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

Gutters are an important feature of any home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#2. Lifetime Transferable Guarantee.

#3. Guaranteed work backed by a local company.

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

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

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

Winterpast will go from this–

To this.

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

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

More tomorrow.

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

Terry Lee Hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We are BOTH finally free.

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

More tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More tomorrow.

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

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

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

Emergency Supply List

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

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

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

Additional Emergency Supplies

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

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

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

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

Kit Storage Locations

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

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

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

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

I’ll be back Monday.

Naomi Irion’s Murderer is DEAD.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

Until yesterday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You be the judge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

And so I began to learn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then comes the fun part.

DOING THE HILLARY.

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

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

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

Oy Vey.

I just never knew………

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

More tomorrow.

Two words should never find themselves in the same sentence.

Maui.

Fire.

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

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

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

So much loss.

Unthinkable.

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

More tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

The beginning of the Psalm is as follows:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll be back on Monday.

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

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

Back to the drawing board.

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

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

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

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

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

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

More tomorrow.