Grieving Gardener

Somewhere around 4:00 am, I fumbled blindly for shoes and socks in the dark while remembering that Jesus didn’t exactly sleep in on Easter either. He’s the only reason I didn’t roll over and go back to sleep. Yesterday, HHH and I attended a service at sunrise.

Not just any service, mind you, but one took place on the top of a mountain. A real, actual mountain with a road designed by cows, for cows, and left to erode in peace for 30 years. The only way up is in a vehicle with clearance and traction driven by a determined driver. Passengers need to close their eyes and hope for the best.

Arriving at the church by 5 was the first requirement if we intended on joining the caravan. The one drawback was intense dust if traveling at the back of the pack, but no one seemed to mind too much. After waiting 15 minutes for the group to assemble, we headed west.

Taking the road to my favorite lake is always exciting. Off the beaten path, it’s desert wilderness with not a tree in sight and mountains that jut upward towards the stars. Imagine driving on a road without any streetlights well before sunrise. It gives the phrase “dark as night” new meaning.

The darkness hid the major eyesore of acres and acres of solar panels. I’ve no patience for people who think of the desert as useless land, perfect for solar panels or nuclear waste. We need to protect our nation’s open spaces. Quite curious, these panels sit on an Indian reservation.

One needs to know exactly how to find the crosses on the hill. Not marked in any way, the turn is almost invisible in the dark. Having lived in the area for decades, HHH knew right where to turn without street lights or signs. Just a dusty road headed west towards Hooterville. A real place, Hooterville is a grouping of weathered trailers and a few structures where Hootervillians live.

Driving up that rutted road in the dark was like navigating a minefield in slow motion. Every bump questioned the integrity of the axles. Arriving at the broken-down cattle corrals, we were there. Along with members of three local churches, we waited for Easter Sunday sunrise. In minutes, the sky would bloom into soft, impossibly beautiful desert colors.

Three old wooden crosses stood weathered and unwavering on the ridge, silhouetted against the awakening sky, a heavenly vision. Around them, a small flock of the faithful stood bundled in jackets, sipping thermoses of coffee that smelled like hope and survival.

The hymns and readings, heartfelt and hopeful. In moments of silence, the only sound was the breeze passing over the desert while worshippers whispered to each other.

The beauty of this service wasn’t just the sunrise, though that’s the part that brought us all together. It was the trip up a mountain before the world awoke to share grumbling and sleepy smiles. The unspoken camaraderie of people who choose to chase light.

Easter is about the impossible becoming real. Light out of darkness. Life out of death. Hope when it makes absolutely no logical sense. What better way to embody that than a 5 a.m. drive up a mountain road that looks like a moon scape.

Will we do it again next year?

Absolutely.

There’s something sacred about sharing the dawn with people you love. Something holy about standing under those old wooden crosses, watching the light crawl over the ridgeline like a whispered promise.

Was it convenient?

No.

Was it comfortable?

No.

Was it REAL???

Absolutely.

Jesus rose from the dead on Easter morning.

It was a very small sacrifice to rise from a warm bed to worship him.

Even at 5 a.m.

More tomorrow.

Good Friday and Easter offer Christians everywhere a time for reflection, reverence, and celebration. These two days hold deep spiritual significance, marking the ultimate sacrifice of Christ and His triumphant victory over death. Here at Winterpast, we’ll be celebrating the season with family on the side of a mountain at sunrise and at church.

Good Friday is a day for us to remember the immense love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ. It marks the day He was crucified, taking upon Himself the human sin of this world. The weight of the cross reminds us that love, in its purest form, is sacrificial and boundless.

Easter is a day of celebration as we remember that Mary arrived at an empty tomb. Jesus overcame death to find His reward of everlasting life. Just like this beautiful spring season, life after death completes an amazing cycle for believers everywhere.

Our church is holding a special service tonight. HHH and I are the caretakers for the churchyard. Later this morning, we’ll be mowing, edging, and beautifying the grounds for this most important weekend. It’s our way of performing an act of kindness and service. Our pastor does so much for everyone else that he needn’t be mowing the yard.

On Easter Sunday, our town observes a 30-year-old tradition. Around 5:15 am, a procession of cars will climb up a dirty and rutted road to watch the Easter sunrise. Next to three wooden crosses, we’ll sing and listen to an inspirational message while watching the sunrise in the east. It’s easy to find the turnoff. Just follow the taillights traveling up the mountain as they glow in the dark. You’ll know you’re there when you get to the empty cattle pens at the top.

At 11, HHH and I plan to put on our Sunday best and join friends and family in the celebration of new life. For Christians, the day is all about the ultimate triumph of light over darkness, life over death, and hope over despair.

While Good Friday and Easter offer the chance to enjoy your own holiday traditions, consider carrying the spirit of Easter into your daily life. Today, carry humility and love with you throughout your day. On Sunday, remember the joy and hope that Jesus brought into the world.

For Christians, these observances include a personal journey from sorrow to joy and from death to life. Embrace the full range of emotions—grief, awe, gratitude, and joy—and allow them to deepen your connection to God and one another. While Good Friday and Easter offer the chance to enjoy your own holiday traditions, carry the spirit of Easter into your daily life. Today, show humility and love to others throughout your day. On Sunday, celebrate the joy and hope that Jesus brought into the world.

Happy Easter! I’ll be back on Monday!!

Winterpast is finally ready for a little bit of a facelift! We are in the process of agreeing on trim paint for our home. Finding a shared vision for Winterpast has been an exciting adventure. Thank goodness we have similar plans for the future.

Winterpast is the name of our home. At the front door, there is a plaque with her name, which I found in a Jan Karon book shortly after I’d moved in. The story involved star-crossed lovers and the attic of a mansion that was built for a woman the builder would never marry. The name “Winterpast” was carved on one rafter, a secret testament to the love that could never be.

The word was made from from Song of Solomon Chapter 2.

My beloved speaks and says to me:
“Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
    and come away,
 for behold, the winter is past;
    the rain is over and gone.
 The flowers appear on the earth,
    the time of singing^[a] has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
    is heard in our land.
 The fig tree ripens its figs,
    and the vines are in blossom;
    they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
    and come away.

I chose the name in 2020 with faith and the belief that someday the winter of grief I was experiencing would pass. Later in life, I would find blooming flowers and cooing doves. In deed, that has come to pass. The doves flock to our yard in search of the food HHH provides.

Right now, Winterpast is all one color. Built in 2004, I’m not sure that she was painted that way, but today, she is all one color. Funny things happen to paint in the desert. With a brown roof and a pinkish base coat, what she needs is painted trim. Luckily, that happens to be in HHH’s skill set.

A few weeks ago, we picked up paint samples and started discussing our options. There are so many colors from which to choose. But, as it usually happens with us, the decision came easily. With a soft brown for the trim and rusty henna for the railing and front door, we’re ready to roll. The date for completion is Memorial Day, but HHH assures me it’ll be done far before then.

After the new trim paint, the next step will be repairing the sprinklers in the front yard. Followed by new ground cover, the plan will come together.

We are still budgeting for artificial lawn. Long ago, there was a real lawn in the front yard. Now covered with white rock, there needs to be the appearance of grass without an additional cost to our already crazy water bill.

Finally, HHH will get the chance to finish his dream of flowers in the front yard. Without any more threat from wild horses that have obviously been rounded up and removed, there are no other animals to ruin our dreams of a beautiful front yard. It will all be a huge improvement.

Today at Lowe’s, standing in front of Elastomeric paint by Valspar, it became real. There are so many things to do first. The house and windows need to be washed down, frog tape applied, and it will be time to get to work.

The new hive of bees are working their hardest. Coming and going, they seem stronger every day. They are being fed a 1:1 simple syrup as well as patties made of pollen. We’ve done all we can and it will be up to them to survive or fail.

As for the squirrel, there is also an update. The little beast ate 12 Zebrina flowers, 10 Cosmos, and 12 Yarrow plants. It’s nibbling on the Black Eyed Susans. My BABIES.

My Mysterious Marine I know has plans for this little monster. For now, the seedlings have met a horrible death. It’s so very sad, but things will be better when MMM is victorious. Stay tuned.

Whatever you do, have a wonderful Thursday. You might want to think about a Thursday long ago, when a very young man was nearing the end of his time on earth. What a heavy burden he carried for the salvation of us all.

More tomorrow.

Last week, HHH and I decided to do a Bee-Moon before our new hive arrived. Living so close to a resort town, we don’t often take advantage of that enough. Resorts always have nice restaurants and interesting things to keep one busy. With a short 30-minute drive to ours, we can enjoy a little staycation any time we like.

There are two big resorts on the south end of the town.

There are two big resorts on the south end of the town. One has the resort pools, outrageously good food, and a magnificent spa. The other one hasn’t gotten our business until now. Both have world-class spas, which makes choosing a little hard.

We’d planned a spa day on the second day of our trip. So, at 7:30 in the morning, off we went, dressed in pool clothes, ready to enjoy some pampering. Taken in separate directions, we were outfitted with the customary comfy robes and settled into our respective waiting areas until our masseuses called for us.

My masseuse was a lovely young woman with a very calming way about her. Perfect for the job. As we walked back to the treatment room, she asked if I would like a glass of fresh strawberry and pineapple water. Funny how adding fresh fruit to cold water can produce the most beautiful, subtle flavors.

Before getting started, I’d mentioned that I picked the treatment using Manuka Honey because my husband and I kept bees.

“You’re kidding! I have two hives myself!” she said in a slightly more animated voice.

As it turned out, she knows our mentor, Queen Bee. Her parents, also beekeepers, lost two hives last year. It turned out they would be going to California to pick up replacement hives of the same Saskatraz bees that we were getting. Small world in a small town.

It was lovely to know this gentle woman loved bees as much as we do. There is just something about bees that forces one to slow down and be observant of the smallest things. Just like that, a new friendship out of love of bees.

It was during this treatment that I experienced the most wonderful thing. Dry float therapy.

After my scrub and moisturizer, I got onto something like a water bed on which I floated for some time. Flat and hard at first, with the push of a button, the gel pad filled with warm water and cocooned me. Gently floating in dim light with beautiful zen music playing, I truly never wanted to leave the room again.

Such a fun little vacation we had. Good thing because Winterpast and her gardens have taken off. Just a week ago, everything was just starting to bud. Today, the yard is leafed out with more blooms on the way.

Whatever you do today, take some time to reflect on hobbies you love. Are you taking time to enjoy them? If not, get busy. Time’s-a-wastin’.

More tomorrow.

Last weekend, as many as 125,000 people came together in California to attend the Coachella music festival. There were no terrorists dropping from the sky. No machine gun murders. Just fresh music that everyone attending enjoyed.

Listening to the whining about terribly long wait times (45 minutes) for valet parking was a bit funny. The food was outrageously expensive, with a cup of lemonade costing $20 and a meal for two (tacos, nachos, burgers, and drinks) at $300.00. There were long lines and plenty to fret about. Of course, tickets were $600 and up, so there was that, as well. Not many seemed to remember that once, not that long ago, there was a truly horrendous festival.

During this most holy week, please take a moment to reflect on the other music festival that ended in horror. SuperNova Music Festival — Israel — October 7, 2023. On those desolate festival grounds, 378 people were murdered by terrorists and forty-four souls were kidnapped. Alon Ohel was one of them. At this time, he is still being held underground by his captors.

Of those 44, five Americans (living and deceased) remain held hostage by the enemy. Edan Alexander was still alive as of February 15. Itay Chin, Gadi Haggai, Judy Weinstein, and Omer Neutra Z”L are deceased. Their bodies are held hostage to this day.

Yesterday, a new video caught my eye. I hope you watch it. The song, “Superman” was originally written in memory of 9-11. The songwriter rewrote the lyrics for the hostages and performed in Hostage Square in Tel Aviv.

Please. Listen to the song. Take a moment to send prayers for Alon, and his mom, Idet Ohel. She’s sitting at the piano. It’s time her very own “Superman” is back home in her arms.

More tomorrow.

Saturday, our population here at Winterpast increased by 10,000. The bees made the journey from the lush northern valley of California over Donner Pass and right to our door. No, they didn’t fly themselves. Our dear friends delivered them as only dear friends would do.

The morning started with a quick trip to the hardware store to buy more mulch. Not sure how many bags we’ve brought home this year, but I think it’s close to 100. This morning, HHH wanted to be sure that the bees had fresh mulch under their bench. He quickly leveled their water fountain and made sure their hive was at a light incline to shed any spring rains that might hit. We were ready.

We’d had a scare very early in the morning. The Queen of the Bees, our sweet mentor had called in a panic. Did we have the order number for the bees? The company had no record of our purchase. Now, when you’ve paid as much as a hive full of bees cost, this can make your heart skip a beat.

Luckily, earlier in the week, I found one little handwritten paper showing our order number and the type of bees we ordered.

“Ohhhh. Yes, we have that order right here!!!” the company was quick to assure us. Thank goodness my organizational skills are as good as ever. Wish I could say the same for the bee company.

Well, the waiting was a bit tough, with excitement building through the morning. Finally, just before noon, they pulled in. Along with our one hive, they had a full truck. Ours were right in the back and easy to grab.

HHH and I were already in full suits waiting to install the bees into their brand new home. In less than ten minutes the job was done and the bees were fed. No screaming or stinging took place. Just the movement of five frames of bees from their NUC box to our hive. Easy peasy.

We had asked if our mentors would need some help installing their bees and they jumped at the chance to have help. At the first stop, we installed 12 hives. At the second stop we installed 16 hives. They had one more stop after that, but we decided they could handle the four hives themselves.

Saturday, we learned so many things about the bees. The ones that hang around the hive being easy to transport are the worker bees that live in the hive. The ones that fly around are the foragers, who can be quite upset when you move them. Each hive got a feeder full of 1:1 sugar syrup and a pollen patty.

With each hive, we met the queen. Our mentor inspected them and had kind words for each which made each installation very special. Her touch of kindness was appropriate for these hives that were quite happy to be in their new homes. While five of us worked with all those hives and bees, not one person was stung. While we didn’t use smoke to calm them, we did wear our suits for protection.

It’s a great feeling to know that at four different houses there are happy bees ready to pollinate their areas. Honeybees can fly in a two mile radius, which is really quite amazing. They live only 45 days with new bees constantly replenishing the hive. The hives have a peaceful hum when they are happy and and get quite loud when they are not.

Now, we wait. In two weeks, we’ll take a look inside and see how things are going. Of the four homes that received bees today, only one had a hive that survived over the winter. Only one. All of us agree. The amount of times we can try again is limited. Bee keeping isn’t a cheap hobby. But, it is one that is addicting.

Whatever you do today, get outside. If you happen to have a yard and plants, watch for honey bees. They’re fun to watch with a full cup of morning coffee and hope in your heart. The world needs our bees. Please pray for a great year.

High on a hill overlooking Winterpast sits a lonely mansion. I don’t use that term loosely. Five years ago, when I moved to Winterpast, the mystery of the mansion was already years old. On its lofty perch, it watches over the rest of us who live in the low-lying areas. In all its grandeur, it’s been missing one thing. A family.

The home was built long ago by the man that built Winterpast. I met him one time under strange circumstances.

When I moved into Winterpast in 2020, I had things from many past lives. There were the high school Algebra books cherished from my days as a continuation high school teacher. I owned a complete set of Kinder-8th-grade language arts books and workbooks. There were books covering such a variety of subjects that any teacher would be drooling. But, I still owned some things from my days as a farmer that had to go.

In the garage sat two five gallon jugs of very old chemicals from my vineyard. One jug held Round-Up, which has turned into a bad name in non-farming circles. The other held a soil sterilant called Surflan. These two jugs were at least twenty years old and I must admit, even I was getting a little freaked out about having them in the garage.

There was one small problem. Northwestern Nevada has no place to dispose of chemicals like the ones I had in my possession. I was left to my own resourcefulness to find a home for them.

It was then I thought of a gentleman that had a ranchette not far from Winterpast. He owned four horses and had a sizeable amount of property. I’d see he and his son burning weeds often, and it came to me. He was a man who could use these chemicals in the right way.

One day, I wrote the man a letter complimenting him on his ginormous American flag waving high over his property. After explaining who I was, I asked if he might have a use for the chemicals I was trying to re-home. I got a call from him the evening after I’d dropped off the letter. A resounding YES!

When delivering the chemicals, I found he was, indeed, the man who had done a lot of the construction on the neighborhood. It was he who had built the home for himself, but then the building boom crashed in 2008. He lost the house.

This place is a beauty. Sitting atop the highest hill in town, she overlooks the entire town. At over 10,000 feet and three stories, she’s complete with an elevator all her own. A gourmet kitchen and views that just don’t stop. At $2,999,999, she should have all that with a butler included.

I snuck an online peek of this beautiful home the other day. Needing to leave some personal information before I could look, I got a call from the realtor handling the listing. After explaining I was just a nosey neighbor without the $2,999,999 to buy the home, he asked if I was related to the mayor.

That’s life in a very small, but growing, town. Everyone has gone to school with everyone and their brother’s grandson. I love it so much. You never know the strangers with whom you might find connections, especially if you’re related to the mayor and his huge family.

As for the mansion, there she sits. One evening a few weeks back, she was bathed in lights, not something that has happened in five years. Looking at the realtor’s pictures, I realized that was the night she went on the market.

Whatever you do today, if you are thinking of buying a mansion on a hill, check her out. She is truly a gem located in one of the best towns in the US.

More on Monday.

As the days get longer, at Winterpast the birds are chirping and the world is a “Pinterest-Perfect” shade of green. On our way home from a spa weekend, we decided to embrace the season and do something every gardener loves: buy the first flowers of the season. Not just any flowers, mind you, but those that thrive in our zone, Zone 7.

It all began innocently enough. HHH checked the weather and found a long list of 70’s and 80’s listed as the highs for the following week. The universe spoke to us. With an early check out and before retrieving Ollie and Wookie from puppy camp, we headed to the local garden center.
Although so early the doors were still locked, just outside, flowers lined the building.

Walking through rows of blooming flowers, we were hit with sensory overload. The earthy smell of soil and vibrant colors of petals in every corner were calming and therapeutic. Our heads were on swivels as we found a little of this and a little of that while our basket overflowed.

There were so many options. Did we want flowers for “shade” or “sun”? Perennials or annuals? Remembering last year’s garden, it was easy to select plants with which we’d been successful. Good thing those happened to be our favorites.

Johnny Jump Ups, Marigolds, Geraniums, and roses made the cut.

It was when we were both drooling over the FoxGlove that we were interrupted.

“Excuse me,” the lady with the hose said, as she interrupted our gaze. “Those are poisonous. They contain digitalis that can affect your heart.”

Remembering last year’s Foxglove, we decided to take a chance again this year. Although this gorgeous plant only lasted a season, we both loved every day with it. We didn’t poison ourselves and enjoyed the blooms for the entire summer. We bought one big, beautiful plant despite her warning.

Without a coat, HHH warmed up in the sunshine while I took our plants through the checkout. As nursery visits go, this one wasn’t too bad. As I was paying, HHH hurried to the counter with two more roses.

“Wait, we need these, too.” And, of course he was right, we did.

After putting everything in the car, we looked at each other and realized that, at that price, we needed two more rose bushes.

Returning home, we found daffodils in bloom with the iris not far behind. The Peony’s grow inches each day as they stretch towards the sun. The cherry trees are beginning to bloom and will provide delicious nectar for the bees arriving on Saturday. Spring is such a lovely time of year.

The garden is a place for renewal and growth. Flowers bloom, leaves sprout, and trees regain their color. It’s a season of transformation with the visible world moved by the deeper rhythms of nature. The garden is once again thriving, and what appeared to be dead or lost is now flourishing in ways that weren’t imaginable during the darkest days of winter.

Much like perennial plants that return year after year, we, too, can find ways to heal and grow, even after the harshest times in life. The garden’s resilience teaches us that growth often follows pain and that beauty and strength can rise from the most difficult circumstances.

Whatever you do today, enjoy some fresh, crisp spring air and get outside a little bit. All the better if you have a yard to tinker with. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find yourself standing in the garden center checkout with roses in hand!

More tomorrow.

Plants need three things to thrive: light, love, and a generous bank account to afford potting soil and water. In this modern world where avocado toast costs more than a burger, fries, and a shake, you might think that potting soil and water are affordable luxuries. Around Winterpast, that isn’t the case. Our water bill costs more than air conditioning in August.

Potting soil, which is essentially dirt, is the humble hero of every gardening enthusiast’s dream. Yet, it comes with a price tag that suggests it’s packed with rare minerals mined on the moon. Last week, we popped into Lowe’s feeling optimistic, only to find that the “organic” mix is twice the price it was last year. Why? Well, because it’s special. They say it’s enriched with nutrients and promises to make your garden into a jungle. Indeed, the “Boost” we’ve been using does tremendous things for budding plants.

The truth of the matter is, if you want your plants to thrive, you’re going to have to fork over $$$ for what feels like glorified sand. Be sure to buy the best ingredients you can afford to have the best outcome. Soil matters. These days, plain old dirt won’t do.

Water is the universal life force and drink of champions. Growing up, I used to think water was free. How naive I was to believe that. Water is “free” in the sense that it falls from the, sky and fills the Truckee River. After that, it transforms into liquid gold. There’s an interesting pattern here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Since we turned the water back on after the winter freezes, our water bill has started to look like a ransom note. Because of this, we’ve decided buying broccolli or cabbage makes more sense than wasting the water. How did this happen?

Our water must be laced with gold. It sure feels like it. We’re not trying to fill an Olympic swimming pool. I’m just giving our poor roses a little drink. But alas, every drop that falls into plants sendsthe water meter into a frenzy. Our yard is beautiful, but the bank account is a bit parched. Maybe next time, we’ll just give the plants a motivational speech instead of water. “Listen, Peonys, I know times are tough, but you’ve got this.”

Potting soil and water, in the grand scheme of things, are just two small expenses on the long list of things you’ll throw money at in the name of self-care. But as you water your plants and add another bag of fancy dirt to your cart, just remember: you’re not alone. Every plant enthusiast is quietly wondering why their houseplants are now so much more expensive than last year.

So, the next time you’re holding a bag of potting soil in your hand and questioning the price, just remind yourself: this is what it takes to create your own little paradise. If nothing else, remember that gardening is just a little bit dirtier—and a lot more expensive—than we thought.

It’s been……..

43,824 hours.

1,830 days.

60 Months.

Five Years Gone.

Thinking back over the amount of time since VST left us, my mind plays tricks. Some days, it seems his death happened a lifetime ago, while other days, the memories are so fresh they seem like they were made yesterday. I guess our minds are like that sometimes.

I married VST in a strip-mall church in Fresno, California on a cold day in January. I wore a beautiful wedding dress, which horrified my mother because I was a divorcee. Actually, I managed to horrify my poor mom a lot as a wild spirit of the 70’s.

That day, VST and I didn’t really know what the future would hold but we were willing to take a chance. And boy, what a ride it was. With one 6 year-old, two 8 year-olds, and twins that were 11, we took the reins and rode off into the sunset. Just didn’t know the twilight of his years would come so soon.

Five years ago, on April 8th, 2020, my sweet VST left this earth on the Zephyr winds of Virgina City, Nevada. That morning, the kids had just run to the store for a moment to get some more moving boxes. After checking on him, I opened the bedroom door a crack to the beautiful spring morning so he could sneak away. In the time it took to pour another cup of coffee, he did.

There will never be enough pages in enough books to explain our life together. Not enough laughter or tears to explain the journey after those two young lovers exchanged their vows so long ago.

To VST. You know every word of the story. Thank you for making sure everything would be great. You made sure it always was. I’m doing a pretty good job of making sure it still is.