Grieving Gardener

Consider this. You wake up in the morning ready for some coffee. After pouring a morning cup of coffee, you check our your seedlings growing on the dining room table. After turning on grow lights, you open the window only to find these guys eating your trees and plants. Welcome to the real world of the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

The mustangs have a tough life. Walking miles each day, they are always on the search for fresh food and water. These guys aren’t used to hay and grain. They eat tumbleweeds and sage. How they eat these thorny plants without complaining is mind-boggling. They spend their spring days in the high elevations and then come lower when the water and food dry up. There is a natural spring not far from Winterpast. They love hanging out there, which is an appropriate spot for them to be.

We love “our” horses. They have miles and miles of BLM land (the real BLM-Bureau of Land Management) on which to graze, run, and poop. These empty lands surround our town. Usually by this time of year, we start to see more of our friends walking the streets while looking for tasty morsels. They know each house and the snacks contained in the front yards.

The horses have no natural predators except man. Their biggest threat comes from government round-ups. Planned quite often, they are chased by helicopters, captured, and then trucked to Palomino Valley Adoption Center holding pens. As far as I can tell, few people are in a position to adopt a wild horse. Don’t be fooled, these are wild animals that have just been chased by helicopters and cut from their herds.

They need to adjust to a new diet and fencings. After a time, they disappear and are replaced with new captives. Where are they taken? I don’t like to think about their final destination.

When we see mustangs in our neighborhood, it’s exciting. I mean, how many people get the chance? It comes with the knowledge that with our town’s growth, their days are numbered. Soon, a day will come when they last one will be removed.

Until then, we have a bit of a problem.

Many neighbors deal with them by putting up light ropes with reflecting strips. Many neighbors need to fix those ropes often, as the 1500-pound eating machines don’t care about a little bit of twine and twinkles.

Last week, we made the first step toward a goal we’ve had for some time here at Winterpast. We called the fencing company for an estimate.

First thing to remember when retired. When making an early morning appointment, be sure to write this down in your daily planner. Then, read the daily planner the night before. Both steps are important.

Early Friday morning, we received a knock at the door. It was our fence estimator who found us still in jammies at 9 a.m. Really! What retirement has done to our early morning hours is crazy. After scurrying around to get presentable, we were ready to measure the yard for a beautiful three-foot fence—just high enough to send our equine friends to the next house on another street.

There are many things to consider when installing fencing. One of the biggest is the grade of the yard. Around the corner, one person’s fence follows existing grade, giving the top line of the fence a wavy effect. Add some professional grading to the price of our project. The top line of our fence will be straight.

After measuring carefully, we found we need over 250 feet of Aristocrat fences. We’ll accept responsibility for anyone who gets impaled on the tiny spikes. Hoping for the best, we’ll sign on the dotted line if the price is right.

Once the fence and gate are installed, we’ll create plans for a low-maintenance yard. There’ll be no water-sucking plants, but another bed of roses and some desert-loving plants. HHH and I have yet to agree on the final look. With an outrageous water bill at this point, less will be more. The biggest things excluded from our plans are the 1500 lb. hay burners who’d better not impale themselves on our fence.

Live and let live. I hope our friends walk by once in awhile. We love them, but…… we can’t keep them.

More tomorrow.

What can happen when you don’t drive around town for 4 years? Well, it seems quite a bit! Our little town, (once referred to as a dusty wide spot along the interstate) is experiencing unprecedented growth. And so, it was high time HHH and I too a drive to see just what all the buzz was about.

On the east side of town, a beautiful vision has become reality. Victory Logistics District– Phase One. Quietly announced in 2021, the building began. Sure, there were a few articles about the project, but this was all east of the major stores this regular homeowner would visit. Walmart and Lowes are as far east as I venture, unless I’m ordering rock at Gopher Construction and so, I never noticed.

We’d been to the State of the City meeting on Thursday evening. That was a happening all on its own. Thirty minutes before the speech began, we snatched the last parking spot in front of the Senior Center. Everyone from the Sheriff to the City Manager was there.

It’s so cool to be related to the mayor. A good portion of his speech was about things we already knew, but some of it was brand new. There’d be a ribbon-cutting ceremony the next day for Phase 2 of Victory Logistics District, with brand new industrial buildings.

Phase 2????? Heck, we’d totally missed Phase 1.

The mayor’s huge family made up many of the guests, but there were also regular citizens wanting to know what’s new in our town.

The mayor spoke of road projects. New housing developments and apartment complexes are bringing more people to our town. Later this year, The Community Response and Resource Center will open. Water and sewage projects are on schedule. Best of all, our city has a balanced budget. The state of the community is amazing!!!

A popular topic was about something unique. Grandpa’s Pond is planned between the canal and a major roadway in our town. On twenty acres, the community will enjoy a 10-acre fishing pond. Trout will thrive in fresh mountain water from the Truckee Canal. Citizens will enjoy jogging trails around the pond. Old-growth cottonwood trees living here for decades will complement the project.

Saturday morning, it was time to see what Victory Logistics District was all about. How is it even possible that 4300 acres is being developed in our sleepy little town? Not sure how we never noticed, but, until now, we never knew.

To our shock, many huge industrial buildings are ready for occupancy. There are new roads and even new semi-trucks to haul goods. New railway spurs are already in the planning. Landscaped and groomed, the grounds are nothing short of spectacular. The buildings have dark blue windows while the walls are patterned in white and grey. Class and sass waiting for new tenants.

All of this sits within feet of the major interstate that runs through our town. Everything is ready to go. All that’s needed are new companies and plenty of employees.

Northwestern Nevada is one of the fastest-growing places in the US. With no state tax, it’s an attractive alternative to the state on the other side of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range. With outdoor activities under the bluest of skies, there’s something for everyone.

Now, our town needs new houses and businesses to support the residents who are surely coming. We need more schools and fire stations, along with grocery stores and shopping malls. As a small town, we’re sure to face some growing pains. That remains to be seen.

After our tour, we drove past the new site for Panda Express, which broke ground last week. Good things come to those that wait. It’s our turn now!

Welcome, Victory Logistics! We look forward to being neighbors. Thrive in the future!

Things around Winterpast have been buzzing this week. Along with new seedlings, the time has come for pruning and primping. So excited to use the knowledge learned in the Master Gardener classes last fall, we also have new tools to try out. Battery-operated toys for gardeners!

The new battery-operated lopper works on the end of a long pole or as a handheld device. It trims limbs up to 1/2″ in diameter like they were made of butter. When we started yesterday, HHH had the loppers extended. Quickly, we switched to the handheld mode and went to town. Twigs here. Branches there. Trimming is a breeze with this handy tool.

Then, there’s the battery-operated mini-chainsaw for bigger limbs. Also on the end of a long extension, it can be converted to hand-held. That might be a little dangerous considering it’s a REAL chainsaw.

The apple trees were easy. A Chinese variety that causes a big mess, the only reason they remain is that they’re 20-year-old trees. The apples produced aren’t for cooking. No matter how long they’re boiled on the stove, they never turn to yummy applesauce or pie filling but remain hard. So disappointing, I which we could just chop then down and start over again, but…they are 20 years old. At least severe pruning made them look more respectable.

Someone should really come up with a battery-operated robotic rake to clean up old leaves. As that hasn’t happened yet, that robot would be me. Most of last years leaves blew away over windy winter days, but the ones that remain are like snow drifts along the fence line. With a little work, the yard is looking more like it’s ready for spring.

The apiary (the place where our bees are kept) is shaping up. All the bushes planted to provide a little privacy are now pruned back. The leaves are raked and soon, it will be time to put the brand-new hive in place.

Why would we need a new hive, you might ask?

Never, ever, ever consider buying a new hive from Amazon. Now, Amazon sells many things. I know it’s possible to be a tiny home online. Heck, I bet they sell ponies somewhere on their website. But, again, never, ever, ever consider buying a beehive from Amazon.

When HHH opened his present on Christmas morning 2023, he was so excited. His very own bee hive. By the next day, the entire hive and super were assembled and ready to go. Everything was done according to the Chinese directions provided. All we needed to do was add bees.

Once the hive was loaded with 40 pounds of honey and bees, the lack of quality became apparent. Heavy frames full of bees and honey began to fall apart. The final problems arrived when the entire outer box began to separate. A terrible purchase. One honey super can weigh between 40 – 50 pounds. If it fails to hold together, the results will be disastrous and dangerous.

Our new hive was purchased from Mann Lake Bee Supplies. The old hive will be reinforced with corner brackets and be a great back-up in case we need one. Good equipment is essential to happy and healthy beekeepers.

Gardening and beekeeping will keep us busy from now until the first frost of Winter 2025. After the cleanup is done and before the bees arrive, it’ll be time for us to slip away for another vacation. After all, if not now, when?

I’ll be back on Monday.

Although I know this beautiful weather won’t last, it sure is a great teaser. Each day, the sky gets bluer and the temperature warmer. Spring is just around the corner. On March 9th, the time will change as we continue the annual march toward the desert heat.

The warm days have convinced the apricot tree to bud out much too early. Without having a normal winter, everything is a bit confused, including the resident gardeners. Yesterday, HHH hooked up the hose to do some watering. Spring requires an assessment of garden tools. Alas, hose sprayer was broken.

These attachments don’t last long here in the desert. Between the intense desert sun and the our corrosive water, hoses and attachments are lucky to make it through one summer. HHH offered to go to Lowe’s and find a replacement.

Oliver and I took the time to work on the blog, while HHH and Wookie headed off into the beautiful summer day. Thoughts were coming as the words formed on the screen when the phone interrupted the flow.

It was HHH. Did I think it was too early to buy potato, onion, and garlic sets? The store had a good variety, although the russets were already sold out.

Sold out? At the end of February? A sign to me that an immediate purchase was necessary.

“YES!!!!! Throw in some asparagus while you’re at it!”

A little while later, the twosome returned with their purchase. Red and yellow onions, red potatoes, garlic, and asparagus. All ready to plant as soon as we have the time and energy. And so, the 2025 garden season begins.

Meanwhile, the dining room table is turning green with new life. The first set of seeds sprouted as soon as they hit the moist soil. Just a week since planting, they are springing forth. It’s exciting to see the variety of tiny little plants. The Amaranth plants are sprouting in red!

Today, we’re tackling pruning. We’ve gone around each tree several times deciding which limbs and branches need to go. Having made a plan for each tree, the hard part is done. All that’s left is sawing, trimming, and haul-away.

For the next week, the weather will remain in the 60’s. Heck, we’ll probably turn the water back on until……

Winter comes back for her last gasp. It’s bound to happen. So for now, we’ll play outside.

Whatever you do today, catch some sunshine. It’s healthy to be outside and breathe the fresh air. Take a walk around the block. Get out and get going. It will be good for what ails you.

Grief is a lonely road, even when surrounded by well-meaning family and friends. The loss of a spouse shatters life, leaving one to search for anything that might bring stability. In 2020, HHH and I lost our better halves. Throughout the quarantine, funeral homes and support groups shuttered their doors while grief was put on hold. Those were hard days. This is one reason we feel strongly about helping others with our new Griefshare group.

There’s something unique about sitting in a room with people sharing the pain of loss. No explanations are needed. In everyday life, grief often makes others uncomfortable. They don’t know what to say, or worse, they say something unhelpful, even if well-intended. In a GriefShare group, no one tells you to “move on” or “be strong.” Instead, there’s an understanding as we each reflect the same sorrow. Plenty of hugs can be found right next to the Kleenex boxes. Tears are welcome.

Isolation through grief can make us feel like no one else could understand the depth of our pain. Listening to stories told with raw honesty, tears, and breakthroughs—it becomes apparent that grief is different for everyone even though the emotions are strikingly similar. No matter the loss, healing from grief follows a similar path.

Our little group doesn’t just focus on venting emotions; it’s a faith-centered journey that gently guides us toward healing. Each week, a lesson based on biblical principles provides reassurance that mourning is not a sign of weakness, but part of the process God designed for healing. Scriptures that once felt distant are suddenly becoming personal lifelines.

Monday, the lesson focused on Hope and Resilience. For years, hope and a wish were the same in my mind. Through the class, I learned hope is really a confidence in God’s plans for the future. Now, that’s something that I can use in my life. Real Hope, not just a bunch of wishes.

Prayer isn’t a ritual but a source of strength and comfort. Not memorized words, real conversations with God. The friendships formed within our group are becoming a lifeline. We lean on each other in ways no one else could understand—asking about difficult days, celebrating small victories, and reminding each other that grief doesn’t require us to stop living.

Monday, one of the members of our group told us they’ll be heading out on their very first adventure since becoming a widower over two years ago. With a granddaughter’s wedding brightening life, it’s great to see one of our own striking out to enjoy some happiness with friends and family. And, life goes on.

One of the most beautiful things about GriefShare is that it offers a space free of judgment. Whether you’re angry at God, feeling numb, or overwhelmed with regret, there’s no “right” way to grieve. Come as you are while healing progresses at the right speed.

The meetings have become a refuge for HHH and me. There, we speak freely about personal experiences with renewed resilience and hope.

Grief never fully disappears but evolves. What once felt like an unbearable weight has slowly become something we’ve learned to carry. GriefShare has shown us that healing doesn’t mean forgetting; it means finding ways to move forward toward new life.

If you’re grieving and feeling lost, I encourage you to seek out a support group. Whether it’s GriefShare or another grief ministry, know that you don’t have to do this alone. Comfort comes when walking together while bearing each other’s burdens. Even in the darkest valley, hope and resilience will guide you through.

Ver·min — noun

• 1.wild animals believed to be harmful to crops, farm animals, or game, or that carry disease, e.g., rodents.

Oh. No.

EWWWWWWW!

Oy. Vey.

Living in the wilderness of the high desert plains of Nevada can be trying at times. Especially when we happen to be in the space between winter and spring with comfy spaces that entice littles to sneak in the door. We’re suffering the invasion of the creepy critters.

Mice.

In my adult life, I’ve been plagued by rodents one other time. In the winter of 2002, VST and I were living the farm life on 40 acres. For reasons unknown, we were overcome by rats. So many rats that they left nasty trails as only large Norwegian Roof Rats could do. Even our resident owls couldn’t keep up. Finally, a professional exterminator took them out in a final battle.

Our current problems started last summer when a ground squirrel started tunneling under the gardens of winterpast. Perhaps the intensive watering made the tunneling easier, but in a short time, mounds were appearing all over the yard. The dogs were unaware, or we’d have found the problem earlier.

We tried smoke bombs neatly pushed back out of the hole. We tried burying the holes with fresh dirt. He tunneled right back up. Flooding the hole with gallons of precious water did no good. He always returned. Finally, we resorted to farm-grade gopher poison. For a time the squirrel problem went away.

And so, fall turned into winter. It was then, I discovered mice had eaten into a new bag of dog food, stored where it had been the last 5 years. Upon more investigation, we found they’d been eating frames of honey and wax removed from the dead bee hive. Now, we had a infestation of the worst kind. Again….

EWWWWWW.

HHH sprung to action. Retrieving our supply of new mouse traps, he went to work. At first, they were quite crafty, tripping the trap and stealing the bait. At one point, they actually licked the peanut butter off the trap while it remained set.

Ever since, HHH has battled on.

One food source has been identified as bird seed. HHH loves feeding the birds especially when there is little food left in the desert at this time of year. Personally, I’ve never thought about feeding wild animals, but then, his heart is softer than mine.

Well, the new squirrel LOVES the birdseed kicked to the ground by hungry birds. And so, we have a yummy food source for the furry intruder. Why Oliver and Wookie have not taken care of the problem is beyond me. Oliver has taken out toads. He’s dismembered fledglings. Why he isn’t all over this squirrel is beyond me.

More mice found the sack of bird seed stored in HHH’s man cave. And so, we now have a new infestation under attack by the traps. With persistence, we’ll be mouse free.

Last week, Oliver did deposit a dead mouse under the dining room table. He’s claimed this place as his lair, bringing fruit and other disgusting things he finds outside. This gives me hope that his hunting days aren’t quite over just yet.

Early yesterday, HHH came in from checking traps in the man cave.

“Honey, there’s a skunk in the area. Just smelled it.”

Oy. Vey.

Spring is here. Stay tuned for more adventures tomorrow.

There is something about the quiet pull of the earth that speaks to a grieving soul. When my life shattered in ways I never expected—through loss, heartbreak, and change—my heart felt like untended ground, barren and aching. But in the stillness of the garden, in the rhythm of planting, watering, and waiting, I found a way forward.

I never knew how much I needed the soil until I became a widow. Moving in 17 days after my husband died, I was terrified the entire 1/2-acre yard would wilt and die with the signing of the deed. Could I really care for such a beautiful yard and ensure its survival? I wasn’t sure as I began gardening. The important thing was to get up each morning and do the next thing.

The first time I pressed my hands into the earth after loss, it wasn’t with purpose—it was simply to do something, anything, that might silence the ache inside me. I pulled weeds with the same force I wished I could pull away my pain. I planted flowers in a desperate attempt to see something beautiful grow when everything around me felt lifeless.

From the beginning, the 20-year-old manicured garden was in charge. She held all the secrets hidden just beneath the surface. With water and care, each month, a new secret emerged. It became clear I was just along for the ride. Even the sprinkler timer was mysterious, with a mind all her own. Thank goodness it never let me down, running through sprinkling cycles twice a day without fail.

My faithful gardener, Mr. B, and I repaired one broken sprinkler line after another. Plants were removed and replaced by others. The best thing about the garden was that there was always “the next thing” to tend to. That first year, the seasons pulled me along, even when I didn’t realize I was moving forward. From blooms, to fruit, to falling leaves, and finally, the first snow, I made it through one full year as a gardener.

And slowly, the garden did what grief could not—it showed me that healing doesn’t happen overnight. You can’t skip a season when grieving, for the seven stages of grief will appear. Grief will not be ignored any more than persistent weeds in the garden.

That first spring, my broken heart was like a dormant garden, empty and cold, with no signs of life. But beneath the surface, unseen roots were waiting. The first signs of healing were small—like tiny green shoots breaking through the dirt. Some days, progress was invisible, and it felt like I’d never bloom again. Grieving and gardening both take patience.

Gardening requires intentional actions—water, fertilizing, weeding, and tending to new growth. And so does a grieving heart. Planting, nurturing, and watching something flourish outside myself became a quiet form of self-care. With each bulb placed in the ground, I had hope. Each bloom reminded me beauty often follows the hardest seasons.

The garden doesn’t rush. It doesn’t demand. It simply grows, in its own time, in its own way. And over the last five years, so have I.

If you find yourself lost in grief, step outside. Let your hands touch the earth. Bury something in the ground with the faith that it will rise again. And in time, as your garden blooms, so will you.

The Unseen Angels: A Tribute to Caregivers

Caregiving is a love story told in quiet moments. It’s the soft touch of a hand at 2 a.m. when pain won’t let go, the whispered reassurance to a weary soul, the endless repetition of “It’s going to be okay”—even when you’re not sure it will be. It’s showing up, day after day, with tired feet and an aching heart, because someone you love needs you.

Caring for someone in hospice is an experience unlike any other. It’s a journey through love and loss, hope and heartbreak, exhaustion and grace. A sacred act of devotion, it requires everything you have and more.

Some of the most profound conversations of my life happened in a quiet room, sitting beside my dear friend in her final days. Hospice has a way of stripping life down to its essence. There are no more distractions, no small talk—only truth, love, and the precious time left to say what matters most in life.

Her body was weak, her voice barely above a whisper, but her mind was clear. She wanted to talk—not about illness or fear, but about family, love, and memories that made up her life. I held her hand, feeling the softness of skin worn by years of hard work as she for her family while love poured over everyone she touched.

One afternoon, as the sun filtered through the curtains, she spoke about her childhood. Stories I’d never heard before—of her mother’s cooking, of growing up during the Dust Bowl on the banks of an Oklahoma river, and of her love for dancing the Jitterbug. Her voice was wistful, and for a moment, she was no longer a frail woman lying in bed but a young girl again, full of life and hope.

She talked about her mother and father and how she often dreamed of them . “I wonder if they’ll be there waiting for me,” she mused softly, her eyes full of longing and peace. I squeezed her hand. “I believe they will be,” I told her.

Caregiving was both a privilege and a heartbreak. I watched her fade in ways unstoppable, knowing that no amount of devotion could change the inevitable. That grief started long before the goodbye.

Caring for a loved one in hospice is not just emotionally exhausting—it’s physically demanding. There are medications to manage, repositioning to prevent discomfort, hygiene care, and sleepless nights spent listening for the slightest sound of distress. These were our final love letters written not with words, but shared with hands and heart.

If you are a caregiver, I see you. I see the exhaustion in your eyes, the silent prayers you whisper, the guilt you carry even when you shouldn’t. I see the love that keeps you going, even when your body begs for rest. And I want you to know—you are not alone.

Caregivers don’t ask for recognition, but they deserve it. So today, if you know one, take a moment to acknowledge them. A kind word, a meal dropped off, an offer to sit with their loved one so they can breathe for just a moment—it matters more than you know.

And to those still walking this path: You are doing holy work. Even when it feels thankless. Even when it breaks your heart. You are love in action. And that is a legacy that will never fade.

It takes a few days to return to the groove after a peaceful vacation, especially when the weather outside is spring-like. These days, we’re enjoying the 60s here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Although the wind’s been kicking up, the sun shines, and the sky is a brilliant blue—the kind of blue one doesn’t see in the winters of central California.

After a wonderful breakfast yesterday, HHH and I were itching to get out in the yard. With 30 daffodils to plant, there wasn’t a moment to lose. Every fall, we’re enticed to buy bulbs only to forget to plant them in December. These were already sprouting in their little baggies. After burying them deep in the soil, HHH gave them a good watering. Who knows when we’ll receive rain around here…

By the time we finished, any hope of taking down the Christmas lights while atop a ladder was gone. Wind and ladders don’t go together. Our lights are still up because, during the month of January, HHH had a full-time job caring for me. Oy Vey. Maybe at this point, they should remain. Christmas 2026 is just around the corner with the speed we’ve completed January and a good portion of February.

Oliver and Wookie had the time of their lives running around the yard. For most of the winter, they’ve been hanging out in the house wondering what all the coughing was about. Now, with the sun shining, they are ready to race, roll, and romp.

Wookie’s favorite puppy trick is quite the show. She absolutely loses her mind over the hose, jumping back and forth while trying to bite it. Frustrating HHH, she is persistent if nothing else. Almost 4 years old, this behavior is no longer “puppy-cute” but a bit “dog-obnoxious”. She really loves tormenting HHH and the hose.

After finishing with the bulbs, we moved on to prune the roses. In the garden, there is nothing quite as satisfying as 20 pruned rose bushes. For the best possible blooms, the rose bushes need severe pruning. Each taking a clipper and wearing heavy leather gloves, we went to work. When finished, it was rather hard to tell which bush was done by which gardener! Pretty obvious that we both went to the same gardening classes last fall.

The warm weather won’t be here for long and is only a tease for the real beginning of spring. However, spring is busting out all over the dining room table. With seeds under grow lights, our season begins now. Many seeds needed 30 days of cold stratification (freezing). They came out of the freezer and went into little pods of soil. And so it begins.

If you’re going to try your hands at sprouting your own seeds, Jiffy sells trays that come with 36 or 72 pods. Just add water, light, and seeds. In weeks, you’ll have the beginnings of your 2025 garden.

With the nice weather, the garage, garden shed, and greenhouse need cleaning. There are soil amendments to buy and apply. Little by little, our endurance will return after our very lazy winter by the fire. These last winter days on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada are lovely, indeed.

Whatever you do, think about growing something new in your garden this year. If it’s still freezing in your area, put in some bulbs of your own. Flowers are God’s way of laughing!!!

More tomorrow.

Luck is a tricky thing. Some people chase it, some swear by it, and others roll their eyes at the very idea. But every now and then, we all catch ourselves saying —“I’m lucky enough.” Lucky enough for what, though? That roof over our heads? To love and be loved? The chance to wake up and chase another day, no matter how messy or unpredictable it might be? Or just lucky enough not to contract Influenza A and breathe another day! Now, THAT’S lucky enough!

Luck isn’t always about grand, life-altering moments. It’s not just about lottery wins, dream jobs, or being in the right place at the right time. Sometimes, luck is as simple as having a good friend who listens, finding joy in small things, or making it home safely at the end of a long trip.

But here’s the deal—luck isn’t just something that happens to us. More often than not, we make our own luck. The world gives back what we put in. The harder we work, the more opportunities we create. The more risks we take, the more doors open. The more kindness we show, the more it finds its way back to us. At least, all those things help when luck comes our way.

Luck often finds those who are open to trying new things. Step outside your comfort zone and take on challenges while exploring paths not considered before. The more new options tried, the more likely something great will happen.

Setbacks aren’t failures but growth opportunities. (Boy did widowhood teach me a thing or two about that!) If something doesn’t work out, adjust and try again. Keep learning and improving while believing every step forward increases the chance for success. But, never, ever, ever give up.

Surround yourself with supportive, inspiring individuals. Be kind, network genuinely, and offer value to others. The more connections you build, the more “lucky breaks” will come your way.

Luck favors those who take action. Dreaming and planning are important, but nothing happens unless you move. Send that email, start that project, make that call—put yourself in situations where luck has a chance to find you. And then, be ready to pounce when it comes your way!

People who consider themselves lucky tend to have a more optimistic outlook. Noticing the good in their lives they focus on possibilities rather than obstacles. Practicing gratitude and maintaining a positive attitude can attract even more good fortune. When asking yourself “WHY?” the better questions might be “WHY NOT??” or “WHY NOT ME??”

Being “lucky enough” isn’t about waiting for life to hand us something good. It’s about showing up, making choices, and doing the work. It’s about learning from failures, seizing moments, and watching for opportunities—even when they come disguised as challenges.

Sure, luck plays a role in life. But if we want to be lucky, we must put ourselves in the path of luck—to take that first step, make that call, or chase that dream. Sometimes, luck is simply preparation meeting the right moment.

Whatever you do today, think about the ways you’ve been so lucky throughout your life. Those 80 people surviving the Canadian jet crash were lucky in a way that counts!!! Luck has graced all of us in so many ways. And, THAT’S LUCKY ENOUGH!