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The internet is such an amazing place. There are so many great things to be seen, in the midst of the crazy world. A few years ago, I stumbled upon one such amazing park. There, a young man was playing his ukulele while other children played in the background.
Past time for a haircut like the other boys. His pants rolled at the bottom because he hadn’t yet grown into them. One little boy. One little ukulele with FOUR strings. Only 4. He was playing his very own composition on this little instrument, usually sold as a toy. The first time I saw this, I knew I would never forget his name.
Feng-E
As boys do, he grew a bit and went on to compete in a televised talent show. At just ten years old, he rocked the stage. Showcasing three different songs, he’d earned a golden shower of confetti, but he wasn’t done growing.
Feng-E — Three songs — 10 year old happiness with dippy dancers and background music. The guitar in the 3rd piece is almost bigger than him
Through the years, I’ve watched him evolve as an artist. He started with a simple ukulele and quickly advanced to the amplified version. He also plays six and 12 string guitars beautifully. All while being in some sort of musical trance. Totally focused and in control of his instrument while delivering every time.
He’s been asked to duet with grey-haired professionals who marvel at his natural talent. A true child prodigy, he never missed a beat when playing with Tommy Emmanuel in the following duet.
Not really being a fan of hard rock, I enjoy listening to his softer pieces. Sometimes it seems like the camera can’t even record all his finger movements. His concentration and awareness of the old musician is amazing at such a young age.
On this Friday morning, look for something wonderful to watch on the internet. Ignore bad news about heinous crimes. Use this wonderful tool to enliven your spirit. Listen to some great music, taking time to focus on the notes and the way they are delivered. Remember, Artificial Intelligence, (AI — Remember, that’s two letters according to our AI czar), will never, ever replace human creativity and talent unless we forget to applaud talented child prodigies. Go forth and prosper, young Feng-E.
Farm girls are no strangers to harvests. Some years are heavy with disappointment, and some years are bountiful. This year, with the perfect weather, the entire region is experiencing huge fruit crops. The plums are ripening next, followed by peaches and nectarines.
I’m dealing with the second harvest of the year. The first tree dropped the entire crop in less than four days. My “Banyan apricot” is takin her sweet time, giving me a couple buckets a day. Just enough to keep my attention on using as many as I can. Truly, there is only so much one old woman can harvest alone.
Reviewing the past four seasons, there are been two harvests and two years without any crop at all. The barren years were hit with frosts and snow during bloom. The uncertainty of desert fruit makes a bumper harvest all the more precious.
The Mysterious Marine has his own harvest of garden vegetables. The potatoes are plotting, not yet revealing what’s hidden just beneath the surface. The garlic and onions are almost ready for harvest. The purple bell peppers are taking their own sweet time, while the cherry tomatoes have almost outpaced their biggest garden pest. Me.
With all this produce, it’s hard to keep ahead of recipes to use these things. Especially the apricots. I’ve used the following methods, and the tree is still loaded.
Apricot Pie – 1
Apricot Jam — 28 jars.
Canned apricots — 16 pints
Dried Apricots — 5 dehydrator trays.
Apricot Leather — to be attempted this weekend.
Apricot Galette with Cream Cheese and Pisatachios– new recipe for tomorrow night
Apricot Jam over Turkey Roast — Winner-Winner Turkey Dinner
I’m losing the fight. Last night, I raked up and disposed of pounds of fallen apricots, full of ants and bugs. I’ll battle on today.
Offering the excess fruit for the picking, I’ve called the Mormon church. Neighbors. Church Sisters. Finally, Ninja Neighbor and her friend, Grasshopper, came over last night to take a few off my hands. I met young Grasshopper almost two years ago at a neighborhood garage sale. To say he is impressive doesn’t even cover it.
“I can help you with whatever chores you have!” he said last night, beaming through clear eyes and a wide smile. I’m not sure of his age, but his heart is so pure.
“Are you saving up for something special?”
“Yes. I want to buy a dress for my mom.”
Okie-Dokie, then, I need to find some jobs for this guy. He’s the real deal. Ninja Neighbor keeps him pretty busy. Just yesterday, he helped her thin her apple tree (Hmmmmm. My apple tree is as loaded as the apricot tree.) He sliced apricots for her dehydrator. He tends her garden. Yes. I need to think on this and become a client. Quickly. He’ll soon be booked up!
As Ninja Neighbor, Grasshopper, and I picked apricots, I thought about the blessing of great neighbors. People of faith. Solid neighbors that are there, day or night. Fence neighbors that always have time to visit. Neighbors who will come to get some fruit during a bountiful year. Ride or die, neighbors.
We decided that a September block party is something we all need to welcome the new neighbors to our hood. There are many moving in. A BBQ will be a great way to meet the new folks. Ninja Neighbor, young Grasshopper, and I are going to think of this and make it happen. Welcome Home, 2023!
In this face paced world, it’s easy to hit the garage door button, drive in, and hit it again. Keep the curtains shut tight and live in your own little world. At times, the life of the hermit is necessary. But, there’s so much life missed by staying behind the front door. Get out for a walk and see what’s going on just down the street and around the corner.
Here’s the challenge. In the next week, meet one neighbor with whom you haven’t spoken. Just one. Even if it’s just a “Hello” and quick compliment about their yard. Make one contact. You just might meet a young man who needs work because he’s buying his mom a new dress.
Fieldtrips are always fun, even for adults. Yesterday was the perfect time to beat the heat and head 30 miles to the west to see something wonderful. Art museums are a great place to get lost in thoughts. Even though there were small displays in a very large building, Angel of the Aluminum Cloud and I walked away with lots to think about.
The clever sculpture of the mustang in the picture above was made of desert wood found in the surrounding hills where they live. Thinking about the fight that continues about the future of the mustangs, it seemed fitting the image was made of something quite dead. Although the statue had form, you could see through it to the other side. Almost like they were vanishing, which they are. Their days on the plains of Northwestern Nevada are limited. Horses and high density housing don’t mix. Sadly, the horses will lose every time.
“Someday When We’re Dreaming” — Fabric Art Display by Rachel Hayes -Nevada Museum of Art
Entering the museum, these colorful quilts, made of light and transparent strips of cloth, took the eye upward through the four floors of the museum. This was, itself, an art exhibit by a very talented seamstress. A perfect exhibit for summer days on the high desert plains. The exhibit gave life to an otherwise cold and sterile environment.
We had chosen this field trip after I recently learned of a fascinating combat troop of World War II. Known as the US Army’s 23rd Headquarters Special Troops, or Ghost Army, they used deception to fool Adolf Hitler’s forces.
According to Museum information:
“Ghost Army: The Combat Con Artists of World War II relates the unique story of more than 1,100 men who deceived, sketched, and painted across Europe to manipulate Hitler’s armies during World War II.
Activated on January 20, 1944, the 23rd Headquarters Special Troops, known as the “Ghost Army,” was the first mobile, multimedia, tactical deception unit in US Army history. Consisting of an authorized strength of 82 officers and 1,023 men under the command of Army veteran Colonel Harry L. Reeder, this unique and top-secret unit was capable of simulating two whole divisions—approximately 30,000 men—and used visual, sonic, and radio deception to fool German forces during World War II’s final year.
The unit consisted of a carefully selected group of artists, engineers, professional soldiers, and draftees, including famed artists such as fashion designer Bill Blass, painter Ellsworth Kelly, and photographer Art Kane. The unit waged war with inflatable tanks and vehicles, fake radio traffic, sound effects, and even phony generals, using imagination and illusion to trick the enemy while saving thousands of lives along the way. Armed with nothing heavier than .50 caliber machine guns, the 23rd took part in 22 large-scale deceptions in Europe from Normandy to the Rhine River, the bulk of the unit arriving in England in May 1944, shortly before D-Day. The 23rd, along with the 3133rd Signal Service Company in Italy, helped liberate Europe from the grip of Nazi tyranny.
Produced by the National World War II Museum in New Orleans, this exhibition brings together archival photography, historical artifacts, uniforms, sketches, and life-sized recreations of inflatable military equipment used during combat.”
This mission was kept Top Secret for decades just in case it was ever needed again.
A passerby saw these men lifting a tank — “How could this be?” Reply? “Those Americans are quite strong.”
When I first read about this, it brought a huge smile to my face. Consider this. Bill Blass starting his career designing high fashion while sitting in fox holes fooling the Germans! The life size planes, tanks, and artillery were made of rubber. Only one full size tank made it out and is on display in at the World War II Museum in New Orleans. Everything else was burned when the missions were completed.
This group of a very few soldiers fooled the enemy with sounds recorded on wire. Regular recording tape hadn’t been invented yet. In a lab, different sounds were combined to make tracks of river crossings, tank movements, vehicle caravans, and soldiers moving along on their way. They were blasted throughout the night, giving the other side something to think about. Yikes. 30,000 Americans were moving in. It worked time and time again.
There are several great documentaries on this wonderful group. Search “The History Channel” and you can find out more.
Of course, as is the case in any museum, some rooms held me for longer than others. The original watercolors and pencil drawings of the Ghost Army Soldiers were so raw, you could almost hear bombs exploding in the background. Other’s, like the minimalist work of Ellsworth Kelly just made me shake my head, wishing I’d thought of it first.
Ellsworth KellyEllsworth Kelly — He lived to the ripe old age of 92.
These brave artists, although never in direct combat, saved thousands of American lives with their talents. The art they left behind remains a silent testament to wartime. Lovely in the saddest of ways.
I’ll remain our day for a long time to come. Museums provides personal experiences for each visitor. Artificial Intelligence will never be able to replace a museum experience. The actual uniforms adorned with medals behind the protection of glass cases are REAL. REAL wins every single time. I hope future generations protect our precious artifacts of times long ago.
Whatever you do today, think about visiting a museum in your area. See if there are new exhibits that might be of interest. Plan to stay awhile. Do lunch. Take a friend. If you’re lucky, your adventure might let you visit another time and place long ago. Priceless.
That magical summer was stored on a shelf. Spring rains, zephyr winds, and the clickety-clack of random mustangs passing by. Back porch evenings enjoying the quiet. The soft touch of a shoulder’s brushing while watching TV. A frosty bowl of Vanilla Bean Ice Cream. A sweet goodnight kiss.
Richness beyond five pounds of sugar are preserved in those jars. Happy summer molecules hold memories of new roses and strolls through gardens. Their time is marked forever. The date memorialized in Sharpie on “BALL” gold. A luxury that can’t be bought.
Winter dinner guests will note the rich hue, similar to the orangish red of July’s dusky sunset sky. Resembling the intensity of a summer’s child resisting sleep.
The tongues of that December’s dinner-party will be enlivened by summer’s harvest, glowing like fireflies in a jar. The hues of that lovely summer are now saved for winter’s cold, by an old lady, canning in the kitchen. Summer’s magic, settled on a shelf. Joy’s Apricot Jam 2023.
jhurt2023
Now, let’s get down to the truth about canning. It isn’t fun. It isn’t romantic. It’s hot, sticky, and a total mess. There you have it. My real feelings on canning.
Yesterday was a busy day. Before the sun was up, it was time to pick two buckets of apricots. Now, that doesn’t seem like a lot. In reality, these weren’t five-gallon buckets. Just buckets my Grandmother would have loved. She was always looking for a new bucket because my Grandfather would swipe the one she’d just bought. During the Mid Century 1900’s, buying a bucket was a big thing. Not a bucket from Japan, either. Made in America. And make it a nice. Grammie always had to have a NICE bucket.
Well, Grammie, I get that now. I have my favorites. These were now full of apricots and old instincts kicked in. Pit and cut the fruit. Boil the jars, lids, and rings. Measure the sugar and lemon juice. For six, tiny jars of jam. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat……………
Yesterday, I canned 28 jars of jam. The day before, 11.
Fruit left on the tree?
That’s only one spot in a huge limb.
My tree a mature, 20 year old apricot tree. It’s as loaded as I’ve ever seen. Rich, beautiful fruit that hasn’t been sprayed or touched in any way, except by the hand of God. A bountiful crop.
Now, what to do with this glorious fruit.
I’ve asked at church for takers. Crickets.
I’ve made one pie. 1/2 is still on the counter.
I’ve run out of jars and plan to buy more today to can halved-apricots for winter.
I’ll try my hand at drying some. Perhaps some Fruit leather?
If we enter another depression, I’m sure the products can be used for bartering.
One thing is for certain, by Sunday the apricot harvest will be over.
Make hay while the sun shines. Keep Calm and Can On.
Today, The Angle of the Aluminum Cloud and I are going West to enjoy some time together in the biggest little city we know. She’s the only REAL, TRUE, and HONEST fighter jet mechanic I know (Aluminum Cloud — fighter jet). A girl’s day to get caught up and compare notes on our apricot harvests.
Whatever you do, if asked if you need some fruits or vegetables, be kind and say, “YES!” with gusto. Take a few minutes and listen to my favorite story about excess produce. The end is priceless.
There is no Lake Wobegon, so Garrison Keillor has created one for us. Enjoy!
What a weekend!! Saturday, my MM and I have lived through the hottest temps of the year, so far. We’d both been watching the news about predicted weekend temperatures. For once the meteorologists guessed too low. The highest temperature since last Friday has been 112. We were expected 106-107. At any rate, it is very, very hot. (But it’s a DRY heat. LOL)
A few weeks ago, we visited a garden center new to us. Ninja Neighbor had raved about the owners, and, yes indeed-ee, she was correct. This crew loves their product and their customers.
That weekend, they were having a “Buy-Three-Get-One-Free” rose sale. If you’re into roses, you know that’s a great sale. I never thought I’d spend so much for one rose bush, let alone, buy three to get a fourth free. “WEEKS ROSES”. Ask your nursery to carry that brand. They are hardy, transplantable, and beautiful. Besides. They have cute names. Who wouldn’t love a rose bush named “Happy Go Lucky”. Winterpast is now home to two of those yellow hybrid tea rose bushes.
As MM and I chatted away at the register, my attention was drawn to a small sign.
“Garden Tour — July 15th — $25/per person —
Well, never had I ever. Neither had MM. We were guests #4 and #5. The associate at the register told us to return the morning of the 15th to get a map. There’d be prizes and refreshments at each home.
Saturday, we were early to the nursery to grab our map and off we went. Navigating through MM’s phone because my navigation system is persnickety, we visited six very different homes and gardens. My, oh my, oh my.
Using MM’s app, “Picture This”, (plant identification app — if you garden it’s a must), we saved many plants to his library for later purchase. We got ideas for raised beds. One gardener had planted a log that was adorable. There was one home that had seven bee hives, something we want to develop here at Winterpast. There were miniature donkeys and chickens along the way. At each home, snacks and ice cold lemonade were served. The gardeners were so kind and helpful, we hardly noticed the heat at all.
Of course, there were two mansions on the tour. Lovely in every way. One was river front, while the other was built in the middle of lush alfalfa fields because the owner just loved the color purple. Her husband obliged.
Stop #4 was a working, organic flower farm run by a woman and her daughter. Rows of straw flowers in yellow, white, and purple were ready to pick. We did step into a greenhouse to check out the summer temperature inside. With the ventilation she’s provided, it was pleasant.
The last stop was a visit with an 80 year old gentleman farmer, showcasing his mature yard of 30 years, complete with a beautiful waterfall and stream. Funny. One stop was nurturing the bees. At his house, the chemical of choice was the broad spectrum “Seven”, which kills over 500 insects, including bees. The tour had something for everyone, from the organic gardener to those that would prefer a sterile garden environment.
Chuck’s Yard — Magnificent Waterfall!!!!!
Happily, we returned to the garden center, as we had been told there’d be a surprise.
Homemade lunch was served riverside, on the lawn under the shade of trees by the owner of the nursery. Tomato Pie and fresh fruit with a Lemon Cloud topping. What a perfect ending to a perfect morning. If you haven’t tried Tomato Pie, try the recipe below.
2 cups (8 ounces/225 g) grated cheese (combination of sharp cheddar and Monterey Jack, or Gruyere or Mozzarella)
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon Frank’s Hot Sauce or Tabasco, or to taste
Freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).Place the oven rack in the center of the oven.
Pre-bake the crust. If you are using a store-bought pie shell, follow the directions.
Salt and drain the sliced tomatoes, while pre-baking the crust.
Layer pre-baked pie shell with onions, tomatoes, basil. Spread the chopped onion over the bottom of your pre-baked pie crust shell. Squeeze as much moisture as you can out of the sliced tomatoes, using paper towels. Spread the drained sliced tomatoes over the onions. Sprinkle the sliced basil over the tomatoes.
Make cheese mixture, spread over tomatoes. In a medium bowl, mix together the grated cheese, mayonnaise, Tabasco, a sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper. Spread the cheese mixture over the tomatoes.
Place in the oven and bake at 350°F (175°C) until browned and bubbly, 25 to 45 minutes.
We were surprised with two $25 gift certificates, which were used to buy two more plants. All in all, the morning couldn’t have been better.
Candy Apple Hydrangea — Hydrangea paniculata
Never would I have believed this would survive in the desert until I saw one thriving in full sun. This plant is hardier than it looks.
Crocosmia ‘Diabilito — MM and I both had to take a second look at this plant. Had to have it.
With the temperatures hovering at 112 by late afternoon, the two plants will be living in kitchen until things cool off a bit. Funny. I’d love nothing more than turn my home into a jungle. MM’s house is already jungle-like. We share the love of gardening, which is lovely all on its own.
Today, Oliver and I are off on a western trek across the desert to the “Mop Shop”, where he’ll be getting his summer hair cut. Then, it’ll be back to Winterpast to deal with the 2023 Apricot crop.
Whatever you do today, research fun little events near your town. Farmer’s Markets? Garden Centers? Senior Center tours? When you start looking for fun, you’ll find every little town has something. Sometimes, its something grand, just waiting for you.
A writer’s best friend is often coffee. Writing in the dark of early morning, it’s surely mine. As darkness turns to shadows and then full sun, I sit clickity-clacking away while Oliver sleeps on his bed. He knows. We got to work every summer morning at 4:30 AM. There’s time for rest later in the day when the temperatures soar past the century mark.
Coffee is such a strange drink. I started drinking it my Freshman year in college. Over the last 50 years, there have been times when I’ve consumed a pot a day, and other times when I’ve gone a year without any. At present, the pot starts boiling each morning while I’m still half asleep.
There is a story about a young widow that I’d like to share on this beautiful Friday morning. It’s good to take a look at how we handle adversity, whether it’s something minor, or a biggee such as widow-hood. Think about it.
The Story of the Carrot, the Egg and the Coffee Bean
A young widow went to her mother to explain about the struggles of her new life as a widow. She didn’t know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired struggling each day. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots.
In the second she placed two eggs.
In the last, she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. Next, she pulled the eggs out and placed them on a plate. Finally, she filled two cups with the steaming java. Returning to the kitchen table, she placed the three things in front of her daughter.
“Tell me what you see,” were her words to the troubled young woman.
“Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” the daughter replied, punctuated with a significant eye-roll. With a knowing smile, she then asked her daughter to examine and describe the carrots. She did so, noting they were soft and mushy.
The mom then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it, pull off the shell, and share her observations about the hard-boiled egg. She did, telling her mom although the egg looked the same on the outside, the inside was now fully hardened.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter relaxed and released a smile as she tasted its rich aroma. They sat together for awhile, two women looking out upon the garden while enjoying the morning joe.
“So what’s your point, Mom?” The young widow had relaxed a bit, wanting to get to the bottom of this strange experiment. She needed her mother’s wisdom at this time in her life. Her mom didn’t disappoint.
Each object faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. If boiled long enough, it would’ve become mush.
The egg had started out as something fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected the liquid interior. After sitting in the boiling water for a time, its inside became hardened.
But those coffee beans found a unique way around the situation. Before they were boiled, they were hard and bitter. Not many people munch on a cup of coffee beans in the morning. After boiling, it was the beans that had changed the water.
“Which are you?” she asked her daughter. “Adversity knocked on your door and came right in. How are you going to respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean? You’re smart. You’re strong. You’re beautiful. Even though life is hard right now, it’s also as beautiful as the garden outside this window. Be brave. Be bold. Be yourself. But, always strive to be the coffee.”
I got to thinking about this analogy that the mother used and I had to ask myself.
Am I like the carrot that starts strong, but with adversity, wilts to a soft and mushy pulp?
Am I like the egg that starts with a malleable heart that hardens with the heat? When faced with a difficult trial – do I become hard boiled? Does my outer shell look the same, while on the inside a hard bitterness has taken control??
Or am I like the coffee bean, actually changing the hot water, the very circumstance that brought the pain in the first place. With hot water, the bean gives the best of itself to create something totally wonderful while simmering in boiling water.
When the hour is darkest and trials are at their greatest, how to handle adversity?
Be the coffee. Try your best to be the coffee.
On this beautiful Friday leading up to a fantastic weekend, remember to be the Coffee. May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy. The happiest of people don’t necessarily have the best of everything—they just make the best of everything that comes along their way. Be the coffee and carry on.
During the last week, I’ve been trying to deploy all the tips I spend time writing about. Grievinggardener.com went down last Friday. I’d been working on some writing, saved it, and decided to log on to the site like a normal reader. I just wanted to see what y’all see. To my horror, y’all were seeing nothing at all. All 780+ posts were missing. Only the titles appeared.
Blogging since September 24, 2020, I thought of all the words that were gone forever. I’ve always intended to print a hard copy of my work. Then, I’ve had the false sense of security that the days of printed work are long past. My words are safe in “the cloud”. For a time, there was no access at all.
I also enjoy seeing how many people read each day. Which blogs are the most popular? How many readers have I had since I started? (677,896). In which countries do my readers live? (Over 80, at this point.) Everything was zero-ed out.
For days, I enjoyed international travel time to Indian, Pakistan, and Malaysia. Taiwan and the Philippines. Who knows, maybe Beijing. Through the many countries to which I traveled by phone, no one could seem to identify that there was any problem.
“No, Miss Joy, all is fine. All working. No problem. Ask your technical advisor. They be back on Monday.”
Well, that didn’t work out too well, as I am my own technical trouble shooter. Probably how the problem started in the first place. It took many calls, and then, “POOF”, like magic, things started working again on Tuesday night.
With no blog on Monday and Tuesday, the alarm was sounded. If I were having a medical emergency, I know of four wonderful friends that would each send a posse of help. Please, never stop checking! Living alone is a precarious place to be. I so remember lying on the living room carpet just days before Christmas 2020. I’d managed to trip over Oliver’s dog bed, spraining my ankle in the process. With my “Help I Can’t Get Up” necklace hanging on my lamp in the bedroom, I was stuck for a bit and left to ponder my next move.
Miss Firecracker, The Goddess of the Central Coast, CC, and Angel of the Aluminum Cloud all checked in to make sure I wasn’t buried under the apricot crop. Please, never stop checking. Long days of heat and fruit picking ladders can be a bad combination.
Living alone can be a lonely existence. Those of us who do, know.
Don’t forget to keep hope alive.
H.O.P.E.
HOLD.
ON.
PAIN.
ENDS.
Accepting life “As It Is” has become the norm here at Winterpast. The “As It Is” part is includes excitement, fun, and love of friends and family. For this moment in time, I’m the most blessed woman in the world. I live on a street with real neighbors who sit in the front yard when they want to visit. Oliver has turned the corner into a real good dog. My Mysterious Marine is convincing me that I CAN cook some pretty good meals. God lives in my soul, making sure I’m safe and healthy. It just doesn’t get better than this very moment.
Hope and acceptance involve hard work. It’s difficult when you just want to pull the covers over your head and hide. It’s an uncomfortable, out-of-your-comfort-zone, in-your-face challenge that starts the very day you become the one that still has to move forward alone. The one who still has a Forever.
Whatever you do today, try something just a little different. Cook a new recipe. Even a new radio station can give you a different perspective. Focus on the positive. Forget the negative. Life is a beautiful journey. Don’t waste it.
The desert is a wonderful example of life not being as it first seems. To the traveler, it is a barren and forlorn place of loneliness void of meaningful life. If circumstances had been different, I never would’ve had the chance to understand the magnificence of this amazing place. Unforgiving, for sure, but also full of life and hope even on the hottest summer days.
Summer 2023 has been mild in comparison to the three others I’ve survived. The very minute the sun slips behind western mountains, breezes cool things down a bit. Before the next sunrise, the temperature drops to more comfortable level. Until now, some nights have almost been sweater weather.
I’ve found widowhood and loneliness to be a lot like the desert. At the worst of times, grief is as unrelenting as the midday sun. Just like the desert, relief is hard to find unless you learn how to survive. Even the hottest of days holds a sunset, when one can take a deep breath of relief. So is the journey through the wilderness of widowhood. Ups and downs. Good and Bad. Turmoil and Peace.
One year ago, sitting at my kitchen table, I’d just finished my morning Bible study. Loneliness had me by the throat as I sobbed. Where in the world I’d meet some new friends? Covid quarantine was over. I was a widow of over two years in a town that I still didn’t know very well. I had neighbors who were in different stages of life than I was. Many were shut-ins confined to the privacy of their own homes. Bird songs amid the gardens can only amuse one for so long. Through my tears, I prayed that God would provide new friends.
My day held earthly plans full of errands and chores. Through a very strange route, Jesus had other ideas. HE took the wheel of my Jeep and drove me straight to an answer.
The gardens of Winterpast, my lifeline, adding a few new plants would certainly make me feel a little better. On the way to the garden center, I remembered a little church just across the tracks across from Main Street. What if they had something to offer? I decided to follow the persistent little lightbulb going off in my head and stop by.
After parking and following the signs to the office, I entered. There, 14 women sat around a table, welcoming me with their smiles.
“Why, Hello! You’re just in time! Have some fresh pie! Here’s our study materials. What’s your name? Tell us your story.”
The time? 9:58 AM.
The starting time for the weekly Bible study group? 10:00 AM. God gave me two extra minutes to settle in.
Sitting in front of each lady was a sheet of paper holding one definition in very large font.
Friend \frend\ noun
Someone who gives you freedom to be yourself;
One of the nicest things you can have;
The best thing you can be.
Miracles often appear when we’re too sad to recognize them for what they are. That day unfolded into the miracle I needed at that very moment in time. Friendships formed then and continue to this day.
If you’re trying to kick the loneliness of widowhood, the only thing you can do is put one foot in front of the other. “Fake it until you make it”, as VST used to say. Get out and nose around a bit.
Whatever you do today, do something positive in the present moment, putting aside the negatives of yesterday and the worries of tomorrow. Life is a beautiful, wonderful journey. You Gotta BE! Sing it!! You Gotta Be!!
The heat. Oh, the drama surrounding the heat. How will we ever bear it? Yesterday, TV’s weather-children were wringing their little hands as they told of the hottest day ever recorded on the planet. Now, how they figure out the planet temperature is a puzzlement to me. Only interested in the temperature of my little desert town, yesterday it managed to top out at 93.
Last year, the high was 93. It’s summer and the mercury rises. Of course, I’m a product of the Central Valley of California where the temperatures can be above 100 from May until November. At that time, the tule fog rolls in bringing misery all its own.
93 in the desert is nothing to complain about, especially when waking up to a beautiful 71. It’s important not to forget to hydrate and use sunscreen. Then, there’s nothing to do but wait until Friday, 22nd September 2023 at 11:51pm when we get to enjoy another autumn. At this writing, that’s only 77 days, 18 hours, and 37 minutes away.
With the afternoons a little warm to enjoy the gardens of Winterpast, I decided the closet had grown into a project. How does this happen? Repeatedly. It’s time to purge. A few short months later, it’s in a bigger disarray. Mine is a walk-in-closet for one. This would have been a problem had the two people that bought Winterpast actually lived to move in together. Sadly, it was just me and this closet has major issues.
Sorting through my shoes, I had to laugh. Black Suede heels of varying heights for those unexpected dinner dates. (Black Suede and desert dust are not the best combo.) Sketcher “Da-Lites” for gardening. Sketcher’s “Go-Walks” for little hikes. Leather sandals. Sensible flats. Winter snow boots. Summer flip-flops. I really don’t like buying shoes, but when the size you need is 10.5 Narrow, you buy when you find something that fits, usually black or brown to go with everything.
Well, I was putting shoes back in their boxes when I came across a brand new box. Nestled inside lay brown suede hiking boots. A forgotten purchase, still sporting tags. Smiling, I remembered the reason they wait.
The Spanish Pilgrimage of Camino de SantiagoSantiago de Compostela — Spain
Santiago de Compostela. The cathedral sitting at the end of a very long walk.
To have bragging rights to this trail, one must walk at least 70 miles of it. People take this walk for all sorts of personal reasons. They carry those reasons in their hearts as they walk through the Spanish countryside. Pilgrims have been taking this walk for more than a thousand years.
Two dear friends hiked it over 10 days, during which they found food and lodging along the way. Planning with a tour company, they didn’t carry anything but a small pack for water and snacks. Their luggage was waiting for them each day at the next stop.
This is quite high on my personal bucket list. Something I want to prove to myself. Something I want to DO in memory of VST. Of all the places we traveled over 32 years, we never made it to Europe. I’ll easily carry his memory in my heart as I put one boot in front of the other until I stand in front of this magnificent cathedral in Spain at the end of the journey.
If I’ve got you thinking, you can research this very pilgrimage on line. There are plenty of great documentaries about the journey. Travel companies that can help you plan to the last detail. According to my friends, the first day was the worst. 13 miles on Day One. After that? A piece of cake. They took 10 days. It could take as long as 20.
Of course, a seasoned old bird shouldn’t undergo this alone. MM is interested in joining me while carrying his own angel passenger. Although both VST and MM’s passenger are on the other side of heaven, they’ll come along. It’s for them, we’re planning to walk. Well, their memory and to honor the last days of my 6th decade in the summer of 2025. Now you understand the hiking boot situation going on in my closet.
The very first thing to remember is that you need to wear comfortable shoes. You may need a couple pair to make the complete journey. Pretty sure one pair of Merrill hiking boots will do 70 miles. The first mile of preparation began yesterday, as I strolled around my neighborhood sporting very stiff hiking boots. Quite different from the squishy Sketchers I’m used to.
I don’t know what I’ll learn about myself along the Camino. Not sure what kind of amazing miracles will be experienced. What kind of new foods we’ll eat along the way. How the stars shining in the Spanish night sky will watch over us as we sleep in cot filled hostiles full of other pilgrims. I just know I need to get in shape, because each day is one closer to our journey.
Hiking boots are a good thing to own. Even better when they get broken in. There are so many places to hike in our own back yard, here in Northwestern Nevada. Finding these boots hidden in my own closet made me remember that 67.5 years is not elderly. It’s just getting tuned up for adventure.
Whatever you do, remember this quote. As a retired teacher, it’s one I’ve never forgotten and remembered quite often. As for me, I’m off for my second day of training. I have a 70 mile trail to walk. Need to be ready.
Oh, I have days I lose the fight Try my best but just don’t get it right Where I talk a talk that I don’t walk And miss the moments right before my eyes
Somebody with a hurt that I could have helped Somebody with a hand that I could have held When I just can’t see past myself Lord, help me be
A little more like mercy, A little more like grace A little more like kindness, goodness, love, and faith A little more like patience, a little more like peace A little more like Jesus, a little less like me
Yeah, there’s no denying I have changed ‘Cause I’ve been saved from who I used to be But even at my best, I must confess I still need help to see the way You see
Somebody alone and lonely just needing a loyal friend Somebody with a tear I could have dried When I just can’t see others in need Lord, help me be
A little more like mercy, a little more like grace A little more like kindness, goodness, love, and faith A little more like patience, a little more like peace A little more like Jesus, a little less like me
Oh, I wanna feed the beggar on the street Learn to be Your hands and feet Freely give what I receive Lord, help me be I wanna put You first above all else Love my neighbor as myself In the moments no one sees Lord, help me be
A little more like mercy, a little more like grace A little more like kindness, goodness, love, and faith A little more like patience, a little more like peace A little more like Jesus, oh, a little less like me A little more of living everything I preach A little more like Jesus, a little less like me Oh, a little less like me
Written by Zach Williams – with a few changes by me
Such beautiful words we sang in church last Sunday. Usually listening to Acoustic Chill Radio on Alexa, I hadn’t heard this song before. In my state of unusually happy days, the words grounded me. There is so much suffering in this world. Horrible, awful situations that are seasoned with evil and baked in struggles. As much as Winterpast provides one, I can’t live in a bubble and not use the gifts God has blessed me with for good.
A year ago, I started donating to three organizations. I’ll leave them nameless, because there are hundreds from which to choose. Their monthly amounts were so small, I haven’t missed them at all. But, my money with the money of thousands of others is building houses for war widows or helping parents with their sick kids. It’s helping Veteran’s get their lives back together.
Growing into the woman I was meant to be, I’ve been thinking about the next thing I have in abundance. Time. When retired, we have lots to share. Volunteers make the world a better place. I’m just figuring out where I might do the most good. Because that’s what it’s all about. Choosing the good and helping to create it.
Along with —
Mercy.
Grace.
Kindness.
Goodness.
Love.
Faith.
Patience.
Peace.
Trying to live everything I preach.
Whatever you do today, think of those words and what part they play in your life. As widow’s and widower’s, we need every one of them. They are gifts we need to give ourselves first, as we grieve the loss of our loved ones. With healing, you may find your heart has a little extra to spread around.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.” Galatians 5: 22-23KJV
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