The sun is ready to rise this morning on my little piece of heaven here in the desert. Although the picture above isn’t my reality, it’s how I feel in the summer here in the Great Big Empty. My water bill is so high you would think I’m supporting a spread like that. On Google Earth, my house supports one of the few green spaces left. Xeriscaping is popular here. Such is life on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Xeriscaping (Zera’-scaping) is the process of landscaping, or gardening, that reduces or eliminates the need for irrigation. It is promoted in regions that do not have accessible, plentiful, or reliable supplies of fresh water and has gained acceptance in other regions as access to irrigation water has become limited, though it is not limited to such climates.

In my opinion, Xeriscaping is loved by non-gardening types. Here in my town, it’s taken to a new level. Entire lots are xeriscaped. With rocks. Zero plants. It does nothing for me. I need soft green lawn and my banyan apricot tree for shade.

After living on a farm for most of my life, in 2007, VST and I moved to a mountaintop in the foothills of California just below Yosemite. The gate to the National park was a 30 minute ride through majestic pine trees. Of course, Yosemite Valley was another hour’s drive. After the greenest of springtime’s complete with California poppies, there were summers full of waterfalls and autumns full of golden grasses and bronze oak leaves. There were four seasons, but they blended into one another in a non-stop symphony.

Gardening there wasn’t necessary, as the foothills provide the plants. A natural setting for oak trees, with pines just a little higher up the road. The deer would eat everything green, so there was no point in even trying a garden. It wouldn’t survive the wildlife.

Around here, most people have no troubles with destructive wildlife. Living on the fringe of civilization, as I do, we host the mustangs. For now, my gardening party is in the back yard. Until there is some sort of barrier to prevent the horses from munching in the flower beds, it’ll stay that way. Unplanned xeriscaping for now.

Here in the desert, when one season turns into the next, it’s definitely a new song. There are four distinct seasons, each with its beauty and difficulties. We’re just now coming off of the most mild spring in many, many years, and the gardens of Winterpast are singing right now. It’ll be interesting to see what tune they sing on Saturday when temps will reach 100.

This was the spring all my trees and plants needed. There are things blooming in the yard that I never knew I had. Yellow day lilies are going crazy! Thanks goes to my MM for working his magic on everything green and blooming. With heavy doses of Miracle Grow and Super Thrive, along with temperatures that haven’t yet reached 85, Winterpast is a true desert oasis, watered twice a day.

Gardening provides the opportunity to work through grief. Planting a garden is believing in tomorrow. From the tiniest seeds, miracles sprout. It is magical to watch.

This year, even yards that don’t receive the loving care they need are beautiful. It’s been the Spring of the Roses. They’re everywhere in every color. If people have rose bushes, they’re blooming like they never have before. Roses are the one sure plant that thrives in this desert environment. Give them enough water and watch out. They’ll take over.

MM has his own thing going at the bachelor pad just to the East. Harvesting strawberries every evening for ice cream sundaes, he is the one with the real green thumb. In his garden, the zucchini are ready to pick. Russet potatoes were harvested over the weekend. (Fresh produce is something just this side of heaven). His tomato vines are covered with cherry tomatoes. He’s got a great crop of garlic and onions. Three varieties of grapes cover his fence. All these are watched over by trumpet vines. I haven’t even begun to mention his flowering plants.

Between the two of us, our water bills are as much as a mortgage. We try to justify the amount we spend to keep our two patches of green alive. Here’s the deal. We don’t gamble, except when deciding whether it’s too early to plant our crops in the spring. We don’t drink, except for ice cold water while weeding on a warm day. We don’t travel much, unless you count the many trips to the garden center for supplies. No need for therapy, as gardening under the bright blue Nevada sky provides all we need. Water and plants are our vice. On that, we are in lock step.

Not all is sunshine and lollipops. This week, the aphids are after the new roses. It’s time for a dose of some insecticidal soap. The apricots are as big as I’ve ever seen in my life. When the crop hits, it’ll be time for canning, dehydrating, and sharing. Oliver will have plenty to keep him busy. The pits of apricots are dangerous for dogs. He somehow figured that out. He spits them out in tidy little groups of six or seven. Funny how he already knew.

After the apricots, my plums will ripen. MM’s nectarines and peaches will be ripe for the picking. We’re considering getting a table at the Farmer’s Market to sell our excess. We’ll have plenty.

The pieces for the new greenhouse are awaiting assembly in the RV barn. There’s a foundation to pour first. Things have been busy around here. How was there ever time for an outside job? The gardens are a full time job all on their own.

Whatever you decide to do today, go outside and water something. Choose your favorite plant and really take time to nurture it to see what happens. Gardening is such a healing hobby. If you’ve never tried it, start small. Lowe’s offers a money back guarantee on plants that die, even if it wasn’t their fault. You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Give it a try.

Spring temperatures are still hanging around even though it is almost the end of June. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. In the desert, it’s not often you can work in the yard all day without breaking a sweat. This has been an unusual year. Just this morning, my outside temperature was 59 degrees. Delightful.

Summer is the time to focus on sprinklers and a proper watering schedule. With MM’s help, we’ve got this handled. I’m happy to report that both Oliver and Wookie have outgrown their taste for drip emitters. With an abundant apricot crop hanging on the trees, they’re waiting for the first one to drop.

This time of year comes with a warning to pet owners. Apricot pits are considered toxic to dogs. After reading about this I found they would need to eat 10 of them to get in trouble. I would assume they would need to be chewed up, as well. Cyanide poisoning can occur. If you have apricot, cherry, or peach trees and pets, please watch their behavior.

According to the internet–

If your dog ingests cyanide, symptoms can begin as early as 15 minutes afterwards or may not begin for a few hours. Symptoms can include:

• Watery eyes
• Vomiting
• Drooling
• Right red mucus membranes
• Convulsions which can lead to death
• Aggression
• Bloody stools
• Spasms of different limbs
• Weakness
• Urinary incontinence
• Seizures
• Abnormal breathing
• Diarrhea

If these symptoms occur, get to the vet, immeidiately.

Now, that being said, animals are pretty smart. Oliver doesn’t eat the pits. Maybe this is because his throat is too small. He spits them out in nice little piles. He loves apricots and there are always a few on the ground. Of course, Oliver eats plastic solar lights and rocks, too. He’s not a normal dog. But then, we’ve established that.

With July 1st arriving on a Saturday, it’s the perfect time for some real gardening. Trim up limbs that are in the way. Remember any young trees and make sure they’re getting enough water.

The picture above shows the healthy base of a tree. The major roots should be apparent and spread away from the tree. If your tree is surrounded by plastic or garden cloth, trim it away from the base of the tree and mulch as pictured above.

If your plastic or garden cloth looks like this (as mine did), your tree isn’t very happy about it. It might try to commit suicide with girdling roots. Let your roots breathe. This also creates the perfect environment for destructive beetles and fungus.

As your roses are blooming, be sure to trim away the dead blossoms. If you don’t deadhead your rose, it will put energy into producing hips – these are rose seed pods. Deadheading means that the rose is instead encouraged to put energy into growing more flowers, keeping your rose in bloom and looking fantastic. Dead blooms can also be unsightly to look at, ruining the effect of the whole plant in flower.

Try to keep ahead of all the weeds. I’m enjoying the benefits of an early spring application of Preen, a pre-emergent. Use this only where you won’t be planting seeds. Sprinkle in the granules and then water. It doesn’t work for every variety, but it certainly does work for many. If you missed your opportunity, clean up the area and then apply.

As you enjoying your garden, no matter how large or small, look for those plants that aren’t thriving. It might be that a rose isn’t getting enough full sun, or that the Hosta’s are getting too much. Maybe your plant is getting overwatered or isn’t receiving enough. Check the underside of the leaf for insects or fungus. Slowly, you’ll get to know your yard.

If you aren’t sure what kind of plant you have, download the free app called “Picture This” on your smart phone. By simply taking a picture on the app, your plant will be identified, along with growing information. After watching MM use this app, we have yet to find an incorrect identification. Pretty amazing. Extremely helpful when gardening or purchasing new plants.

Some plants are not meant to grow in the environment they were sold. Our Lowe’s sells hydrangea and hibiscus bushes. Really?????????

Summer is the time for harvesting. With a bumper crop of fruit, MM and I are considering our options. We plan to can, freeze, and dehydrate a good portion of our crop. Family and friends can come pick some. Then, we might try selling our excess produce at the local farmer’s market. Next year, that may be a new source of income. The greenhouse will be fully functional by then.

Remember, it’s a great time to plan for next year. With the cost of everything going up, it’s nice to budget for major yard expenses. After three years as the head gardener here at Winterpast, I’m just now replacing missing plants. It’s been an expensive and time consuming endeavor to clean up, repair, remove dead trees, and trim the healthy ones. By planning a garden budget, it will continue to look better and better.

All these things involve lots of research. If you get stumped on a certain problem, don’t forget your local garden center. When driving around, look for plants that are thriving in your own climate. This year, you can’t drive a block without seeing another beautiful rose bush in full bloom. With the beautiful weather and daily rainstorms, it’s been their year, for sure.

Whatever you do today, enjoy nature’s beauty. Open the curtains and look up at the sky once in awhile. Enjoying a crisp summer morning is one of life’s little pleasures. Get out there. Your yard is waiting on you.

More tomorrow.

Today, the local news is buzz about the upcoming holiday! Finally, a day to celebrate our country without the threat of deadly viral outbreaks. Hard to believe that it was only three years ago that fireworks were canceled due to Covid. Now, how it could have been harmful to be out in the fresh air on a pleasant evening to watch fireworks is still a puzzlement to me. Happily, those sad days are behind us, for now anyway.

Of course, there are a million reasons the powers that be want to outlaw real fireworks altogether. Fire Danger. Explosive danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. So sick of girly-boys running the show when it comes to 4th of July. Get with it and blow up some beautiful fireworks. Big ones.

Our little town is humming with excitement about the upcoming activities. A town just to the East of us is starting off the holiday weekend with a Bronc and Bull Bash Saturday night at the local rodeo area. Nothing more American than cowboys trying their hand at keeping their seat on a wild animal for 8 seconds. One of my favorite things to do.

Having been raised as a farm girl, I can tell you one thing for sure. The bulls and broncs enjoy this as much as the cowboys and cowgirls do. Until you stand next to an animal of that weight and size while observing them for a bit, it’s hard to understand. These animals are tough. Their skin is thicker than the leather our purses and shoes are made from. They are ornery. Along with that, they’re the prize livestock owned by a very proud farmer. They get the best feed and veterinary care.

From the bull or bronc’s point of view, the 8 seconds is a mere irritation and interruption of time at the food trough. When watching some of the more famous bulls, I’ve come to the conclusion they look forward a change in their routine. After a ride, you don’t find them huddled in the corner in a mass of nerves. They always have the look that says, “You want a piece of this? Who’s next?”

After that fun evening, the countdown will begin towards the 4th!

The day will begin with an early morning pancake breakfast at 7, followed by the parade at 10.

Our church and the Mothers of Preschool-ers (MOPS) group are preparing a float for the parade.

Now, our local parade isn’t a little one. It stretches through the entire town, while thousands of county residents line the streets on either side. Our county boundaries surround over 2,000 sq. miles of high desert plains and mountains of which 2300 sq. miles are covered with water. A large percentage of the locals will show up on Tuesday to enjoy the day! MM is planning to secure us a spot with his truck. With a big umbrella in place, we plan to have front row seats as we watch all the entries stroll by. I’m sure there’ll be a long line of red, white, and blue following the lead of the town’s Sheriff’s car, and ending with another Sheriff’s car bringing up the rear.

Clowns from the Shriner’s, local business, churches groups, and service organizations will all make their way along the route. Horses will plop along and the poop scoopers will follow behind. Of course, no real parade would be complete without hundreds of pounds of candy to be thrown out to the kids. It’ll all happen on the 4th.

In the afternoon, there’ll be horseshoe throwing contest, a chili-cookoff, lots of food, vendors with the freshest treats, and a greased pig contest. MM’s family won this event for years and years, so he tells me. Many a year, he went home with the pig, himself. Although he won’t be entered, I would guess a few of his great nieces and nephews will participate. We’ll be there to cheer them on.

At dusk, the fireworks will light up the night sky. The county claims this very show is the largest and longest in all of Nevada. I wouldn’t doubt it. We plan to be there from the beginning of the celebration until the very end.

After the sparkling finale, there’ll be dancing until midnight. If there isn’t something that sounds enticing, I didn’t explain things correctly. This is going to be a wonderful celebration.

Somewhere in the middle, there’ll be time to visit with family and friends. Of course, we’ll eat way too much. Even with hats, dark glasses and sunscreen, the desert will surely be hot, the way the 4th of July is supposed to be.

Whatever you are doing this 4th of July, remember the reason for the holiday. Our country, with all it’s positives and negatives is still the best place in the world to live. I lived in Russia during the Cold War. I’ve seen extreme pollution in Europe and Mexico. I’ve crisscrossed 50,000 miles of this great land of States United. I would never choose another place on this great planet to live. We are blessed to call this wonderful land home. If you don’t believe me, travel abroad and do stay there awhile. When you come running back home, we’ll talk.

With so many things to ready, I’ll be pretty busy for the next few days. There’ll be brand new stories to share on Wednesday, July 5th. Have a beautiful holiday.

Well, as promised, I’m reporting back over what was a most splendidly outrageous Independence Day Celebration along a dusty little wide spot in the road on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Make no mistake about it. Nevadan’s aren’t interested in some ridiculous drone show or replacing the 4th for any other day in any other month. Nope. Not happening here. We desert folk like us some old fashioned Independence Day fun!

Yesterday started early, with a pancake breakfast at the Masonic Hall here in town. In the 100+ year old lodge, the men made biscuits, gravy, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage. Grandparents got breakfasts for their littles while parents kept watch on jittery kids who just wanted to know when the parade would start. This was a place for locals to enjoy each other’s company.

Just outside, main street was clogged along the parade route with thousands. People began arriving the night before and camped along the route. MM overnighted his truck at the perfect spot so we wouldn’t be disappointed in the morning. From Alt 87 to the Round-A-Bout ( about two miles?) there wasn’t a parking spot to be found. Pop-Up tents shaded the more prepared of the visitors. The out-of-towner’s parked a mile away and walked in. The town was expecting 10,000 attendees yesterday. It seemed there were that many, or more.

In a last minute decision, Miss B, MM’s octogenarian mom, and her friend decided to join us. With MM’s brother and sister-in-law bringing their chairs, we made quite a lovely family as we waited for the Mayor to pass us by. In case you’re a new reader, the town’s Mayor just happens to be MM’s brother.

Now, it’s not every day while watching a parade that you can make it STOP to get a great picture with The Mayor. We did just that. Three brothers enjoying a great 4th!

The floats were old fashioned and lovely. The girls of the State Champion Softball League were all smiles as they threw candy to the children lining Main Street. There were church floats and car clubs. The only thing missing was a few men on horseback and the high school marching band. While watching all 60 entries march through a blocked-off Main street, everyone behaved. It was hot. Desert hot. Yet, there were no complaints. From the month old baby being passed from relative to relative, to our beloved Miss B, there were smiles all around. Patriotic in the most lovely way.

After the parade, it was off to Out of Town Park, not to be confused with In Town Park. Those are their true names, not something I made up, which is another thing I adore about my town. Under the shade of gigantic cottonwood trees, MM and I found a cool spot to sit and people watch. Again, it was very, very hot, but there were no grumps in the bunch. Just a happy day for happy people.

There was plenty to eat and drink, and of course, the Republican and Democrat booths. One was heavily visited, while the other sat empty in the corner of the venue. A DJ played a great mix of music, while a breeze helped cool things off to the low 90’s in the shade.

At 5PM, the most entertaining part of the day began. The Greased-Pig Contest, run by MM’s Nephew, a son of the Mayor. Between five brothers, their children, and grandchildren, the family has won more than 20 pigs over the year. MM, himself, took home the bacon on several occasions.

This year, the stars were some Hungarian Mangalitsa pigs. Big ones.

Have you ever?

The competition was fierce. First, it was the Fire Department against the Sheriff’s Office. Four men on each team faced a Hungarian Mangalitsa on the softball diamond. With the men one hand to the fence, the hesitant domesticated omnivorous even-toed ungulate was released on the field by four coverall-ed pig handlers.

“On Your Mark. Get Set. Go!”

And it was on! In the end, the Sheriff officer were quicker. They won and will keep the pig for themselves.

After that, it was boys against boys, girls against girls. No confusion there. Divided by age, 8 separate challenges were run. The adults needed to tackle and hold 90 lb. pigs. The younger kids chased piglets. No people or animals were harmed in the activity. The winner decided whether to take the pig home or trade it back for $75. Not a bad payday for under two minutes of effort.

Now, in case you were wondering, PETA didn’t show up and protest. If they would’ve tried, it wouldn’t have gone well for them. There were no injuries, not even a skinned knee. The pigs happily returned to their trailer to enjoy an afternoon snack, as peaceful as you please. I know, I found shade by the trailer and watched them a bit. Such fun on an All-American 4th of July.

Well, the day ended with the longest display of fireworks in Nevada. At least that’s what I’ve been told.

Sitting in the desert, surrounded by sage brush and tumbleweeds, with Venus shining over head, MM and I watched the desert sky change from an orange sunset to a deep blue-black night. Sitting with him, while listening the soft sounds of families waiting with us for the show to begin, my heart was full of so many feelings.

I’m so blessed with our friendship, almost one year old. I’m so lucky to have found a wonderful family with which to spend time. My heart is truly happy for the first time in a very, very long time. A moment of peace in life that I cherish as time ticks away. Life is truly beautiful as I enjoy “right now”.

I’m so very grateful to live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. My land, now. After nine years, I’m as Nevadan as they come. A desert gal. I don’t long for the vineyard tendrils of my long ago life, or the misty air of a Pacific beach. A beautiful desert evening in the most wonderful country in the world will do me just fine.

Whatever you do today, think about the richness of our American way of life. Not the new stories people are trying to make into historical reality, but the real history of our country and what it took to build it. Pioneers had no privilege when they settled the west. Until you have seen the west, you cannot begin to imagine the hardships they endured. It’s summer. Maybe it’s time for a road trip. The West will change you, I promise.

More tomorrow.

Oh, I have days I lose the fight
Try my best but just don’t get it right
Where I talk a talk that I don’t walk
And miss the moments right before my eyes

Somebody with a hurt that I could have helped
Somebody with a hand that I could have held
When I just can’t see past myself
Lord, help me be

A little more like mercy, A little more like grace
A little more like kindness, goodness, love, and faith
A little more like patience, a little more like peace
A little more like Jesus, a little less like me

Yeah, there’s no denying I have changed
‘Cause I’ve been saved from who I used to be
But even at my best, I must confess
I still need help to see the way You see

Somebody alone and lonely just needing a loyal friend
Somebody with a tear I could have dried
When I just can’t see others in need
Lord, help me be

A little more like mercy, a little more like grace
A little more like kindness, goodness, love, and faith
A little more like patience, a little more like peace
A little more like Jesus, a little less like me

Oh, I wanna feed the beggar on the street
Learn to be Your hands and feet
Freely give what I receive
Lord, help me be
I wanna put You first above all else
Love my neighbor as myself
In the moments no one sees
Lord, help me be

A little more like mercy, a little more like grace
A little more like kindness, goodness, love, and faith
A little more like patience, a little more like peace
A little more like Jesus, oh, a little less like me
A little more of living everything I preach
A little more like Jesus, a little less like me
Oh, a little less like me

_{Written by Zach Williams – with a few changes by me}

Such beautiful words we sang in church last Sunday. Usually listening to Acoustic Chill Radio on Alexa, I hadn’t heard this song before. In my state of unusually happy days, the words grounded me. There is so much suffering in this world. Horrible, awful situations that are seasoned with evil and baked in struggles. As much as Winterpast provides one, I can’t live in a bubble and not use the gifts God has blessed me with for good.

A year ago, I started donating to three organizations. I’ll leave them nameless, because there are hundreds from which to choose. Their monthly amounts were so small, I haven’t missed them at all. But, my money with the money of thousands of others is building houses for war widows or helping parents with their sick kids. It’s helping Veteran’s get their lives back together.

Growing into the woman I was meant to be, I’ve been thinking about the next thing I have in abundance. Time. When retired, we have lots to share. Volunteers make the world a better place. I’m just figuring out where I might do the most good. Because that’s what it’s all about. Choosing the good and helping to create it.

Along with —

Mercy.

Grace.

Kindness.

Goodness.

Love.

Faith.

Patience.

Peace.

Trying to live everything I preach.

Whatever you do today, think of those words and what part they play in your life. As widow’s and widower’s, we need every one of them. They are gifts we need to give ourselves first, as we grieve the loss of our loved ones. With healing, you may find your heart has a little extra to spread around.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.” _{Galatians 5: 22-23 KJV}

More tomorrow.

The heat. Oh, the drama surrounding the heat. How will we ever bear it? Yesterday, TV’s weather-children were wringing their little hands as they told of the hottest day ever recorded on the planet. Now, how they figure out the planet temperature is a puzzlement to me. Only interested in the temperature of my little desert town, yesterday it managed to top out at 93.

Last year, the high was 93. It’s summer and the mercury rises. Of course, I’m a product of the Central Valley of California where the temperatures can be above 100 from May until November. At that time, the tule fog rolls in bringing misery all its own.

93 in the desert is nothing to complain about, especially when waking up to a beautiful 71. It’s important not to forget to hydrate and use sunscreen. Then, there’s nothing to do but wait until Friday, 22nd September 2023 at 11:51pm when we get to enjoy another autumn. At this writing, that’s only 77 days, 18 hours, and 37 minutes away.

With the afternoons a little warm to enjoy the gardens of Winterpast, I decided the closet had grown into a project. How does this happen? Repeatedly. It’s time to purge. A few short months later, it’s in a bigger disarray. Mine is a walk-in-closet for one. This would have been a problem had the two people that bought Winterpast actually lived to move in together. Sadly, it was just me and this closet has major issues.

Sorting through my shoes, I had to laugh. Black Suede heels of varying heights for those unexpected dinner dates. (Black Suede and desert dust are not the best combo.) Sketcher “Da-Lites” for gardening. Sketcher’s “Go-Walks” for little hikes. Leather sandals. Sensible flats. Winter snow boots. Summer flip-flops. I really don’t like buying shoes, but when the size you need is 10.5 Narrow, you buy when you find something that fits, usually black or brown to go with everything.

Well, I was putting shoes back in their boxes when I came across a brand new box. Nestled inside lay brown suede hiking boots. A forgotten purchase, still sporting tags. Smiling, I remembered the reason they wait.

Santiago de Compostela. The cathedral sitting at the end of a very long walk.

According to Wikipedia, “The Camino de Santiago (Latin: Peregrinatio Compostellana, “Pilgrimage of Compostela”; Galician: O Camiño de Santiago),^[1] known in English as the Way of St James, is a network of pilgrims’ ways or pilgrimages leading to the shrine of the apostle Saint James the Great in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwestern Spain, where tradition holds that the remains of the apostle are buried.”

To have bragging rights to this trail, one must walk at least 70 miles of it. People take this walk for all sorts of personal reasons. They carry those reasons in their hearts as they walk through the Spanish countryside. Pilgrims have been taking this walk for more than a thousand years.

Two dear friends hiked it over 10 days, during which they found food and lodging along the way. Planning with a tour company, they didn’t carry anything but a small pack for water and snacks. Their luggage was waiting for them each day at the next stop.

This is quite high on my personal bucket list. Something I want to prove to myself. Something I want to DO in memory of VST. Of all the places we traveled over 32 years, we never made it to Europe. I’ll easily carry his memory in my heart as I put one boot in front of the other until I stand in front of this magnificent cathedral in Spain at the end of the journey.

If I’ve got you thinking, you can research this very pilgrimage on line. There are plenty of great documentaries about the journey. Travel companies that can help you plan to the last detail. According to my friends, the first day was the worst. 13 miles on Day One. After that? A piece of cake. They took 10 days. It could take as long as 20.

Of course, a seasoned old bird shouldn’t undergo this alone. MM is interested in joining me while carrying his own angel passenger. Although both VST and MM’s passenger are on the other side of heaven, they’ll come along. It’s for them, we’re planning to walk. Well, their memory and to honor the last days of my 6th decade in the summer of 2025. Now you understand the hiking boot situation going on in my closet.

The very first thing to remember is that you need to wear comfortable shoes. You may need a couple pair to make the complete journey. Pretty sure one pair of Merrill hiking boots will do 70 miles. The first mile of preparation began yesterday, as I strolled around my neighborhood sporting very stiff hiking boots. Quite different from the squishy Sketchers I’m used to.

I don’t know what I’ll learn about myself along the Camino. Not sure what kind of amazing miracles will be experienced. What kind of new foods we’ll eat along the way. How the stars shining in the Spanish night sky will watch over us as we sleep in cot filled hostiles full of other pilgrims. I just know I need to get in shape, because each day is one closer to our journey.

Hiking boots are a good thing to own. Even better when they get broken in. There are so many places to hike in our own back yard, here in Northwestern Nevada. Finding these boots hidden in my own closet made me remember that 67.5 years is not elderly. It’s just getting tuned up for adventure.

Whatever you do, remember this quote. As a retired teacher, it’s one I’ve never forgotten and remembered quite often. As for me, I’m off for my second day of training. I have a 70 mile trail to walk. Need to be ready.

“You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself any direction you choose.

You’re on your own.

And you know what you know.

And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”

― Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

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

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

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

I’ve found widowhood and loneliness to be a lot like the desert. At the worst of times, grief is as unrelenting as the midday sun. Just like the desert, relief is hard to find unless you learn how to survive. Even the hottest of days holds a sunset, when one can take a deep breath of relief. So is the journey through the wilderness of widowhood. Ups and downs. Good and Bad. Turmoil and Peace.

One year ago, sitting at my kitchen table, I’d just finished my morning Bible study. Loneliness had me by the throat as I sobbed. Where in the world I’d meet some new friends? Covid quarantine was over. I was a widow of over two years in a town that I still didn’t know very well. I had neighbors who were in different stages of life than I was. Many were shut-ins confined to the privacy of their own homes. Bird songs amid the gardens can only amuse one for so long. Through my tears, I prayed that God would provide new friends.

My day held earthly plans full of errands and chores. Through a very strange route, Jesus had other ideas. HE took the wheel of my Jeep and drove me straight to an answer.

The gardens of Winterpast, my lifeline, adding a few new plants would certainly make me feel a little better. On the way to the garden center, I remembered a little church just across the tracks across from Main Street. What if they had something to offer? I decided to follow the persistent little lightbulb going off in my head and stop by.

After parking and following the signs to the office, I entered. There, 14 women sat around a table, welcoming me with their smiles.

“Why, Hello! You’re just in time! Have some fresh pie! Here’s our study materials. What’s your name? Tell us your story.”

The time? 9:58 AM.

The starting time for the weekly Bible study group? 10:00 AM. God gave me two extra minutes to settle in.

Sitting in front of each lady was a sheet of paper holding one definition in very large font.

Friend \frend\ noun

Someone who gives you freedom to be yourself;

One of the nicest things you can have;

The best thing you can be.

Miracles often appear when we’re too sad to recognize them for what they are. That day unfolded into the miracle I needed at that very moment in time. Friendships formed then and continue to this day.

If you’re trying to kick the loneliness of widowhood, the only thing you can do is put one foot in front of the other. “Fake it until you make it”, as VST used to say. Get out and nose around a bit.

Whatever you do today, do something positive in the present moment, putting aside the negatives of yesterday and the worries of tomorrow. Life is a beautiful, wonderful journey. You Gotta BE! Sing it!! You Gotta Be!!

More tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t forget to keep hope alive.

H.O.P.E.

HOLD.

ON.

PAIN.

ENDS.

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

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

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

More tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the second she placed two eggs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll be back on Monday!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Garden’s Gift Tomato Pie

Ingredients

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More tomorrow.