Author: Joy Hurt

Sunday past, the last full moon of 2021 shone brightly. Known as the Cold Moon, this full moon hangs longer in the sky than others. Rising just days before the Winter Solstice and the shortest day of the year, the high desert Cold Moon shone brightly on the horizon as I waited in the parking lot on main for Sunday evening bible study.. My heart felt just like this Cold Moon, rather lonely up there in the heavens.

The winter and summer solstice refer to the shortest and longest days of the year while the spring and autumn equinoxes fall on days with the same amount of day and night hours. For me, the winter solstice is when I say Goodbye to my favorite time of year, while marching towards the longer days of spring. For me, it’s the long winter nights that are a big trying.

Through the next three months, the trees of Winterpast will continue to sleep deeply. Although they shudder in the high desert winds, any other sign of life is gone. Outlined with snowflakes at times, the back yard takes on a different beauty. On full moon nights, the outlines of the trees make a ghostly appearance through my bedroom blinds. Eerie shadows cause me to turn away as I fall asleep.

Yesterday, I experienced a magical event that made me think I’d lost my mind. Pogonip. Venturing out to visit a friend, when walking through her yard, the air was sparkling with floating glitter. So beautiful, I had to stop. Truly, I thought I had lost my ever-lovin’ mind. The faintest sparkles were hanging in the air like tiny diamonds, while swirling this way and that. I didn’t mention it until a little while after I arrived. No. It was real. It’s called pogonip, or freezing fog. I normally hate fog, but the next time this occurs, I’ll photograph it if I can. It was magical.

These long days of winter give me plenty of time to think and write. No excuses of broken sprinkler systems or grass that needs mowing to distract me . There is just Oliver, me, and the computer. Time for everything restful and quiet, with plenty of time to dig deeper into treasures hidden deep in my soul. Just like the trees outside, I need the darkness as much as the light.

That being said, there are those things that go thump in the night giving one cause for pause. The other night, I was chatting with CC about all the latest happenings here in the high desert when there was an alarming noise from outside. Not a thud. Not a slide. Not a bang or a snap. A dull noise made by something very, very big. Alarmed, I stopped the conversation and listened for a bit, finally writing off the event to something I thought I heard. It couldn’t have been real. I decided I was imagining things.

A few nights went by, with quiet being the signature sound coming from my neighborhood. It is so quiet, either in the day or night, that I can hear my heart beat in the silence. Rarely do I hear a stray voice or the sound of a hedge trimmer or hammer. Just silence. I’m often awakened in the night by the far away sounds of a lonely train zipping through town or Jake Brakes on the interstate. Once in awhile, a stray Top Gun jet might fly over on its way to home base, or a life flight helicopter racing someone to the hospital in the next town over. No barking dogs or bickering neighbors. Just peace and quiet.

Stray noises of the unusual kind do stand out, and sure enough, on that very dark night there was something very large right outside my bedroom window. Moving about, it was enough of sound that I grabbed the flashlight to find out, once and for all, what would be making this noise on my property, right next to my bedroom window.

After turning on my extremely bright porch lights while Oliver barked loudly, I proceeded outside, turning left to walk in front of my studio window. In the total darkness of night I saw nothing, which made me hold the Mag Flashlight as a weapon. Whatever was there would receive a bit of a headache if an attack occurred.

It was then that not just one but two mustangs came around the corner of my house. But of course!!! The Mustangs.!!! The corner of my fence and house make the perfect manger/windbreak. Relieved it wasn’t someone wanting to do me harm, I backed away, encouraging them to move on down the road. The quiet clippity-clop of their hooves on the blacktop fit the night as they disappeared into the darkness. They would need to find another place to shelter for the night. No room at Winterpast.

How lucky I am to enjoy Winter in a place so safe that I can go into the night to investigate a noise. What a blessing to live with majestic animals like the mustangs that choose us as their neighbors. Although I’m pretty sure I heard them grumbling as they left, I hope there were no hard feelings. They’ll be back soon.

Winter holds time to think and redirect. Time to envision new garden plans. Time for soup and yummy hot dishes. Time to sleep a little later in the morning and turn in a little earlier each evening. Time to cuddle with photo albums and smile at the happy memories made so long ago. Time to hope for new memories yet made and new friendships yet to be discovered. Winter is the loveliest of seasons.

Enjoy Winter’s first day. Have fun finishing your preparations for Christmas celebrations. Take the time to contact friends you haven’t talked to for awhile. Remember to stay warm and safe. More tomorrow.

On December 12, 2020, I gave testimony of my faith in a tiny little baptistery hidden behind four walls off Main Street on a wide spot on the road in the Northwestern Nevada desert. One of the most beautiful moments of life, I’ll remember it the rest of my days.

VST died during his 65 year. As if he knew he would never see 66, speed limit signs would always grab his attention. Don’t Pass 65. He’d comment on the signs often, almost as a warning that he wouldn’t make it, and he did not.

For the last six months, I’ve been attending Baptist on Main while falling in love with my church family. Such a caring group of people, I’ve witnessed prayer at work. There has been one inexplicable healing of a friend who has suffered from broken vertebrate for the last two years. Some would say time healed her. I believe it was God. Her pain was debilitating and constant. One day, she accepted a full and total healing from GOD. Whatever you choose to believe is fine by me. I believe in the power of God’s mercy and grace watching her broad smile as she comes to church, now pain free. A miracle in my eyes, she no longer wears her cumbersome brace. A testament to her faith and the miracle of prayer.

As I became a part of this circle of believers, their prayers for me were heartfelt. As the weeks passed, the fact that I was baptized as an infant in another little country church far away wasn’t quite enough for me. I made a conscious choice to become baptized as an adult.

Pastor C and I are friends. I look to him for answers as I travel through the confusing wilderness of widowhood. Prayers are a comfort while walking a widow’s journey through loss towards acceptance. Testimony about his wife’s recent illness and the miracle their family received is a beautiful story of strength, determination, and God’s grace. Although their struggle through illness is still very real and raw, her health is returning a little at a time, along with her smile. His strength and support to his church family during his own dark days is remarkable.

One day before Bible Study, on a bright, blue sky morning, I asked Pastor C if he would baptize me before my church family. We talked for a little bit and he agreed. He offered to baptize me on Christmas Eve by candlelight. Something about taking away the spotlight and meaning of the candlelight Christmas communion didn’t see right. Besides, I wanted to be baptized during my 65th year. December 24th would be eight days too late.

Baptism represents death, burial, and rebirth. Doing this during my 65 year was another part of healing. Each year, between July and December, I was two years younger than VST. It just bugged him. I would enjoy those days immensely, teasing him until December 16th rolled around. Now, I’m officially older than VST. He must be chuckling in heaven about that. I wanted my Baptism to be on my 65th year as a special shout out to heaven, and so, December 12th was the chosen date.

The week before, Pastor C teased me promising to hold me down a bit too long while making sure the temperature of the water was as cold as the grave. In my mind, I was thinking about what to wear in front of a room full of onlookers. Just what does one wear to a Southern Baptist Baptism when you are the center of attention? Someone had mentioned a bathing suit, but that seemed all too revealing.

It finally came to me. In the winter, I wear black long-sleeved turtlenecks under everything, adding additional warmth. I’d choose one of those and grey cotton shorts. Perfect for me.

The morning of the 12th, the chapel was pretty full. Visitors had chosen the day to see what Baptist on Main was about. Strangers and friendly faces watched as I went behind the door marked “Office” to change with help from Miss Willow. Alone, I slipped into the turtleneck and shorts, ready to climb some very steep steps up to the baptismal pool.

Entering the water, it was neither cold nor warm. Freshly drawn during Bible Study, the font sits in front of a stunning mural of a local lake. The bottom of the font isn’t visible from the chapel side, giving the impression that one is just sitting in water by the lake. When immersed, the person being baptized is visible to the church members through a window in the side of the baptistry as they go underwater. While I sat on a little seat built into the baptistery, Pastor C stood behind it, quite dry.

Although the entire event took less than a minute, it seemed like a lifetime to me. Pastor C prayed over me and then, quickly, I was under the water and raised back out. As I looked out into a sea of my new family, I was glad I was wet. Only Pastor C could tell my tears were mixed with the water in the baptistery. Just like that, I was baptized. Just like that, I became a new member of OUR church.

Quick as a cricket and down the steep stairs, I dried off in the office as Pastor C went on with his Sunday sermon. Wet headed, I rejoined the worship service so glad that I’d chosen this ceremony to publicly declare my acceptance of Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Somedays, Faith is all I have to help guide me through the wilderness of widowhood. Belonging to this little parish is another way I’m sinking roots into my desert home. It’s here I’ve belonged all along.

Back with the flock, the service ended. A friend asked if I’d join her for lunch at the local diner. Two others joined us and we had a delightful meal. Friends make life worth living. Returning home, chores were all still waiting, but so was a chance for a nap. Dying, being buried, and rising again is tough work, even if only symbolic.

That’s my story. Such a beautiful memory, mine alone. A day I’ll never forget.

Have a wonderful day today, whatever you choose to do. Fill it with happiness.

More tomorrow.

These days, there are online instructions for everything. How to change out a faucet, bake bread, train the dog, and even, guidelines for figuring out Love Languages. If you haven’t ever looked up that last one, you might consider it. Miscommunications in relationships can occur if you speak a different love language than your partner, friends, and family.

Information about Love Languages isn’t a new concept. I remember hearing a lot about it in the 1900’s. VST and I were a match with our LL’s, speaking the same dialect. Through the years, spending quality time together was our thing. I would’ve chosen time with VST while working on the worst farming project over anything or anyone else in the world. We were just matched that way. It helped in retirement, then finding ourselves together 24/7.

A co-worker found this confusing. In her opinion, VST could die, and I’d be left with no bosom-buddies. At that time, all of them enjoyed after-work activities while VST and I worked the farm together. It wasn’t really a choice. Farm work needs to be done whether it was 5 AM or 5 PM. That I could be happy spending time working with VST was a mystery to the group.

Now, he surely is gone and she turned out to be correct. There are many, many lonely days when I wish I had a gaggle of girlfriends with which to play. Slowly, I’m making a group. One thing is for sure. I would NEVER EVER trade the memories I made with VST for memories made with girlfriends.

There are five basic Love Languages. Christmas is a great time to research these, wanting to find the perfect gift for your someone special. In the early years, VST and I would wrap up gifts we thought would amaze. Usually we ended up spending a day after Christmas in the return line, our feelings a little bruised from the experience.

Finally, we decided that we’d make Christmas shopping a tandem event, selecting gifts while spending time together. Shopping for ourselves and each other on Christmas Eve morning, it was time to talk, laugh, and relax. Becoming our tradition over the years, it was those morning hours together that I remember now. I’d be hard pressed to tell you what we bought, but, I can remember the fun we had shopping together in empty stores because most of the town’s folk were already done. For both of us, Quality Time was our number one Language of Love. Receiving Gifts ranked last.

The following are the Five Languages of Love.

1. Words of Affirmation.
2. Quality time.
3. Receiving Gifts.
4. Acts of Service.
5. Physical Touch.

There are online quizzes one can take to discover in what order of importance they are for you. If you’re lucky enough to have a special someone, have them take the quiz too, while finding out how you compare. In the end, when everything else is said and done, beautiful memories are left with loved-ones when death comes. VST left enough wonderful memories to last until my forever ends.

This Christmas, think about giving a special memory to those you love the best. Plan an unexpected activity. Sing Christmas Carols. Go play in the snow or take a walk on the beach. Cook a special meal together, or just take a nice walk and talk about life. Making memories will never go out of style or be returned because it’s the wrong size.

For the next few days, I’ll be transforming into someone one a year older. Meeting up with friends, we’ll share meals full of fascinating conversation. Somewhere along the line, I’ll grab a piece of birthday cake and remember all the wonderful parts of being 65. 66 is ripe with possibilities of adventure. I can hardly wait to get started.

Have fun with whatever your week holds. I’ll check back on Monday to report on the happenings from my dusty little town in the middle of a wide spot in the road nestled on the high desert plains of Northern Nevada. Until then, make some new holiday traditions and don’t forget to enjoy the old ones !! Joy

Oh My. How is it that the craziest things can happen at the worst possible time? Growing up, it would involve plumbing issues during a holiday event. During harvest, a broken sprocket on the raisin-shaking equipment. A burst pipe on the spray rig when the mites were sucking our vines dry. Things just happen when you least expect them.

T and K came to visit on Friday. This is on the top of the list of the BEST POSSIBLE THINGS IN MY WORLD. They always come in with smiles and hugs, and then, we start talking just where we left off as if we live next door and visit every day. Being VST’s twins, they share and reflect all the very best parts of him. I am so blessed that they love me enough to come for visits. I’m relieved when they seem to approve of how things look around Winterpast.

In the afternoon, T went into Mr. Fix-It Mode and was helping with many little jobs around the house. The HVAC filter got changed. Security cameras were installed. And then, there was the issue of the Jeep air filter. I had just bought a replacement, and wasn’t sure where or how to install it. We were in the garage, doing this and that when it happened.

I’d been on one side of the Jeep, while he was at the workbench. Going to find something we were looking for, I miscalculated my route and ran into the bumper of the Jeep. No just a small collision. I was moving at a pretty good clip. Upon impact, there was a audible thud, and then, pain. LOTS. OF. PAIN.

Now. You must envision just WHO these two are. Sports minded, body conscious, nimble 45 year old people who can dodge incoming balls of any kind. They can jump and make baskets. Run without tripping on their feet. Very agile. Even K, with her bionic parts does not run into objects of any kind, let alone something as big and imposing as a parked Jeep.

Trying not to do anything more stupid, I immediately went to get my ice pack, ready and waiting for instances like this. On the couch, I just kept thinking, “Why today? Why today? Why today?” I do have one of VST’s canes left. I considered whether or not I would need it, further pushing me down the road to old.

T and K were kind. They were supportive. But, really? I wouldn’t blame them for considering this another step on the road to “THE HOME”. Days later, the leg is not working as the other. The bruised thigh bone is “talkin’ to me”, as VST would say about his aches and pains. A reminder that I’m not an observant walker, let alone a sports person.

The day continued with homemade Clam Chowder for dinner. By 8:30, we were all dragging, and decided to turn it. It was then the second disaster of the day occurred. Living alone, I ordered a “FALL AND CALL” system. If I FALL, it automatically CALLS the world with the push of a button. There are shower, pendent, and watch buttons. Buttons on the mother-ship unit that sits in the kitchen. Plenty of buttons in case one has a need to push them. Living alone, its a good device to have.

Never have I set the unit off accidentally. Never. In fact, having owned the unit for 1.5 years now, I don’t often even look at the pendent that hangs on my light. Never have I bumped the shower button. Racing around the kitchen, I haven’t accidentally hit the mother-ship. No. Not something that happens around here, until Friday night.

I was getting into bed, ready to fall asleep. The covers were just so. Pillows fluffed. Oliver was snoring in his kennel. I reached for the light. Somehow, some way, I hit the pendent just right. All of a sudden, the tiniest little ding began.

A tinkling little ding,ding,ding,ding……..

Then, I hear it.

FALL DETECTED. AMBULANCE ON THE WAY. FALL DETECTED. AMBULANCE ON THE WAY. WARNING. WARNING. WARNING………….. It wouldn’t stop.

Now, I’d just had the leg incident. I was in my bedroom with the door closed. I needed to get my pajamas on before I could race to the kitchen to figure out how to stop the message.

T, just settling into a nights sleep, heard me calling for him to help turn off the machine. He thought I’d fallen in the bathroom. He started yelling for K, who was happily settling down in the guest room. I yelled to Tim, to try to stop the ambulance from showing up. Tim was not coming in the bedroom, worried that I was in some state of dispair and undress that he didn’t want to see. In the meantime the device had already left a message for CC, over in California that something was amiss.

Finally decent, I raced to the unit to find there is NO cancel button.

FALL DETECTED. AMBULANCE ON THE WAY. FALL DETECTED. AMBULANCE ON THE WAY. WARNING. WARNING. WARNING…. It kept on for what seemed an eternity.

K to the rescue, just held down a button until a real voice answered, allowing me to tell her that it was a false alarm. It just wasn’t the way I wanted Friday to end.

I really love my life here at Winterpast. I love my independence and the fact that I don’t injure myself very often, except maybe when tripping over a dog bed or running into my Jeep bumper. I realize these are two check marks on T and K’s list for reasons to carefully consider a possible need for a move to “THE HOME”.

Since they left, nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Functioning normally, I’ll save up my outrageous antics for the next version on “Geriatric Blunders With The Kids (Who Aren’t Kids But Adults). My leg still hurts like hell, not helping my bruised pride to feel any better.

Be careful. Injuries can occur when you least expect it. By the way, as an elderly person living alone, you might want to re-read the instructions for turning off your “Fall and Call” machine. You just never know when this could happen to you. With a gimp and a limp, I send you good thoughts for a happy today. More tomorrow.

Getting an earlier than usual start this morning, I’ve much to do today. Everything must be in tip top shape, because T and K are arriving around noon. I haven’t told Oliver yet, but he knows something is up. Snow fell for the first time yesterday leaving my little town looking festive, nestled under the surrounding mountains.

With clam chowder in the crock pot, I’m going to the beauty salon this morning for a trial run. I’m getting eyelashes. Not sure how this will turn out. I’m not going for the heavy, black gypsy look. Just something that looks natural. If your old like me, life can strip away natural lashes little by little. This morning I’ll find out whether this was one of my better ideas or not. I don’t know anyone else who has been crazy enough to do this, so stay tuned. It may be another “Lucy” idea.

Somewhere today, I need to bake a Sugar-Free Apple Pie. Trying to eliminate sugar anywhere I can, I often bake with Splenda. So far, every substitution I’ve tried has been delicious, so this will be a new one. Just a simple apple pie recipe using Granny Smith apples.

My grandmother’s apple pies are where I set my bar. It would be wonderful if I could pop back in time and walk out to her big old apple tree to pick 8 for my pie. From that tree, I would need only 4. My grandparents would laugh at the size of the apples, some approaching dinner plate size. No pre-cooking was necessary, because the apples baked down to a warm and gooey mixture of cinnamon, butter, cream, and yummy-ness, all wrapped up in a perfectly browned crust.

These pies would just appear in the summer, warm and fragrant. Grammie made it seem like it was nothing at all. I wish it were that effortless. Making a butter crust isn’t all that easy. And, then, there’s the mess afterwards. But, today, that’s on the list.

T and K want to visit Pastor C’s gun store to do a little Christmas shopping. I have lots of little fix-it projects for T while K and I visit. Our time together is such a blessing.

Tomorrow, I’ve dedicated the day to helping at the church. I can’t wait for the 8th Annual Christmas Dinner tomorrow night. With any luck at all, I’ll have some time to rest before arriving at 4 PM to help Miss E. I’m planning to stay until the last crumb is swept up in preparation for Sunday services and my Baptism.

Life is one giant blessing. At this special time of year, be sure to remember why we celebrate. Practice the TRUE meaning of Christmas. Help out where you can. Be kind. Smile. Sing some Christmas carols. Make a snow man. Hug someone special. Enjoy being alive.

I’ll be back Monday. Until then, stay safe and have a wonderful weekend.

Last night, after miles of driving and more shopping, it was again time for Wednesday night Bible Study at 6 PM. Class with Pastor C begins at 6 PM, however, choir practice starts at 5. With a tiny little group of 7, these dedicated men and women sing hymns of praise, bringing life to the the Worship Service on Sundays. To be able to hear them practice on Wednesday before Bible Study is a treat well worth going a little early.

During this time, I rest my brain and listen to the lyrics of the hymns. I think back to a little blonde girl sitting on hard wooden pews in the German church her Great Grandparents helped build. Not sure in what capacity they helped, but, everyone in the farming community did help in some way. The church is truly beautiful with stain glass windows and gorgeous woodwork. It’s odd how one little hymn at Baptist on Main can trigger instant tears linking my then with my now.

Last night, a dear sweet friend, Miss Butterfly (Miss B) came early, as well. She is lovely in every sense of the word. Sensitive and caring, she is battling something very complicated and horrible having limited memory of her past, either immediate or distant. Fully capable and in the present, she is aware of her difficulties. In spite of something so serious, she puts one foot in front of the other and carries on, finding ways to work through life. She is truly an amazing woman, being one of the strongest I have met in a very long time.

We’ve decided to be phone buddies and text each other morning and night. Two single women need to watch out for each other. Last night, she was troubled and tearful after an exceptionally trying day. When I misplace something I need or want, frustration can be overwhelming. But, it passes when the lost item is finally found. I can’t imagine going through this every minute of every day. Through our conversations, we both found a reason to smile and then even chuckle at things that get us so upset.

She was the first to point out that worrying about yesterday is just a waste of time anyway. Things have already happened that can’t be changed. Focusing on tomorrow is not so good either. Functioning in the moment. Now, that is truly what life is all about. What a lovely and insightful woman. She is a true friend, indeed.

Another sweet friend came to join us, troubled in her own right. With a very ill and stubborn family member at home, she came needing a healing last night. Another favorite friend, she is desert gal strong. When I think of everything these two women face each and every day, I need to count my blessings. I’m sure my days of troubles are on the horizon. For every day without heartache, we all need to rejoice and be thankful.

In the middle of our conversation, we were asked to quiet ourselves. The choir had stopped practicing. It was time to have serious prayer at the alter for two church members facing some pretty significant health challenges. With a handful of people present, the most beautiful group prayer began. The evening light was just so, and the presence of the Holy Spirit WAS the room. Each person in the small choir said their own personal prayer. God surely heard us last night, in the very quiet and early hours of the evening on the alter at the little church on Main. May his Mercy shine upon us all.

The hour of teaching about Proverbs fly by. Pastor C talked about ways in which people can be spiritually lost. I saw myself in each example, but also know I was found when I first walked into this little church, rich with an extraordinary group of Believers.

Today, focus returns to preparations. There is clam chowder simmer and an apple pie to bake. Carpets to vacuum and dust to wipe. All this while the first storm of the year is here. No snow. Yet. Will it be a White Christmas? That remains to be seen.

Remember to enjoy the moment, for it is truly all we have. Have a wonderful day. More tomorrow.

Happiness is a state of mind. It’s a healthy and safe garden in which I’m growing my new life. It flourishes in my heart with the help of CC, Da Girl, Ninja Neighbor, Teacher Girl, and all the friendship they so graciously share with me. I’m a lucky gardener grieving. _{Joy Hurt 12/2020}

So many great friendships have grown in the garden of my life over the last twelve months. Even though I have no biological family in the area, my family of friends have helped me stay focused on moving forward. No easy task, for sure. For those that have wandered in one door and out the other I have nothing but respect and thanks for lessons I have learned along the way.

With the happiest of memories, I think back to meals at The Tee Pee Bar and Grill with Miss Firecracker. I miss you so much. I think of the mischief we would be creating were you still living just a couple miles up the road. I haven’t been able to drive down your street to see your house. It would only remind me of the times I showed up in your driveway to pick you up for dinner. We’d start talking the minute the door of the Jeep opened and not stop until we returned to your house. You’re someone else’s neighbor now, but, you will always and forever be my Miss Firecracker.

Last year, I was facing my first Christmas here at Winterpast. We had chosen our little town because, of all the places in the surrounding area, this place was reported to get the least snow. I still laugh at that. Last year, at one point, I had at least five inches of snow covering my property. This year, as I await the first snow of the year, I wonder what the next twelve weeks will hold. Mild and meek weather, or blizzards and wild winds. I suspect a little of both.

Today, the sunshine has again come out to play. Sitting in the hot tub this afternoon, the back fence neighbor was busy hanging Christmas lights. The neighborhood dogs were out to play, barking up a storm. Walkers walked, while people scurried to the store to stock up for the last few items before the storm does blow in.

T and K, VST’s twins (who are no longer kids but adults) are planning to drop in for a quick visit on Friday. To spend the evening with them will be such a treat. We share a rare kind of love for VST. With each visit, I try to send home a little more of him through pictures and belongings. There aren’t many of his physical possessions left sitting around the house. A picture here, a gargoyle there. My most important possessions are 50 years of memories that lay deep within my heart. And, those, I’ll keep with me until I die.

While they are here, there are a few Fix It jobs I hope they can help with. Like, the HVAC filter. Why? Oh Why? Oh Why? The filter is placed on my vaulted ceiling at least 9 feet above the floor. At 5’5″ and 65 years old, the thought of tumbling off a ladder into the waiting complications of a broken neck, arm, or hip doesn’t sound appealing. Finding a good handyman is something on my list of things to do but not yet accomplished. Hopefully, we can get a few odd jobs handled while they visit.

Happy just to putt around today, I’m planning to shampoo some carpets. I need to run out and purchase the ingredients for the Best Sugar Free Apple Pie ever. T wants some award-winning clam chowder when they arrive. And just like that for an evening, Winterpast will be full of love and family, even if only for a few hours.

VST died his 65 year. From July 2019 until he died, he would comment on Speed Limit Signs. It bothered him when passing those that said “Speed Limit 65”. He would always point them out, almost as if they told him he wouldn’t pass 65. In reality, he never saw his 66th birthday. As I approach mine, I’m carrying him along for the ride. I can navigate the unchartered roads for us both. There are so many more things to see and do on my bucket list. He doesn’t weigh much now and can easily come along for the ride.

Yes. I’m happy. Although there are days when I need to fake it, most days, a genuine happiness nests in my heart. It isn’t dependent on things going just right, or a phone call to brighten my day. It just glows in my heart without doing anything at all. And for that, I am grateful beyond belief.

Have a wonderful day. More tomorrow.

After laying low, I’m off to the Biggest Little City just West of here. It’s been a minute since I’ve ventured anywhere farther than church. I’ve enjoyed the days of laziness, but there comes a time when everybody needs a little retail therapy. Today’s my day.

Lately, I’ve tried something new. If I need staples other than food, like ink cartridges or spa chemicals, I rely on Amazon. It’s amazing how many things you can get at the drop of a hat. Just yesterday, I ordered two complete surveillance cameras to watch my front door and garage. In this day and age, a girl can’t be too careful. Ordered yesterday, they’re arriving today.

Spa chemicals that are on short supply at our local hardware store are delivered, keeping my cupboard full of necessary water treatments. Dog food and toys. Beauty products. Hard to find DVD’s of movies from the 1900’s. Everything arrives in great condition, saving me endless trips to the store.

To make this work efficiently, one must have a mental inventory of items on hand. Then, when you are down to 3/4 of a bottle, order again. Brilliant.

My Costco shopping is an online experience, too. The last time I went to Costco, a person was run down by a car in the parking lot . People were using their carts as weapons. Everyone was on a mission to the grab the last thing on their list and race to Check-Out. All while risking THE VIRUS. I’m done with that monthly excursion. There is nothing I need more than the comfort of home these days. Nothing from Costco, anyway.

That being said, there are some things I do need to do before I buy something. I need to feel the silkiness of a beautiful nightgown before I choose the prettiest one. I need to see how the color of a blouse enhances the blue of my eyes. I need to smell the fragrance of an upscale lotion to smooth dry skin. I need to experience the good fit of some kicky little suede pumps for a special dinner out. I need to hear the laughter of two besties giving thumbs up or down for a bad-ass pair of jeans or the perfect rainy-day sweater. Those are things you can’t experience with Amazon, no matter how convenient they make shopping.

With my list in hand, I’ll enjoy the drive while dodging the big rigs on the Interstate. The road crews are waiting for the big storm to begin. Snow plows and mounds of sand are at the ready. On stormy days, the Interstate is the safest route because it’s the most groomed. First storms of the year are always a time that people forget to slow down. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of accidents until people remember that winter roads call for caution.

After shopping, the girls and I are planning to lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant and get caught up on the news. Wish I had some earth shattering things to share with them, but I don’t. It’ll be like trying to think of new and wonderful things to share here. Somedays, the well is dry.

I’ll be taking some small vacations during the next four weeks. A friend in California needs some comfort. I need to go back to the San Joaquin Valley of Central California and touch base family and friends there. Christmas is a time to share real hugs with special people from the past. Oliver will be spending time with his friends at Puppy Camp. Planned months ago, he has a spot at the Inn and can’t wait to see his friends, too.

Have fun with whatever you choose to do today. Remember, Random Acts of Kindness cost nothing. A smile. A wave. A “Hello” that can lead you to a new friend. You just never know when your little bit of cheer might save the day for another. More tomorrow.

On December 21, the winter solstice will arrive. You’d hardly know it around here. The skies have been so blue, you’d think it could be a day in late spring, except for the trees. They’ve all gone to sleep for the winter. My bird families have moved on to warmer places. The mustangs haven’t put on their winter coats quite yet. It’s just been too warm.

Thinking back over the years, I’ve always had several projects going at once. Crafting. Two or three books on the nightstand, so that I had a choice of bedtime story. A few DYI’s going on. There was plenty to keep my mind alert and active. VST was the same way.

These, the last few days of my 65th year, I find things quiet. The studio is dark unless I’m writing. The garden shed is closed for the winter. Fall cleaning is all but finished. Christmas decorations are in place. There’s a big lull in the action. Whatever have I been choosing for MY busy? Not much. I’ve stopped to rest for a little bit, realizing that the road of healing is a long and windy one that continues far past the place in which you think you couldn’t possibly continue.

Yesterday, my busy was filled with church family. How fortunate I am to have chosen a quiet little 40 year old building on Main Street in which to pray. From the outside, you might not even notice it’s there. Sitting back from the road, a large cross glows on the front at night. A weathered sign displays a message changed every 14 days. Changing the quote was a job that I helped with when my friend had her hip surgery and couldn’t do it herself.

When Pastor C arrived yesterday, I busied myself with a request for my own baptism. 66 years ago, I was baptized inside a country church along another dusty little wide spot in the road. Surrounded in a sea of grape vines, my mom, dad, and three sisters carried me to a church built with the help of my Great Grandparents. There, the farming community prayed for my tiny little soul as drops of water were splashed on my bald head. A lot has happened in those 66 years.

Being a woman of faith, God led me to this church at the most devastating time in my life. Probably saw my choices of busy and thought, “I better give this woman a little nudge in the right direction.” Being healthy and able to participate much more than I’m currently doing, my little neighborhood, church, and sweet town could use some help these days. Kindness and selfless helping are a great way to keep me rolling on towards Happy Town.

Pastor C, with his twinkling eyes and unique style asked me some very pertinent but easy questions, and then explained the Christian ritual. Baptism is symbolic. It’s a way to show obedience, identification, and testimony. Although not a golden ticket to heaven, it’s a Christian tradition, ritual and sacrament of admission into the Christian Church. It’s the right choice for me.

At the end of the worship service, I was presented to the congregation as a worthy candidate for Holy Baptism. Standing there with the eyes of all my friends upon me, I saw the love of family as they all shouted “Glory” in unison. I’m not alone in this life, even though on some days, it feels that way.

The rest of my day was busy with the act of being peaceful. Without a need to race around finding things to occupy my mind, I felt a soft, quiet, thoughtful glow in my heart. Just being was enough busy yesterday.

Today is another story. Miss E is already baking up a storm for Saturday night and the Christmas Dinner of 2021. The women of the church are deciding on our table decorations. The church will open at 6PM for dinner. The teenagers are already counting their “bank”, looking forward to serving the elders of the church who tip very well. A hand delivered invitation has gone out to every single family in the church, visitor or member. The dinner will be a sit down, plated, All-You-Can-Eat-Home-Cooked-Dinner with an abundance of delicious food from a menu prepared for by Miss E and approved by the committee.

In a few days, I’ll be baptized by Pastor C before I turn another year older. What the next year will hold for me remains a mystery that is none of my concern today. On December 21, winter will officially arrive. The days will again start getting longer on the march towards spring and bud break. Another year with Oliver and Winterpast. My first year in new spiritual life. So many more stories to unfold.

Have a wonderful day today. More tomorrow.

This has been a quiet week in the high desert with not much to speak about. Well, Kelly put her knee out at church, and Simone’s recovery from her hip surgery is going well. Samantha is as busy as a one armed paper hanger cooking for the Baptist on Main Christmas Extravaganza dinner. My neighbors are in heavy competition for the best Christmas 2021 yard decorations. It hardly seems the same town as last year, when the entire population counted the days until 2020 was over and done.

Looking for a weekend adventure, I turned to the local “Busy As Bees Facebook Page”. I’m not sure about your town, but every upcoming activity is posted there. Having boycotted Facebook from its inception, VST and I never created pages. Private people, we decided that if someone needed to know, they’d need to call, and we stuck with that philosophy. There are very, very few people in this world that have.

Anyway, one of our city’s commissioners, who happens to be an acquaintance of mine, posted a nice little video on the town’s public site. Today’s the day. The biggest thing next to 4th of July, so I better make this quick. I need to decided on my attire for the day not wanting to miss a thing.

AT 7, a local service group is offering a $5 breakfast inside the firehouse. On so many levels, this doesn’t happen on the streets of many big cities in the US of A. But, in my little town, the fire station has many uses. On 9/11, it shades the public from the sun as We Remember. It houses gleaming rigs that children can still walk right up to while dreaming of the day they’ll be a fireman. We have the cutest firemen in the state by the way. I mean that in the strictest grandmotherly sense.

After the breakfast, there are several places in town in which local merchants are gathering to showcase their products. The boutique girls are offering hot cocoa or mimosa’s for your shopping pleasure. Late in the afternoon, the locals will roll through town in a Christmas parade. After that, the town tree will be lit. Rounding out the perfect day, BINGO will be offered at the Senior Center.

Next week, Baptist on Main is holding our 8th annual Christmas dinner plated and served by the youngsters of the church under the watchful eyes of the elders.

Tri Tip with special sauce.

Roasted potatoes

Roast carrots

Green salad

Freshly baked rolls

Too many deserts to list, including one Sugar-Free Apple Pie baked by my very own Germanic fingers.

Several women have volunteered to each decorate one Christmas Table. I need to decide the theme of mine. Having so many pretty things to use, it will be fun to share them with my church friends at such an beautiful affair.

I’ve already got the cutest little black dress to wear that night, along with new suede pumps that are on their way. To say I’m excited about my first Christmas with my new church friends is an understatement. I was led to this group of people, delightful in every way.

While attempting to describe my church friends to someone the other day, in disbelief, they looked at me as if I was delusional. In this day and age, it seems impossible there could be a kind, loving, and thoughtful group of like minded people that want to get together and spend time worshiping with a Mission Statement of:

Whatever it takes to know Jesus and to make Jesus known.

Just ordinary people trying to live their best lives quietly in our humble little town, while keeping prayer chains open for members that are under the weather or having a rough time. Everyone who enters the door is greeted with the same good energy. I’ve been observing this since April. I attend the choir practice before weekly bible study just to hear the beautiful old hymns a second time. I’ve listened to the Pastor as he wept about his experiences of almost losing his beloved wife just a month ago. There is nothing more real in my life than this place on Main Street. They don’t know a lot about me or Winterpast. They haven’t met Oliver. They don’t know whether I could give $1.00 or $10,000. We simply meet to praise God and learn the Word. Through that, we’ve become friends.

My town is the secret place people are wishing they could find. It heart is hidden well behind sandblasted buildings built in the mid-1900’s. Behind pot-holed streets that will never be fixed and tacky truck stops and casinos. But, all that doesn’t define the beauty of a town. My town has heart. I’m sure yours does, too. Look for your own town Christmas Tree lighting ceremony. With any luck its hours from right this minute. Go. Take some tissues. Be ready to sing some carols. Christmas is a most beautiful time of year.

I’ll be back Monday.