and dear friend. The room overflowed with “Remember when”-s of love and respect. The restaurant had to put on extra staff just for us. And yes, her son, The Mayor, was in attendance to make it a perfect night for Miss B.

I’ve never seen a birthday party come together so quickly. MM’s daughter brought the fixings for a cake to his house at 3:30 pm. Whipping cream. Two large 18″x18″ sheet cakes of a special secret family recipe. Fruit. Floors. Decorations. By 5:00, she had created the most beautiful garden cake I’ve ever seen, complete with the freshest flowers on top. Just like that, without breaking into tears once!

As we sat in the kitchen laughing our heads off, it was as if I’ve known her my entire life, not just seven short months. Easy. MM’s family is beautiful and easy to love. I’m slowly learning who belongs to who. The Mayor and his wife have 5 kids, 25 grands and 3 or 4 Great-Grands, so my work is cut out for me. I could sit and talk at length with any one of the people at the party last night, from the adorable teens to the oldest woman in the room. The brothers have four of the cutest wives ever. Such a great crowd. The amazing thing is that they all like each other. A Lot!!!

After dinner, we ate cake while presents were opened. The turtle was quickly named Bartholomew by a grandson, which caused lots more laughter. Miss B loved every single second of the biggest, bad-est birthday party in the history of Cow Hand’s Cafe. Somehow, this crowd kept the entire thing a big secret which is saying a lot.

As the for restaurant staff, this crowd gave them a run for their money. There were at least five or six staff waiting on people at all times. Whatever we wanted we had in seconds. It has now become my favorite place to eat. In this day and age, there aren’t many places in which you can get that kind of service. Especially places right off the interstate in a dusty little town at a wide spot in the road on the desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Well, with the fresh snowfall, it’s time to try out the new snow blower. This should be the last storm of the season, but this year, it’s hard to tell. Next week, the temperatures are expected to climb into the 80’s. And such is life in the high desert.

Whatever you do today, have a little laugh about something. It could just be a cute piece of ceramic that suddenly gets a name like Bartholomew. Remember the reason for this season. Renewal and Rebirth! Have yourself a wonderful day!

More tomorrow.

Seriously. If my mind hasn’t been stretched to the limit trying to learn about the workings of my new car, up pops one more thing I should’ve known long ago. Just one of life’s little hacks about which I wasn’t taught by my very efficient and knowledgeable mother. Wondering when this first appeared, it’s something everyone who owns a kitchen should know.

Take out your aluminum foil box and look closely. First of all, with such a magical tip as the one I’m about to share, why oh why wouldn’t it have been addressed on the box? So many tips are listed on my box of foil. Tips for “Easy Cleanup when Painting”, “Floral Arrangements”, or “Gift Giving”. You can use this foil to line, grill, or freeze. It’s the “Non-Stick” solution to life. There are “Stay Closed Tabs” on the box. 50 Square feet, converts to 16.6 Yards X 12 Inches, that converts to 4.64 Square Meters. (Just who decides what information will appear on the box? Who?) But, no where on my box is the real tip of the day revealed.

Of course, I found this hack while reading through a list of tricks not to be missed on the internet. Isn’t everything found on the internet?

Without making you wait another minute, I’ll now tell you what we have all been missing our entire lives. On the end of the boxes of foil, and other wraps as well, there are two, almost invisible, tabs. Almost circular, they are meant to be pushed inward to hold the roll in place. Just like that, no more crazy rolls of wrap that come out of the box, causing lots of crumbled problems and waste. Just two little tabs and, POOF, years of frustration could’ve been avoided.

This tip was probably missed in 4-H Girl’s Cooking class, while flicking flour at Betty, Sandra, and Linda. This is a truly helpful hack. A week after finding this online, the local news was broadcasting a story about the little tabs on the ends of foil boxes. Not a secret anymore, I wonder if this was something discovered at the International Space Station? My high school Home Economics Teacher, Mrs. Freda Montgomery, wouldn’t have withheld such critical information from her happy little home-makers. She just wouldn’t have left this out.

With a sigh, this is truly all I have to share for today. I hope you enjoy poking the tabs on all your wraps inward and then trying the boxes. Such an idea hidden on the ends of the foil box.

As for Oliver and I, we are finishing up a week in which he is learning that he is the DOG and I’m the HUMAN and WINTERPAST’S QUEEN OF EVERYTHING. After making some extremely bad choices last week, he’s spent the week experiencing Dog Training 101. Actually, many tips from Caesar Milan, The Dog Whisperer, have turned him into a respectable canine house mate.

There’ll be no more furniture hopping. No more sleeping in the bed. He’ll show respect for personal boundaries of all humans. And the biggest……NO Biting, Guarding, or Growling. That’s the end of that side of Sir Oliver. All in all, the tips from Caesar have been working. Disrespecting the hand that feeds the dog is never a good idea. Oliver is thinking over that idea, while I’m trying to a remain calm, cool, and assertive pack leader.

This weekend, the desert weather may be a little warmer. It’s time for working in the yard. Yesterday, curious as to why my bulbs hadn’t come up yet, MM started to investigate. To my embarrassment, I hadn’t planted bulbs planted in the first two planters we checked. After plant them in September I just forgot where. When we finally found the right pots, there they were nestled at the proper depth in the soil, far behind his blooming bulbs, but green and healthy. After a hard winter, there are many things that need cleaning and fixing. What a glorious season to spend time under desert big skies on the vast plains in Northwestern Nevada.

Whatever you do this weekend, be thankful for the wonderful life you have! Start a gratitude journal. There are always things for which to be thankful even in the midst of pain and grief. Hold onto those things and calmly carry on. Have the best weekend you can! Easter is almost here!

I’ll be back Monday for a few days before my Spring Break!!! Stay tuned.