Grieving Gardener

Once upon a time, my beloved Auntie TJ was reading a great novel called “The Hardacres.” The series chronicled the life of the Hardacre family, beginning in the late 1800’s. Each time I’d call to chat, she’d tell me about the latest details and making it clear this story was a good one.

At that time, still teaching, I would so look forward to my holidays. Time was always reserved for a visit with my Godmother on the central coast of the Pacific Ocean. Some days, we’d stay in jammies from sun up until sun down, chatting about everything under the sun, while laughing through it all. Those times shared with her are the most cherished memories of my entire life and I look forward to making more. Even more exciting was the fact that she lived across the street from the Goddess of the Central Coast!! Absolutely enchanting.

Getting back to “The Hardacres”…. Auntie TJ shared that the characters in this book were extremely poor in their early years. The husband spent endless days as a “fish gutter”. When work moved from port to port, the Hardacers followed.

During these moves, with very few possessions, there was a prized plant that traveled with them. Wrapped in a small bandana, it was one of the few possessions that the wife grabbed before walking out the door. That plant was an Aspidistra.

I followed along as TJ chatted about the story, but on one word, I needed a spell check. I’d never heard of such a word or plant and had no idea what it would look like. After our talk, I did some research, enlightening myself on the Aspidistra plant.

Days turned into weeks, and TJ continued to read. The Aspidistra plant continued to move and age with the couple as they began to find success in life. Always, the plant was there. It was then TJ decided she, too, needed an Aspidistra. Off to the nursery she went.

TJ’s local nursery sells every coastal plant you can imagine. Someday I’d love to live where all coastal plants grow wild. Everything “un-desert” can be purchased there. Surely they’d know of or even sell an Aspidistra. Of this, TJ was certain.

Sadly, she soon learned that none of the nursery specialists knew of this Aspidistra plant about which she inquired. Just what was this mystery plant? They had not a clue. That much they could tell her. By the way, if they didn’t sell it, it probably wouldn’t grow at the coast.

‘Well, what about the fish-mongering Hardacres? Didn’t they live at the coast in 1890? It certainly grew for decades there…..” TJ thought to herself.

Deep in thought while heading towards the ferns and not paying attention in the very crowded nursery, she almost tripped on a potted plant. Attractive to her eye, she picked up the pot. Her heart almost stopped. Printed right on the side of the pot…. Aspidistra!!!!!!!!!!! No kidding!!!!!!

Aspidistra!!!!!! The very plant she had come to purchase was the lone plant on which she almost tripped. Now, she owned her very own Aspidistra.

During my next visit there was no arguing. The year was 2007. I needed my very own blue pot AND Aspidistra. That’s all there was to it and returning home, I owned one.

Seventeen years later, I’m happy to report that I just repotted my Aspidistra. Although not in the best shape, she’s still green and growing. It’s the only plant I’ve had for that many years. Hopefully, with a little TLC from HHH, my plant will live many more years, just like the plant in the book.

Whatever you do today, consider growing some houseplants. They clean the air and add a nice touch to any home. If you’re new at this, try a Pothos. They thrive under most conditions. Give it a try! You might be repotting it seventeen years from now, just like my Aspidistra and me.

More Tomorrow.

With the arrival of Preseason Football, there’s a new found urgency to finish HHH’s man cave for winter. And what a Man Cave it is! With four brothers anxious to spend time enjoying winter games, HHH needs to step on the final design and get his menu planned for his first party.

When I moved into Winterpast in April 2020, the biggest question from everyone was about plans for the RV barn. HHH thinks the name “BARN” is just all wrong and truly, the Man Cave is anything but a barn. It’s a fully finished RV garage that is 40’x20’x20′ with everything but running water and a bathroom.

The barn stood empty for a few years. There was talk of a gardening club, a Zumba class, or even church meetings. In the end, the very best use of the space is a Man Cave for Mr. HHH to enjoy manly things like viewing golf, football, and baseball. This will give the Mrs. of the house more time to quietly enjoy blogging, crafting, and reading.

It took awhile to collect the furnishings for the man cave. Thanks to Miss B and her move to smaller quarters, HHH now has completed his look. Two recliners. One love seat. Three comfortable chairs. Three wall-mounted tv’s with separate controls. Plenty of pictures and decorations. And, HHH’s prize Mexican Marlin.

Of course, there are the stainless steel cabinets from Sam’s Club. After months of dealing with a missing order, the cabinets ended up being a gift from the store, completing the vision for the Man Cave to end all Man Cave’s.

As with every garage, we store a lot here. All manly-man gear is neatly tucked behind decorative curtains, leaving the space tidy. HHH and I share the love of all things neat and tidy.

At this writing, he hasn’t named the place. I’m sure he’ll think of something fitting. He’s planning some sort of moveable kitchen to provide food for the visiting brothers when they come for game days. There’s even a fireplace for ambience. The only thing missing is a bed, making it absolutely clear this is no flop house.

Whatever you do, think about changing a spot in your house or apartment into something yours and yours alone. Choose your favorite colors and decorating scheme and then go for it. A man cave or she shed is a delightful thing to create. Even more fun to enjoy with family and friends.

More tomorrow.

What a wild, wet, and snowy weekend on the eastern side of the Sierra’s! Saturday’s photo was taken from McCoy Station at Mammoth Mountain Ski Area about five hours to the south. Although those of us on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada didn’t get snow, we certainly received cold rain.

Saturday was a wonderfully cozy day for two honeymooners. We started the day by going to Walmart to grab a few staples and take a gander at THE visitors. While most of the outsiders should have been on the road to Burning Man, weather-caused road closures forced them to stay put.

These days, our little town of 25,000 people struggles to find employees to run the few restaurants we have. Now that weekend visitors were forced to stay, services were strained to the max.

Our local Walmart isn’t one of the best in the nation. More likely, it rates as one of the worst. Servicing our town and interstate travelers, shelves are often missing things that other Walmart’s offer. It has trouble competing with Tesla and Panasonic who pay twice as much per hour while offering transportation to work.

Add thousands of stranded travelers to any little town and you have a real mess. Due to the heavy crowds, every single check-out stand was open and servicing customers. On a normal day, here on the high desert plains, we have one human checker on the tobacco aisle. Just one.

Burningman.org and Burning Man radio kept everyone informed about road and traffic information. Everyone is being told to stay put wherever they find themselves until the gates are open. When that might happen is anyone’s guess, but no one wants a repeat of last year.

The ways people choose to spend the week in the desert is always interesting. There are those with lots of money that have million dollar RV’s with custom kitchens, bathrooms, and internet connections. Then, some choose a more practical approach with very old rigs that have visited the playa on many occasions. There are those that find U-Haul trucks perfect for their needs. Some just camp from their cars.

When talking about all the choices, HHH assured me that he could make the U-Haul idea work just fine. Good to know. I’m a little more high maintenance than that should the opportunity arise some day.

We’re all praying for clear skies so these folks can find their way to the playa. Behind the locked gates until September 2, there’ll be a collective sigh of relief while restocking the shelves. Burning Man 2024 will be in the history books before we know it.

This week, the weather should return to summer normal. The highs will return to the 90’s. With shorter days, evenings will return to pleasant temps while the gardens of Winterpast begin to wind down for their long winter’s sleep.

Whatever you do today, you might tune in to find out what’s happening on the playa. Today, I learned there are some providing evening movies, popcorn, and candy bars for the masses. Let’s hope the rain dries away quickly so the visitors can be safe.

More tomorrow.

Most days, I live in a very quiet part of Northwestern Nevada, far from unwanted drama of the real world. Just Winterpast, HHH, Me, Wookie, Oliver, and the mustangs. Day after day, the most exciting thing in back yard is an occasional hummingbird or beautiful butterfly. Just the sounds of nature, as the gentle summer breezes rustle the leaves of the cottonwood trees.

And then comes the fourth week in August when the “burners” (those attending “Burning Man”) come to town. Then, all bets are off. Anything and everything can be seen at the local Walmart if you care to sit and watch.

The first thing announcing the arrival of over 80,000 party goers is the placement of huge dumpsters around the perimeter of the Walmart parking lot. Revelers fly in from around the world equipped only with what the carry. Once here, they pump millions of dollars into the local economy while renting RV’s, buying supplies and even brand-new bicycles.

HHH has helped with preparations for this event in past years. Burning man is held on a large desert area called Black Rock Playa, a remnant of ancient Lake Lahontan. For eleven months of the year, it’s just empty desert. Come early August, the place is transformed into Black Rock City, complete with its own zip code. HHH spent time working with his long time electrician friend, John Boy, to bring power to this temporary city.

This weekend, the bumper-to-bumper traffic from i80 to Black Rock desert will be as it always is. Last year, some crazed environmentalists chained themselves to a trailer parked sideways across the highway. It didn’t go well for them. Hopefully this year, people will be a little smarter and not make such foolish decisions.

Last year, trouble arrived in the form of a huge monsoonal rain storm. People were stranded out in the desert in very deep mud. Some chose to walk out towards civilization. It was a scary time for those that were stuck.

This afternoon, the winds are expected to pick up due to an upcoming storm. Today, our temperatures will fall about 20 degrees with rain expected. In the Sierra’s above Lake Tahoe and Donner Pass, it’s possible there may be snow. Yes. Snow in August. Strange year.

Although I’d like to have bragging rights for attending such an event, this is a step too far for this 68 year old very conservative woman. I’d love to to say I saw the night lights, naked bike riders, sculptures, and of course, the man himself burn on the last night. Without any way to stay for a week, it’ll be something I’ll observe online, like most other Americans.

HHH and I plan to go over to Walmart later today to watch the outsiders as they come to our little town to prepare. They aren’t hard to pick out. In fact, they often cause locals to stop in our tracks and stare. They will pick our grocery stores clean when they come and again when they leave. Those of us that live here have already stocked up.

Whatever you do today, look at some of the stories and images of Burning Man 2023. Be prepared. Be warned, it’s not for the faint of heart. Stay tuned for the storms of 2024. Let’s pray it doesn’t rain too much this weekend.

More tomorrow.

In case you’re wondering, this isn’t photo shopped with AI. Nope. This “ART”, named Seven Magic Mountains, exists somewhere near Las Vegas. Some people have way too much money. Others have way too much time on their hands. When the two come together, you get something like the picture above. Here’s the story.

A SWISS artist decided that it would be appropriate to deface 34 extremely large boulders and place them in seven stacks, covering them in the most inappropriate, unnatural, un-desert-like colors. I wasn’t there, but am pretty sure heavy equipment compacted the desert floor, running over native plants and animals in the process. Did the local tribes of indigenous people approved this project? No idea.

To fund this process, the Nevada Museum of Art paid this foreign artist $3.5 million to complete this “amazing” vision. How insanely perfect that it now sits in the desert near Las Vegas viewed by very few.

Now, a problem has arisen. The “Harry Reid International Airport” needs expanding. Oh No. Seven Magic Mountains stand in the way of the project. Whatever shall be done with this amazing work of art??????

The Biggest Little City in the West has approved payment of $500,000 to move this “ART”. Fact check this for yourself. This isn’t a joke and it’s not even April Fool’s Day. Now these seven defaced rocks are worth $4 million while the Swiss artist can yodel-oh-ee-do his way back home with the cash.

I am at a loss for the insanity that’s infected our country today, even here in the Wild Wild West. One thing is absolutely true. Money changes hands in the strangest ways.

The Biggest Little City in the West now has a problem. They really haven’t found the appropriate spot to display this monstrosity. Who knows, they might need to buy some worthless land for a couple million to give it a proper setting. Folks. If I went to my beloved mountainside and painted it with these colors, I’d be arrested for defacing nature in a flash.

Our state has some of the most picturesque landscapes in the entire country. I hope Las Vegas can now take a sigh of relief that they have sent this “ART” to their little step sister to the west. Maybe the Biggest Little City in the West can pawn this off on the state capital. the low one on the totem pole.

Most days, it’s better not to look at the news. At least, my tax dollars support normal things in my sweet little town on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Of course, we were home to the giant bottlecap artichoke for years……

And so it goes.

More tomorrow.

Needing to right a wrong, I must share details about the new reading material I’m enjoying. The Flower Letters. Something adorable that just might make receiving mail enjoyable once again. But then, let me start at the beginning.

In the last few months, I’d seen advertisements for a new product for avid readers. A story that would travel twice monthly through snail mail to your door. Offered are four different stories told through 24 letters. There’s the choice of a western adventure, a World War II affair, a Regency romance, or a fantastical story.

Twice a month, the letters arrive, written in the dialect of the day and including mini-history lessons. If you don’t know me well enough yet, this desert gal chose the western adventure.

When the first letter arrived, I was amused at the clever nature of the letter. The stationary was adorable. Along with the letter written in delicate cursive, there was a postcard and some other materials to read. The story begins with words from one hopeful mail-order bride named Lily Clara. I’ll admit, it was hard to wait for the next letter.

And then……..

Disappointment.

The second letter didn’t even begin to connect with the first. I was sure I was losing my ever-loving mind and wrote to the company to end my subscription. The sweetest woman wrote back, encouraging me to try Letters 3 and 4 on them. She assured me that with two more letters, the story would begin to gel. She hoped I’d give it a try, and so I did.

OY. VEY. Egg on my face for sure. She was so right.

In each letter, there’s so much to think about with many hidden details to uncover. As a bonus, additional information is provided on the company website bringing the Wild West to life. I’m now hooked. My heroine, Lily Clara, is a 28-year-old adventurous and gutsy milliner. Not to give too much away, there’s even an embroidery pattern included in one of the letters.

In just the first four letters, many characters have been introduced, I’ve started a little flow chart to remember everyone. A double-sided newspaper included with Letter 4 holds so many clues, I’ve reread the other letters to make sure nothing else was missed.

Lily Clara’s vocabulary is rich, right out of the days of the Wild Wild West. By the time I finished Letter 4, I was quick to look at the calendar to find out when the next letters will arrive. Lily’s letters are sent out on the 2nd and 4th Fridays of every month.

If you haven’t heard of this adorable product, look it up. This is a cute and fresh way to deliver a story. Snail mail has again become relevant! Remember, be patient. Try not to bother the sweet people at The Flower Letters. com until you give it a real try.

To the sweet woman at The Flower Box.com, thank you for encouraging me to try two more letters. You were correct. Somethings just take a minute to gel, especially when sent one letter at a time.

Whatever you do today, consider reading something new. Anything. Try a different genre. A new author. An unfamiliar setting or time frame. Reading transports a person into another world when it’s nice to take a break from this one.

More tomorrow.