Category: 2021

Meal time. Not sure about your situation, but, around here, meals for one are not fun to plan. Just a year ago, like clockwork, VST would remind me that mealtime was imminent. Just what would it be? Finding me deep in a project, he’d ask if I’d planned something or if we were on our own. Meals were always shared, so the answer was one of two. I had something in mind or we were going to hunt and gather. Always. VST didn’t cook.

Now, meal times sneak up, surprisingly stealth. Without another to share something prepared, my nutritional intake is out of whack. This is not healthy and it’s certainly not making me happy. Many days, my new Ninja 5-In-1 Grill sits shiny clean and ready to grill. My Omaha meats lay individually wrapped in their frozen state waiting for culinary inspiration. Having thrown away more vegetables than I care to report, I bought more today. I fear their fate is the same as the rest if things don’t change.

Breakfast around here is an easy fix. Doing very well on a high protein, low carb diet, eggs are my go to meal, scrambled with a spoonful of salsa if I’m feeling feisty. That with a cup of coffee and my motor is running. Off to the day, whatever that may hold.

After a protein snack at 10, lunchtime starts to get a little troublesome. I’ve found that Subway provides three meals of nourishment from a Foot Long sandwich. More days than I want to count, their fresh veggies and meats on freshly cooked bread have kept me alive. My town is very lucky to have a wonderful Subway with the sweetest sandwich artists. The sandwich bread provides my carbs for the entire day.

Dinner sends me over the edge. I’m not a great cook. Usually, I’m not even a kind-of-good cook. I really don’t like to cook, so what I prepare is usually not yummy. Eating alone brings out the need for culinary perfection, which I never attain. The Ninja has helped quite a bit, and there IS the ice cream maker, my star appliance. But, one cannot live on grilled burgers or ice cream alone. Here-in lies the problem.

As many of you know, I’ve booked a 15 day cruise in December. Just the thought of 45 gourmet meals at the ready is enough to cause a widowed non-cook to dance her best jig. Some may go to a spa for pampering. Just point me to the best diner in town and I’m in bliss. Homemade pie? All the better.

In research for today’s blog, I ran across a website called Onedishkitchen.com. Looking at the recipes, it gives me hope that I could prepare any one of them and enjoy dinner again. The biggest trouble I’ve had is preparing a recipe which is designed for four people, while I’m just one. Not being a connoisseur of Left-Overs, there is always wasted time, money, and food. A terrible tri-fecta.

You would think that after 327 days, or 47 weeks of widowhood, I’d have this basic need figured out. I think back to the first days after losing VST in Virginia City (VC) when the local diner kept me alive with fried chicken, tacos, and cheese cake. Not cooking during Months One through Ten could be excused for a variety of reasons, but now, there is no excuse. I need to get it together in the kitchen and nourish myself.

One inspiring movie that got me to thinking about a kitchen challenge is Julie & Julia. A cute story about a young woman smitten with Julia Child who decided to take a year to create all her recipes and blog about the experience. The parts about blogging made me laugh, realizing anyone that has ever started a blog probably goes through similar emotions. If you haven’t seen the movie, you might enjoy it.

I’ve also started watching the Food Network, with holiday baking shows holding my attention. Being a baker at heart, let’s forget the other food groups and just focus on sugar, flour, fondant, and chocolate. Add some holiday pastel’s and call it good.

Thanks for listening to my latest lament about widowhood. I’m off to prepare a breakfast for a champion and start my day. Remember to nourish your body and soul, as you find your way through widowhood.

My beloved speaks and says to me:

‘Arise my love, my fair one,

and come away;

for now the winter is past,

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth;

the time of singing has come,

And the voice of the turtle-dove

is heard in our land.

The fig tree puts forth its figs,

and the vines are in blossom;

they give forth fragrance.

Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away.

O, my dove, in the clefts of the rock,

in the covert of the cliff,

let me see your face,

let me hear your voice;

for your voice is sweet,

and your face is lovely.

My beloved is mine and I am his.

Song of Solomon 2: 10-14

Winterpast. My house is truly living up to her name, blessed with this name at VST’s eulogy. She is strong and warm, sheltering me through rough seasons, starting last spring. She has given me shelter through the hottest of summer days, and protected me from high desert winds that have howled through many nights. Tears have fallen within her walls, but laughter blooms now, full and rich. Happiness grows by leaps and bounds. Acceptance of life on life’s terms has made a slow and steady healing possible.

This will be the first spring in which I can watch the rustlings of new life in the little bird houses. Irises will stretch their leaves towards the heavens as I watch intently. With lawn dressed in luscious green, I’m the caretaker of wonder for now. The slave to the imminent work that’ll appear as I care for my gardens. In this spring, I, too, can bloom in laughter and optimism. This is the first year of my womanhood, while standing firmly on my own two feet. This is the first year of my new story.

After April 8th, I’ll no longer identify as a widow. Of course, a widow I’ll always be. But, after the first year, I choose to identify as a woman. Just that. Normal. Old. Senior Citizen. Crone. Beautiful. Karen-ish-ly spoiled. High Maintenance. Woman. For to continue to identify as a widow will keep me from the rest of my life here on earth. A life that, I promise you, will explode like the biggest fire works display you’ve ever seen. In my attempt to reach the heavens from my earthly platform, I’m living my best life here on earth.

Winterpast has seen it all. Secrets will be kept in her soul, as she is a true home. An intimate cocoon in which I’m my true self. Her gardens are my touchstone to creativity and life. She is an outward expression of everything good that is inside me. She is my Winter Past. My Moving Forward. My Safe Place. Love your home, because, after all, Home IS Love.

In every life we have some trouble

But when you worry you make it double,

Don’t worry, Be happy. Bobby McFerrin

VST loved music. His main genre was Country Western. It was there he felt the most relaxed, remembering times with his Grandfather and parents, enjoying Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys. When I met VST, he knew no other kind of music. Just the singing guitar and songs like “Bill Ball’s in Cowtown” or “Drop Kick Me, Jesus,Through The Goal Posts of Life”. But, with five children, ages pre-teen down to six, and me, his musical life was to change.

As a child, I was raised on musicals, dreamy girl songs from South Pacific or Oklahoma were always playing. When VST and I our blended our families into one, an eclectic combination of musical taste emerged. My youngest son would be taken over over by Michael Jackson’s, Bad, while VST’s son was enjoying M.C.Hammer. The kids and I were always listening to music of one kind or another, with my taste staying near the 70’s or 80’s pop.

Somewhere in this mix, VST was exposed to the song, Don’t Worry, Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin. It was then, his mom began to worry about him. VST loved this song and would listen to it often, never missing a single word. He would even nail the whistling. The important point was, he got the message. VST chose to be happy whenever possible. Optimism was his superpower, lightening dark moments with a joke, or just a look in which he would raise one eyebrow higher than the other. I love laughing with him and happiness infected and brightened our days.

Soon the song was the favorite of all the kids, as well as VST and me. A coffee cup with the inscription Don’t Worry, Be Happy, sat on his desk as a reminder. Everyone knew this was VST’s theme song.

One day, his mom took him aside, after he had played the song repeatedly for her.

“Don’t you still like Country Western?” intently, she asked as she awaited the answer.

He just laughed and that became a joke tied to the entire subject of music. VST WAS Country at his core. One reggae song couldn’t change that and never did. As Terry lay still and gravely ill, I sang “On The Wings of A Dove” to him. One of his favorites, I know he forgave my quivering voice as I sang the entire song. I know those wings carried him to heaven as he left us.

Sweet K gave me a printed version of the words to Don’t Worry, Be Happy in the shape of a heart. Adorable, and a reminder that VST is hoping we are all happy and doing well. He is in heaven singing, his bass voice complimenting all the soprano angels. Keep singing VST. Keep smiling. We will all be together again someday.

Until then, I’ll remember, Don’t Worry, Be Happy.

For other boosts of happiness, Try—

The Happy Song — Pharrell Williams

Fireworks — Katy Perry

Can’t Stop the Feeling –Justin Timberlake.

That should get you in the mood for happiness!!!

In this mask covered world in which we live, it seems an impossibility to make new friends. No way to show a smile or concern, it becomes difficult to direct a new conversation towards someone that can’t see half a face in which to gauge intent. So, we all just hurry in and scurry out, missing those moments which were once used to connect with others. In doing so, we miss a million chances to make new friendships.

Since April and my move to this new town, I’ve become best of friends with myself. I know all my favorite habits. Opinions on television shows. Best dinner routines. Favorite snacks. Things that bring me down and those that cheer me up. I know them all. While quarantining, I’ve become an advocate and best friend to one. Myself. Never have I been so alone, yet never have I had such great company. I’ve slowed to a pace in which I listen to my own voice, checking on whether new opinions still match up with my heart’s core values.

The garden has talked to me in brilliant roses shaded in yellows and coral. The birds throw in their opinions as they flit and fly here and there. Oliver speaks his peace, giving me heck if I don’t grant him the proper amount of respect. The trees watch over us all, still holding back their leaves of green. The garden has a lot to say about my mental state. Right now, it says I’ve been a little less diligent on keeping the grounds spotless. Perhaps a little more consumed I’ve been about the days that are rolling on towards April 8 and VST’s heavenersary.

Thank goodness the phone does ring from time to time. My bestie, CC, keeps tabs on my shenanigans. Speaking to her, I hear my true self. She knows exactly what’s in my heart and what’s missing. Thank goodness someone does. When I get a little ahead of myself, she reminds me that I need to take things just a little slower. Our best conversations of late have been those of real girl secrets told over giggles and sighs. Secrets you tell someone that shares only best wishes for you. To have a CC in your life makes you a very blessed person, indeed.

CC snapped our wedding pictures the day VST and I married. Quietly capturing two young lovers exchanging vows, she gave me the greatest gift all those years ago. A visual feast of one of the best days for VST and me. The ghosts of those gone before gaze back from my wedding album. Our parents all gone ahead, now have fun with VST in heaven. A sister, dear old friends, and acquaintances, remain only in images on paper, now. CC caught all that in pictures, giving us the best wedding present we could’ve asked for.

Through the years, we’ve shared child rearing, a house once, long ago, divorce nightmares, dance floors and dates, 2nd weddings, and cancer’s theft of our beloved husbands. Now, we share widowhood. It cloaks our conversations in odd ways. We both know what the other experienced. There are days when we discuss the hows and whys of our widowhoods, and there are days we’d both like to forget.

These days, we have lots to discuss and laugh about in the ways of Senior Citizen Dating. At our age, we might be expected to be in dual rockers, knitting socks and sweaters for grandchildren. But, we’re far from that stage of life. Having a best friend that knows me better than anyone else in the world is comforting. As we exchange findings in our dating research, we’ve found new topics in which to howl with laughter. Laughter remains the best cure for what ails anyone, and we find our conversations delightfully healing.

The day I met CC, we were at a community meeting, protesting proposed apartments in our little suburb. CC and I talked after the meeting and it was obvious. We were both interested in our quiet neighborhood, wanting it to remain that way. There was also a fiery spark of friendship between us. With one Hello, we became friends of the very best kind, long before the day of masks and political correctness, in a time when a smile to another could be reciprocated and returned.

As Joni says,

“And the seaons, they go round and round

and the painted ponies go up and down.

We’re captive on the carousel of time

We can’t return, we can only look

Behind from where we came,

And go round and round and round in the circle game.

I’m so lucky CC is in my orbital space. I’m glad we took a chance on Friendship over forty years ago on that spring day as we held babies, our own. Riding those ponies through the seasons, we are, she and I. Friends to the end.

Say Hello to people today. Smile at your neighbors. Take a chance and wave. You just never know when you might meet a new friend.

Everyone is searching for one true love. That person that’s the first you receive a smile from in the early morning, and the last you give a hug before dreams blanket you both. The person that knows you better than you do yourself, at times. The ONE. The trouble is, ONE can become ZERO if Cancer comes knocking. Such is the situation in which I find myself, along with millions of other widows and widowers in this world. It’s just a sad fact of life.

A few nights ago, I was trying to explain the wilderness of widowhood to a new friend. I found myself searching for a string of words that could explain my experience, while floundering and becoming tongue tied. In the final analysis, there are some things known only to the heart. There is a serious language barrier when trying share the experience in words. In My experience, emotional heart aches can’t adequately be translated into explanations. And yet, I try.

VST and I were a complete circuit of electricity. For decades, we functioned in one complicated sphere of knowing. If you’ve been lucky enough to experience this with another, you understand. He was my person between 1987 through 2020. Plain and simple. With little room for others, we flew through life like two crows. Some days soaring, some days on the ground, picking on road kill. Truly. Life is like that some days. So is love. We were blessed with a great marriage, working like hell to keep it as good as it could be. It was our collective focus.

Going through life with a completed circuit board is equally as bad as grieving for the person lost. My life, nuclear-powered with VST, is now powered by me alone. Rather like moving from the automobile age, back to the days of the horse drawn cart. Slow and laborious, everything demands the effort of one, so much easier and more fun with two. Some tasks have fallen by the wayside until I find ways to accomplish them on my own. Other things just get hired out. A marvelous concept.

Contemplating the next phase of my life, I’m sure of one thing. At 65, journeying alone can be a self-fulfilling prophecy. If I accept solitude for the rest of my life, that is exactly how I’ll exist. Alone and lonely. Having experienced the brilliance of love for three decades, the loneliness of solitude will cause a premature, withering death. Of that, I’m quite sure.

VST and I would banter as we drove mile after mile across country. He was sure he would leave this world first, while I knew it would be me. Neither of us believed it would happen for years. We were racing through retirement like children at recess. Screaming our heads off as we ran down the sidewalk of life. Eating ice cream for breakfast, if we felt like it. All the while, cradling the love that was our marriage. We were blessed with the biggest blessing a couple can have. Love Everlasting. For that blessing, I am eternally grateful.

Springtime comes with wonderful changes. March winds blow outside Winterpast, making me feel like putting on a nice pot of soup. Sunshine is greening my lawn. Optimism is in the air. I’m the author of my own pages, now. Choosing to write in rainbow colors, I remember the past, while living in the moment.

Mindful.

Hopeful.

Faithful.

Happy.

This lonely heart wants be happy again. I’ve been wishing for a new friend with which to walk. Someone who shares my smile, while listening carefully. I know God has something wonderful planned for me. Stay tuned. This will be one great read.

Today, VST’s been gone eleven months while I’ve been left to regenerate. During our lives together, we were rarely apart eleven hours, let alone months. So much has changed during that time. Along with his physical absence, gone are traditions and activities once taken for granted. In many ways, I’m glad he didn’t need to suffer through the last eleven months with us all, as he would’ve resisted all the changes in a big way.

When VST passed last April, Covid Terror was striking everywhere. There was no normal in which to fall back on or cling to. Even the simplest activity, such as sharing a meal with friends was eliminated. I found myself alone with stacks of boxes, awaiting movers that would arrive 17 days after widowhood did. There was no changing or stopping a million little details that needed attending, as new buyers were moving in right after the last dust bunny had been swept away in the Dunmovin House. Harrowing days of loneliness swirled together with the frenzy of a huge move. Big risks, and bigger unknowns. All while grieving for the loss of one-half of my being.

Last night, a friend and I spoke after reading the blog of the first time. In a concerned voice, I sensed a worry that something was missed in the times we’ve spent together. Was I really okay? Who was this Grieving Gardener? This caused immediate concerns that I’ve missed something while lost in Widow’s Wilderness. After a few sleepless hours last night, I’ve returned to my psychological base camp. I’m doing just fine, for me. In my own way, I’ve made it through an emotional and barren landscape of grief. Such a personal path of growth, it becomes impossible to explain the transformation and healing, except by gauging one’s own heart. Mine is doing well, although changed forever.

This month, my last word describing VST and our relationship is REFLECTIONS. We were always reflecting on our course through life, deciding whether to remain on a path, or veer right or left. Reflections reminded us that time was precious beyond anything else we owned. Reflecting on our relationship, we found ways to repair the things we could, and accept the things that were impassable. Through the course of more than three decades, we made a beautiful life together, unique and our own.

Reflections in my mirror show a woman I’m just now getting to know and like. Strong and beautiful in a very quirky way, I’m exhausted, yet resilient and strong. Not an athlete myself, I’ve never finished a grueling race or made 17 runs down the slopes of Sugar Bowl, but I’d expect that April 8th will be such a day. Banged up and battered, I’ll plant my flag. I’m a survivor, completing my first year of life as a single woman. Never realizing my identity was so intertwined with the rigors of being a good wife, a rebooting was necessary. As I heal, there is contented happiness found in discovering who I am now. Since September 24th, 2020, writing has been a way to vent my pain and suffering, but also delight in new discoveries and personal growth. Without words, I couldn’t have come this far.

Today, I’ll release eleven colorful balloons to the heavens. I remember May 8, 2020. A very scared, lonely widow stood in my back yard with one solitary balloon. At exactly 10:30 am, the balloon was release amid painful tears, and she dropped to her knees and spilled tears into the lush lawn. Oh, yeah. That was me. My balloon releases have been meaningful and healing. Each month, with one more added to the bouquet, the beauty of the moment is remembered and acknowledged. Each month, the experience changed in subtle ways. Each month, I’ve changed as I heal.

I’ll never be the old me that was a side kick to a very complicated and wonderful VST. He taught me a lot about cherishing things that are most important in life. He also taught me a lot about things I’ll never accept in my life, again. This is my time now. The choices I make will write the last chapter of my life. VST-isms will guide some decisions, while Joy-isms will make final call.

Surprising me some days, the trust I’m finding in my own judgement is refreshing. In the last years of our marriage, I found it easier to trust VST and his wisdom, accepting decisions he made for the both of us. Laziness? Partly, yes. With a final acceptance that VST was the man, and men just know. Guess what??? Women know just as much about important things. Trusting myself now, I’m finding new skills, while using my intuition to guide me.

Today’s personal reflection won’t be the same tomorrow. Growth changes the reflection in subtle ways. Grateful for a wonderful life together, I was blessed to find love with VST. Now, I’m equally blessed to find I love myself.

Dear God,

Do you have a minute to talk? Through sheer faith in you, I’ve made it through some pretty fierce times recently. As the last of winter’s raging winds howl outside my house, I decided there are some things I’ve needed to say for awhile.

First of all, Thank you, God, for carrying me through the raging fires of Cancer, the loss of VST, and the loneliness of widowhood. You’ve been beside me through nights when the loss was blacker than the darkness. Lonelier than prison walls. You’ve also been there when happiness overwhelmed the sads. Present for all of my 65 years, you’ve sometimes cheered me on, and other times wept at the poor choices I’ve made along the way. I’ve only needed to ask for strength to carry on, and you’ve always provided what’s been needed in my life. For all those gifts, I’m eternally grateful.

So many times in my life, you’ve answered my prayers. You’ve given me beautiful and healthy babies to love and children to raise, a husband that cherished me throughout our lives together, and a multitude of blessings, too numerous to count. When my prayers weren’t answered, I accepted that your plan would unfold, even if it wasn’t the plan we would’ve wished for. You’ve offered a heavenly sanctuary for VST and everyone else ever loved and lost to heaven. In that, you have answered my prayers with the knowledge that VST is safe and happy with you.

A gift I could use right about now is clarity. Clarity in decision making. In relationships. In choosing new people to share my life. Clarity in life, helping me to rise above fear and doubt. As a mere mortal woman, the waters of life can get muddied. A few road signs along the way would sure help as I make my way in this complicated world.

Today, as my friends and I were shopping at a Garden Center, I noticed your smile in the spring flowers there. As the wind made leaves dance, I heard your whispers of happiness. As stray snow flakes fell from a random cloud on high, I saw you wave to me. The natural beauty with which you have blanketed the high desert in which I live is a treat for my eyes. I feel the need to thank you for that natural beauty surrounding me every time I leave Winterpast.

Lord, in my world, I smile more often now. You’ve blessed me with friends and family that have supported me through the last year. You’ve provided for my every need, through days of doctors, cancer, and death. You carried me through the flames as I lost VST, preventing me from being burned in the process. You’ve helped me to heal through faith, hope, trust, and love. For these gifts I am truly grateful.

It has been said that “She who kneels before God can stand before anything.” I kneel now, thanking you for the recent blessing you have bestowed on me. Truly answering my quiet and heartfelt prayers, I thank you for hearing my plea and answering me with the beautiful gift of love and peace.

God, I hope you rest sometimes. This old world is a place full of busy demons. Please, take in some happiness and wonder at the beauty that is your creation. Don’t give up on us. We are doing the best we can in very hard times.

Thanks for listening, God. If you run into my sweet and humble VST, would you please give him a special “Hello” from me? Fill him in on the happiness that’s surrounding me these days. It is because of your love and care that I can and will go on. That goes for VST, too.

With Love and Adoration,

Your Faithful Servant,

Joy

There’s no denying the fact that spring is knocking at our door! Yesterday, the sun shone brightly as the winds raced across my high desert hide-away. The birds remain focused on their happy little songs, while I’m deep into planning my own backyard bliss.

This morning, while waking from a great night’s sleep, the most interesting item I found. An expandable wall of fake greenery. Yes!. Ivy-like greenery that is instant on an expandable frame. I can think of so many uses for this, including but not limited to, the side of the RV barn, which is expansive and bare, the back fence, which is also bare, and most of all, as a privacy shield near the new hot tub! As this stuff is rather pricey, I need to start with one panel and evaluate the uses.

I have rounded the bend and am now a true Senior Citizen.

For years, repulsed by fakery, I would look away at gardeners that chose plastic grass over the real thing. Just turned my head in horror. There’s no substitute for the soft, sweet smell of a freshly cut lawn, or the feel of soft grass as you lay down to look at the clouds above. Now, I find myself on the brink of installing fake lawn in my front yard. The times they are a changing.

In the high desert, the choice of landscaping material is rock. Sadly. Rather like living in a real life version of the Flint Stones. Red rock. White rock. Red and White rock. Tan rock. Big rock. Small rock. Decomposing rock. Sand. All sensible choices when water is at a premium price. Winterpast, however, is adorned in green. She may be the last of her kind, and I’m thrilled to be her care taker. I’ll make sure she gets a drink before I do. An oasis that I tend to with loving care. My back yard brings summer comfort with rustling leaves, funneling desert winds in just the right directions. It is truly paradise for me.

Considering plans for the the front yard, I have different thoughts. When I bought the house, it was time for a little change. Over the years, the plants had become unruly and overgrown. It was with change in mind that I had them removed last fall. Now, the yard is like an unpainted canvas, ready for splashes of color and a new plan. My plan is to make it inviting, with zero maintenance required. I have enough work in the backyard for two homes.

When considering options, I decided on fake lawn instead of white rock. Luscious, inviting, multi-height and colored leaf blades of grass, inviting enough to look like it needs a quick mow. Lawn at the perfect height and color, yet never requiring a drink or mow. Just an occasional sprinkling to remove the desert dust. PLASTIC LAWN. That will fit into my plans perfectly.

Along with that, I plan to rework a the large, curvy flower bed, replacing roses and shrubs. A dash of paint on the front door and porch railing, and the spring projects will be complete. Winterpast will, again, look like a million bucks.

Yard work is so many things to me. Time to think. A creative outlet with unlimited DYI projects awaiting. Science projects in the form of soil analysis and additives. Ecosystem analysis striving to find the right number of predators and prey. Sunshine and Vitamin D therapy. Bed-less-tanning with a side of cardio. All those things wrapped up into gardening.

In my neighborhood, it also means social interactions with helpful visitors. Working in the front yard promises plenty of conversations as the procession of walkers trickles by. In the high desert, it’s still customary to wave at every passing car with a toothy smile and large wave. Mask-less walkers stop to comment on the improvements with their own suggestions thrown in for good measure. It’s a happy place full of wonderful friends I have yet to meet. Winterpast is the place I’m thriving.

Gardens will share a lot about life with you if given a chance. The new buds of spring are ready to open, in spite of the frosts that are sure to come. No worries. They bud and leaf out again and again, always pointing towards the sun-filled days of spring. The cycles of life go round and round, affirming hope and faith in a bright today.

Ready for adventure? Look in your own back yard!

It’s snowing right now. A strong, unexpected spring storm. Droopy white flakes fall heavily to the ground. The storm is lounging over the desert, causing motorists havoc and angst. As I sit in the safety of Winterpast, I wear a huge smile. My heart is at peace and I’m truly happy even though it would be understandable if I felt otherwise.

There always seems to be an “Even Though” that could snatch happiness away at any moment. Some days, clutching to happiness for dear life, I feel my smile slipping away. The other day, I started pondering the real essence of happiness, identifying for myself, those things necessary to be happy.

Experiencing a snow storm brings me to a mindful state. There are many observations to be made. One should first observe the roads. Winter snowstorms can be so intense, you could feel as if you are in the Donner Party, hopeless and alone. Before panicking, first look at the road. Outside my window, the road is clear as the warmth melts the snow. Focusing on the beauty, I ignore all the inconvenience a snow storm can bring, while focusing on the beauty of the snow flakes. Fresh flower bulbs wait safely in my garage for proper planting in the back yard. The tree buds haven’t begun to swell yet, still in their deep winter dormancy.

In a mindful state, my thoughts turn to grateful feelings I have for the beautiful place I live. It is stunning and alive. The snowstorm will transforming my little world for a short time. Like a child playing dress up, Winterpast is again cloaked in white. The work that awaits me in the next weeks is under the cover of snow. I’m so grateful for the safety of my home. In these days of Covid, how lucky I am to have such a wonderful refuge. Such a comforting home in which to smile and laugh.

Laughter is a huge part of my happiness these days. Big booming bolts of laughter have been shaking me to my core, as I am getting to know a brand new friend. Not just any friend, I must admit. A most unusual person, unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. As laughter ricochets off the walls, happiness is blooming around here. A good sense of humor is essential for any happy household, and Winterpast has been comedy central for the past few weeks.

After laughter has subsided, and friends have gone, solitude is readily available in this the age of Covid. I’ve found that being alone, and accepting the silence as an old friend has strengthened self-respect and self-love. The quiet gives me time to sort out my feelings. I can dance in the kitchen while making tacos for one, singing badly to my favorite ’80’s tunes. All the while, I find peace and contentment in my own little world of happy.

Writing every day, I’ve found my lifelong passion. As I do what I love, happiness grows. Through the years, I was blessed to have a teaching career that brought me satisfaction and contentment every day. My students were a constant reminder that living in the moment provides wonder. They were a teachable moment in gaiety, from the minute they entered our classroom, until the last one scurried home for the day. Happiness springs eternal days of youth. Looking back at childhood photos, the joy spans decades bringing me back to days of wonder and endless summers of cheerfulness.

As the days go by, I am finding I carry fewer regrets. Trying to grab at yesterday leaves one with a sore arm and an empty hand. Projecting into tomorrow sends us shooting arrows into thin air, with no assurance of where they will land. Today is the day to seize laughter, wonder, gratitude, forgiveness, and love, while being mindful of the beauty that surrounds us. True beauty is everywhere, but, it begins in a happy heart.

The snow is starting to stick to the pavement and I think I’ll be snowed in for a bit. Worse things could happy. For now, where’s the popcorn? I’m going to watch a comedy and laugh a little while.

Aloha. An essence of being: love, peace, compassion, and mutual understand of respect. Living in harmony with the people and land around you with mercy, sympathy, grace, and kindness. (Skyline Hawaii Adventures and Tours Blog)

With a powerful winter storm in full swing around here, the high was in the 20’s last night. Grey skies blanketed the desert and I stayed in, not even venturing out into the wonderfully warm waters of the new, covered hot tub. It’s just been too cold. Period.

As I practice lazy inside the walls of Winterpast, tidal memories take me back to the wonderful times spent in Hawaii embracing the Aloha Spirit found there with every visit VST and I made. So many times co-workers and family would question what it was that took us back time after time. It wasn’t the convenience, as there were hours of travel time to get there. It wasn’t the fabricated culture, which became tiresome after the first few trips. It wasn’t the status of traveling to such a far away beach, when the Pacific Coastline was mere hours away by car. It was Aloha.

Aloha is found in the air. In the sand. In the sky. In the smiles of people who feel and embrace it, once you are there. Hawaii is a brilliant treat for the eyes and soul. Plants and flowers growing there are almost unbelievable in their size, magnificent shapes, and colors. A pathos plant that struggles to grow in California, grows to the size of an elephant’s ear in Hawaii, as it’s tendrils climb telephone and power poles. Plant life thrives.

Spirits abound in the islands. Both those held by the living, and those dancing in the afterlife. The waves and trade winds perform beautiful duets, as people find their playful sides on the beaches and oceans. Time slows down. Love grabs your spirit by the hand. All of this while people smile and exchange Aloha.

Many times, while lounging on the beach, new dreams of fresh adventures would materialize in thought. Free from the day to day grind of life, our minds were free to soar like shore birds, considering the next adventures we might take. Evenings would find us enjoying sunset dinners, while celebrating life together. Neither of us could ever get enough of the island life.

When we finally retired, many friends and family assumed we would move to the islands to live out our retirement days. Both of us considered it, but decided that to move there would erase the magical side that we had enjoyed for decades. Our last trip was in 2013, when, after visiting for so many times, we simply told our co-workers we were headed to the beach. A dose of Aloha once in awhile can heal many woes and soothe aching hearts. Hawaiian music has a rhythm unique unto itself. When life gets overwhelming, a little island tune can make things better, returning me to a state of Aloha even when I find myself in the cocoon of Winterpast.

Watching VST learn the hula early on in our relationship was a memory I cherish. My clunky man, never having the benefit of dance lessons, did his best to sway and tap his toes to the music. Being a good sport, he did his best to try, while being adorned with a coconut bra and hula skirt. Even in this situation, it only took a look my way to smile and carry on. He was in a state of Aloha and good spirit. Love surrounded us and made even the most embarrassing situation funny and sweet. Hawaii changed everything, allowing us to vacation in a bubble of love and happiness, while we left the real world back on the mainland.

Hoping to return to the islands someday, the dream of Hawaii is alive and well in my heart. I think of how the air will soothe my dry skin and lungs. How the waves will sing me to sleep. How the beautiful trade winds will caress me and blow through my hair. How the Menehune will dance around me as I sit on the beach and look out over the bluest of seas. Love Aloha, but even more importantly, learn to LIVE Aloha. It may just fix what ails you.