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Those Before Me

Oy. Vey.

Have I got a book to recommend to anyone that might enjoy some great historical fiction based on the journey of a very real family! The story centers around Emil and Adeline Martell and their beautiful boys during WWII. It has everything a good story should have from romance to suspense and bone chilling descriptions of the horrors of war. Most importantly, it’s about a family’s love for the Lord, each other, and life.

My ancestors were Germans that moved to the Volga region to farm starting in 1763. Simple as that. Along with land grants from Katharine the Great, they were promised freedom to worship while building great lives around farming. For a long time, everything worked just as promised and their lives flourished. Until it all came crashing down.

Catherine the Great promised a new life along the Volga River to German Farmers

In 1902, as live became more dangerous and uncertain, with a brand new baby girl, my Great Grandparents left their homes to travel to a new country. America would be their next stop. About their journey I know nothing, and wish I would have asked my Great Grandfather Christoph all those years ago. It was he that built the box that held all their worldly belongings as they made their trip in faith and love right through Ellis Island and on to the San Joaquin Valley of California.

Over a century later, their descendants have made wonderful lives in this great country, while citizens of Russia and Ukraine struggle to this day. I’ve enjoyed every physical luxury at my fingertips during my life, except for the six months I returned to live in Moldavia, USSR (now Moldova). A time in my life of hunger and horrors I wish I hadn’t experienced. Travel there required ten vaccines for everything from cholera to typhoid and typhus. One of the few times in my life, I was thankful to be fully vaccinated.

Can you imagine leaving every friend, family member, and possession behind, taking only what you could carry? Then, leaving those things along the way as you struggled through heat, cold, weather, snow, rain, and sun while avoiding tanks, bombs and crossfire? Always moving towards the goal and Never, Never, Never Giving Up?????

When I wrote about my own struggles yesterday, I should’ve included that my minor problems in life were nothing compared to those my ancestors endured. Unspeakable tragedy. Unbelievable faith. Unworldly strength and courage. Those are the things that are woven into my DNA, whether I think of them every day or not. My ancestors were courageous travelers on their way to dreams of their own last green valley. Some made it and some died trying.

With the summer heat spiking, it’s a great time to read a wonderful book about some resourceful people who lived. They REALLY lived. The Last Green Valley by Mark Sullivan won’t disappoint.

If you have any thoughts after reading the book, please drop me a line. I lived in Moldova and swam in the Dniester River they crossed in their wagon. People in the surrounding towns near Tiraspol still used horses and wagons for transportation and harvests in 1977. Many men had never used a wrench to loosen the nut off a bolt. Actual experiences in the place I lived so long ago.

On the eve of Independence Day, take a moment to be grateful for all the freedom and luxuries we enjoy. From refrigeration for our food to pasteurized milk, we are a fully developed nation that folks from 3rd world countries can only dream. Our blessings overflow in great green valleys of milk and honey.

Whatever you do, consider reading something outside the norm. If you choose this book, you won’t be disappointed.

More tomorrow.

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Living My Dreams

Settled back into the routine here at Winterpast, I can tell you a few things. I’m not a chicken or duck person. I don’t understand them very well, and will continue to buy eggs at the store. I’m not a cat person, either. That’s good, because they don’t much like me. After staying in a house with three of them for five days and nights and only saw one, although the food certainly disappeared in the night.

I’m a true-blue dog person. Having just cared for thirteen dogs of various ages and sizes, that’s been established. I’m now a fan of hypoallergenic dogs of the doodle variety. It’s true that they shed almost nothing at all. Such a difference from those that do, like Goldens or German Shepherds. I was thankful for the lack of hair as I mopped the house twice a day while in California. Such is life with puppies underfoot. A lot of mopping.

Life pushed me to become the woman I am today and I’m at peace with the new me.

When I became a widow in 2020, I benefited from the fog made of my grief. Thank goodness I could only focus on the moment at hand. There were boxes to move to storage. Later, boxes to retrieve and unpack. My seventeenth day alone, I moved one hour away to a sweet little town on the desert plains of northwestern Nevada. I moved into a new home in a new town where I knew two people. That August one of them died.

I began driving after not having been behind the wheel for a full six years. This happened for no reason other than my late husband loved to drive everywhere and I didn’t. When he was gone it was up to me to take the wheel and carry on.

I began caring for 1/2 acre of land with the trusty help of a gardener named Mr. B. During the dark days of Covid, I dined out several times a week and occasionally drove myself to the biggest little city to the west to stay in hotels for a change of scenery. Both actions were scandalous, with everyone sure that I’d die from a silly virus. But, I didn’t.

I refused to give up or give in. Sun, fresh air, and garden soil kept me safe from viral infections. I slept way to much and didn’t eat near enough. I caught up on movies while consuming vast amounts of macaroni and cheese, tacos, and ice cream (three amazing food groups).

Shouldn’t were replaced with Maybe’s, Why-Not’s?, and Heck, Yes’s. Slowly, my life began to change for the better.

September 24, 2020, I decided to write a blog. Creating Grievinggardener.com on the computer in an afternoon, I started writing and haven’t stopped since. In the beginning, I was up at 4:00 am every morning to start the day with words. My words kept me alive. I hoped at least one person in the universe would read them. It didn’t matter who, knowing if I could help one other woman get out of bed to read something I wrote, it was worth it.

Through every day, I’ve gardened in one way or another. I developed my own therapies to deal with my unique and personal tragedy when all the grief-groups were closed down. I found a church and began to pray. I found God, and began a relationship. I fell into the loving arms of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior, and gave my life to him, finally baptized at 66 years old.

I’ve lived through desert’s worst winters and bought my very own Snow Joe to help me deal with the drifts. Loving every short day of winter, I cocooned inside with my little dog, Oliver. At times I didn’t shovel snow and dealt with ice. Throughout those days, I slipped. I slid. But, again, I’d find my balance and keep going.

In 2022, I became restless and went back to college for a summer. I applied for a teaching job and was hired, went to work, cried every night, and quit after a few months. Sometimes, you just need to reset your course when the headwinds are too strong.

That year, I also met HHH and fell head-over-heels in love with this man. This wonderful man loves gardening as much as I do. He’s man’s-man that still tears up at a sweet story on the news. This man now co-navigates life with me. This man I call my husband and best friend in life.

Together, we’ve built a greenhouse. We’ve grown a house full of seedlings and then turned them into plants blooming in our yard. We’ve experienced the beauty of Yellowstone for the first time in our lives as honeymooners. We’ve cruised the high seas and crossed back and forth over Donner Pass many times.

Together, we’ve whelped and help raise two liters of wooklets, which were born in the middle of our bed in both 2023 and 2024. Neither of us would have had that any other way, loving these 13 little pups while they were in our care.

My reason for highlighting the really great stuff going on is simple. I was a lost and lonely widow in 2020. Five summers later, I’m getting ready to spend the 4th of July with family I love while watching a parade down Main Street and greased pig contest. To go from knowing no one to knowing hundreds of people in my little town is a miracle about which I marvel every day.

Was it hard? Almost impossible. What it lonely? Beyond what anyone should need to endure. Were there setbacks? Every day. Was I on a journey without directions? You betcha.

The truth of the matter is, I didn’t take the journey alone. God get’s the glory on this one, as he carried me for many, many miles. As the days went by, I changed into this woman I really and truly like and respect. A woman that has charted her own course. How blessed am I to have found a new life in the midst of such sorrow.

Whatever you do today, remember that the sun will shine again tomorrow. No matter how dark, get up, get dressed, and get going. Life is what you make it!! Get started!!

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Caring for Roses

Butchart Gardens — Victoria, Canada

One of the many things HHH and I have in common is our LOVE for roses! We aren’t fans of every kind, just Hybrid Tea Roses with gigantic and fragrant blossoms.

On our first Christmas together, I gave HHH his favorite rose, Mr. Lincoln. I wrapped up a certificate for the rose, explaining that the bush would arrive in March, and it did. Having purchased it from one of the “best” rose companies out there and at a premium price, I was shocked when it arrived, unwrapped with bare roots exposed in a carboard box.

HHH lovingly planted it here at Winterpast long before he proposed and then it refused to thrive. For 365 days, it was on the verge of dying, while HHH patiently worked his magic. From then on, I promised myself I’d only purchase potted roses that we could inspect.

This year, we purchased nine rose bushes named “Serenity” to celebrate Mother’s Day. With sweat and brute force, HHH used his trusty pick ax to plant each one. Slowly, they are beginning to settle in, blooming for the second time this season. There are plenty of very healthy roses sold at Walmart or the hardware store. It’s not necessary to pay twice the price because you just might receive half the plant.

Rose bush names are interesting. I’m sure the proper name can market more roses. Who could resist buying a bright yellow rose named “Happy Go Lucky”? (We now own two.) Or a stately rose named “The Grand Dame”, which she is. Mr. Lincoln now presides over the rose beds, while Independence Day, Tahitian Sunrise and Stainless Steel (a very pale lavender color), all fall in place. Bliss pumps out bloom after bloom.

All roses need good drainage and lots of water. Don’t plant them too deep, leaving the crown exposed so it can breathe.

Roses do need regular feeding. Bayer Systemic Rose Pellets are long lasting and work very well. Here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, aphids are proving to be a big problem which the Bayer food will solve. Luckily, the systemic insecticide is okay for use around the bees because bees don’t visit roses. Simple as that.

During the heat of the summer, all the rose bushes will slow down, using their energy to survive the heat. They will bloom again when the weather tames down in the fall. Last week, we had 2″ of rain here on the desert and the roses were thriving. This week, a heat wave is coming with a temperature of 106 predicted for Sunday.

After blooms have faded and died away, be sure to clip them off. There are many articles online about the proper way to do this. While growing your bush larger, clip them back to the first place there are five leaves growing. If you are just deadheading, clip only the dead blossom. There are specific reasons on what to trim and why, so do your own research.

Whatever you do today, try your hand at growing roses. There is nothing prettier than a freshly grown bouquet sitting on your kitchen table.

More tomorrow.

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Farewell to the Wooklets

It’s hard to believe that June is almost gone. HHH’s granddaughter, a June bride, is now a wife vacationing in Italy. Summer enters it’s second week. And, three of the wooklets will go to their fur-ever homes tomorrow. It all happened in a flash.

It seems like just yesterday I took Oliver to puppy camp. Leaving the house, I patted one very pregnant Wookie on the head. When I returned to Winterpast, there were two. And quickly 3, 4, 5, and 6, and finally, 7. They all had specific personalities from the beginning, being the most vocal litter I’ve encountered in my 68 years.

This morning, I hear the wooklets in their room, barking, growling, yelping and causing mayhem. It’s 5:42 am. They’ve already received their breakfast. It’s play time, reminding me of my own boys playing early morning games over four decades ago. Play. Argue. Yelp. Repeat. It’s the same all for puppies and little children. If things turns quiet, you have problem.

This last week has reminded me of a few things.

  1. Don’t breathe puppy breathe. It will slay you every time.
  2. What goes in will surely come out in a smelly mess.
  3. Little puppies will let you know when they need something. RIGHT NOW.
  4. Never volunteer to take care of a litter for five days unless you REALLY, REALLY, REALLY are in need of a dose of puppy breath. Then, remember #1.
Off we go over Donner Pass towards home!

This morning, HHH and I will pack our belongings into the car, call Wookie to come along, and we’ll be off. She is quite done with the littles and missing the green grass of Winterpast. Here vacation in California is over, as well as her time as a great mom.

Whatever you do this weekend, change up your schedule a bit. Go for an early morning walk. Plant something. Talk to a friend. Find your own dose of puppy breath. All things to enjoy while on the road to healing!!

I’ll be back on Monday.

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The Man’s Cave

When I think back to April 2020, an episode with a neighbor comes to mind. She never became a close neighbor, but remains someone who lives down the street. We’ll just leave it at that.

Very curious to meet the newest lady on the block, she had raced down when I invited her into Winterpast. This was so long ago, I hadn’t even named to my new home, but was relieved to have most things out of boxes.

As she entered, she had looked around taking note of every single decorating mistake. She finally announced that I had way too much furniture and the house was a bit “crowded”, in her humble estimation.

Shocked at her truthful evaluation, I just told her that soon, I’d move some things to my new She-Shed. Immediately, she replied, “Honey, your whole house is your She-Shed!”

I understood what she met. As a widow, I no longer had to please my husband with the placement of this or that. I did find it funny, and for a time, referred to Winterpast as my very own “She-Shed”.

Since then, I’ve created my own She-Shed in the form of one very amazing greenhouse. Perfect for me in every way. I also have a studio/office right within the walls of our home that is girly in every way possible. I’m covered in the She-Shed Department.

When HHH and I married, we decided that because I had my own space, he’d claim the space of the RV Barn, which would now become his Man Cave. Since October 2023, he has busied himself decorating the walls of his very own man cave. It’s now the home to the biggest catch of his life, his Marlin. There are golf and fishing pictures, a fireplace, and a big screen television to watch live sports. All in all it’s a wonderful retreat.

Except that…..

With all the work on the garden, work stalled in the Man Cave until last week. After enjoying a golfing trip with seventeen of his closest friends in the Sierra Nevada’s, he came home re-energized and ready to finish his space.

It did take both of us and his truck to haul away the discards, but the task is done. It looks amazing and stands ready for any type of brotherly parties he wants to throw. After all, a man that has four loving brothers needs a place to entertain them!

Everyone needs their own space. Girls need to have time for garden parties and men need time to be men and hang out in their very own caves.

Whatever you do today, assess your living space and see where YOUR sacred space lies. Are you one that needs special mementoes and pictures on the wall, or one that prefers a minimalistic approach. Widowhood does provide a time in life for personal expression through decorating. So, think about your own space and get busy!!

One more day with the little wooklets……… Maybe there’ll be time for a swim today.

More tomorrow.

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One Man’s Trash

There is just something fun about going to the dump. From the time I was a child, there was something mysterious about hauling away discards and taking them to a large field where they would be thrown off the truck. There, the ever-present Jawa’s rummaged through mountains of trash, looking for discarded treasures.

Worried that I was a little strange in remember trips to the dump with fondness, I asked HHH what his thoughts were on the subject. As a child, he also liked going. There were always interesting take-aways from the adventure. His dump even had a dead animal pile which does sound like something to see in a country kid kind of way.

These days, going to the Transfer Station is not nearly the adventure it could be. The inspector at the gate will let you know if you’ll be allowed to pass through with your discards. Then, you’ll be given the number of a lane and expected to quickly dump and go. Of course, at the Transfer Station, all items will be sorted and resold as scrap. Such is the way of garbage these days.

We had done our best to pack HHH’s work truck with everything that needed to go. There was a functional tool chest that no longer functioned well in the Man Cave. Along with that, there were other heavy items that were no longer things we would need or want ever again. With every bit of energy HHH could muster, all things were loaded into the truck and we were off.

When we arrived, the old generator was checked for oil and gas, both of which had been drained. It would go on the metal pile after we disposed of the other things in the large barn that kept everything from blowing all over town. We had our orders and proceeded to Lane 4.

It was then two men unloading in Lane 2 came to pay us a visit. Would we mind if they took the generator? Did it work?

Yes to both questions. Off it went.

Would we mind if they took the huge tool chest?

Yes again.

Then the other big items went sideways instead of into the large dump pit. Our entire load went home with the men of Lane Two. Just like that, one man’s trash was another’s treasure. HHH didn’t even need to strain his back another second while the items magically disappeared from our possession.

The Man Cave is a thing of beauty, all of the treasures in place. With barn door curtains installed and a little more sweeping, it’s ready for summer parties. For everything there is a time and place!! Even a 15′ Marlin.

Whatever you do today, purge a little. I use the 1/10 rule. For every 10 thing that sit around the rooms in our home, at least one could go. It gets easier each time.

As for us, it’s the beginning of day three as kennel masters. Land mines are multiplying. The puppies only woke us once last night. We’re making headway on that. Maybe today I’ll float around in the pool a little bit. Sure looks inviting!

More tomorrow.

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The Birds, Bees, and A Touch of Zuchinni

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More tomorrow.

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Technical Difficulties and Quite A Bit of Poop

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

Seven adult dogs sleeping around us.

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

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

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

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

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

More tomorrow.

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The Windshield or The Bug?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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And So, Let The Party Begin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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