Grieving Gardener

I found this piece quite by accident, never having known a thing about Karl Jenkins. I found out in a cruel way, not unlike the bullying that goes on with children across our country and the world.

Okay. I’ll fess up. I’m a royal junky. My favorite royals to watch are William and Kate’s children. Not having access to littles in my family anymore, it’s always fun to watch these three children. Hard to believe that they will grow up to be real Princes and a true Princess. Someday, one will be king. But, for now, they are cute kiddos.

Saturday, MM and I watched with the world as Charles became the king he waited his entire life to become. I couldn’t help think of lovely Diana and the Queen she would have been. The present “Queen”, as she has now become, has quite the past to overcome. I hope their love story is as real as the tabloids would like us to believe. It didn’t have the best start.

Harry reminded us all that even when royal, a family is a family. He breezed in for the main ceremony and then rushed back across the pond to his own life. How awkward for him, even though, the worst of it came from his own poisonous pen. My mother always said, “Be careful of the words you write. They may come back to haunt you.” But then, Harry doesn’t have his mom to argue reason. Just an entitled American actress wife that never fit in.

Yes. Grief made itself known in the absense of Charles mom, Queen Elizabeth,and his Dad, Prince Phillip. Without her death, the entire process couldn’t continue. And so life goes on.

At one point, Charles was clutching his little golden orb, almost like a child with a new ball. I read about the orb. Commissioned in the 1660s for King Charles II, the Sovereign’s Orb is presented during the coronation ceremony to, according to the Tower of London, remind the monarch “their power is derived from God.” Who knows how much that orb is worth, but he was clutching it with both hands. Fitting that it’s hollow inside. Probably a lot like the life of a King-In-Waiting. Hollow.

Through all the hype about Katy Perry not being able to find her seat, to the Who’s Who on the party list, there was one little lost story. There was a gentleman at the coronation who looked a bit out of place. His hair wasn’t combed just right. His mustache hadn’t been trimmed in awhile. Ahhh, the worlds of Twitter and Social Media were ablaze. Just who was this imposter in disguise???? It became a thing.

This poor guy was just sitting in his seat, an invited guest like everyone else. Thanks to plenty of cameras producing video and still shots, a on-line guessing game began. Was it Elvis, come back from the dead? Who was this man in a disguise?

Sometimes the world is just too cruel. This man, who was a distinguished and invited guest was no other than the Welch composer of the beautiful song, Benedictus. Karl Jenkins. I’d never heard of his music, so immediately found the song, listened, and was in awe. Such a brilliant composer was treated so badly by those around the world that want to judge and ridicule someone that rocked a look all his own. They should all send their apologies to such a man.

And, by the way, he was wearing a medal of some sort. Must make him a pretty important guy. He rocks his locks.

In my lifetime, there’s a good chance that I’ll never see another coronation. It seems longevity is a family trait of the royals. I would imagine that today, things will start to return to normal. The kids will go back to school. Everyone will send their finery to the museum for safe keeping. The jewels and that orb will again be safely under lock and key. Life will return to whatever it looks like in their family.

It’s important that we all remember one thing. We come into the world and leave it in the same way, each of us. No matter that we might hold the “Golden Orb” for a few seconds of our lives, it’s a sure thing those moments are fleeting. We would all be wise to hold onto to things that are solid, not just studded with precious jewels while actually being hollow and empty inside.

Whatever you do today, enjoy your privacy. Enjoy the fact that you aren’t someone glittering for a moment while being splashed across social media. Rock your own unique look. Above everything else, remember to be kind. It’s the only way to fly.

More tomorrow.

This Grieving Gardener must admit that although the days pass, the healing process continues. It’s hard to believe that it’s been over three years since VST left us. Over 1,000 days, I’ve gotten up out of bed and handled business of one kind or another. Life truly does go on for each of us, with a grief that is as unique as our love.

During the first months as a widow, my intention was to write a book about personal experiences as a new widow. This blog was meant to be a warm up while helping me through the first year. Three years later, the blog continues while I consider the possibilities of becoming a REAL writer.

Last year, I decided it was quite an arrogant notion that I’d have anything of value to say about being a widow. Grief is so very personal. How brazen of me to think my situation was unique or in some way more unusual than that of any other spouse. Was there any benefit to sharing my experience with others?

Lately, I’m rethinking that one. Once in a blue moon, someone will approach me and tell me that a certain blog really touched them, helping them get through a hard spot. For me, that’s worth more than anything that could come from being a REAL writer. In fact, that confirms that I am a REAL writer with stories to share, whether they be about my life or my very real grief.

Reading about grief has helped me through sad times. After losing my first few students at the Children’s Hospital in which I worked from 2010 – 1015, I found a very helpful service. Through Chapelofthelight.com, I clicked on Daily Email Affirmations. After signing up, a daily email will arrive to comfort and help you through one year of grief. In my case, I’ve been signed up since 2011, still enjoying the daily emails which help me through each day.

With grief, it’s important that we find people with whom we can share memories. Through those memories, we honor our loved ones. While sharing memories, we are there for each other in a way some might not understand. Listening to the memories of someone experiencing grief is a true act of patience, kindness, respect, and love. Just the act of simply listening.

Don’t forget to celebrate the happy anniversaries as well as the sad ones. During the first year of widowhood, a vivid memory of the daily activities made 365 days before would appear. Because VST died so suddenly, 43 weeks were happy ones full of RVing and traveling the country. It was only the last nine weeks that were pretty tough to remember clearly. Those weeks in which we battled liver cancer and lost.

Find local resources that can help. For a time, grief support groups were on hold due to the pandemic. Now that life is returning to normal for us all, I’d like to unpack some sadness that was put away during such a rough time in life. There is nothing worse than losing a loved one.

This morning, while studying Psalm 49, I was reminded that a shroud has no pockets. When we leave this earth, we will take nothing with us. No greenhouse. No new car. No beautiful home with an exotic name. Nothing. We’ll just go. Until then, it’s important that we take care of our soul, grieving when we need to, while letting those that love us help us along the way. It’s the relationships that will help us heal.

As written in Grief Connections Daily Affirmation day #184, “Although countless people have experienced grief before you, each person’s response to grief is different. Your path of grief may be uniquely your own, but you owe it to those around you to share your experiences. See yourself as an educator, a teacher; a guide.” I would add, a friend.

So, whatever you do today, don’t remain shut in and closed off. Open up and share a great story about the person you miss so much. You are the only one who can tell the story and get it right! Enjoy the memories. We are truly blessed to have loved so deeply.

More tomorrow.

Today I’m not doing much of anything.

I’m going to work outside in the beautiful spring breezes and clear my head.

Whatever you do over the next few days, remember that sometimes the hardest thing to do is nothing at all. Relaxation is an art form. Being lazy takes practice. It’s good for what ails us all. So, have at it. Relax.

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

Sometimes dreams do come true. I’ve longed for a greenhouse of my own for a very long time. With the help of one very Mysterious and Marvelous Marine, the reality will begin sometime tomorrow, when one greenhouse arrives on my doorstep. It’s hard to envision the dimensions. In my mind, it will go on for days with sections for every kind of plant I want to grow. In reality, space will be tight. Especially when the benches are installed.

When you live in a severe climate, the garden growing season isn’t always long enough. Thinking back to days in California, how I took those warm February days for granted. With the help of hot caps over the tiniest tomato plants, the veggies would take off. The first frosts of the year might not come until December and crops grew all year.

But, I’m in the unpredictable desert now. As I write, the outside temperature is 37 F and rain is pouring down. Shoot, a little dip in the temps and we’ll have more snow. This doesn’t make for the garden that I remember as a girl. For the next 10 days, the weather here will be on the cool side. Then, with the flip of a switch, it will be over 100.

I’m not sure how the heat in the summer will affect the plants inside. It may be too hot for anything to grow for awhile. It’ll be a learning experience throughout this first year.

The greenhouse will need its very own name. You’re all welcome to send me emails with your suggestions. My MMM will be running the construction crew of 2, (His brother and me), while supervising the job. First, the concrete foundation will need to be poured. After curing for a week, the greenhouse will be bolted down. With the Zephyr winds around here, it wouldn’t be good to find my greenhouse two houses away.

The little structure will need water and power. The power may include solar lighting. I need to investigate what will work best out there. The sickly little house plants will go to spend a few weeks in paradise where they will be pampered with humidity and Miracle Grow. Every inch of the greenhouse will be occupied. When I need a touch of the islands or a little humidity in my lungs, I’ll only need to walk a few feet through the desert. This little house in the back will be a game changer.

As for the gardens here at Winterpast, the color of the season is green. There are plants appearing that I didn’t even know I had. The Iris’s and Peony’s are growing by the day. The bulbs I planted in the fall are struggling to grow with the cool weather. A few have bloomed, but the others are taking their sweet time.

Mr. Lincoln, Peace, and Tahitian Sunset roses are finally starting to perk up. Arriving with totally bare roots from a very nice Rose company, they have struggled to leaf out. This cool weather is just what is needed to help them get established. Spring here in the desert is certainly unpredictable.

Today will be a great day to stay indoors and tackle the studio closet. I’ve been finding such treasures from the past. VST’s scripts from our days as thespians at the Golden Chain Theater in Oakhurst California. Old family pictures provide a window into my own days with family back at the ranch. Rather like a magical portal, the tiniest details of what life was like as a young mom, wife, and farming teacher come back in memories. Those sweet days were the best.

Whatever you do today, enjoy springtime. It’s a time for renewing faith in the beautiful life we enjoy here on earth. Turn off the TV and open the windows. Listen to the bird’s songs on the breeze. In the blink of an eye, it’ll be summer!

More tomorrow.

Funny how a store can bring back a lifetime of memories. I got my first membership in the late 1900’s. One of the very first Costco’s opened in the heart of the Central Valley. My father was their biggest fan. He’d call from time to make sure the mastiff’s had enough kibble. He just wanted a reason to visit Costco again. I understand that more now, being retired myself.

Throughout Winterpast, so much of what I own came from Costco. Furniture. Kitchen utensils. Dishes. Glassware. Medications. Heck, even the toilet paper around here. Costco was my main source of survival and entertainment. I’ve bought carpet and blinds from their custom departments. I’ve bought new cars from their automotive department. About the only thing I haven’t experienced with them is travel, usually booking my own adventures.

While teaching and ranching, it was a store in which you could replenish the paper towels and bring home a ready-to-eat chicken dinner. VST could always find tools he was looking for and, of course, there were the unexpected items that flew into the basket while one or the other of us wasn’t looking, causing laughter at checkout. There was never a sour face when walking the aisles of Costco way back then.

These days, I usually shop Costco Online. Yes. Every single item is at least $2 more, BUT, the true savings is that I’m not in the store finding things I didn’t know I even needed. If you haven’t tried their online services, you might want to. In my experience, it saves time and money.

Yesterday was a day to fill my freezer, which I’ve been working on emptying for some time. I went to purchase steaks, ground beef, and chicken. Well, if you’ve been to Costco, you probably guessed I left the store with a lot more that just meat.

Driving west, into the first little town 36 miles away, I traveled through heavy road construction. Nevada Department of Transportation is retrofitting two overpass bridges that carry thousands of cars and trucks past our little town, 24/7. I live some distance from the interstate, but there isn’t a time of day that I don’t hear the traffic rumbling by. Some nights it’s louder than others.

Sunday morning at around 1:30 AM, things were really loud. A wrong way driver slammed into an oncoming semi driven by a husband and wife team. Well, the outcome was totally obvious. One dead wrong-way driver. One big rig team shaken up, but okay. As I drove by the scarred road at the site of the accident, it gave me chills. It’s impossible to go the wrong way on the interstate, unless you choose to do so with some sort of crazy death wish.

After a quiet 36 mile drive, I arrived to the usual parking lot craziness outside Costco. There we were. The early-bird Boomers, all waiting for the doors to open. It’s the beginning of the gardening season here and plants of all kinds were shelved and waiting for excited customers. Strawberries, hydrangeas, and lavender. Funny. Two of the three wouldn’t have a chance in the desert without lots of extra loving care. Unless, of course, one has a greenhouse.

Online shopping isn’t just for Costco. It works at Lowe’s, too.

On Thursday, I take ownership of one 10′ x 14′ greenhouse. Ready to assemble. I’ll tell you more about that tomorrow.

Whatever you do today, it’s a great time of year to inventory the contents of your freezer. Toss things that have been in there too long. Plan some meals to use up the things you have on hand. Out with the old, in with the new. Forget the snows of last week. It’s spring!! Barbeque weather!

More tomorrow.

Change is never easy, or in the case of our dusty little wide spot in the road off the instate, or quick. No. Change can take years. Sometimes, change can be a wrecking ball to a quiet little way of life. As people salivate for the new business coming to town, three old businesses are struggling.

On our community website, the talk is all about the location of the latest restaurant and when construction will begin. There will be more construction that will cause significant traffic constipation around our little streets. In the end, we will be a step closer to looking like every other little town in the United States.

Our hardware store, pharmacy, and grocery store are all national companies. You need to drive a little further east to find the Mom and Pop establishments that are becoming fewer each year.

In a town of 20,000+, there’s an imbalance of restaurant choices. We have three “coffee shops” pandering to those of us that enjoy comfort through food. There were four Mexican restaurants until one of them burned down on Saturday. (Not to the ground, but certainly, through the attic). It’ll be awhile under they are up and running again. And then, there are the Chinese restaurants.

Covid hit our restaurants in the worst ways possible. First, they were all closed down for months. Through the closure, it seems that people decided work wasn’t all that much fun. With Tesla’s giga-factory providing transportation to and from work, restaurant work has become a last resort as a source of income. Our restaurants are struggling to find help, resulting in long wait times for customers.

How my town ended up with three Chinese restaurants is a mystery. Of course, there are many mysteries in my little town. Like, how did an artichoke made entirely of bottlecaps or a pile of rocks known as “The Turtle” end up in “Next-to-Main-Street Park”? Can a gravel piece of land with some weird structures really be classified as a park, anyway? “Out-Of-Town Park” and “In-Town Park” are real parks with grass, swings, and ball diamonds. “In-Town-Park” even has a skate park feature. “Out-of-Town Park” is home to the rodeo arena. But a pile of rocks known as “The Turtle”? Strange.

Our three Chinese-American restaurants all have their own faithful customers. In a town the size of ours, we should be lucky to have one. Now, Panda Express is moving in. That will be the fourth. We sure could’ve used a “Chick Filet” or even the “Sonic Burger” that has been rumored to be coming for the three years I’ve lived here. But, no. Another Chinese-American restaurant.

The other night, MM and I were driving back home from a wonderful night visiting with family around the fire pit. Having the opportunity to enjoy brothers is a new experience for me, having grown up in a house full of five girls and zero boys. These brothers share true love for each other, enjoying time spent together. What a blessing to spend time with such a beautiful family.

On the way home, driving down Farm District Road, the night sky twinkled above. That stretch of road isn’t lined with street lights, but majestic cottonwood trees that have been there for over a century. The new housing developments line the street on both sides. MM couldn’t help but comment on the change since he was a boy in the mid-1900’s. The town isn’t the same, being urbanized one new house at a time. City folks are moving East, along with Panda Express.

I hope the local restaurants are taking note while paying their employees a good wage. Patrons need to tip generously. Panda Express isn’t the only new business coming to town. Changes are just around the corner. We need to enjoy our little town today, because tomorrow, things will be different. That’s guaranteed.

Whatever you do today, eat local. Find a family run restaurant and go enjoy a great dinner. Get to know the owners on a first name basis. Leave a generous tip. Community restaurants give our towns personality and flair. We need to be sure they know how much we appreciate their great food.

More tomorrow.

The Dash
_{by Linda Ellis}

I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning to the end.

He noted first came the date of the birth and spoke the following date with tears.
But he said what mattered most of all was the dash between the years.

For that dash represents all the time that they spent life on Earth.
And now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own, the cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love, and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough to consider what’s true and real,
and always try to understand the way other people feel.

Be less quick to anger and show appreciation more,
and love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read with your life’s actions to rehash,
would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash?

This weekend, try not to dash around too much. Take time to breathe deeply and enjoy the spring air. Think about the dash in which you are living right this very moment. Are you making it count? Are you loving the life you’re living and living the life you’re loving? If not, it’s time to make a change! It’s all up to you!

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

Six years ago, while teaching 5th grade at a little country school to the west of here, my life was quite different. VST was quite healthy and alive. I was teaching 27 kids about reading, math, and writing in cursive. Elementary school was still a normal and fun environment in which to teach. It was our third year of life in Virginia City, Nevada and the year I “met” Carlene White.

I intend to meet her in person one day. Just take my rental car and drive right on over to Ipswich to a place she’s named Crazy Acres. I may decide to stay awhile and volunteer there. With over 50 Great Danes, chickens, guinea hens, cows, goats, and donkeys, she’s always got jobs for those that decide to drop in.

Carlene is a study in “Doing Good” when you don’t know what else to do. When she was in her early 70’s, she decided to raise Great Danes as service dogs for people with mobility issues. Not just any Great Danes. Not embarrassingly thin and scrawny Great Danes. Much of her breeding stock is from Europe. She breeds sound and stable Great Danes that, when done with her training, will do anything asked of them. Anything.

You can meet her for yourself. Her non-profit is “Service Dog Project”(Servicedogproject.org). You can also watch her farm through a live feed at Explore.org. At this time, a brand new litter of 12 is thriving under the minute to minute care of volunteers.

Carlene isn’t well these days. She’s had to slow down and hand the reins over to another and is battling through the final days of her life. Don’t feel to bad, because this woman is assessing her skills and abilities to best utilize her talents. Along with a daily blog, she has decided it will be her job to bring happiness to 100 people a week.

Now, you might ask just how someone makes 100 people a day happy???? Carlene came up with a brilliant idea.

At Crazy Acres, her Service Dog Pups (150 pound pups) need exposure to the outside world. They need road trips where they can meet and greet lots of new people. People that look scary riding on wheels and walking with sticks. People that haven’t smiled in a very long time. Old, wrinkly people that sometimes smell a little funny. People that need assistance with living.

Carlene could choose to sit right down and die tomorrow. She could stay in her robe all day while sitting by the window to cry. On her blog, she could host a pity party for herself and anyone that wants to join her. But, no. Not Carlene.

She get up every morning, (and some days that’s a struggle at 85), gets her driver and her three best friends (who happen to be Great Danes) and the puppy (Pasta is his name), and off they go. Carlene is visiting as many assisted living centers in her area as she can each week. They wait for her to get there. She and her crew bring life, laughs, and hundreds of pounds of dogs complete with kisses. The best kind of medicine there is.

Having read and watched Carlene for so many years now, it still amazes me that she runs the place on chicken poop. Each month, she sells “chicken bricks”. For $10, you can buy a square with a number. One Sunday a month, her chickens are televised as they are tenderly placed on a huge checker board with 2,000 numbers. The first numbered square that gets dirtied wins bragging rights for the month. Carlene funds her ranch with the $20,000 a month this raises. She’s never had a month in which she didn’t sell out the bricks.

Through Carlene, I’ve learned so much about the feeding and training of dogs. Her dogs eat kibble donated by Purina and delivered by semi-trucks every so often.

Her dogs are also famous. You can look it up for yourself. The most famous pair is Bella and George.

Bella is a young woman now, but she was a girl who was losing the ability to walk when she found Crazy Acres and Carlene. Bella volunteered. (Bella, who was losing her ability to walk. VOLUNTEERED. At the Ranch.) She really wanted a dog and Carlene agreed that she would benefit from one. But, there was a little problem.

In Carlene’s program, the dog chooses the person it will help. No dog would choose Bella. No dog even liked Bella. They would avoid her. Day after day. No dog for Bella. Until one day, George looked around and decided if no one else would do it, he would. Bella has been walking ever since with the help of George. (Bella and George — Facebook).

Then, there was Scott Aubin, an Air Force Veteran, who showed up at Carlene’s after a failed suicide attempt. Carlene fixed him up with his service dog. Read his book, Knot Today. If you’re interested, there are plenty of You-Tube videos about his story.

Carlene continues to work in the golden hours of her life. She doesn’t waste a lot of time feeling sorry for herself. She just gets up and does good in the world. We would all benefit from doing a little of that ourselves. If we could all make five people smile today, the world would truly be brighter.

Whatever today brings, remember to be Smiler #1. Say “Hello” to someone that needs a friendly word. Call a “shut-in”. Be kind to the tired Walmart associate. Listen to an elder’s stories. Be in the moment. The world needs some happiness today.

For Today,

Forget about your sorrow,

There’ll be time for that tomorrow.

Walking through a widow’s mile,

Find and share your beautiful smile.

Just do it.

More tomorrow.

Some days its hard to know what has happened to our world. Life is turned upside down and the dogs are definitely running the show. At least, it was like that at my house until I got the upper handle on Ollie’s inside behavior. Since I returned to top dog status, his behavior has gotten much more acceptable. He has his bed and there are boundaries in this the house that is mine, not his. At least I like to believe that at least once a day.

Many years ago, while living in the Central Valley of California, I used a kennel when VST and I would travel to Hawaii. Not for the farm dogs, but for the little piece of lint named Freckles. He was just too small to leave alone.

In the early 2000’s, Elaine’s Animal Hotel was one of the first to have a lobby and registration desk, just like a human hotel. With soft music and muted colors in the lobby, it felt as if you were checking into a plush resort for humans.

“And will Freckles being enjoying water play with his new friends?”

Of course, daily water play was another $5. Each additional activity added $5 to the bill. Massages were an additional $10. Freckles enjoyed the standard stay. $20 a day at that time. Food wasn’t included at that price. Wanting to the do the best for my furry friend, that was the choice of kennels.

Oliver enjoys great living conditions when he goes to puppy camp. There is free swimming, lots of play time, and sometimes photos on Facebook. There are always holiday dinners and lots of ear scratches. Oliver’s vet is just next door to the kennel, which makes using them the logical choice.

After Ollie’s last puppy camp adventure, in which he found a new girlfriend, the camp director came up with stunning new.

“Joy, Ollie visits us regularly. If you could send us your dates through December it would be a great idea. Thanksgiving is already booked.”

This is only April. Thanksgiving is booked? Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall is on a waiting list?????? For puppy camp?????? That’s how things are these days in the world of dog services.

Wookie has been waiting patiently for her haircut since the wook-lets left her for their Fur-ever homes. All are happily adopted, one even having been personally delivered by a granddaughter to the East Coast at the new owner’s expense. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

Anyway, shaggy Wookie has a heavy woolen coat that needs to be removed. MM waited two months for the appointment. Eight weeks! The night before he received a phone call that the groomer has gone on vacation and will call when she returns. Just like that. Poof. Mop shop appointment? Cancelled.

There are three groomers in our little town. One receives rave reviews, being the shop of choice. All three shops are full. No more customers accepted at this time. It seems Wookie is out of luck as her hair grows day by day.

Long gone are the days when a human vacation popped up and you could get a last minute appointment at the kennel. Oliver has his vacations scheduled through January 2, 2004. It’s easy to cancel a reservation. You can’t make one when there are no vacancies.

Of course, there is the option of hiring someone to watch Oliver at home. Considering the fact that twice he’s run out the door to bark at the neighbor without looking back even once, that option isn’t safe for him.

There is the option of buying a set of trimmers and beautifying Wookie ourselves. That might be the way we need to go. She is in need, indeed.

To this. MM, I think we could do this.

If you are considering a new career, you might consider pet services. Doggie Day Care. Puppy Camp. Grooming. Life is going to the dogs. Long gone are the days of the farm dog that took care of its own needs while protecting his family. The farm dogs of the ranch were legendary. Mastiffs. No fluff and buff needed for those guys. Forty lbs. of kibble a week and they were good to go.

Whatever you do today, consider your activities for the next six months. If you are a dog owner planning time away, book your kennel stay early. There just might not be a room at the Inn if you don’t.

More tomorrow.

Winterpast is my home. I must admit, never did I have any interest in naming a home before I moved here. As a brand new widow, the name “Winterpast” embodied the life that I hoped would come to me. I had to hold onto faith that at some point, grief would become bearable while my winter would slowly pass. Widowhood is more bleak and barren than the most miserable winter on record without any change of seasons for awhile. Just barren winter. VST and I went from the Autumn of our lives to the winter of mine in very few days.

The name “Winterpast” can be found in a little book by Jan Karon called “At Home in Mitford”. Such a sweet read, it was one that caught my attention in my second month of Widowhood all alone in my new little town. Covid lockdowns were still in place. The inspiration comes from the Song of Solomon, Chapter 2: “The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth. The season of singing has come. The cooing of doves is heard in our land.”

My own Bible has a misprint in which the singing of turtles can be heard throughout the land. Personally, I love the singing turtle idea. I think the printer forgot the word “doves” after, which is also nice. (But not as nice as singing turtles, in my humble opinion.)

Yes. It’s true. My winter, both figuratively and literally, has passed for now. Spring is here and the gardens of Winterpast need to sparkle at night.

I was surprised to find our little Grocery Outlet was a well stocked with affordable solar garden lighting.

These little discs are now inserted into planters to shine on some smaller plants. They would also be great along a path way, The spike in the back holds them in place.

These little solar lights are the size of an old fashioned light bulb. Caution — The solar doesn’t work well when one little dog manages to find a way to chew through the wires. Whatever am I to do with this little brat? At any rate, these are hanging in the trees here at Winterpast. The control boxes are now zip-tied to the branches. Oh Oliver, when will you ever grow up???

These were the most expensive of my lighting project ($6.99 – 19.00 each), but they also create the most drama. The apricot tree is sporting a soft glow after dark these days. I used three lights on her. The rest of the big trees are also lit.

Twinkle stakes — $11.99 each.

Every yard needs a little twinkle. The LED lights are woven with copper wire so you can arrange them any way you like. Again, they are solar powered.

These lights are controlled by Alexa. They are dimmable, and turned on with a simple request. “Alexa, turn on back lights.” Voila! They turn on. Ask her and she’ll turn them off before bed. An Alexa friendly outdoor plug is required, which can be found for purchase on Amazon or at any hardware store.

As the summer goes on, I plan to add more soft lighting to the gardens. It hasn’t gone without notice by the neighbors. Ninja Neighbor sent a text right away to let me know the gardens look magical. Yes. Winterpast does. Just like something from a romantic movie.

The credit for starting this little project goes to my Mysterious Marine. Without his thoughtful gift, I might not have ever gotten around to hanging garden lights. Now, it’s my job to fill in with all sorts of cool lighting.

Whatever you do today, think about lighting and how it affects your moods. The garden lighting has added a new dimension to the back yard. Go out back and think on it awhile.

More tomorrow.