Category: 2024

So many types of grief. So many losses in this world. From the last days of a beloved pet life to the tragic loss of friend or family, there is only one thing guaranteed. We will all pass through times of darkness even when the bluest skies are right outside our door. It’s all part of LIFE.

I’m so grateful for my experiences in the classroom. Losing a student has made me even more thankful for my days spent with the best people in the world. Kids. In my career and as a mom, I’ve had the experience of teaching every single age group. Each age is unique and awe inspiring. Every child left an imprint on my heart that will remain there forever.

I remember the first weeks of school as a new teacher. I’d go home and wonder how on earth I’d ever teach the new students anything at all. Each one came with a set of summer cobwebs, unique and individual. Some fell back into the routine of school easier than others. I would ask myself, “Why ME, Lord? Why THAT child?”

In 22 years of teaching, God never got it wrong. I was given the kids I needed. By the end of the year, I could write a book about each one. By the last day of school, I could have taken the whole class to Hawaii and never had a bad moment. Each year, teaching followed that pattern.

Few teachers have the chance to teach Kinder – 12th. In many different settings, I discovered that kids are kids. My 11th graders struggled with 3rd grade art projects while laughing through it all. My 3rd graders enjoyed writing 6th grade animal reports, done entirely in class. Through it all, I found patience and positivity I didn’t know I possessed. We found community and love in our classroom.

Now, the world has lost a very special someone who chose her battles carefully. Butterfly Gal was strong enough to ask for support and help when she needed it. When she went off on her own for a summer in San Francisco, she was as brave and fearless as a warrior even when shaking in her boots. She did it all her own way.

After a loss, we all rest a bit in darkness, but remember, it’s not a place to stay. During times of despair, forward movement is necessary. Just one foot in front of the other, and soon you’re moving into the unknown.

In a small California town, a candlelight vigil will be held for Butterfly Gal Sunday night at 7. I’ll be there in spirit. She was a light to so many. Now, others will carry the light for her.

Whatever you do today, be vigilant in all aspects of your life. Look for light in sweeet memories and share them. Have a grateful heart for happy times of the past. A little light in the darkness when it seems all is lost.

More tomorrow.

1982 was a quite a year for me. Mothering two boys, age 3 and 1, I didn’t have much time to sit and watch television. There was always something to do. Watch the babies. Tend the garden. Wash and line dry cloth diapers. Sew. Cook. Clean. Repeat. Those days were filled with “Must Do’s” and included very little “I’d Like To…”-s.

One day, a story on the television caught my attention. It seemed a certain man named Larry Walters made the news in a very big way. Using a $109 “Sear’s Best” lawn chair attached to 43 helium-filled weather balloons, he left terra-firma to soar to an eventual height of 16,000 feet. It just so happened that after lifting off from San Pedro, California, he entered controlled airspace near long Beach Airport. When he eventually got caught in power lines and caused an electrical outage in the area, he climbed down to safety and was arrested.

Larry had always wanted to fly, but because of poor eyesight, that wasn’t to be. So, being a creative man, he figured a way to have his own experience. He knew the helium would carry him up and he’d carry a pellet gun to burst the balloons to make his descent. He was hoping to float over the Mojave Desert.

Larry had dreamt about doing this for 20 years. He finally made his dream come true at the cost of a $1500 fine for “operating a civil aircraft for which there is not currently in effect an airworthiness certificate.” Only the government could come up with that one.

There are so many rich and wonderful things about this story. The fact that Larry dreamt about doing this for 20 years is only one of many. His “aircraft” was named Inspiration 1, which made one think there might be more adventures. He achieved inner peace by fulfilling a lifelong dream!

So busy at the time, Larry and I went on with our very separate lives. His story was soon forgotten by most, but not by me. When I had some time, I intended to write a letter to this man. I wanted him to know his bravery and vision weren’t lost on a young mother tending to two babies in Madera, California. I really meant to write that letter. Year after year, it was on my very long list of things to do. I’d do it. Tomorrow.

It was with a heavy heart that 11 years later, I read a very small article about his suicide. He’d lost the love of his life. He had trouble finding work. His days became too dark and he ended his own life.

What might one letter have done to change his outlook? I never had the chance to find out. Perhaps we would’ve become pen pals. His antics took my troubled mind to place of possibilities and wonder. If Larry could reach his lifelong dream, maybe I could muster up the courage to make my own life better.

Words are life. In 2018, a brilliant 5th grader started her final essay to me with these three words, receiving an A+. Words ARE life. A random letter of encouragement could be all it takes to make any day better. Just one little envelope delivered snail mail.

Yesterday, I took time to write a letter to one of my favorite authors. Jan Karon. It was from the very first book about her beloved Mitford that I read an enchanting story about a mansion named “Winterpast” (Chapter 19-21 of “At Home in Mitford”).

As a new widow, I needed anything to keep my mind focused. I picked up her book and fell into the world of Father Tim and his parishioners. And there, I found “Winterpast”. Just like that, my new home had a name.

My beloved spoke and said to me,
    “Arise, my darling,
    my beautiful one, come with me.
See! The winter is past;
    the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
    the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
    is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
    the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
    my beautiful one, come with me. _{Song of Solomon 2: 10-13}

I wrote to Mrs. Karon yesterday. I hope it brightened her day. Words ARE life changing. They can turn a widow away from the constant companion of grief and steer her toward the future. I know. I happened to me that May evening in 2020.

Whatever you do today, take a little time and write an unexpected letter to someone special. Let them know how they’ve changed your life. Don’t forget to add the love.

Have a great weekend!

Fires in the West are always a real and present danger. The beautiful Manzanita, Pine, and grasses are awe-inspiring. The vegetation covering the mountains and desert we love so much, they are also something else. FUEL. Once you’ve lived through a major fire, you never think of trees and bushes as anything other than FUEL.

The Davis Fire started Saturday afternoon in a small campground miles west of my town. A quiet little spot just right for day use, this campground was a place to enjoy the pines for the day. Although the cause hasn’t been announced, there was no lightning in the clear blue skies that day. It started around 2:30 pm. Everything points to a human cause. In this day and age, it often does.

In 2013, I lived through the terror of 30 fires, one set every single day for a month. We would later discover each fire was started by a neighbor and his wife. Almost losing their home to foreclosure, they planned to set a variety of fires around the area. The “BIG” one would start next to their house and come with an insurance payoff. They could start life anew as fire VICTIMS.

They were very crafty and almost accomplished their goal. During that month, evacuated twice as manzanita and oak trees went up in flames all around us. One young couple escaped a fire with only their small daughter and their lives. They lost everything.

It took a huge effort by Madera County Sheriff and other law enforcement. Men wore camouflage and sat long hours in trees waiting to catch the suspects red-handed. After 30 days, close to their home and mine, they DID. The community pulled together and the husband got 30 years while the wife got a bit less.

Although the bushes and trees slowly came back, the psychological scars of the fires were slower to heal. With horror and disgust, the community was told that after only three years served these two monsters were released early due to “good behavior”. Remember their name, as they could be YOUR new neighbors.

In 2014, the Courtney Fire in Bass Lake took the homes of 33 of our neighbors, leaving a scattering of cabins like ours unharmed. The neighborhood was forever shattered. In 40 minutes, the fire raced up a mountain, took out the community and raced to the edge of the lake. Luckily, the only fatalities were two cats.

If you’ve lived through something like this, fires aren’t just news stories. They bring up a deep sadness and empathy for the new victims. The community has just suffered a loss from which some will never recover.

My heart breaks for the sixteen families who lost everything in the fire this weekend. The community lost so many special things that can never be replaced. They’ll live with the scars from this fire for a very long time. It will take decades for these 6500 acres to return to their natural beauty. Something so precious has been lost.

As the sun rises this morning, the damage will slowly come to light. At this point 12, 000 people are evacuated, two of them being my brother-in-law and his beautiful wife. They, along with others, will find comfort from friends and family, while waiting to find out whether they still have homes.

Whatever you do today, please pray for the victims of the Davis Creek Fire.

More tomorrow.

During the next two weeks, our little church will is taking a yearly check-up. With the help of an extensive questionnaire, each parishioner has been asked to reflect on different aspects of their personal experience. The information collected will be used to see how the church is doing. This request has been presented most positively. To grow, we need to know.

A wise woman of the church brought up an interesting subject during worship Sunday. It’s helpful to quietly check in with ourselves periodically to correct our chosen path. It’s easy to become distracted, take a wrong turn, and end up in the dark. Much better to take a self-inventory, correct our course, and then, stay on track.

Taking time for self-reflection is a form of self care that increases self-respect. Taking care of everyone and everything in life can leave one drained. With quiet reflection and a little self awareness, emotions can become easier to control. Mindfulness can lower stress and anxiety that come along with every day life.

As the internet provides information necessary for a happy life, I did a little Google search and found something written by Chris Masunic, PhD, RD, CDCES, MBA. Sometimes, the simplest questions are the hardest to answer. Take a minute to think about these as they pertain to your own life.

1. “How am I feeling right now?” Take a moment to identify your current emotional state. Are you feeling happy, sad, anxious, or something else? Naming your emotions is the first step in understanding them.

2. “What does my body need at this moment?” Listen to your body. Does it need rest, movement, nutrition, or perhaps relaxation? Your physical wellbeing is closely linked to your mental health.

3. “What self-care action can I take today?” Consider what actions might nourish and rejuvenate you. It could be as simple as taking a walk, reading a book, or practicing a hobby.

4. “Is there anything I need to forgive myself for?” Self-forgiveness is a crucial aspect of emotional wellbeing. Reflect on whether there’s something you’re holding against yourself and how you can let go of that burden.

5. “What am I grateful for today?” Gratitude can shift your focus from what’s troubling you to what’s good in your life. Identify things you’re thankful for to encourage a positive impact on your mood.

6. “What are my needs that aren’t being met?” Sometimes, negative feelings stem from unmet needs. Identify what needs—like connection, rest, or recognition—you might be neglecting.

7. “What accomplishments can I celebrate today?” Recognize victories, even small ones, to help build self-esteem and motivation.

8. “How can I be kinder to myself in this moment?” Treat yourself with the same kindness you’d offer a friend, rather than neglecting your needs or speaking negatively to yourself.

9. “What’s one thing I can let go of that’s not serving me?” Habits, thoughts, or obligations in your life might be holding you back. Imagine releasing them, and see which could help you find a greater sense of wellbeing.

10. “What brings me joy, and how can I incorporate more of it into my life?” Identify sources of joy—like hobbies, personal relationships, or community endeavors—and make them a part of your routine to boost your mental health.

Huge corporations take inventory of their products and progress. Why shouldn’t individuals take inventory of their own life? Looking inward is a great way to discover what’s working and what could be better. After all, as CEO of our ship, it’s up to each of us to steer the boat! Otherwise, we just might run aground.

Whatever you do today, take a minute to think about the questions above. Especially #8. Be kind, rewind, and then, carry on.

More tomorrow.

NEVER, EVER, EVER FORGET!

Please reflect on those Americans who lost their lives that horrible morning 23 years ago today.

Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, moms, dads, co-workers and friends collectively robbed of their futures on one terrifying day.

As towns across the country will do, ours is remembering while we gather at Out-Of-Town park. 343 firemen lost their lives that day running towards the danger. Heroes were born out of this tragedy. Cancer continues to claim the lives of those that rushed to help.

For the last five years, I’ve chosen to write an anonymous letter and a donation to an unsung hero in my town. The first year, during Covid, I wrote to the cheer and track coaches training kids even though there would be no competitions. I’ve written to the auto mechanic asking him to put my donation towards the bill of the next single mother with hungry kids and a broken car. I’ve thought of something different each year and quietly donated.

There are many things you can do behind the scenes. Try it. There’s something wonderful about secretly helping someone who needs it. 9/11 is a great day to start a tradition.

Whatever you do today, remember. Look at the images. Think about that day. Watch “Come From Away” and shed a few tears.

9/11.

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever forget.

A sure sign of autumn on the high desert plains is the return of the mustangs. Down from the hills, they come looking for food and water. Both are scarce right now, although the herds look fit and feisty. Spring’s foals have lost their fluffy newborn tails and are now walking endless miles with their families.

It’s best not to name them or even look for favorites each day. Mustangs are a funny bunch. You might see the same group every day for a week and then not see them again for the rest of the season.

One of my favorites is a white mare. Not a true albino, she has a platinum sheen to her coat. Older than my time on here on the high desert plains, she’s produced a foal each spring, every one as white as her. For a time, she liked bunking next to Winterpast to escape the wind. I hope she’s wise enough to live out the rest of her days wild and free.

The mustang round-up’s continue around the area. Each time one is announced, I’m relieved they aren’t taking our group. Not yet anyway.

Opinions about the Mustangs are varied and intense. The Mustang groups want them left alone. Watching the herds that have become family members, I appreciate their point of view. Then, cattle ranchers using the open range insist wild horses harm BLM (the ONLY BLM — Bureau of Land Management) land used for cattle. People from the EPA claim the horses ruin the land for native species. The horses aren’t native, but invasive.

The highway patrol wishes the horses were miles from Highway 50, the loneliest highway in the United States. We all agree horses and vehicles don’t mix.

All those groups come together to clash, year after year. All the while, the number of mustangs keeps growing. It’s an impossible problem to solve. With any choice, unhappy people will continue to fight for years to come.

Add a deadly fire and the risks are greater. Just a few days ago, a video was taken of wild mustangs running up Geigher grade to the safety of the Virginia city range. Now, that’s a traffic jam. I tried to post it here, but the attached political ads included curse words. Google “wild mustangs escaping Davis Fire on Geigher grade” to see the mass exodus. There are many more than that living right outside our front door.

Oy. Vey.

One thing that does change the picture is a growing population and our town is on the verge of exploding. With thousands of new apartments and homes under construction, wild animals are pushed East, further onto the desert plains.

Just yesterday, I found that a new Italian restaurant, a Wine Lounge, a dress shop, and new salon are opening in our town. Along with those new shops, Squeeze Inn is opening their 9th store on September 21. A new place to enjoy breakfast and lunch, this isn’t opening a minute too soon. Businesses grow as the population expands. The horses and wild life will be lost somewhere along the way.

For now, I’ll enjoy this very moment and things as they are today.

Whatever you do today, look around to find signs of autumn where you live. Pretty soon it will be time for sweaters and pumpkin spice. I can’t wait!

More tomorrow.

It has been a minute since the honeymooners of Winterpast have adventured from home. This last year has flown by at the speed of light. This fall, it’s time to set down the shovel and rake and take some time for ourselves while making new memories of us.

After months of planning, it’s time for three wonderful fall adventures. The first in the land of man, the second in God’s country, and the third on the high seas of fantasy. Until the holidays begin, we will be kicking up our heals in retirement.

In the autumn of our lives, this statement is more relevant than ever before.

Tomorrow, Ollie and Wookie will pack their bags and trot off to puppy camp. Toodle- OO!!! We’ll begin packing for a journey into the land of artificial lights and manmade pools. A mirage that should’ve never been, but is.

Las Vegas.

Not a first choice, except that five days of “free” fell into our laps. Vacationing in free luxury is always fun. Only a day’s drive away, we’ll enjoy this much-needed getaway.

With no worries about broken sprinklers or the pesky ground squirrel, we’ll enjoy time together reflecting on memories made throughout the last year. More precious than we could have hoped, marital bliss has been a huge blessing from God. This autumn is a lovely time of year to rejoice.

September 23rd, I’ll be back with lots of stories from the land of man. Until then, stay safe and happy!

Whatever you do today, choose an adventure for yourself and start planning. Every journal begins with a dream and a single step, so get with it and begin your journey!

Happy Adventure Planning!

In my life, I’ve been blessed with travel to enjoy wonderful places and the beauty of our world. I was born and raised in the heartland of the most beautiful state of the union, (although the most screwed up), California. As a 17-year-old, I worked a summer in the Swiss Alps. As a bride of 21, I lived in Moldavia, USSR, and honeymooned across Europe.

I’ve sailed on one side of the beautiful Pacific Ocean and catamaran-ed on the other. I’ve seen deep Minnesota quarry pits filled with the clearest of rainwater and cooled my toes in the headwaters of the Mississippi River. From the romance of a moonlit night on Waikiki beach to the charm of the deep south, traveling has provided crazy experiences.

There have been eagles, grizzly bear, elk, and bison sightings in Yellowstone National Park. In Northern Minnesota, a wild wolf ran alongside my car for a bit. There were black bears in Yosemite, and trout caught out of a lake on the John Muir Trail in the high Sierra Nevada’s.

So far, there’ve been 50,000 miles crisscrossing the United States by land, and plenty of states visited by air. To date, I’ve visited 25 states and 7 foreign countries.

None of this would have ever happened if I’d depended on doing it “Someday”. Throughout my entire life, when opportunities arose, I took them. Some were a little more daring than others. As the years roll by, my “Someday” box of wishes is quite empty except for a return to Russia.

After experiencing it, Russia can stay on my “Someday” list for the rest of my life. Not a place worthy of any bucket list. However, if I’d missed it, I wouldn’t have amazing stories to tell. That much is true.

When cancer knocked at my door in 2020, I believed for a tiny moment in time that my life had ended when his did. In the middle of a move to a brand new home in an unknown town, losing my husband of 32 years was something we figured would happen “Someday”. But, surprise, surprise. It happened on a Wednesday at 10:30 am on the side of Davidson Mountain in Virginia City, Nevada.

Just completing the fifth summer after this loss, I can tell you that the word “Someday” still isn’t in our vocabulary. As any wise Sexagenarian would be quick to advise, “If not NOW, WHEN?”

Last week, while walking the glittery sidewalks along Las Vegas Boulevard, HHH and I enjoyed a true vacation. Even retired folks deserve to get caught up on lost time. We saw things we can never un-see. In Las Vegas you can’t believe your eyes for everything is one big fantastical mirage, rather like a circus mirror.

In one week, HHH swept me away to the streets of New York and hugged me under the Eifel Tower. We ate at restaurants named for famous chefs. We pounded the table while hoisting tankards to kings on horseback under the watchful eye of Merlin the Wizard. But the most enchanting place was a magical garden inside the Bellagio Conservatory.

Who, but two crazy Master Gardeners, would choose that over other options? That would be us. But, the most amazing thing was that this place was jammed with people who love gardens as much as we do! Almost everything seen in this short video was made from natural materials. There were hundreds and hundreds of chrysanthemums and coleus. Pumpkins of every color, size, and shape were found throughout the autumnal forest. Fairies and waterfalls. Something we won’t soon forget.

A favorite Aunt of mine had a dream. A house in the mountains. She began by researching what plants would grow there, because she wanted to be sure she had a lovely garden. For years, she bought dog wood trees and plants native to the foothill town. Each year, her own yard gained pots of plants she intended to move to the beautiful garden she had sketched. Each year, they thrived on her porch.

Auntie never realized her dream of her mountain house, but every night, she dreamed of the gardens. Each day, she enjoyed the precious little piece of mountain life right on the valley floor.

We all have the S- M- T- W- Th- F- S’s of our lives to fill with memorable experiences. Some are found right in our own backyard, while others might be a few hundred miles to the south. Pick a date and start planning your list. Start close or dream big, just begin with a destination and a date.

Whatever you do today, see what’s going on in your home town. I would imagine that Auntie TJ and The Goddess of the Central Coast are getting ready to tour the Scare Crows of the Central Coast of California. If you haven’t seen them, it’s worth the visit.

More tomorrow.

Nothing makes me love the desert more than a drive down Highway 95. Let me assure you, there is little except stunning scenery for the seven-hour journey from here to there. Here is on the Northwestern High Desert Plains of Nevada and there is Las Vegas. In between there are many notable curiosities.

To many, this looks barren. But, when you are driving through, life is abundant. This year has been unusual with things still greenish in mid-September. The Joshua tree forests we passed through are thriving, while the sage and other plants are springtime-lush. Every so often, there are distant springs marked by greenery. Far from boring, there is a lot to take in.

To begin with, there’s the little town of Hawthorne, mainly known as the Army Depot. This place is like a mirage in the desert. At first, it seems that there is nothing except wide open spaces. But, the more you look, the more you notice humps. Everywhere. For miles. Giant humps protecting our nation’s munitions.

The color of sand, they can appear and disappear before your eyes depending on the amount and direction of sunlight. Along with a treeless Walker Lake, Big Horn Sheep, and a few cattle, the military base is the main thing there. And then, you continue to drive through Mina and Luning.

And, boy, oh boy, it’s only two more hours to Tonapah, the heart of desert civilization.

Well, you get the idea. Getting to a place like this…

Requires you to drive through miles of this…..

After Tonapah and Goldfield (a town just like Tonapah about 30 miles south), We passed through Area 51.

And through Beatty….

After hours of looking at huge mountain ranges of rock, we were ready to get out of nature and back to civilization.

One thing shocking to the senses is found just to the north of Tonopah, a ghost town, tourist attraction, and site of current mining activity.

This 656 ft. tower can be seen for miles as it emits blinding light. It is part of the Crescent Dunes Solar Project, one of only two in the world (or so I read). With more than 10,000 reflective panels each made of over 12,000 6×6 mirrors, molten salt flows through the tower. Costing billions when it was built, and being dark for a time, it’s now operated by its second owners. There’s no other place in the world better suited for this monstrosity than the outskirts of Tonopah.

We passed by Creech Air Force Base where airmen fly drones larger than some cars. With so little to capture one’s attention on a car trip, Google can become your friend.

By the time we got to our hotel, there’d be no more for the week. Luckily, the shuttle service was amazing, taking us to the strip and back any time between 9 am and 9 pm.

After staying for a week, it was time to make the drive back home. One tiny little accident almost derailed our plans. Two big rigs hit head on, spilling an entire load of lumber AND lithium batteries, adding an explosion to lots of fuel. The road was closed for two days, leaving many motorists standing until it could be cleared.

As we left on a stunningly stormy morning, the desert sky held two rainbows. Rainbows are every so special when seen gracing Nevada’s big skies. If you haven’t seen BIG SKY, put it on your bucket list. It’s something I can’t describe in words. The perfect ending to a perfect trip.

It will be a little while before we drive Highway 95 again. I’ll miss seeing the burros and their foals. They’re the true celebrities of the desert. So much so that they’ve learned parked cars are friends containing people with yummy snacks.

It’s always nice to get back home. Winterpast enjoys the first few days of autumn, which feel mysteriously like the last few days of summer. All the chores were waiting for us, including the canning of the last tomatoes. Vacation is grand, but home is where our hearts are and Home Means Nevada to me.

More tomorrow.

The garden has given its all this year, finishing off the season with Early Girl tomatoes. I can hardly believe the last plant was only a tiny seed at the end of January. With loving care under grow lights, she grew to produce pounds of tomatoes. Yesterday, I harvested the last of them and got to work.

The gardens of Winterpast produced the following food with the help of two loving and quite crazy gardeners: cherries, apricots, plums, pears, watermelon, cantaloupe, cucumbers, pumpkin, eggplant, zucchini, Early Girl tomatoes, Cherry tomatoes, green onions, bell peppers, carrots, beans, snap peas, red onions, yellow onions, garlic, basil, chives, lavender, jalapenos, strawberries, zinnias, roses, bachelor buttons, calendula, snapdragons, peony’s, Black-Eyed Susan’s, Siberian Wallflowers, coneflowers, sunflowers, dahlias, iris, and probably a few things I forgot. All this was grown on 1/2 acre of a tiny oasis in the desert.

Earlier yesterday, Walmart’s aisles were lined with boxes of ball jars and lids. Bread and butter pickle spice mix packets sat quietly on the shelves. For some reason, Walmart missed the proper timing for these items. The Armenian cucumbers finished their season weeks ago, along with many other plants. On the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, the nights are chilly. This late in the season, I was lucky to pick a few more pounds of luscious tomatoes.

I learned to can while watching all the women in my family toil in very hot kitchens. With a family of seven, my mom spent hours and hours canning all sorts of produce to make sure we had enough to eat in the winter. Once a certain age, I was expected to prepare fruit and vegetables right next to her.

So, yesterday, I washed the tomatoes and then parboiled them. First boiling and then plunging them into cold water, the skins were easy to remove. Sliced and in a pot, they were boiled and mashed until the resulting pulp was ready for jars. Winter spaghetti sauce will be extra special, made from vine-ripe tomatoes grown in our very own backyard.

Yesterday was also the last day of our Master Gardener Class. On Friday, HHH and I will sit down to take our final exam. Computerized, the test will cover everything we’ve studied up until now. We need an 80% grade to pass on to the next class. I think the two of us will do just fine. Gardening is our wheelhouse.

While I worked with the tomatoes, a memory came back to me from a very long time ago. In the 80’s and 90’s, a gentleman named Garrison Keillor produced a radio show called “Prairie Home Companion”. Through his words, the imaginary Minnesotan town of Lake Wobegon was introduced to listeners around the world. My boys and I would sit around the radio and laugh at the stories, but the favorite of all favorites was “Tomato Butt”.

A brother. A sister. A hot day. A mom needing them to get out of the house and pick the tomatoes. And, the title. “Tomato Butt”. In your own mind, you might be able to tell a good story with only those bits of information.

If you can find Garrison’s stories online, they are worth a listen. Radio shows aren’t like they were back when life was simpler. Perhaps that is the exact charm of one Mr. Garrison Keillor. If you like “Tomato Butt”, listen to some of his others. The more you listen, the more you may want to put a visit to Lake Wobegon on your bucket list. If only it were real, HHH and I would visit there tomorrow.

Whatever you do today, find some radio shows or pod casts that are of interest to you. Listening carefully is a lost art. Give it a try.

More tomorrow.