Grieving Gardener

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!

There are some evenings so precious they’ll be remembered forever. After returning from a most beautiful vacation at a little “Pink Gem” on the Pacific Ocean, it’s just such an evening I’m writing about today. This is for you, our Precious Goddess of the Central Coast! You are loved!

First, I must give you a little of the back story. For decades, I’ve traveled to a tiny little coastal village nestled on the cliffs of the Pacific Ocean. This small town hasn’t changed since the first time I visited. It’s timeless in its charm and simplicity. A place most people would believe doesn’t exist anymore. A family-friendly town, there are miles of beaches where you can hunt for shells and driftwood. Surfing is a popular pastime. Randolph Hearst loved it so much that he built his castle to the north.

The Goddess of the Central Coast is indeed a true Goddess living in a magical place above the blue Pacific. As a young woman, she migrated from the Atlantic to the Pacific, long ago, choosing a west-coast port city. Far from home, she spread her wings, becoming the independent beauty she was always meant to be.

This Goddess and I lived in the Central Valley of California for years. Although strangers back then, many years of our lives were spent in a severe, desert environment. While my family took respite in Santa Cruz, she found her spot a little further south. While summers on our part of the coast were in the foggy 50s, her days were spent in a place that bounced from 70 – 80. Such a relief from the 100+ degree days in the valley.

This Goddess found the one true love in her life, and boy did they live! I imagine the wit and wisdom we’ve all come to know and love carried her through life’s ups and downs, serving her well. Her MR. Goddess was one lucky man. Eventually, they came to live on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, with views that fall over the blue horizon. There, she became The One and Only Goddess of the Central Coast. I assure you, there will never be another.

Timeless as a treasured jewel, she is just as beautiful now as the day we met, some decades ago. She and the ocean have battled many times, and she’s won (but just barely). Befriending sea life everywhere, she once saved a baby elephant seal that carries her name to this day.

When she first moved to her ocean perch, there were only a handful of homes in the tiny village. Eventually, homes were built and filled with interesting people from around the world. From movie stars to highly educated professionals, people came and went. Although most of the houses have been bought and sold many times over, she remains in hers.

Hubba-Hubba-Hubby and I have established our own Valentine’s tradition. Three years ago, we visited our little town by the sea with Auntie TJ and The Goddess. They’ve been friends for many more decades than I’ve known her. Being “Across-The-Street” neighbors, they’ve shared everything from stories about new neighbors to the mystery of the dismembered deer carcass. The two beauties have aged well, and like two fine bottles of fine Cognac, they just get better and better as the years go by.

HHH and I love the time spent with Auntie TJ and the Goddess. Visiting them is the cherry on top when it comes to vacationing on California’s Central Coast. It began with the terrible news that Auntie TJ wouldn’t be able to visit due to a nasty virus. I’ve had just about enough of this horrible virus. Enough Already. First me, and now TJ.

With plans still in place, HHH and I put our heads together to make alternate plans. With CC on her way to visit, we’d take flowers to the Goddess and then ask her to dinner. HHH would make steak and lobster for his three favorite gals. We held our breaths, hoping she would accept our offer, and, to our delight, she did.

Picked up in a silver chariot, she was not without gifts. The most beautiful bag packed with freshly baked blueberry scones AND blueberry jam for our breakfast the next day. With that, our evening began.

With few topics missed, there was never a lack of conversation. The evening, rich and warm, was completed by apple pie and ice cream. It all ended much too soon, and by the light of the silvery moon, we safely delivered our Goddess back to her front door.

Of everything about our vacation, Valentine’s Evening will remain a memory of the sweetest kind. One that we’ll need to repeat very soon!

As for our beloved Auntie TJ, she could use some prayers. As you can only imagine if it hasn’t hit you, the Virus of 2025 knocks the strongest person for a loop. We can’t wait for our next visit while looking forward to a beautiful springtime!

2025 is going to be a year to remember. Day by day, I inch closer to my 70th birthday. With that in mind, I promised myself each month would hold an exciting adventure. Of course, January was an adventure in recovering from Influenza A. At 95% well, it’s time to leave that one in the rearview mirror and carry on with our plan!

To the west of these beautiful high desert mountains, February’s adventure awaits. A whisper in the wind tugs at our hearts, and we know it’s time to go.

HHH and I have created a wonderful tradition all our own. Stepping away from the familiar into the unknown, we’re traveling west until the sea meets the sand to celebrate our 3rd Valentine’s Day on the glorious coast of California. It’s been a minute since we’ve taken a trip anywhere, and I must say, we’re getting a little restless.

This time, we’ve chosen a new destination. Between two tiny towns, the comfy little AirBnB should be just right. For one week, Oliver and Wookie will find themselves partying at Puppy Camp, while we enjoy the best holiday of the year. Valentine’s Day. For eight lovely days, we’ll visit with family and friends while eating way too much. I’m counting on the salt air to get me back to 100%.

This journey was prompted by a need for adventure, reflection and escape to a warmer climate. We’ll leave our routine and comforts behind while their absence will bring us new perspectives. It’ be fun to brainstorm about front yard projects as we dig our toes deep into the sand. Some of our best ideas have come while enjoying the beach.

Every once in awhile, life whispers that it’s time to seek adventure, even if just for a little while. While we’ll only be gone a week, this vacation seems bigger than the calendar suggests. Of course, there is the wee bit of anxiety when traveling over Donner Pass in the dead of winter. Just Google — Magnifeye–Traffic Webcams for the Truckee/Tahoe area to get an idea of what we’ll be dealing with later today. Icy roads aren’t for the faint of heart.

When using an AirBnB, packing includes more than clothing and toiletries. With meals planned, we’ll be doing a fair amount of cooking. This experience is is kind of like RVing without the RV. Eggs, bacon, coffee, oil, and butter…..well, you get the idea. Along with all the food, there are necessities like dish detergent, laundry pods, and linens. Of course, what cook wouldn’t want to bring his favorite frying pan. And so, the list goes on. I can’t wait for the door to close softly, with a last glance over our shoulders.

Distance always changes perspective while the experience is made more magical by not knowing how our trip will unfold. We’ll take time to reflect on ways to make our Griefshare class more effective. Reading and writing will allow my brain some time to reflect and rest. Funny how creative thoughts bloom when we step away from every day life, even during retirement.

Distance also turns the ordinary into something sacred. Sunlight spilling over a freshly made breakfast. The blue Pacific right outside the front window. Winterpast’s familiar scent and quiet hum will be waiting for us. For now, every step forward will be one toward relaxation.

After enjoying our time away, we’ll come back, maybe a little different than when we left. There’ll be stories to tell as well as plenty of new memories of us. That’s what vacation is all about, right?

I’ll be back February 18th. Until then, stay safe and happy!

One person’s actions can change the trajectory of the day. Being a good steward in your community while caring for the people, places, and resources around you has a ripple effect far beyond the imagination. Stewardship isn’t just about giving money or volunteering a few hours here and there; it’s about embracing a mindset of responsibility, gratitude, and intentional care for the world immediately around us.

At its core, stewardship is about being mindful of what has been entrusted to us—whether that’s our environment, our relationships, or the well-being of our neighborhoods. It means taking ownership, not in the sense of control, but in the sense of care. It’s about asking, How can I leave things better than I found them?

A good steward:

• Respects and preserves natural resources
• Supports local businesses and organizations
• Uplifts and invests in people
• Leads by example with integrity and kindness
• Understands that even small, consistent efforts matter

Accepting the position of Steward for our church, I wasn’t sure about my responsibilities. This became more complicated when I was given the job of prioritizing those responsibilities. I wasn’t even sure WHAT a Steward SHOULD be doing, and now, it was up to me and my fabulous husband, H(Hubba-Hubba-Hubbie or HHH) to create a job description.

Already helping with summer and winter bags for our homeless souls, I added that job to my list of responsibilities. The bags include socks, underwear, chapstick, water, snacks, playing cards, hand warmers, a small Bible, gloves, and ahat.

Our Griefshare group in another way that HHH and I are giving back. As a very small group, we’re getting to know each other very well. The support and love in the room makes our time together fly by. Those in grief are welcomed to a safe place for tears and support.

Our little church sits on quite a large piece of property. On one corner, a past minister developed a memorial garden. Over the years, many caregivers have tended the little park. At present, it sits a bit neglected. The third job on the list of Steward will be to bring the memorial garden into full bloom. This is something that will bring beauty to our entire community.

Even if you haven’t been appointed a formal position as Steward, there are many ways you can help in your own community.

✅ Care for the Environment
Pick up litter. This may seem like a small act, but when multiplied by an entire community, it can make a lasting impact. Claim a small stretch of road, grab gloves and a bag, and get to it. A clean town shows that people care.

✅ Support Local and Give Back
Shopping locally, donating to food banks, or volunteering at community organizations strengthens your town. Even simple acts like tipping generously or sharing a kind word with a small business owner can make a big difference.

✅ Be a Neighbor in the True Sense
Good stewardship is also about relationships. Check-in on elderly neighbors. Mentor a young person. Offer a listening ear. Sometimes, being present is the most powerful form of stewardship.

✅ Use Your Gifts for Good
We all have unique skills and talents. If you’re a great cook then prepare a meal for someone in need. If you have a knack for teaching, offer tutoring to a student who needs extra help. Share your gifts.

✅ Foster Respect
Lead by example. Speak kindly. Show up for local meetings. Be a cheerleader for a thriving, inclusive, and healthy community. Stewardship includes building something better.

In the end, being a good steward isn’t about grand gestures; it’s about the small, meaningful choices we make every day. When enough commit to those choices, our communities will thrive, and that is a beautiful thing.

In a world filled with distractions and constant demands on our time, dedicating ourselves to Bible study can be challenging. Immersing ourselves in God’s Word is one of the most transformative and enriching practices in which to engage. The Bible is more than just an ancient text; it’s an active, living guide that provides wisdom, encouragement, and direction for our lives. No doubt, it can be a little daunting, with hard-to-pronounce names and English and difficult to understand. Just start with the first three words — In the beginning….

The Bible comes in many versions so choose a version that fits you. The King James Version (KJV) sounds a lot like Shakespeare. The language alone may be a huge challenge. The New International Version (NIV) is translated into today’s language. This version doesn’t stress my brain as much.

Although I have several Bibles, my favorite one is the Life Application Study Bible, New International Version. The Red Letter edition highlights all Jesus’ spoken words. Chapter tabs are helpful when finding chapters during Bible study.

The chapters of the Old and New Testaments are grouped in sections. The Old Testament includes Law (Genesis – Deuteronomy), History (Joshua – Esther), Poetry (Job – Song of Solomon), and Prophecy (Isaiah – Malachi). The New Testament includes Gospels (Matthew – John), History (Acts), Letters (Romans – Jude), and Prophecy( Revelations).

If you are an auditory learner, BibleGateway is a wonderful website offering the entire Bible in several versions and in spoken word. There is a dramatic version and even one read by an English man named Max. I enjoy listening while reading along. This also helps with all those difficult names of people and places.

It’s perfectly acceptable to highlight your Bible. Be sure to get a highlighter safe for the thin pages. Sold on Amazon, they are more of a colored wax that won’t bleed through the next three pages.

After finding a time of day that works for you, begin your journey. There are plenty of plans for completing the Bible in one year. I didn’t believe it would take me one year to finish the entire book until I started reading. Don’t give up. When the material gets too dense or confusing, take time to research and absorb the information as you can. It’s not a gym membership. If you take some breaks along the way, it’s not eternal failure.

Bible study is a journey, not a sprint. Starting with the Gospels is a great idea. These are four books that present the life and words of Jesus Christ. Written by four different men at different times, the four accounts tell the story of Jesus. Matthew and John walked with Jesus as apostles. Mark and Luke walked with Paul. As you read, think of the men that recorded theses ancient stories for us.

Bible study has become a source of strength and comfort in my life. I find daily guidance for everyday life. Through biblical knowledge, I find the strength to defend and share my faith. While studying, my heart and mind have changed as well as my thoughts, attitudes, and actions. The Bible is a beautiful way to start the day.

Ah, the church potluck—a sacred institution where faith, fellowship, and delicious casseroles come together. Whether a seasoned veteran or a first-time attendee, you should know a few unspoken rules and strategies before diving into the buffet line. Consider this your official guide to navigating the most blessed of all communal dining experiences.

Our church is a magical place where there’s no need for a potluck sign-up sheet. On the second Sunday of the month (even Super Bowl Sunday), the church members create a delicious, shareable meal. Some dishes remain the same, while new recipes come and go. Surprisingly, there’s always a balance between main dishes, salads, and desserts. Everyone comes together to create a beautiful spread.

A successful potluck contains the three fundamental food groups:

1. Casseroles – The ultimate potluck currency often made with condensed soup and topped with something crunchy.
2. Slow Cooker Mysteries – You will see at least four crockpots, (un-labeled), all plugged into a single overloaded outlet. Could be chili, could be meatballs, could be someone’s experimental stew best approached with both faith and caution.
3. Desserts That Defy Logic – Jello salads that somehow count as a side dish, brownies that disappeared before you even got in line, and an inexplicable cake covered in shredded coconut (because someone’s grandma insisted).

Finding a seat is like a high-stakes game of musical chairs. If you sit too early, you’ll get stuck watching everyone else eat first. Sit too late, and you’ll end up at the “kids’ table” with a toddler throwing mashed potatoes. It’s best to identify a strategic location near someone who brought good food. If you’re lucky, they might share their recipe. Make sure no one sits alone because making new friends is a real benefit to this gathering.

Here are some unwritten rules when it comes to pot-lucking.

• Thou shalt not start in the middle. Just get in line and wait your turn.
• Thou shalt take reasonable portions. Yes, Mrs. Johnson’s famous mac and cheese is life-changing, but leave some for others.
• Thou shalt not ask, “What is this?” in a loud voice. If you don’t know, just take a small sample, pray over it, and move on.

As the meal winds down, seasoned churchgoers know that there are only two types of leftovers:

1. The Dishes That Disappear Instantly – Someone’s homemade banana pudding? Gone. Those perfect deviled eggs? Vanished without a trace.
2. The Eternal Leftovers – That suspicious hot tuna casserole will sit, unclaimed, until someone takes pity and “accidentally” drops it on the way out. (Avoid bringing hot tuna to any enclosed space)

If you stay to help clean up, congratulations—you are now among the holiest of volunteers. Your reward? First dibs on any leftover pie and the eternal gratitude of the exhausted event organizer who is still trying to figure out who brought the unmarked crockpot and left it behind

Church potlucks are a beautiful mix of tradition, mystery, and the occasional gastrointestinal gamble. No matter what ends up on your plate, remember that the real blessing is the fellowship.

Whatever you do today, try to find an upcoming church potluck! There’s a good possibility it could be life-changing!

After discussing it for a few days, HHH and I are now the proud parents of a tiny, underwater kingdom that could test our patience, budgeting skills, and sanity. So far, we’re making it through the process with minimal trauma and maximum enjoyment. When we finished adding plants to our tropical jungle, the next logical addition was an aquarium.

Of course, the glass aquarium isn’t the only necessity. Purchases on our first trip to the pet store included the following:
✔ A filter (to prevent the water from looking like pea soup)
✔ A heater (for Tropical fish)
✔ A light (so we can see our fish instead of just guessing where they are)
✔ Gravel (fish deserve interior décor, too)
✔ Water conditioner (tap water is basically fish poison)
✔ A test kit (to better understand water chemistry)
✔ Decorations (because every fish deserves a plastic object behind which to hide)

HHH and I picked a place away from direct sunlight (to avoid an algae farm), not too close to a drafty window, and out of the way of anyone lacking spatial awareness (sadly, that’s me). We picked a spot that allows us to stare at our tank for hours instead of doing anything productive. A definite plus.

After washing the gravel to remove any dirt, HHH slowly filled the tank experiencing minimal spillage.

A 10-gallon tank isn’t an Olympic-sized swimming pool, so we kept it simple, while choosing the cutest little fish!
🐠 Neon tetras (tiny, colorful, and always throwing mini raves)
🐠 Guppies (the rabbits of the fish world—be prepared for babies)
🐠 Catfish (cute little bottom dwellers that clean up after their messy friends)

Once the tank cycled, HHH sloooowly introduced our new aquatic pals. They stared at us in confusion while we stared back, hoping they were happy. Given time, they’ve settled in quite nicely.

Regular water changes (20-30% weekly) and filter cleanings are key. We’re hoping to cultivate a little algae. If our fish start acting weird, we’ll test the water, but if something starts to smell bad, it’ll be time to panic. Luckily, Leo, our local fish wizard, has promised to help with any problems we might experience.

We’re getting the hang of it. Our fish are recognizing us as the all-powerful Food Givers, and we spend more time watching them than Netflix. It’s strangely therapeutic. We might need a bigger tank… because everyone knows, a 10-gallon is only the beginning.