Category: 2024

Sometimes the best laid plans go awry. Just when you think you have everything figured out, something like cholangiocarcinoma can throw a wrench in the works. Cancer is definitely something that can make it necessary to start all over again.

In my first days of widowhood, the goal was to breathe through the day while completing tasks written down the night before. First on my list was always “Get Dressed”. With widow’s brain fog fresh and intense, if it wasn’t written down, it might not happen.

Every day, I experienced setbacks, triumphs, shattered goals, and one reset after another. Grief does that to those left picking up the pieces. Reset I did. Each day I’d adjust my course until my head hit the pillow. And so it went for a very long time.

Growing up, my mother would always remind me to try again if I didn’t succeed the first time. How many times she insisted we rip out imperfect seams in our 4-H sewing projects. She made sure to inspire us to never give up, but keep trying. “Girls, you can always do better. Don’t let life get you down. Try again.”

Setbacks are just part of life. Best laid plans go awry. Employment changes. A move becomes necessary. A spouse dies. The list is endless, but one outcome is the same every time. It’s becomes necessary to start over. Pick yourself up. Dust yourself off. Begin on a new path. Keep going, one foot in front of the other. Never stay stuck.

Loss means something different to each one of us. The end of a dream requires that we take time to assess whether or not the dream was realistic and attainable. One thing about life is certain. Days are numbered for each of us. We each have a finite number of days to finish what we start out to do. At some point, we’ll all face failure. It’s called life.

Starting over is challenging and takes a bit of courage. You need to summon up inner strength, faith, hope, and inner fortitude to take the first step. But, once you take the first step, the next one is a bit easier. Staying stuck in one spot will leave you to face the same problem again and again.

Always believe that life will return to a new normal and you will survive. Have confidence in your own resourcefulness, and survival abilities. Along the way, God is always there to carry you when you can no longer take steps on your own. I know. There were plenty of days, he carried me quite a ways down the path of widowhood.

Loss and failure shouldn’t be the end, but an opportunity to grow and learn. Don’t be afraid to keep going. Take your time on your new journey for there’s a brand new adventure waiting for you just around the corner.

Walmart is a hidden treasure of stories of life. It seems that every time we shop there are small dramas unfolding around us in micro-lessons. The other day was no exception.

As HHH and I hurried into the store, hand in hand and discussing our gardening, a young man walked just behind us singing a song of woe to his mother. His loud words carried and stopped our conversation.

“24 sucks, MOM. It sucks. I’m tired of everything that comes with 24. It’s not fair.”

HHH and I, both smiling by that time, had to interject ourselves into their conversation. Here was a healthy, handsome young man with the world at his fingertips. Life was too much at level 24. With his world starting to unfold, already, it was more than he could deal with. Overwhelmed. At 24.

“Try 70,” HHH quipped.

“Well, I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat. Your generation lived dreams that I can’t even begin to understand. You guys lived in the perfect time.”

How true. What an observant young man.

We were lucky enough to live in a golden age. Those a little older than us, even more so. By 24, I was the mom of a little boy. I owned my second house and a new car. I wasn’t working outside the home, but was proud to be a HOME MAKER. Weekends were spent with family and friends relaxing and life was truly beautiful.

If we wanted to camp, we got out the tent and went camping. We could afford to eat at nice restaurants once in a while. The air was cleaner back then. Gas was cheap. Life was good. We looked forward sending our kids to school where they would learn about reading, writing, and arithmetic, while enjoying normal activities after school.

During our childhood, nobody rode their bike with a helmet. We all suffered through skinned knees and normal bumps and bruises. If we misbehaved at school, we’d get twice the trouble once we went home. Our teachers were called “Sir” and “Ma’am”, as were our neighbors. Many days, we were seen but not heard. Both HHH and I grew up feral without helicopter parents monitoring our every move.

This young man had valid points. To be 24 in this day and age must be terrifying. The difference is that when we were 24, we just took off and lived. Most of my friends struck out on their own at 18. Now days, that would be difficult to do. With sky high rent, gas and food prices, it just isn’t possible anymore.

Of course, as an old crone, I would find a way to make things work if I were 24 again. A certain resourcefulness has been lost through the years. And, I was not nearly as resourceful as my parents, who at 22 faced a world war while they tended to a Japanese pig farm in the absence of the real farmers relocated to Manzanar.

And their parents were even more resilient, traveling through Ellis Island from Russia. They left everything they’d known behind to start life in the New World. Farming in America! What a grand dream they lived, writing their lives in a new language.

Every generation faces their own challenges. One foot in front of the other. Slow and steady win the race.

Our exchange with this young man while exchanging knowing glances from his sweet mom was heart-felt and real. It made me hold HHH’s hand just a little tighter. Times are tough for older people, too. The future is unchartered for us all.

Would HHH and I trade places with the young man as he had wished?????????

Absolutely not. Every age has it’s own unique beauty and wonder.

24?

Been there, done that. Wouldn’t change our ages even if we could.

More tomorrow.

Sometimes finding just the right garden addition takes patience and trial and error. With the gardens of Winterpast marching towards full bloom, HHH and I decided we needed a new fountain. After an unsuccessful attempt to convert the old fountain to solar, we were both ready for something new.

Off we went to the hardware store after doing some research to find they did sell fountains. Now, if I were in charge of marketing, I’d make sure the fountains were front and center at the beginning of the year. Not our store.

The fountains were tucked away on the highest shelves, accessible to customers only by forklift. After asking several associates, we finally found them on the back aisle in the garden section. There sat the three tier fountain pictured above, beautiful in every way except one. Solar? No.

Sitting on the same shelf was a fountain of another style. The same height, this fountain was rock-like, with man-made moss “growing” on the front. Having LED lighting, it caught our eye. Something so different might just be great for Winterpast. So, we took it home.

After taking it out of the box and trying it, it was obvious it was wrong for Winterpast. What were we thinking buying something with fake mold????? Really???? A shared Senior Moment.

Boxed up, we returned it to Lowe’s. In the mean time, HHH found a SOLAR fountain online. Although almost twice the cost, it was already solar complete with a battery back-up. Our fountain could run day or night, powered by the sun!! It even came with LED lighting. Completing the Amazon order, we waited three days until the huge box arrived.

Cheap doesn’t even begin to cover it. A huge returnable disappointment sat in the back yard. Thin resin, the minute a Zephyr wind roared through, it would blow over and crack. Nope. It wouldn’t do. We boxed it up and returned it to Amazon.

It was obvious that we had the right idea in the beginning. The beautiful fountain on the top shelf of the hardware store’s garden center was the one. HHH destroyed the box as soon as he could to be sure there were no more heavy returns.

Luckily, this fountain is everything we wanted, except that it’s not solar. We can deal with that. It has soft LED lights that glow in the evening. With three large bowls, our finches are coming in for regular drinks and baths. The sound of falling water is soothing as we sit and enjoy Winterpast every evening after dinner. We finally found the right one. We just had to try a few other options first.

Whatever you do today, Don’t Settle. Make choices that fit you. If it means a few returns, then return you will. When you find just the right choice, you’ll know.

To my readers —

Girls just want to have fun, so I’m off on a spring fling. June is packed full of adventure. I’ll return June 18th to tell you all about it. As always, enjoy the archives until I return.

More tomorrow.

The Zephyr winds of the desert carry many things with them. So long ago, they carried away the ashes of my late husband. As they ripped across the desert, as they do so often, the roar on that lonely mountain top silenced my wails. Widow’s grief. Widow’s fog. Widowhood. The worst. The only kind of grief I know is the one unique to me. I’m the first to say I couldn’t imagine the depth of your own loss, because I’m still trying to figure out the depth of mine.

There’s another type of grief I’ve been witnessing since May 12th. The loss of the adult child of my Harvest Sister. She’s everything you find in a bountiful harvest of life. Smart. Beautiful. Witty. Charming. Wise. Brilliance packed in a mother. A mentor. A helper. And now, a grieving mom.

Life doesn’t make sense sometimes. Why does one parent enjoy 70-year-old grown children and another lose their 24-year-old-son? Without the “Why” answered, my sweet friend has her faith and family to help her regroup and take her next steps. For now, she’s just practicing breathing in and out, taking things one minute at a time.

She wasn’t the kind of mom that meddled or helicoptered. She was the kind of mom that rode the rollercoaster of life WITH her child while allowing him to grow up to be a special man. She was and will be forever more HIS mom and so proud that he was HER son. Two peas in a pod.

In the last month, I’ve gotten to know learn a lot about him. In 24 years, he lived more than most do in a lifetime, all thanks to his parents love and support. She was there to wish him well as he left to travel Europe. She hugged him close as they were surrounded by hula dancers in Hawaii. Every picture of them showed their connection. That love that only a mom and child share. After all, we grew our children right next to our hearts.

In preschool, under her watchful eye, he found his one true love. A woman that would remain his best friend for 20 years. He married this girl at 5, only to divorce her in 2nd Grade, but the friendship remained true. They held each others secrets for 20 years, each other’s Ride-Or-Die until he did.

WE honored his life last Saturday. Before the memorial service, a young woman dressed in a black sundress entered the church. Holding a beautiful vase of flowers, she was having a hard time with her tears. She kept assuring her girlfriend that she was fine although it was obvious she was anything but as she stood at the memorial tribute in the back.

As the appointed greeter, I lost track of her until she was in front of me, talking to the town’s florist.

“He was quite a young man. How did you know him.”

Our eyes met briefly. Before she could answer, all I could say was, “I already know.” Because, for some strange reason, I did. Never having met, I knew she lived in Las Vegas and was the most important woman in HIS life. His mom had already shared their story in bible study. The strangest thing was, I was correct and immediately, we hugged and cried.

Lovely doesn’t even begin to explain this young woman. During the service, she had the courage to speak to over 100 guests about her young marriage and lifelong friendship. While full of grief, she shared just a glimpse into the kind of rare relationship that makes life beautiful. Through her and the other events of the day, I left feeling close to this young man that left our world far too young.

Death. None of us will escape. Although we would hope everyone will follow the “proper and expected” order, some slip in line sooner than we can accept.

Grief. A nasty journey for anyone. Not something we can navigate for the person traveling through it. Sometimes, words get in the way. Just listen. Give Space. Hold a hand. Give a hug. Take phone calls at 2 AM. Repeat as many times as humanly possible.

I met a young man last week. An extraordinary young man. Someone that lived many lifetimes in one. A man who rocked soft eyes and an awesome beard. I met a young man created and loved by my friend and her husband. I’m so glad I had that chance.

Dedicated to Taylor Ray Smith and Miss Daria.

More tomorrow.

Minutes before the 1st Annual Girls Garden Party–

As I look out on the park that is our beloved Winterpast, her beauty brings tears to my eyes. HHH has done everything humanly possible to bring her back to life. From planting roses with a pick ax to carefully observing Miracle Grow Monday’s and Super-Thrive Saturdays, the fruit of our labor is here to enjoy all summer long.

Five springs ago, I became a widow with a new house. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but cancer broke apart the best laid plans. Moving in 17 days after death knocked on the door, I didn’t know if it would be possible for me to continue. 1/2 acre of intense gardening was staring me in the face. Broken sprinkler pipes and lost emitters forced me to venture into the garden and begin.

And so, I started gardening while I finished moving in. I unpacked boxes. I purged physically and mentally. I tried new things like dating. I began to live my very own life and haven’t slowed down since. The transformation into a new life came through Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. Of course, there was also a lot of very hard work. If you are on the path of widowhood, you understand. If you haven’t experienced it, I hope you never do.

Throughout the last five springs, I carefully planted seeds of friendships throughout my little town. In about 30 minutes, they will arrive to enjoy the garden at our 1st Annual Spring-Fling Girl-Only Garden party. Just add food and laughter and you have a party. I love each and every one of them as the sisters they’ve become.

The grocery deli didn’t let me down with the most beautiful meat, cheese, and fruit platters I could have imagined. The produce manager personally selected the fruit, even including a Picasso Melon. (If you haven’t tried one, you must.) With chips, fresh cherries, and ice cream sandwiches for desert, no one should go away hungry.

When I think of the lonely widow of 2020, the changes are shocking. I prayed for friends, Jesus took the wheel and I met them at a Bible Study. The neighborhood has provided the best neighbors I could imagine. Miss Carson City has become such a sweet friend having known our home long before I came along for Winterpast previously belonged to her parents.

I’m so thankful for this lovely home that has cocooned me when I didn’t know how I could continue to breathe. She will forever keep all the secrets of one newly single woman and her crazy dog. She will also keep the confidence of a happily married newlywed couple as HHH and I find our way on our own path.

In a few minutes they’ll arrive. Around 20 of my Ride-Or-Dies. Those that couldn’t make it are here in spirit, missing the party because of prior commitments or distance.

It wasn’t just luck that brought me this far. I’m no more deserving of the blessings I’ve received since April 8, 2020 than the next widow. I’m just a 68-year-old bride having the time of her life while writing the next chapter with my groom.

Grief hits like a car crash and cuts like a knife. There is nothing to be done but to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. Journal along the way. As springs pass, one after the next, you’ll soon be amazed at how far you’ve come.

Tomorrow — Come Party in the Garden

If you believed my Ride-Or-Die Girlfriends would arrive dressed in white gloves and Barbie-Pink pinafores shielding pressed dresses from the garden dust, you’d be wrong. We’re Desert Gals and much too practical for anything of the sort. Everyone dressed casually wearing sensible shoes of the cutest kind.

As the guests arrived, some chose to skip the house all together and head right through the back yard gate. As each woman entered, their eyes widened at the beauty within. Our back yard hides behind a Chameleon front yard of decomposed granite and a few trees. Nothing would indicate there’s a park-like setting behind the fence.

Each woman had their favorite part. Some loved the roses, others gravitated towards the bees. Many were amazed by the impressive size of HHH’s zucchini’s. But then, I’ve experienced his gardening wizardry for almost two years now, so I’m used to it!

Quickly, bags were passed around and everyone was at the cherry tree picking fruit. The apricot tree was next, while there were plenty of comments on the sweetness and huge size of the fruit. There were discussions over the potatoes and peas.

The seedlings many had seen at HHH’s birthday party in late March have grown and are blooming. Everyone was impressed by the huge plants grown from tiny seeds. Maybe no one more than me, while still marveling wonder at the beauty produced by tiny seeds. Four of my plants now form a jungle taller me, with hundreds of beefsteak, early girl, and cherry tomatoes ripening.

There were intense discussions about the amount of tomatoes on the vines. We’ve eaten four now, and it’s just mid-June. Harvest comes early when you start seedlings during the short days of winter.

My beautiful neighbors arrived right on time. Now, they understand why they haven’t seen much of HHH and me all spring. Ignoring the front yard, all effort has been behind the tall white fences of Winterpast. With summer’s arrival today, I can hardly wait for the neighborhood BBQ’s to come!

After an hour in the garden, we made our way into the house to enjoy sandwiches, chips, fruit, cookies, and ice cream sandwiches. New friendships formed as we visited. All the while, Oliver watched for soft hearted souls that slipped him little treats of food. The party was a grand success!!

To everyone that was there, please know this. You are the true flowers in the garden of my life. You’ve been there to support me through some very hard times. You’ve also been the first to cheer at the miracle of a love HHH and I have found at this late stage in life. Thank you for your support, listening ear, good advice, laughter, smiles, and love. For you, I’m grateful and blessed. Thank YOU for making the party everything I hoped it’d be.

Whatever you do today, think about having a get together with YOUR very best Ride-Or-Dies. It can be as simple as an afternoon set aside to sip a new coffee or discuss a book. There’s nothing as special as an invitation into someone else’s home. Remember, a friend is the best thing you can be and someone you can’t live without.

What a week it’s been! Only seven days ago, I was bouncing along on Amtrak headed back towards HHH. Finishing up a much needed girl’s vacation, it was pleasant to look out the window to recognize places from the past. Some had changed to be almost unrecognizable while others tugged at my heart strings. Life goes by so quickly. Kids grow up in the blink of an eye leaving retired mom’s to wish for one more goodnight kiss or wake-up hug.

Looking back on the last seven days, I realize that I’m not quite as old and used up as I might have thought. After spending many, many hours taking care of the needs of friends and family at three big events, I’m still standing. We can always do more than we think is possible.

It’s important to remember that sometimes we’re the windshield and sometimes we’re the bug. It’s called life. Gatherings come in all shapes and sizes. Some are incredibly happy and some are devastatingly sad. A Celebration of Life. A church luncheon celebrating fathers. A garden party. In three days, I enjoyed hours at those gatherings. While visiting with family and friends, I spent days laughing and crying. Life has been a whirlwind and I need to take a breath and stop for a bit.

HHH and I are planning to do just that. In case you forgot, on May 3rd, Wookie delivered her six little wookies right in the middle of our bed. In two hours, she went from one very active dog to a very loving mother of a litter. The pups are now little dogs in need of puppy sitting in California.

As the loving Wooklet-Grandparents we are, we signed up for the job and will be off to Northern California for a week long vacation. Just know we’ll be floating around in the pool, while enjoying plenty of puppy cuddles and kisses. I can’t wait for the intoxicating scent of puppy breath. Nothing else like it.

While away in California, Oliver will be enjoying his time at puppy camp. With his own set of bachelor friends, he’ll lose his mind when we bring our Wookie back next week. Never again will they be separated for such a long time for this is Wookie’s last litter.

If all goes well, I’ll pick up where I left off on Monday with lots to report about our antics in California as we take care of 20 dogs, a few cats, some chickens, and the ducks. It should provide for plenty of interesting material.

Whatever you do today, remember, that if you feel like the bug, know it won’t last forever. Just nod and smile, while considering your options. If you are riding high as the windshield, be grateful. Things can change in the blink of an eye and your buggy time is right up the road. Until then, carry on.

It’s still dark and six wookies are screaming for their breakfast.

Seven adult dogs sleeping around us.

The 18 pound cat is staring at me from across the room wondering about breakfast.

All I want to do is blog and the site I use produced every word in a string of vertical letters.

I am typing this on my phone, which is not visually sustanable.

California is grand. I will try to post sometime today when I have a moment to fix the technical difficulties.

Whatever you do today, try to avoid stepping on a puppy or anything they may leave behind.

More tomorrow.

Early morning is the very best time to take a cup of coffee and walk around the gardens of Winterpast. Of course, I’m blessed to have free range of the place, having moved here in 2020.

What Winterpast has is quieting soul. Houses have their own personalities if you have time to listen to their creaks and groans. I think she enjoys protecting HHH and me as much as we love living within her walls.

Winterpast is an unassuming place. She is white, covered by a reddish brown roof. At 1906 square feet, she’s not the biggest home, or my most elaborate. She doesn’t have views that extend for hundreds of miles like the Dun Movin’ house in Virginia City, or the Mountain House in Coarsegold, Ca. She isn’t surrounded by 17,000 grape vines as the Ranch House was.

Anyway, enough about the actually house. HHH and I far prefer living in the gardens. The first thing we both see every morning are birds, bees, roses, and loveliness. After a pretty severe dead-heading session, the roses took a bit to recover. At this point, they’re covered with buds that are ready to burst open.

Two days ago, at around 6 am, I was strolling through the vegetable garden in my robe. While walking by the zuchinni, a tiny hummingbird helicopter straight up and looked me square in the face. Not alarmed at me, he then flew sideways to get a little nectar from the Armenian Cucumber plant before buzzing off. There is so much life to be found in the garden.

Before HHH came into my life, the area now full of garden boxes and a green house was a barren patch of land covered in white rock. There had been two cottonwood trees growing there in April of 2020, but both died. Now, it looks amazing due to HHH’s redwood planter boxes made out of repurposed clear redwood decking from his former home. We’ve managed to make the most of every square inch of garden and continue to find places for more.

As summer begins, it’s wonderful to watch the hummingbirds, butterflies, and finches as they zoom around the yard. It’s our own private little three-ring-circus with all of nature performing for us. We are so blessed to live in such a beautiful place.

As for that zuchinni plant, we are now in full production. Never have I ever. Just when you pick one, three more are on the verge of becoming overripe. I will soon need some new recipes. I’m thinking of leaving a few on each neighbor’s front porch in the dark of night. They’ll never suspect, right?

Whatever you do today, think about what you could grow in your back yard. If you are already growing things, investigate how you could make everything healthier. As a beekeeper, please try to avoid spraying your plants with SEVIN. The polinators in your yard will thank you.

Just a note…… As HHH try to enjoy coffee while watch fourteen dogs, I have two bits of advice.

1. There’s no place like home.
2. Spay and neuter.

Off to pick posey’s off the lawn in Cali.

More tomorrow.