Grieving Gardener

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

More tomorrow.

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.

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 23^rd 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.

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.

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.

More tomorrow.

APRICOT JAM – 2023

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.

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.

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.

Garden’s Gift Tomato Pie

Ingredients

• 1 (9-inch) pie shell (homemade or store-bought)
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 3 to 4 large tomatoes, cut in half horizontally, squeezed of excess juice (approximately 3 cups chopped tomatoes)
• 1/2 cup chopped yellow or red onion (about 1/3 onion)
• 1/4 cup sliced basil
• 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

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).Place the oven rack in the center of the oven.
2. Pre-bake the crust. If you are using a store-bought pie shell, follow the directions.
3. Salt and drain the sliced tomatoes, while pre-baking the crust.
4. 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.
5. 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.
6. 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.

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.

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.

More tomorrow.