Grieving Gardener

With so many crazy things happening these days, the thought of “What If….” visits me often. Just what if I needed to grab Oliver and get out of dodge? Would I be ready? What if all town services stopped? Could I survive for two weeks on what I have on hand? Something to consider in these days of uncertainty. Whether sheltering in place or hitting the road, being ready is a good idea.

After an emergency, you may need to survive on your own for several days. Being prepared means having your own food, water and other supplies to last for several days. A disaster supplies kit is a collection of basic items your household may need in the event of an emergency.

Make sure your emergency kit is stocked with the items on the checklist below. Visit Ready.gov to download a printable version to take with you to the store. Once you take a look at the basic items, consider what unique needs your family might have, such as supplies for pets or seniors.

Emergency Supply List

Basic Disaster Supplies KitTo assemble your kit, store items in airtight plastic bags and put your entire disaster supplies kit in one or two easy-to-carry containers such as plastic bins or a duffel bag.

A basic emergency supply kit could include the following recommended items:

• Water (one gallon per person per day for several days, for drinking and sanitation)
• Food (at least a several-day supply of non-perishable food)– Don’t forget a little chocolate.
• Battery-powered or hand crank radio and a NOAA Weather Radio with tone alert
• Flashlight
• First aid kit
• Extra batteries
• Whistle (to signal for help)
• Dust mask (to help filter contaminated air)
• Plastic sheeting and duct tape (to shelter in place)
• Moist towelettes, garbage bags and plastic ties (for personal sanitation)
• Wrench or pliers (to turn off utilities)
• Manual can opener (for food)
• Local and state maps — Yes. The paper kind.
• Cell phone with chargers and a backup battery

Additional Emergency Supplies

Since Spring of 2020, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has recommended people include additional items in their kits to help prevent the spread of coronavirus or other viruses and the flu.

• Masks (for everyone ages 2 and above), soap, hand sanitizer, disinfecting wipes to disinfect surfaces
• Prescription medications. About half of all Americans take a prescription medicine every day. An emergency can make it difficult for them to refill their prescription or to find an open pharmacy. Organize and protect your prescriptions, over-the-counter drugs, and vitamins to prepare for an emergency.
• Non-prescription medications such as pain relievers, anti-diarrhea medication, antacids or laxatives
• Prescription eyeglasses and contact lens solution
• Infant formula, bottles, diapers, wipes and diaper rash cream
• Pet food and extra water for your pet
• Cash or traveler’s checks
• Important family documents such as copies of insurance policies, identification and bank account records saved electronically or in a waterproof, portable container
• Sleeping bag or warm blanket for each person
• Complete change of clothing appropriate for your climate and sturdy shoes
• Fire extinguisher
• Matches in a waterproof container
• Feminine supplies and personal hygiene items
• Mess kits, paper cups, plates, paper towels and plastic utensils
• Paper and pencil for journaling the event
• Books, games, puzzles or other activities for children

After assembling your kit remember to maintain it so it’s ready when needed:

• Keep canned food in a cool, dry place.
• Store boxed food in tightly closed plastic or metal containers.
• Replace expired items as needed.
• Re-think your needs every year and update your kit as your family’s needs change.

Kit Storage Locations

Since you do not know where you will be when an emergency occurs, prepare supplies for home, work and cars.

• Home: Keep this kit in a designated place and have it ready in case you have to leave your home quickly. Make sure all family members know where the kit is kept.
• Work: Be prepared to shelter at work for at least 24 hours. Your work kit should include food, water and other necessities like medicines, as well as comfortable walking shoes, stored in a “grab and go” case.
• Car: In case you are stranded, keep a kit of emergency supplies in your car.
• (_Ready.gov)

While thinking about this, take time to copy everything you normally carry in your wallet. In the event that your wallet was lost or stolen, you’ll have a handy record of license number, credit card numbers, and Bank contact numbers.

Whatever you do today, think about being prepared for the worst while being so very thankful for the best.

I’ll be back Monday.

I have always been a writer. From a very young age, words gave meaning to a world I didn’t understand very well. Expectations for a “Good Farm Girl” included being “seen but not heard”. Any of you older than a minute will understand what I mean. Any words from a child had no meaning at all. Go outside and play. Period.

Going outside didn’t hold Hollywood images of Mayberry, RFD. For me, outside was a wild place with danger just outside the acceptable boundaries of our ranch. Believe me when I tell you there was enough danger inside those boundaries for any child. It was there my nose was badly bitten by a really friendly dog. It was there steel crushed my 3-year-old-toe, squishing it to 1/2 shoe size larger than the other. It was there animals were ushered in as adorable babies and turned into dinner just weeks later.

My outdoor life also included wonder and happiness. There was always food to be found hanging from big beautiful trees or sprouting in the garden. If were quiet enough, I could spy a coyote or new nest of birds. I learned the calls of birds and what they looked like circling in updrafts. I would watch in fascination the murmurations of the starlings making their own version of moving art.

Through the harvests of my childhood while journeying into teen years of confusion and loss, I longed to journal, but had no safe place in which to write. A writer needs a place in which their written thoughts are undisturbed by other. A shy girl couldn’t reveal her heart safely in a house that afforded no personal space.

In those days, even bath time was a family affair. In a house of 7, baths were shared by the children. This wasn’t like Little House in the Prairie. Built in the 1950’s, we had running water and all the modern conveniences. The “girl’s bathroom” was even covered in pink tile and porcelain. We just relied on a modern pump to bring up well water from the ground, delivering it to shiny faucets in the house.

The bath schedule went like this. The oldest would have some alone time and privacy. As the water cooled, more was added for the Princess of Everything. Then, the oldest in line would lounge around a bit. The third girl always whined and got her alone time, carefully timed to to “Get In, Wash Up, Rinse Off, Get Out.” And finally, the two littles would be washed together before the tub was emptied until the next day.

Nope. Not even bath time was private. And so, journaling waited.

There were times when journaling would have helped me through. College struggles. A young bride living in Tiraspol, Moldavia, USSR at 21. A very young mom trying to navigate a life of violence. A single mom with two little boys. A new wife and Step Mom. A professional woman. Three decades a wife. A grieving widow.

It wasn’t until I moved to the safety of Winterpast that I finally found my writing space. Journals in which I could write down my own days, even if the words just reflected the weather and the time of day I got out of bed. Journals in which I write to show I was alive that day. I did something that mattered and was worth noting. And so, since 2020, I’ve kept journals.

In the beginning, I wrote much more about feelings. Reading them now, I cringe at the silly thoughts that spent time in my head. Reading back to the first time I met someone for a cup of coffee make me smile. Cried the whole way to the restaurant and the whole way back, all the while twirling my wedding ring and missing VST with all my heart. Such a mess, all written on tear stained pages, day after day.

Words are a powerful way to document healing and growth. Looking back at the lost widow of 2020, I hardly recognize myself. All those missteps had to be. Just like a toddler learning to walk, I had to go the path I chose. I had to learn how to watch for my own dangers and boundaries, just as I’d done when sent “Outside to Play” on the ranch. I’m totally blessed I was raised as a feral child. It’s served me well through the years.

There are six or seven old journals now, sitting quietly in their resting place awaiting their fate. The problem with journals is what to do with them? Keep them for reflection? (Cringe-worthy in my case). Keep them for possible publication? Absolutely scandalous, although an interesting thought. For now, I’ll let them lay silently in the dark. Seems the best answer.

If you’re starting a new chapter in life, as a widow or widower always is, try writing down your daily activities. Each day, be sure to add three things for which you’re thankful. You’ll probably be shocked at how your tone changes over time as you heal. Jot down the number of hours you sleep during the day. Or the number of hours you can’t sleep during the night. As you reflect in a few months, those numbers will change, affirmations that life is getting better.

Write as if no one is watching, because no one should be. If you live with others, make it perfectly clear that these are private thoughts. Written on private pages, they’re off limits to all unless you invite them to take a peak once in awhile. Make firm boundaries and then, write.

If you already have stacks of journals and can’t decide their fate, here are some suggestions.

• If full of entries that will do you no good, or a reminder of a sad or bad part of your life, have a bonfire/journal burning party. Who wants all that negativity stored so closely? Do away with it forever.
• If full of memories that make you happy, creating smiles and laughter each time you glance through it, keep it!
• If a combo of trash and a few goodies, modify your plan. ? Tear out and keep the good pages and toss the rest.

Do this once every year or two, and you’ll find yourself laughing, crying, or disgusted that you’ve wasted so much of your life avoiding the pen and page. As one of my favorite students once told me, “Writing IS Life.” I’m waiting for her first book. She’s busy with high school at the moment.

As for those that have a partner that journals, one boundary must never, ever be crossed. Never, ever, ever peak without permission. Journals are sacred, safe spaces that hold personal truths. That doesn’t make everything uttered truth for the world to discuss. Just truth for the writer as they heal through the horrors of grief while discovering their new life.

For now, I’m not sure of the fate of my journals. The current one is a scrap book of used tickets, programs, and memento’s from the best year any woman could hope for. Memories of giving Halloween Candy to a huge chicken, watching a lighted Christmas parade down Main Street, welcoming a new year, a 1st Valentine’s Day together at the beach, and a Mother’s Day BBQ for 40. Words that question. Random thoughts. Happiness. Worries. Everything swirling together on the rich pages of a journal of growth just mine.

As a former teacher of writing, I’ll share with you what I always told my students.

1. Neatness doesn’t matter. Make it suit you.
2. Spelling and grammar don’t matter. If YOU can read the story you’ve written, then Mission Accomplished. You can fix spelling and grammar later.
3. Just tell your story. Tell your side. Tell it loud and proud. Just tell it.
4. Date your writing. Always.
5. Instrumental music can help the words get out of your fingers. A 3rd grade student of mine added that one to this list. (Not music with lyrics–because those words mess with YOUR words.)
6. Never write on loose sheets of paper. Journal in a journal of some kind. I would suggest buying one you really like.
7. Nothing is off limits. Words cannot come off the page to cause mayhem.
8. Find YOUR time and place, and then get to know yourself.

Whatever you do today, try journaling for at least a week. You just might find it fixes what ails you.

More tomorrow.

I was married to a wonderful guy for 32 years. A high school friend, we reunited at our high school reunion 14 years later. He proposed in eleven short days. We were married shortly after that. His name, I’ll share one time after 700+ posts.

Terry Lee Hurt.

For these past years, I’ve kept his name as my own little secret. It was the last thing I had that was his and his alone. The last part of him that was still mine. He was a force of nature all on his own, right next to the wind, the rain, and the sun. He flamed out, never wanting to rust away in the corner.

I share this, because not everyone has gone back to read my entire blog, beginning in September, 2020. Covid had sucked the life out of everything around us. But it wasn’t Covid that took him. Cancer finished Terry off in nine weeks from start to finish.

Someone once mentioned that losing him in the way I did was rather like losing a loved one in a car wreck. No time to think or prepare for the worst time in life. No time to alert family and friends. No long, tear-filled goodbye’s. Just here. Then, gone. The gone happened 17 days before I moved into Winterpast. The home we chose together on a cold January day almost 3.5 years ago.

A French Man lost his spouse the same year MM and I lost ours. 2020. So many deaths occurred that year that had absolutely nothing to do with Covid. Silently, we all lost our loved ones after handling their hospice care. We stood in the shadows of grief without benefit of support groups or even a proper funeral. Everything was closed. We were left to our own devices during those darkest of days.

French Man is living through his fourth summer as a widower. Turtle-shelled in his grief, he let life go on without him. Time passed, while his wife’s cremains sat waiting for the proper time for release. While he’s been tethered to yesterday, the possibility of today lives just 1/2 mile away at my bestie’s CC’s house. A bright new future hindered by ashes of the past.

The subject of cremains is a little taboo. No one tells you about their weight. No one mentions that each urn has a specific and unique way to be opened. No instruction pamphlet tells a person how to properly release ashes. And then, there is the most difficult decision on where to release them. Because of these things and million other reasons, Terry sat on the shelf until last year.

It takes absolute courage to walk to the garage to get the screw driver needed to release four of the tiniest little screws holding on the top of the urn. Fortitude to open the lid. Bravery to open the bag, preparing the contents for release. Gutsiness to drive up the mountain on unpaved roads to a place filled with rocks and tumbleweeds. The love of a devoted spouse to finally let them go in the wind. I didn’t know all that until last year on that windiest of days here in the desert. I found strength I didn’t think I possessed.

French Man’s wife is still confined to her box. Today, he’ll take his turn with a final Goodbye on a quiet stretch of Pacific Coast Beach. Love has nudged him towards today’s release of the past. He’s finally looking forward to moving towards happiness. Today, he’s found his strength.

Everyone finds their own strength, time and place, eventually. If your situation is similar to French Man’s, know you can always take the next step, releasing ties that bind. I can’t explain how my life changed that day when Zephyr Winds of the high deserts of Northwestern Nevada carried my love away. From the loneliest mountaintop, the wails of a grieving widow were carried away with him. Like the removal of a festering sliver, releasing Terry allowed me to fully embrace my new life.

We are BOTH finally free.

Whatever you do today, think about what’s holding you to the past. Consider what your loved one would say if they could give you one last pep talk. Terry would tell me to live my best life. “The day’s a-wasting, Darlin’. Burn out, don’t rust out. You can’t get no where on yesterday’s train.”

More tomorrow.

I can only imagine the above picture was taken from some gutter in the deep south or perhaps on a tropical island in Hawaii. Here in the desert, we have a different kind of problem. Sand and dirt blowing in from here and there do a fine job clogging gutters.

Gutters are an important feature of any home.

No matter how gently rain falls onto your roof, the water builds up as it runs off and creates a powerful surge that, if not diverted, can hammer the ground next to your foundation—and water and foundations do not mix. Pounding water along the foundation line erodes the soil and can seep down along the foundation, increasing the risk of basement leaks and structural instability.

Gutters that safely manage storm water do more than simply protect your house. They also preserve your yard and your neighborhood. Without fully functioning gutters and downspouts to control runoff in a safe manner, rainwater could cut pathways through your yard as well as your neighbor’s, creating ditches, pooling in low-lying areas, and even killing lawns, flowers, and other vegetation. In my area, water over sand causes severe erosion problems. Storm water needs to be controlled.

Last winter was brutal here on the high desert plains. Inches of heavy snow, quickly melted. Water dripped through cracked gutter joints causing a skating rink of thick ice below in two different places here at Winterpast. Slipping on ice is one of my major fears, and this ice was located by the two doors leading to the back yard.

Summertime is the perfect time to take care of maintenance. Along with cracked joints and seams, my gutters hadn’t been draining properly. Clogged with debris of summers past, the gutters would get attention in the summer present.

Over the past year, I’ve looked for companies specializing in gutter repair. Sadly, in my area there are zero. Not a handy man one would like to spend hours on a ladder cleaning, mending, and realigning gutters. I could understand. Doesn’t sound very fun.

As a retired-farmer-now-little-old-widow-woman, ladders are not on my “I-Can-Do-It” list anymore. With poor balance, aging skin and bones, and Size 11 feet, a tumble into the hospital is a given. It’s hard enough remaining upright when on the ground.

My search for this elusive repair company had gone on long enough. I’d need to bite the bullet and get an estimate from “Leaf Guys”. In my area, they’re the only company that will clean, repair, and realign gutters. The catch is, they sell a pricey filter on top of your gutters when everything inside is squeaky clean.

The estimate was sure to be financially painful, but their advertisement made a few important promises.

#1. FREE Estimate. (What’s the saying? Nothing’s for FREE?)

#2. Lifetime Transferable Guarantee.

#3. Guaranteed work backed by a local company.

Yesterday, at the time promised, a professional man came to Winterpast to do some inspecting. It turns out that my gutters have many problems, verified by pictures. Pictures don’t lie.

A deep layer of dirt, silt, and sand lay cemented to the bottoms of the 100+ feet of gutters surrounding my house. Oy Vey. Not a leaf in there. Just sediment deposited over the last 20 years. That’s one of the problems. Along with the cracks, they’re clogged, so they overflow.

The product presentation and estimate were informative and interesting. In the end, after throwing in a 30% discount, I agreed to receive gutter cleaning, repair, and filter installation on Thursday.

Winterpast will go from this–

To this.

Later in the day, when carefully examining the gutters from the far side of the property, their age was apparent. After 20 years, some parts are bent up, some bent down. It’s the perfect time for a tune-up. Not an expense I was planning for this summer, but maintenance that needs to be done before 100+ feet of gutters need replacing. Someday, I won’t need to worry about home maintenance. For now, it’s “Suck It Up, Buttercup”.

Whatever you do today, If you’re the home owner, take a look at the gutters. Stand back from your house and really look at them. Is the fascia board behind them looking stained or crumbly? Do they drain? Are they securely attached to the house? Find someone to climb up there and look inside. Are they full of debris? If so, August is the perfect month to address this problem. This winter, you’ll be glad you did.

More tomorrow.

Happy Monday morning to everyone from here at Winterpast. What a productive weekend! MM and I finished assembling the greenhouse and is it ever a beauty!!!

Last weekend, The Mayor and my Mysterious Marine (MM) came together in brotherly fashion, forming and laying the best foundation a girl could ask for. The perfect width and depth, it turns out it was measured correctly. After an application of construction grade Gorilla Glue between the frame and foundation on Saturday, we let the project cure for 24 hours.

During that time, MM and I enjoyed an afternoon of play. We took turns rolling the dice as we played a variation of the board game, Monopoly. This version was named after our town. Considering that we know the Mayor pretty well, it was fun to land on a space that granted lunch with him. Each space on the board was named after something we know, like “In-Town Park”, “Main Street”, or La Fiesta Mexican Restaurant”.

Play a board game on a Saturday afternoon is something I haven’t done for years. MM was a formidable opponent. I’m sure he deployed strategies learned over the years as the oldest brother in a house of five boys. It mattered not. It was great fun, and he won. With shared laughter and happiness, we both came out winners.

Sunday was construction day. Beginning at 6:30, we began our first project as a team. I’m totally amazed at how well we worked together, finishing our project in just over six hours. There were a couple tough spots in which this piece or that one didn’t quite go as we wanted. MM knew which bolt to loosen or tighten, and the project was completed without a single broken panel. A 10′ x 14′ greenhouse is something to behold. It’s the perfect size for us, having plenty of floor space for two gardeners.

I’m so thankful that Veikous Greenhouses (purchased through Lowe’s) has their kits dialed in. If not, things could have gone differently. Every piece was labeled with a number that coincided with detailed instructions. Easy to follow. Great results.

Beginning while the structure was still shaded, the front and back walls were soon standing. Then, the sides went up. Finally it was time for the roof.

By 1:00 PM, we were done. The temperature? Hovering around 100.

Never having constructed a Greenhouse before, there’ve been a few surprises along the way. Like the fact that all joints need Silicone caulking. When complete, the Silicone will cost 1/3 of the total price of the greenhouse.

Solar power is so handy for little items. Many of the back-yard garden lights are powered by solar. The fans in the greenhouse will be powered by solar, keeping the temperature more manageable. To avoid the need for wiring, I’ll use solar lighting in the greenhouse, too, for the nights that I work a little past sundown.

Another fun item I just found is a solar fountain pump. I’ve always loved little garden fountains, but hate the cords and need for additional outlets.

MM and I are already dreaming of all the annuals we’re going to start from seeds next year. With the price of plants at Lowe’s, this structure will pay for itself in no time.

As for today, I’m turning my attention to gutter repairs. A company is coming to give me an estimate a little later this morning. They specialize in gutter filters to keep your gutters leaf and clog free. If you buy their product, they will include gutter repairs. I find it interesting that there aren’t more gutter-repair companies in our area. This seems to be the only one. I have a feeling, when I hear the price, it will encourage me to practice my ladder skills and figure out how to repair them myself. Such is the life of the homeowner.

Whatever you do today, take a walk around your house and see what improvements you can fit in before Autumn is upon us. Only 54 more days remain until the Autumnal Equinox on September 23rd. Take care that your animals and plants have plenty of fresh, cool, water, and while you’re at it, stay hydrated yourself!

More tomorrow.

A military chaplain once created a “Worry Table” based upon the problems men and women brought him throughout his years of service. He found their worries fit into the following categories:

• Worries about things that never happened — 40%
• Worries about past, unchangeable decisions — 30%
• Worries about illness that never happened — 12 %
• Worries about adult children and friends (who were able to take care of themselves) –10%
• Worries about real problems — 8%

According to his chart, 92% of all our worries are about things we can’t control — things that are better left alone to solve themselves. The truth is , anxiety multiplies when these worries are our focus.

For people of faith, we sometimes forget He is big enough and caring enough. He can help with our problems, giving us the desires of our hearts, while keeping our loved ones from harm. God is that awesome.

Once we remember his character, we can easily see how we worry for nothing most of the time. God is more than big enough and cares more than enough to help us, bless us, and protect us. Give your worries to Him and He will replace them with His peace. That’s what faith is all about.

_{(Inspired by God’s Little Devotional Journal for Women –Honor Books– 2000.)}

Time and patience heal so many things. In 1977, I spent some time working for a veterinarian. He had an interesting way of looking at illness and pets. According to this seasoned professional, 90% of illnesses in pets will resolve themselves with little or no human intervention. Of the remaining 10%, 75% of those will improve with intervention and 25% may be too ill or injured to survive.

So many times, frantic pet owners would call deep in worry, when, with patience and time, the animal would heal on its own. It’s the 10% of “What If’s” that nail us every time, either with our pets, or our own lives. Remember, if in doubt, alleviate your worries and call the vet.

Everyone wants a quick fix through the hard times. A magical elixir that will make everything better in minutes. An easy answer to the pain caused by our grief. There are just some worries that have no immediate answer. The journey through the wilderness of widowhood is a brutal one. There is no way to cheat time when you’re struggling through. When the sunshine breaks through for a little while, put down your load and rest. Take time to breathe. With patience, it’s one foot in front of the other. With perseverance you’ll make it to the other side in time.

Whatever you do this weekend, take time to unplug and enjoy some quiet moments. Remember, you’ve suffered a great many catastrophes in life and most of them never ended up happening. Try five minutes without worry. It’ll do your heart and soul some good! Tonight, Give It To God and Go To Sleep.

Have a wonderful weekend. I’ll be back on Monday.

Living amidst the desert orchard of Winterpast, there’s been plenty of time to observe the other residents in the garden. Hummingbirds are quite happy that I’ve finally remembered to fill and hang their feeder. Brilliant yellow butterflies are resting awhile since the planting of the Butterfly bush in the spring. The birds have a lot to say about the place, singing their happy tunes. Even the wind chimes ding-a-ling-a-dong with the wind And then, there are the fruit trees.

This year, the yield has been abundant and of the highest quality. Totally organic, my apricots have no fungus or worms. Just bright, orange, offering the sweetest flavor in their firm flesh. All this beauty appearing in a few short months since the late snows of 2023.

The early apricot is quite the show-off. Coming on strong, this tree produced the largest apricots I’ve ever eaten. Like small peaches, really. An early variety, she made it through the crazy spring of snow and rain, holding tightly to her blooms. Turning them into fruit, she held onto each cot until it was all too much. In three days, she had nothing left on her branches. They all fell at once.

Just as her fruit fell, the fruit on the wise old apricot tree began to ripen. As this happened, her limbs began to sag. Her shape has been groomed over 20 years to produce a tree resembling the Hawaiian Banyan. She is now a smaller version of this magnificent banyan.

Her limbs are way too long to support much weight. As the summer days have past, I worried that she would snap a limb or two, changing her look. Having left my heart in Hawaii so many years ago, she is a little reminder of such a place waiting for my return.

The tree itself hosts so much life. She’s helped me with heavy thoughts during grief-filled days of healing . Her branches lift my eyes upward towards the brightest high desert sky. She brings birds and their happy songs to cheer me. And, she has given me beautiful fruit which holds the magic of this most beautiful season. Summer.

Her seasonal routine was a little different than her friend across the yard. Her fruit was smaller and more plentiful. Ripening at a more reasonable pace, I’ve enjoyed her fruit for two full weeks. Every day, I hope for the last apricot to fall on the paths around her. Her branches hold hundreds more and the harvest continues.

Life is very much like the seasonal journey of this tree. Love blooms in springtime splendor. During the spring snows and rains, some blooms become fruit, while others don’t make it through. All the while, the tree lives on. Through the summer, the crop ripens until the tree can hold it no longer. Released from the heavy burden, the tree enjoys the rest of the season, until fall.

Autumn leaves take their time dancing in the wind. Changing colors, they turn into things they’d only dreamed they’d one day become. October winds whisk them away to new places. The cycle is done and the tree can rest in peace until the next year, when the beautiful dance begins again.

Through it all, there are bound to be broken limbs. Disappointments. Spoiled fruit. Pests. Disease.

What kind of tree would you be if you could choose?

A fruit tree? An ever-green? A banyan on some sunny tropical beach?

This poem was given to me by my bestie, CC. It sums up the kind of tree I’d love to be.

Whatever you do today, remember, you’re the tree, not the fruit. Always know your branches are strong and capable, even in the strongest Zephyr winds the desert sends your way. You can carry your burden without breaking. The load will soon drop. Be ready. You have many more beautiful summer days to enjoy.

More tomorrow.

An old woman found herself dying of cancer. Her heartbroken husband came to sit by her bedside, deep in his own grief. Having shared a lifetime of beautiful days together, it seemed impossible that he would continue his life’s journey without her. Although he desired to be strong for her sake, he found he was unable to control his emotions and began to cry.

Focusing on the tears streaming down his face, she gently said to him, “Now honey, please don’t take on so. While I’ve been sick, I’ve had lots of time to think and know one sure thing. A moment of happiness is a miraculous gift, and we’ve shared a lot of happiness. Focus on those beautiful memories and find your smile when you do.”

Happiness doesn’t come wrapped in brightly colored packages as a gift given to us by others. Happiness comes when we uncover the gifts that lie within us and begin to use them to please and bless others. We each possess our own unique gifts. It’s our life’s work to discover what they are and put them to good use.

Happiness comes when we least expect it. It might lighten an ordinary morning while weeding the garden with a friend, or come on a common evening as dusk ushers in the night. It’s life way of smiling at us.

Happiness flows from within. It’s found in the moments of life we label as “quality” rather than “quantity”. It rises up in life’s greatest tragedies when we choose to smile at what we know to be good and lasting, rather than to cry at what temporarily hurt us. As the pain of loss changes over the years, tears morph into smiles as we share happy stories about those we love and carry close in our hearts.

Happiness also comes as we find ways to help others.

In the words of one very smart man,

“This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. Be a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can.

I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live.

I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I’ve got hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.”

― George Bernard Shaw

For heaven’s sake, don’t choose to be a feverish, selfish little cold of ailments and grievances. Be the splendid torch. Choose happiness.

The only person who can truly make you happy is yourself. You simply need to decide.

Whatever you do today, remember, the heart is the happiest when it beats for others. Choose happiness, one day at a time.

More tomorrow.

The heat is on here at Winterpast. Summer 2023 is proving to be a warm one, even after such a lovely beginning. Once it warmed up, it’s been desert hot.

Heat makes people do strange things. Listening to the news this morning, it was reported that contact burns are a problem now in Phoenix. Contact foot burns from hot pavement. MM and I were reminiscing about our respective desert childhoods in Nevada and California. When running barefoot outside, one would pick spots of shade and dash from one to the next. No problem. Our feet were like leather by the end of the summer. We suffered no burns. We were outside from dawn to dusk. Never any contact burns for us.

It might not have been the best idea to pour a greenhouse foundation on such a hot weekend, but the great thing is, it’s finished. Watching The Mayor and my MM get lumber, measure twice, cut once, assemble forms, and pour concrete over a two day period was amazing. The resulting foundation is curing at the moment. Then, assembly can begin.

There were great things discovered along the way. Water is easy accessible. This means a misting system, sink, faucets, and perhaps even some drip and emitters will be added to the plans. Pretty exciting to find the water line runs right under the new structure.

The greenhouse will be bolted to the foundation, added strength and stability. As it’s becoming a reality, the excitement is building. Just what will we grow there? How will it fit into our gardening plans? Not sure yet, but one thing is certain. We will have fun tinkering with it, making it part of the Secret Gardens of Winterpast. The more plants we add, the more its personality is taking shape.

As the men were working, I decided to start mapping the gardens, notating the location of water lines and emitters. To say this yard is complicated is an understatement. Buried drip lines snake this way and that, always seeming to appear right under the tip of the shovel. Covering 1/2 acre, there are 9 drip stations serviced by two different control boxes. It’s time I map out the property. For me and for any future residents.

As I was mapping flower beds, I found a good use for the phone app, “Picture This”.

With just the click on your phone, any plant is identified, along with requirements for growth. It will even tell you if the plant has meanings. I found that the crab apple tree in my yard signifies love, marriage, and fertility. Some plants are featured in their own poetry. If you find a plant you like, take a picture and send it to your library. Then, when shopping for new plants, you’ll know what to look for at the nursery.

I plan to map the entire yard with valuable information. It was fun remembering the names of the new rose bushes planted in 2023. “Happy Go Lucky” and her twin sister are yellow roses from WEEKS nursery. They haven’t stopped blooming for a second. The “Grand Dame” is taking her own sweet time. “Mr. Lincoln” is working on putting down roots before giving us many blooms. Some roses are taking longer than others to settle in.

Playing in the yard is one of the most rewarding things a grieving gardener can do. Making sure everyone has plenty of water and food. Placing plants in a spot with the correct amount of shade or sun. Worrying about insect and fungal attacks. In the garden, there is always something to keep the hands and mind busy. If you spend enough time and energy, the outcome is breathtaking.

Whatever you do today, consider a small place that would benefit from plants and begin. Map out a little big of heaven for yourself. You can always ask neighbors what grows well for them. Do a drive about your neighborhood and sneak a few pictures with your new phone app. You just might meet a new friend.

More tomorrow.

Small town life is found throughout our great country. People who choose to live in downtown New York City just couldn’t ever understand. Not anymore than I can understand how they can stand to live in Downtown-Big-City, Any State, USA. I almost get hives just thinking about the traffic, grumpiness, and fast pace of life in large cities.

Give me a Nevada style “Night-in-the-Country” any day of the week. Stars so bright it seems you can reach out and touch them. Nights so dark it’s hard to see your own hands, let alone anything else. Mustangs and their foals right along side the roads named after desert plants. There is nothing like small-town living.

Just this morning, with heavy wind warnings up for my area, I noticed the mustangs are down from the hills. With the heat, their water and food sources are drying up. They can always count on small-towner’s to help them out. I would imagine the battle with the horses will be intense this year.

These days, with such polarization in our country, small town people are being attacked for being good, kind, decent, honorable people who love country music. Weird. What happened to the Live-and-Let-Live, laid back feelings of the mid 1900’s? It would be lovely to return to the ways of those days and try it awhile. Yes. There were social problems back then, too. My memory just tends to drift towards the kinder parts of those times.

Last week, the Angel of the Aluminum Cloud and I enjoyed Tuesday Frolics. Such a day we enjoy when traveling to the biggest little city to the west. There’s never a lack of conversation. Sometimes spiritual. Sometimes philosophical. Sometimes, historical. Sometimes social. Always rich and interesting.

On that particular Tuesday, she arrived right on time. Springing out of her car, she announced that she had a little something for me. Opening her trunk, she produced the beautiful wall hanging and handed it to me! Absolutely the finest craftsmanship, she’d even remembered a hanging wire on the back.

The galloping mustang is a true wonder of nature to behold. I noticed a REAL lasso, a shout out to my love of Wyoming. Only the best place in the entire world, and her home for many years. A hint of barbed wire keeps things organized. Rusted barbed wire. My favorite condition of metals is rusted. Unless the metal is galvanized, which I love just as much.

I was so touched when I found out she had made this gorgeous piece just for me. She has access to a “junk” pile, although, nothing in this piece even began to resemble the junk piles I knew from the ranch. They looked more like this.

A little bit of this. A large piece of that. Scraps from projects throughout the years. All kept because, “You just never know……..” A ranch wife’s worst nightmare. The junk pile that just keeps growing and growing in hopes of a future purpose.

Anyway, Angel of the Aluminum cloud started explaining her art project. She KNEW I love the mustangs and had found the equine anchor piece, aged to perfection. The piece of lasso was, indeed, something they had from life in Wyoming. The barbed wire was added for a nod to Wyoming, as well. All mounted on fresh boards.

This was all amazing enough. But, being blonde, (even though the hair is grey, my roots will be forever blonde), I didn’t focus on the most amazing part. The street on which you’ll find Winterpast and me is named after one of the items in this art piece. Truly personal, well thought out, and heart warming!

That is small town kindness, thoughtfulness, and ingenuity. Things from the “Some Day” pile used to create something of beauty that will be appreciated for years to come. A handmade gift from one dear friend to another.

Whatever you do today, stop thoughts that might take you to a place of judgment or distaste. Just stop. Think of this instead. Live and Let Live. Unless its someone that threatens your very existence, just try tolerance. I going to take my own advice and try it too. Maybe New York City IS a wonderful place to live. I hope city dwellers everywhere have a wonderful day. As for me, I’m off to walk with the mustangs in the desert for a bit.

More tomorrow.