Category: 2024

In case you’re wondering, this isn’t photo shopped with AI. Nope. This “ART”, named Seven Magic Mountains, exists somewhere near Las Vegas. Some people have way too much money. Others have way too much time on their hands. When the two come together, you get something like the picture above. Here’s the story.

A SWISS artist decided that it would be appropriate to deface 34 extremely large boulders and place them in seven stacks, covering them in the most inappropriate, unnatural, un-desert-like colors. I wasn’t there, but am pretty sure heavy equipment compacted the desert floor, running over native plants and animals in the process. Did the local tribes of indigenous people approved this project? No idea.

To fund this process, the Nevada Museum of Art paid this foreign artist $3.5 million to complete this “amazing” vision. How insanely perfect that it now sits in the desert near Las Vegas viewed by very few.

Now, a problem has arisen. The “Harry Reid International Airport” needs expanding. Oh No. Seven Magic Mountains stand in the way of the project. Whatever shall be done with this amazing work of art??????

The Biggest Little City in the West has approved payment of $500,000 to move this “ART”. Fact check this for yourself. This isn’t a joke and it’s not even April Fool’s Day. Now these seven defaced rocks are worth $4 million while the Swiss artist can yodel-oh-ee-do his way back home with the cash.

I am at a loss for the insanity that’s infected our country today, even here in the Wild Wild West. One thing is absolutely true. Money changes hands in the strangest ways.

The Biggest Little City in the West now has a problem. They really haven’t found the appropriate spot to display this monstrosity. Who knows, they might need to buy some worthless land for a couple million to give it a proper setting. Folks. If I went to my beloved mountainside and painted it with these colors, I’d be arrested for defacing nature in a flash.

Our state has some of the most picturesque landscapes in the entire country. I hope Las Vegas can now take a sigh of relief that they have sent this “ART” to their little step sister to the west. Maybe the Biggest Little City in the West can pawn this off on the state capital. the low one on the totem pole.

Most days, it’s better not to look at the news. At least, my tax dollars support normal things in my sweet little town on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Of course, we were home to the giant bottlecap artichoke for years……

And so it goes.

More tomorrow.

Most days, I live in a very quiet part of Northwestern Nevada, far from unwanted drama of the real world. Just Winterpast, HHH, Me, Wookie, Oliver, and the mustangs. Day after day, the most exciting thing in back yard is an occasional hummingbird or beautiful butterfly. Just the sounds of nature, as the gentle summer breezes rustle the leaves of the cottonwood trees.

And then comes the fourth week in August when the “burners” (those attending “Burning Man”) come to town. Then, all bets are off. Anything and everything can be seen at the local Walmart if you care to sit and watch.

The first thing announcing the arrival of over 80,000 party goers is the placement of huge dumpsters around the perimeter of the Walmart parking lot. Revelers fly in from around the world equipped only with what the carry. Once here, they pump millions of dollars into the local economy while renting RV’s, buying supplies and even brand-new bicycles.

HHH has helped with preparations for this event in past years. Burning man is held on a large desert area called Black Rock Playa, a remnant of ancient Lake Lahontan. For eleven months of the year, it’s just empty desert. Come early August, the place is transformed into Black Rock City, complete with its own zip code. HHH spent time working with his long time electrician friend, John Boy, to bring power to this temporary city.

This weekend, the bumper-to-bumper traffic from i80 to Black Rock desert will be as it always is. Last year, some crazed environmentalists chained themselves to a trailer parked sideways across the highway. It didn’t go well for them. Hopefully this year, people will be a little smarter and not make such foolish decisions.

Last year, trouble arrived in the form of a huge monsoonal rain storm. People were stranded out in the desert in very deep mud. Some chose to walk out towards civilization. It was a scary time for those that were stuck.

This afternoon, the winds are expected to pick up due to an upcoming storm. Today, our temperatures will fall about 20 degrees with rain expected. In the Sierra’s above Lake Tahoe and Donner Pass, it’s possible there may be snow. Yes. Snow in August. Strange year.

Although I’d like to have bragging rights for attending such an event, this is a step too far for this 68 year old very conservative woman. I’d love to to say I saw the night lights, naked bike riders, sculptures, and of course, the man himself burn on the last night. Without any way to stay for a week, it’ll be something I’ll observe online, like most other Americans.

HHH and I plan to go over to Walmart later today to watch the outsiders as they come to our little town to prepare. They aren’t hard to pick out. In fact, they often cause locals to stop in our tracks and stare. They will pick our grocery stores clean when they come and again when they leave. Those of us that live here have already stocked up.

Whatever you do today, look at some of the stories and images of Burning Man 2023. Be prepared. Be warned, it’s not for the faint of heart. Stay tuned for the storms of 2024. Let’s pray it doesn’t rain too much this weekend.

More tomorrow.

What a wild, wet, and snowy weekend on the eastern side of the Sierra’s! Saturday’s photo was taken from McCoy Station at Mammoth Mountain Ski Area about five hours to the south. Although those of us on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada didn’t get snow, we certainly received cold rain.

Saturday was a wonderfully cozy day for two honeymooners. We started the day by going to Walmart to grab a few staples and take a gander at THE visitors. While most of the outsiders should have been on the road to Burning Man, weather-caused road closures forced them to stay put.

These days, our little town of 25,000 people struggles to find employees to run the few restaurants we have. Now that weekend visitors were forced to stay, services were strained to the max.

Our local Walmart isn’t one of the best in the nation. More likely, it rates as one of the worst. Servicing our town and interstate travelers, shelves are often missing things that other Walmart’s offer. It has trouble competing with Tesla and Panasonic who pay twice as much per hour while offering transportation to work.

Add thousands of stranded travelers to any little town and you have a real mess. Due to the heavy crowds, every single check-out stand was open and servicing customers. On a normal day, here on the high desert plains, we have one human checker on the tobacco aisle. Just one.

Burningman.org and Burning Man radio kept everyone informed about road and traffic information. Everyone is being told to stay put wherever they find themselves until the gates are open. When that might happen is anyone’s guess, but no one wants a repeat of last year.

The ways people choose to spend the week in the desert is always interesting. There are those with lots of money that have million dollar RV’s with custom kitchens, bathrooms, and internet connections. Then, some choose a more practical approach with very old rigs that have visited the playa on many occasions. There are those that find U-Haul trucks perfect for their needs. Some just camp from their cars.

When talking about all the choices, HHH assured me that he could make the U-Haul idea work just fine. Good to know. I’m a little more high maintenance than that should the opportunity arise some day.

We’re all praying for clear skies so these folks can find their way to the playa. Behind the locked gates until September 2, there’ll be a collective sigh of relief while restocking the shelves. Burning Man 2024 will be in the history books before we know it.

This week, the weather should return to summer normal. The highs will return to the 90’s. With shorter days, evenings will return to pleasant temps while the gardens of Winterpast begin to wind down for their long winter’s sleep.

Whatever you do today, you might tune in to find out what’s happening on the playa. Today, I learned there are some providing evening movies, popcorn, and candy bars for the masses. Let’s hope the rain dries away quickly so the visitors can be safe.

More tomorrow.

With the arrival of Preseason Football, there’s a new found urgency to finish HHH’s man cave for winter. And what a Man Cave it is! With four brothers anxious to spend time enjoying winter games, HHH needs to step on the final design and get his menu planned for his first party.

When I moved into Winterpast in April 2020, the biggest question from everyone was about plans for the RV barn. HHH thinks the name “BARN” is just all wrong and truly, the Man Cave is anything but a barn. It’s a fully finished RV garage that is 40’x20’x20′ with everything but running water and a bathroom.

The barn stood empty for a few years. There was talk of a gardening club, a Zumba class, or even church meetings. In the end, the very best use of the space is a Man Cave for Mr. HHH to enjoy manly things like viewing golf, football, and baseball. This will give the Mrs. of the house more time to quietly enjoy blogging, crafting, and reading.

It took awhile to collect the furnishings for the man cave. Thanks to Miss B and her move to smaller quarters, HHH now has completed his look. Two recliners. One love seat. Three comfortable chairs. Three wall-mounted tv’s with separate controls. Plenty of pictures and decorations. And, HHH’s prize Mexican Marlin.

Of course, there are the stainless steel cabinets from Sam’s Club. After months of dealing with a missing order, the cabinets ended up being a gift from the store, completing the vision for the Man Cave to end all Man Cave’s.

As with every garage, we store a lot here. All manly-man gear is neatly tucked behind decorative curtains, leaving the space tidy. HHH and I share the love of all things neat and tidy.

At this writing, he hasn’t named the place. I’m sure he’ll think of something fitting. He’s planning some sort of moveable kitchen to provide food for the visiting brothers when they come for game days. There’s even a fireplace for ambience. The only thing missing is a bed, making it absolutely clear this is no flop house.

Whatever you do, think about changing a spot in your house or apartment into something yours and yours alone. Choose your favorite colors and decorating scheme and then go for it. A man cave or she shed is a delightful thing to create. Even more fun to enjoy with family and friends.

More tomorrow.

Once upon a time, my beloved Auntie TJ was reading a great novel called “The Hardacres.” The series chronicled the life of the Hardacre family, beginning in the late 1800’s. Each time I’d call to chat, she’d tell me about the latest details and making it clear this story was a good one.

At that time, still teaching, I would so look forward to my holidays. Time was always reserved for a visit with my Godmother on the central coast of the Pacific Ocean. Some days, we’d stay in jammies from sun up until sun down, chatting about everything under the sun, while laughing through it all. Those times shared with her are the most cherished memories of my entire life and I look forward to making more. Even more exciting was the fact that she lived across the street from the Goddess of the Central Coast!! Absolutely enchanting.

Getting back to “The Hardacres”…. Auntie TJ shared that the characters in this book were extremely poor in their early years. The husband spent endless days as a “fish gutter”. When work moved from port to port, the Hardacers followed.

During these moves, with very few possessions, there was a prized plant that traveled with them. Wrapped in a small bandana, it was one of the few possessions that the wife grabbed before walking out the door. That plant was an Aspidistra.

I followed along as TJ chatted about the story, but on one word, I needed a spell check. I’d never heard of such a word or plant and had no idea what it would look like. After our talk, I did some research, enlightening myself on the Aspidistra plant.

Days turned into weeks, and TJ continued to read. The Aspidistra plant continued to move and age with the couple as they began to find success in life. Always, the plant was there. It was then TJ decided she, too, needed an Aspidistra. Off to the nursery she went.

TJ’s local nursery sells every coastal plant you can imagine. Someday I’d love to live where all coastal plants grow wild. Everything “un-desert” can be purchased there. Surely they’d know of or even sell an Aspidistra. Of this, TJ was certain.

Sadly, she soon learned that none of the nursery specialists knew of this Aspidistra plant about which she inquired. Just what was this mystery plant? They had not a clue. That much they could tell her. By the way, if they didn’t sell it, it probably wouldn’t grow at the coast.

‘Well, what about the fish-mongering Hardacres? Didn’t they live at the coast in 1890? It certainly grew for decades there…..” TJ thought to herself.

Deep in thought while heading towards the ferns and not paying attention in the very crowded nursery, she almost tripped on a potted plant. Attractive to her eye, she picked up the pot. Her heart almost stopped. Printed right on the side of the pot…. Aspidistra!!!!!!!!!!! No kidding!!!!!!

Aspidistra!!!!!! The very plant she had come to purchase was the lone plant on which she almost tripped. Now, she owned her very own Aspidistra.

During my next visit there was no arguing. The year was 2007. I needed my very own blue pot AND Aspidistra. That’s all there was to it and returning home, I owned one.

Seventeen years later, I’m happy to report that I just repotted my Aspidistra. Although not in the best shape, she’s still green and growing. It’s the only plant I’ve had for that many years. Hopefully, with a little TLC from HHH, my plant will live many more years, just like the plant in the book.

Whatever you do today, consider growing some houseplants. They clean the air and add a nice touch to any home. If you’re new at this, try a Pothos. They thrive under most conditions. Give it a try! You might be repotting it seventeen years from now, just like my Aspidistra and me.

More Tomorrow.

As the days go by, HHH and I are enjoying a season of gardening and learning. UNR’s Master Gardeners course has proved to be informative while convenient. The only garden we’ve visited so far is the one in our back yard, but that will change in the fall.

So far, we’ve learned about soils, plant nutrition, composting and plant propagation. Then, we moved on to herbaceous ornamentals, vegetable gardening and native plants. We’ll finish up our first class learning about woody ornamentals, tree fruits and nuts, small fruits, container gardening and finally Integrated Pest Management.

Each one of these subjects includes lots of reading and lengthy online-lectures. Every Thursday, we join ZOOM for a meeting in which questions are answered by experts. All in all, it’s been a wonderful experience.

Through each lesson, we’ve been expected to read, listen, answer all questions, and take quizzes. We’re required to pass an exam at the end of the class with a score of 80%, along with the other requirements.

After completing this course, we’ll move on to the Master Gardener class, during which we’ll be expected to do actual volunteer work in the biggest little city to the east. It’s exciting to think that by the end of December, we may have our Master Gardener Certificates.

Of course, we’ll also need to pass an extensive background check including fingerprints. Then, there’ll be face-to-face interviews with a panel of Master Gardeners who will make the final decision. When representing the Extension department of UNR through the Master Gardener program, one needs to be squeaky clean.

With all the years of gardening and farming experience, there shouldn’t be a lack of experiences to talk about. HHH had his own farming experience for 22 years. Developing a long drive and beautiful yard, he learned much about desert landscaping. No surprise that his ranch was a botanical show stopper for three seasons, and then a winter wonderland with his Christmas light display.

As for me, I’m recalling more and more information from my 20’s and 30’s, when composting, gardening, and houseplants were things I loved. Between the two of us, we have 138 years of collective knowledge of gardening and plants to be examined during our interviews.

Whatever you do today, think about trying something new. If you are lucky enough to have a Community College, see if any classes are offered for free. From art to history and everything in between, there might be something that interests you. Check it out!

Happy Friday, everyone!! The last days of summer are truly glorious as we await Autumn’s arrival. The vegetable garden has come to an end, with the exception of one very large pumpkin and an equally large watermelon. We haven’t quite learned the trick for deciding when I watermelon is ripe, but this one must be close. It’s enormous.

We’ve started pulling old plants while considering plans for next year. It’s important to rotate crops to experience fewer problems with pests and diseases. I wonder where the Armenian cucumbers will be planted next year? Somewhere where a certain little dog can’t get in to eat them, that’s for sure.

Yesterday, while reading the daily blog from an octogenarian friend in Ipswich, Massachusetts I couldn’t help but be inspired. At 86 years young, her main concern in life is to bring as many smiles to as many people as possible. There could be easier ways to accomplish this. You could walk through Walmart while exchanging smiles along the way. But, that wouldn’t fit Miss C’s style.

Miss C is one of the best dog trainers I’ve ever run across. When she was in her early 70’s, she started a program raising Great Dane’s for people with mobility problems. Her most famous success was a little girl named Bella and her dog George. Such a team, George went on to win recognition and awards through his life with Bella. Truly a beautiful story.

Well, like everything, life moves on. George died. Bella was crushed. Miss C just happened to have an orphan Dane named Ziti. Bella needed something to do. Now, Ziti is in training under the care of a new dog trainer. Bella! More smiles created by this busy bunch.

Miss C has some pretty hefty health concerns but that hasn’t stopped her. Noting that most assisted living facilities are void of smiles, she got to work. She now takes the discarded animals she’s found along the way and makes weekly visits all over her town. It matters not that she has a donkey and foal along for the ride. She just strolls in to provide smiles in some pretty dark places. So many people need a reason to smile.

Her farm is named Goldy’s Animal Sanctuary and she offers delightful videos online. “Goldy” stands for the “Ghost Of the Left Hand Drawer”. So often, mysterious things would happen in Miss C’s office without any explanation except that “Goldy” did it. “Goldy” has always provided necessities in unique ways exactly when needed. She deserves to have a farm named after her after all these years.

Day after day, in between the numerous doctor’s visits, Miss C heads out to find more people and more smiles with her lovely animals. As we all know, smiles are priceless and contagious. Laugher is the best medicine.

Miss C is 86. She’s not in the best health. She’s under tremendous stress. Some nights she doesn’t sleep well. But, with one foot in front of the other, she keeps going in a positive direction. We could all learn a bunch from such an example.

Whatever you do today, consider how you could do a little bit more. It doesn’t take a lot of money or time to bring a smile to someone in need. We all know someone that could use a visit or phone call. It’s a long weekend. Get Busy!

I’ll be back on Monday.

The best thing about retirement is that schedules are only as strict as you want them to be. Every day can be some sort of holiday. Real holiday’s are often more comfortable spent at home with loved ones while crowded streets rumble on. Such is the case here at Winterpast.

The man burned Saturday night but I didn’t turn on the video to watch. Not exactly sure what significance “the man” holds, but am pretty sure I’m from the group he represents. It’ll be another year until “Strange” returns to our town. The playa be returned to the empty desert space it was always meant to be, while revelers return to their own homes around the world.

The temporary desert airstrip will also be shut down. I find it very curious that those so very worried about our planet arrive to such a festival in private jets and brand-new-Prevost busses. Makes one wonder.

Yesterday, we had a lovely day at church. About 40 of us worship together every Sunday while enjoying songs and thoughtful lessons from the Bible. The lesson focused on words of Prophet Zechariah from an interesting book. Written over 500 years before the birth of Christ, it’s fascinating to read words that still applicable today.

HHH and I have been sharing our garden’s abundance with the congregation, taking the last of our zucchini and summer squash yesterday. The fruit and vegetables are now gone. All that we have left to enjoy are the watermelon and pumpkin. The garden flowers are giving one last show, and then, they’ll be finished, as well. What a year!

After beautiful music and a great lesson, church was over and the most beautiful lesson of all was waiting for us outside. Another church from town decided to donate a work day to our community garden and the Pregnancy Crisis Center on the property. Not only did they clean out bags and bags of refuse from the garden, but decided the tiny center needed paint.

This neighborly church is preparing the building and will be painting it this week. Just because.

Just because we’re all Christians from the same town.

Just because it’s a really nice thing to do.

Just because want to and they can.

Just because this is how life is in a small town.

We visited with the Pastor from the neighboring church, who couldn’t have been nicer. The group asked nothing for their time and efforts. This act of kindness left me wondering who else needs helps in our town. We were blessed to meet these new-found friends.

Whatever you do today, think about your town. Think of little buildings that look a little dingy because of the zephyr winds of the desert. Send a Thank-You to someone that wouldn’t expect it. Think about attending a church service. Say “Hi” to a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in awhile.

It’s Labor Day!!! Lots of people are out and about. Have a fun day getting outside yourself. Keep smiling and remember to spread a little happiness on your way.

More tomorrow.

Some days, there are no words for the frustration caused by the hounds of Winterpast. 60 pounds if their weight is added together, these two canines are truly crazy but only one is untrainable and incorrigible. He happens to be my contribution to our pack. Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall, most days referred to as Ollie.

There isn’t anything that Oliver won’t try to eat or otherwise ruin. I’ve come to the conclusion that he has some sort of major food disorder leading him to eat rocks, plastic lighting, sprinklers of all kinds, and now, garden plants. Any kind of garden plants. Especially the one his Mom-Oh picks from the garden.

In the early spring, he didn’t learn about the cherries, or he’d have figured a way to climb the tree. So far, he has left all bark on the trees, which is a blessing. However, when the apricots began to fall, he could be found eating them at all times of the day.

According to the internet, apricot pits can be toxic to dogs. I wish someone would “borrow” Oliver to do a case study, because this dog dines on them regularly without any visible side affects. He loves the dried apricot flesh with a side of garden rocks. It’s a challenge for the little one to eat the dried flesh off the small white rocks, but if he swallows a rocky chunks, he doesn’t seem to mind.

He loves transplanted worms intended for our healthy garden soil. As long as he can see where I’ve put them, he’s on it. Of course, his nose is so sharp, he needs only to follow my scent trail to find these tender little nuggets of juiciness.

His favorite treats involve the garden. Here’s the story on that.

In the spring, HHH and I decided to fence the garden. We bought enough fencing to surround the bee hive. This served the double purpose of keeping Oliver and Wookie away from the fence and the neighbors dogs and protecting the hive. A win-win with just enough fencing left to secure the garden on the opposite side of the yard.

Carefully plotting his little attack, Oliver was good as gold in the beginning. He wouldn’t even go near the garden until we returned the remainder of the fencing. Then, all bets were off and he was on a mission to eat every single Armenian cucumber and bell pepper he could find. Squash and zucchini weren’t his favorite but they’d do in a pinch. He wiped out the strawberries as they ripened. He enjoyed digging as he chased lizards, all the while destroying the tranquility of our garden area.

It matters not the times he’s been in trouble. Spraying him with water just cools him off. Now enjoying his 6th year on this earth, aging hasn’t even slowed him down The only thing that will work is the gated fence that’s scheduled for next spring.

This year, we had a dinner-plate lemon Dahlia on the patio. The most beautiful of our beautiful’s, HHH was nurturing it along until it died a natural death. Death? Natural?? Think again. You want a plant destroyed??? No problem if you have this terrible little dog. Done. Yesterday, the Dahlia became a thing of the past, while Oliver lives another day.

Yesterday, without reason, Wookie peed in the living room. The time has come for puppy camp. Human vacation is in the very near future. The safety and happiness of two little dogs depend on it.

More tomorrow.

In early 2009, I met a girl with a dream in the most improbable place. She needed a bit more time in school ending up a bit behind. I detoured from 3rd grade to teach high school math and science with a side of writing. Our two paths intersected at a little country school located in the middle of Nowhere, California. And so this story began.

At that time, my students were unique and quirky. Independent and in need of a patience and a different style of teaching, they found themselves at the tiny little School. My students were often referred to as “those kids” by “those people” that had never met them. I knew and loved each of them as if they were my own, because for two years, they were.

During those days, five young women waited to join me in a writing group that met twice a week. I always laughed that they’d walk miles through the worst of storms to make it to school on those days. The six of us cherished our time together as writers. Looking back, it was me that would’ve walked barefoot through broken glass to share time with these young women.

During our time together, we all thought about life, considered words that might heal us, wrote, shared, cried, laughed, and became stronger writers. Once a week wasn’t enough, so we met twice. Once, a very stern teacher heard raucous laughter coming from our classroom. Just WHAT was so darn funny in THAT classroom. We heard her coming and when she flung the door open, we all sat silently stunned. We’d been busted. For laughing!!! I can still hear her little stiletto’s clip-clip-clipping down the hall. A hilarious moment.

One particular girl had dreams of becoming a movie director. Although a lofty dream, she could attain it as well as the next person. We spent many days discussing all the ways it could become a reality. And then, something wonderful happened.

Butterfly Gal found a specific program offered to Junior high school students. A student internship at the San Francisco Institute of Art. There, for a summer, she could escape her dusty roadside town and be fully immersed in the world she hoped to enter. The day she came to see me, she was bubbling over with excitement.

The cost of the summer program would be $500. She could raise that much in ten months. She just knew she could. She’d clean her closet and sell anything she could. Heck, she’d sell cookies and bottled water on the side of the road. She’d find a job washing dishes. In no time at all, she’d have that $500. And that’s what she did, until the day her bubble burst.

Into the very same classroom entered a girl I hardly recognized. After reading the fine print, she found the $500 was only a deposit. In fact, the real cost was $3000 which might as well have been $1,000,000. Devastation and darkness filled the classroom that day as we shared tears. Again, I told her that if she was supposed to be there, she would be. That’s what faith is all about. We talked a lot about faith, she and I.

Plan B came together. Butterfly Gal spoke to the school board asking for help. The boosters kicked in money. She asked family and neighbors to help. A little more money came in. In a couple months, she was still short by $1,000. At this point, I questioned my own wisdom in encouraging her in this endeavor. Pushing boundaries can be very uncomfortable. The date for the final payment was very close and all resources had evaporated.

On a Friday afternoon, while finishing my day, I received a call from a retired school board member. Could we meet? Something very important needed to be discussed. Could I wait for her to arrive? She’d always been very nice to me. Sure it was Friday at 2 PM, but sometimes a teacher must go the extra mile. I agreed to wait.

With her brilliant smile she entered my room. She’d heard about Butterfly Gal. On that very day, she’d received news from the attorney of her late Aunt. It seemed she’d inherited some money for a specific purpose. It was Aunt Daisy’s greatest wish that the funds would help a student pursue her love of the Arts. The amount??????

Wait for it…..

Yes. Exactly $1,000.

Butterfly Gal and I danced around the room on Monday morning! She was on her way to San Francisco for a summer that would change her life. She met her goal and enjoyed a summer that proved wonderful in every way. The last time I saw her was right before Christmas, 2013, when she was happy and full of smiles.

I don’t live in California anymore, but do check the news from time to time. I’d heard of the accident that happened only miles east of our little school. On August 30th,  a semi drove into the opposite lane, striking a car and ending the life of an amazingly beautiful 31 year old woman. Monday, my world was rocked a bit. It was then I found out my sweet student had been killed in an instant.

Last night, I read a letter she’d written to me on December 17, 2013, two years after her high school graduation. Chronicling our sweet time together as student, teacher, and friends, the words took me back to those wonderful days so long ago. She wrote about the impact writing had on her life. Of the positive affects her summer in San Francisco brought into her life. Of the talks we shared on dark mornings. But it was her last words that tore at my heart.

“You’ll always be one of my guardian angels. I love you.”

Rest in peace, Butterfly Gal. As I enjoy writing each day, I know you’ll be sitting on my shoulder as MY guardian angel. Now you’ll know ALL my stories. I love you, too. These words are written for you.

More tomorrow.