Grieving Gardener

Today is International Day for Achievers! It’s about time that successful people in the world get some recognition. It’s refreshing to actually have a day to celebrate those who aim their arrows and hit their targets, reaching for goals and dreams.

Achievements can include a problem you’ve solved, a mountain you’ve climbed, or just an improvement on your outlook allowing you to find peace with life as it is. They can involve reaching a single goal or redirecting your life in more positive ways. Achievements usually are the result of changing your path while continuing to climb your mountain.

Being human, everyone has their own personal idea of success. Rupert Murdoch’s ideas are much different than Mother Teresa’s were. In the eyes of some, success involves owning a big house or a fancy car. In the eyes of others, it involves a life rich with family and friends. Personal achievements are reached every day in all aspects of life.

Being very fortunate in my life, I wonder if outsiders realize the cost. So many events and outings missed because the farm needed constant care. With 24 hours in a day, activities needed to be streamlined or omitted all together. People used to ask VST how he could possible do everything in a day’s time. Simple. There was no choice. He had a family to support and 17,000 vines that counted on him. There were endless courses to complete to finish his doctorate. Parents that needed tender loving care. Achievers fit everything in their day by prioritizing. It’s just what they do.

Widow’s and widower’s have a right to celebrate International Day for Achiever because it’s a huge achievement to grow through this experience. It’s no walk in the park to lose a loved one and continue to put one foot in front of the other. We need to celebrate each day after such a loss, honoring the loved one that went before. No doubt about it. Surviving is a huge achievement!

Today is also National Cocktail Day, which is a bit appropriate as it IS Friday. Cheers!

Whether you are planning to celebrate your achievements or just celebrate your favorite cocktail, make your celebration purposeful and fun.

Whatever you do this weekend, Remember this!

Cheers to the Achiever’s in the world! Make some wonderful memories this weekend!

I’ll be back on Monday.

I’m unwritten, can’t read my mind

I’m undefined

I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand

Ending unplanned.

Staring at the blank page before me

I open up the clouded window

Letting the sun illuminate the words I couldn’t find.

Reaching for something in the distance

So close I can almost taste it

Releasing my inhibitions

Feeling the rain on my skin

No one else can feel it for me

Only I can let it in

No one else

Can speak the words on my lips

While I’m drenching myself in words unspoken

Living my life with arms wide open

Today is where my book begins

The rest is still unwritten

I break traditions

Sometimes my tries

Are outside the lines

We’ve been conditioned to not make mistakes

But I can’t live that way

Staring at the blank page before me

I open up the cloudy window

Letting the sun illuminate the words I could not find

Reaching for something in the distance

So close I can almost taste it

No one else can write it for me

Only I can let it begin

No one else

Can speak the words on my lips

Drenching myself in words unspoken

Living my life with arms wide open

Today is where my book begins _{Song by Natasha Bedingfield}

Whatever you do today, add a page to your own story. Don’t let anyone else write it for you. Today is where your book begins. Write it big and juicy!!! Live, laugh, love.

More tomorrow.

September 24, 2020, I began blogging without a clear goal. Yes, there were murky thoughts of completing a book. But that was all in “SOMEDAY” status. Each morning, I’d look up stats for my blog and remember squealing when ten readers appeared during the preceding 24 hours. There was only one constant. I wrote, every day, inching along with the encouragement provided by those first few readers.

Slowly, my readership increased, I remember the excitement I felt when I reached 50 readers. It was an amazing feeling. But, it didn’t meet a set goal. An un-aimed arrow always hits its target, they say. My arrow sailed gracefully through thin air hitting nothing.

After a few months, while watching my numbers continue to grow, I set a few goals and upon reaching them, said a little “Ya-Hooooo”. I continued writing.

In the last 24 hours, I’ve had 1,401 reads. My total number of readers is now over 534,000. Not shattering in the world of the internet, by any means. My past readers come from more than 80 countries and all 50 states. It’s time to set some real goals, so I know when to plant my flags. Slowly, I’ve climbed one mountain top after another.

When journeying through life, goals help us move along, rather like a tow strap. I can’t imagine not having daily, weekly, monthly, and annual goals, monitoring them for needed adjustments. It’s just the way I keep rolling forward.

Thinking about the future, I wonder when I’ll embrace the fact that I’m a published author. The blog is one milestone along my journey. But, when I close my eyes at night, I don’t yet believe I’m a true writer. So, what will it be? The first day my book is advertised on Amazon? My first sale? My first book signing? When I write my first very first book available in hardback, e-book, and audio versions? Will it be on the high desert of Northwestern Nevada, or from some tropical beach far away? All goals I need to choose. Until I do, I won’t know where to plant my flags, and they’re getting pretty heavy to carry along.

During the past three years, goals have helped me get through some tough days in the wilderness of widowhood. During April, 2020, I journaled hourly accomplishments while struggling to breathe. There were so many things needing to be done as I readied Oliver and I for our big move. I’d make a list of three things. When they were completed, I’d list three more. Without tiny goals, I wouldn’t have had things ready for the moving truck.

Tiny accomplishments grew into bigger ones. Journal-ing along the way left a bread crumb trail of memories. What a long, strange trip it’s been. One that none of us could’ve predicted, packing punches delivered one after the other. Each time the knock down blow was delivered, I regrouped and stood tall again. Here I am on the brink of returning to some sort of normal. Bruised, but standing.

I have a big flag to run up the pole on April 8th, 2023. Three years will have past since I lost VST. During those years, the journey’s been treacherous. Some days, the winds, rain, and snow have been blinding. Sand storms have caused me to hunker down until they ceased. Each storm left me stronger and more determined to move forward. That’s the point right?

Don’t.

Get.

Stuck.

In.

The

Mud.

I find the approach to each heaven-ersary a little more harrowing than all the last. No one can warn a grieving gardener about that for it’s an experience all its own, individual and unique to each person. Grief doesn’t go away, the experience just becomes more complex. While living a new life, old ghosts pop up out of no where. An entire adult life of memories doesn’t just grieve away easily.

This year my flag is huge, and reads “An Appeal to Heaven“. In these crazy times, we can all hope for someone to show us the way, following our leaders. We can try things we’ve heard might be helpful during a crisis. We can wait for stimulus checks, and new laws to lead us in the direction of someone else’s choosing. But, when all else fails, and hopefully before that, An Appeal to Heaven will show the way.

Pick milestones along your journey and remember to plant your flags. You need them flying high as a celebration of your accomplishments, and a sign to others behind you that things are improving with time. Above all, carry on and keep going forward because, there’s no going back.

More tomorrow.

Throughout life, there are sayings that stick with a person. Each generation has a special selection of these, which leave the youngers scratching their heads at the meaning. Almost like a secret code to another world, these phrases bring a smile and knowing to those that understand. They leave those that don’t get it confused.

Once upon a time, VST and I farmed in the Central Valley of California. On our ranch, there were 109 rows of vintage grapevines. Planted before 1936, these grapes were a variety lost t0 the ages. Their flavor and texture were of another time. They were not for shipping, for their skins were far too fragile. They were Thompson Seedless grapes, green in color. Not the huge grapes you find in the store, which are tricked into becoming that huge size with hormones. These were normal sized grapes, which when dried in the sun, turned into delicious Sun-maid Raisins.

For seventeen years, VST and I cared for our vines the best we could. We worked two full time jobs to support our little farming hobby. Forty acres is a lot of land to care for. One fourth of a section of land. If you ever walked down a vineyard row, picking up discarded thick wood removed during pruning, you begin to know how long the rows are. Especially if it is a cold, foggy Central Valley morning, when your irrigation boots get stuck in mud.

There you have another phrase. Stuck In The Mud. Until you have been, you don’t know. A terrible predicament. A Stick-In-The-Mud prefers their life to remain that way. Stuck in the mud. Horrible situation.

On our farm, there were 109 rows, most of them, very long, continuous rows, stretching from one side of the ranch to the other. Whether irrigating or shoveling, one would start at row 109 and work back towards the house, which seemed ever so far away. Hours later, you might be at row ninety-five, depending on what you were doing. Fixing wires that supported the grapes. Shoveling in gopher holes or cutting off shoots growing at the base of the stumps. Cutting down weeds or tying up tendrils. There was always something that needed doing.

Our house sat in the middle of rows 1 – 30-something. A nice square space in which our house was along with a big red barn and out buildings. This divided those rows into two sections which were named The Short Rows.

Every one of us would look across the vineyard toward the house wishing we were already there. Plodding along in the cold wet, or extreme heat, we moved at a snail’s pace. There was time to think and ponder the problems of the world. Time to wish we could win the lottery and never need to pick up a shovel again. Startled we were when we might scare up a quail or coyote. Always, we moved toward the house and the short rows.

Now, in life, I’m, working the short rows. No matter how I wish the date would zoom past April 8th, I plod along. Each day a little bit closer. There are more opportunities to sit and rest, but, I’m not done yet. The winter has worn me down. Emotional blisters are healing, but the heavy weight of widowhood still makes them sting a bit from time to time. I’ve discovered I can carry more than I thought I could. Looking back, I’m proud that I made it this far, turning into a stronger and more competent woman.

The best thing about the short rows, is that you could find rest at the house. There was a bathroom right there. Grabbing a cold water, you could sit under the shade of the patio and take a break. The breeze seemed a little stronger there, promising the job at hand was almost finished.

In life, there will always be another pass to be made. Another daunting experience in which you return to Row 109 and start all over again. So glad VST and I could experience farming and life together. Someday, he’ll be waiting for me at Row 1. Bring the lemonade, VST. I’ll be tired.

More tomorrow.

This morning, the sun isn’t up yet. On this the first day of spring, a cold wet week is predicted. All this rain is getting a little old, I must admit. Today there are wind advisories for the nearby lake, with 2-3 foot waves expected. Today just might be the day I drive to picnic in a wind storm just to experience what 2-3′ waves on a desert lake.

With all the rain, pollen counts have been down. As soon as the rain stops, that’ll all change. I thought people moved to the high desert to avoid allergies. I guess not. The prominent culprits here are Mulberry. Ash, and Elm. With the addition of the high winds, sneezing will be on the rise. Without knowing if the cause is Covid or Influenza 1,2,3, or 4, other than driving to the lake in the truck, I plan to breathe fresh air in the back yard and plan.

More birds are moving into the gardens of Winterpast. There are little sparrows conversing with each other on the branches, while finches flit past, hurrying to nest in their little bird houses. The robins have been out every morning pecking through the grass, while two doves walked about on the patio, having made note that no cats live here.

The mustangs have been out and about, but few new foals haven’t dropped yet. There’s nothing cuter than a wild mustang foal. Nothing more hardy, either. They are up and traveling with the herd within a matter of hours after birth. These herds travel miles and miles each day, never stopping for very long. You can pass a herd while running an errand and they will be long gone when you return. The horses are thin after a hard winter. They’re waiting for the rains to stop just as much as we are.

Three years ago, life was very different for me. VST and I traveled to town with K and T for his liver biopsy. There was no thought of baby birds or springtime. VST slept on the way. The day’s procedure was the only way we’d know for sure what type of cancer he had. Without this information, we couldn’t be assigned an oncologist. With the beginning stages of Covid underway, only one person could join VST in the hospital. It would be me that would keep him company until his procedure.

The strength and love T and K brought with them every time they visited was tonic for VST. And, for me, too. He’d put on his best smiles just for them, Assuring them each time that he felt way too good to be really sick. He continued to tell us that until he no longer could speak. That was his story and he was sticking to it until the end.

Through all of this, VST had the strongest faith of anyone I’ve ever known. His belief in the healing power of God and the miracles of spring gave him his strength. He battled a cancer with an uncertain and scary outcome as if it was a February day in the vineyard. The dormant vineyard gave not a hint it would ever come alive again. Just as VST never gave up hope for the beautiful crop we knew we’d surely harvest in the fall, he also remained faithful that God wouldn’t give him more than he could handle. The results of his test ended the need for any other procedures. Stage 4 Cholangiocarcinoma.

Through the journey during our last weeks together, VST headed towards his new beginning. He never stopped celebrating life, even at his sickest. He never questioned his heavenly salvation or the hell that was his cancer. He simply lived every moment appreciating beauty in the smallest things. Even something as small as an ice cream cone. From that experience, I realize he could see his new life just around the corner. Bright and sunny, on the wings of angels, he’d ride into the glory of the heavens.

Winter is past. Spring is here. April. In this most beautiful month, something precious was stolen from me. In return, April always gives back so much in return. The hope for new life. April 9th, 2020 while being bankrupt in many respects, I began my own amazing new journey. Almost three years later, I’m standing in faith, much stronger, a little wiser, and resilient. With a deep faith in new beginnings, a third year starts. Life goes on, full of mysteries yet to unfold.

Whatever you do today, enjoy THIS day, the first of a beautiful spring. Look for the smallest miracles. They surround us all. Look at the new life and rejoice! It’s spring!

Finally!!!!!

More tomorrow.

My Garden is my Sanctuary

As I look out to my garden
I feel a sense of pride
It really is a lovely room
Except it is outside

Where lovely things mix and match
And greenery fills the walls
The sound of trickling water
Coming from the gold fish pond

I love the sight of stones and rocks
And driftwood and tree ferns too
The sounds of all my chimes
I know you would like it too

With pride I walk around my garden
And savour each scent and smell
Colours of yellow, red and gold
Striped cushion on a bench

The bird bath has its own domain
It’s placed beside a wooden arch
Where all the birds come to bathe
And drink when they are parched

Ladybirds can hide away
Sometimes they come out to see
What’s happening around them
With caterpillars and the bees

There’s not much more that I can say
Except if you have your own
It won’t take long to build it up
Seeds will bloom once they are sown.

by Marie Church

I’m starting my weekend early by tending my garden. Even though things are still asleep, it’s time they wake up. While MM’s bulbs are already green and ready to bloom, the bulbs of Winterpast have other ideas. Today is the day for lots of work in the garden.

Whatever you plan this weekend, make it grand. Here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, the town is talking about the Gala Spring Fling to be held this Saturday at The Old Barn. A good time it will be. Find something wonderful to doin your own town this weekend, and then do it. Make it wonderful.

I’ll be back Monday with lots to share.

Today is the first day resembling spring in months. The sky is a brilliant blue and the air is crisp and clean. I’ve seen that the doves are back, looking for places to build the first nests of spring. It’s time for me to move the patio furniture back out of the barn and into place. Soon, it’ll be time for early evening barbeques and parties under the stars. Spring is such a lovely time of year.

Now, don’t get me wrong. This afternoon, while coming back from the Biggest Little City to the West, the river raced along the interstate at the very point of overflowing. With these nice days, the snow is melting quickly. Floods ARE coming. It’s just a matter of when and where. With any luck at all, the flooding will be directed to the vast desert playas. Heaven knows there are miles and miles of empty desert that won’t by hurt by flooding, not one little bit.

Spring weather is the best kind when one lives on the high desert plains. The mornings are crisp as they warm into beautiful spring afternoons and then turn into chilly evenings. It’s all about being in the sunshine. The gardens of Winterpast are still shaded most of the day so none of the tulips, daffodils, peonys, or iris are emerging yet. There’s plenty of time for spring blossoms before the heat will chase me indoors on most afternoons.

In a few weeks, sweatshirts and jeans will be exchanged for shorts, tees, a hat, and brown knees. Oh how I need to get some sun on my skin. I’ve turned freakishly white over the winter months. I can’t wait to get my tan on while working on the new fencing and garden boxes. It seems there ‘s a second Grieving Gardener that is looking forward to helping me groom Winterpast into the glorious showcase she’s meant to be. Thank goodness for MM.

I’m looking forward to the smell of fresh cut grass and bouquets of roses. Fresh desert air and the songs of the birds are something of which I never tire. It’s wonderful to enjoy the here and now in the peace that Winterpast offers me.

As for this little blog, I have big plans. They may become everything I ever dreamed possible, or they could amount to nothing at all. With suggestions from here and there, I’ve decided to give the blog an update. As I’m growing as a writer and as a woman, the blog needs to reflect those changes. Be looking for some really cool things in the future!

Whatever you do today, you might want to look out on your patio and see what changes you can make. It’s the time and season for a spring cleanup and spring fling! “While gardening, you just might find yourself while losing yourself” (Alice Sebold). Keep your snippers sharpened and your roses pruned. Keep Calm and garden on!

More tomorrow.

Winter is melting in early spring here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. March is such a strange time of year. Today, the temperatures should be in the 50’s, while the last of the storms passed last night. Winds over our little town were at least 39 mph.

Living on the desert, one must be prepared for the weather to change at a moments notice. The road was dry. In two hours, it was under water. By the end of the day, dry again. Winds whipped at 39 mph and then died down to nothing. There is never a dull moment around here.

As desert widow, I need to be tougher than I ever thought possible. Sometimes this can be difficult when the river of life is rushing by. When uncertainties gets me down, I remember the following thoughts inspired by “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree.

Listen as your day unfolds
Challenge what the future holds
Try and keep your head up to the sky
Stormy skies may cause you tears
Go ahead, release your fears

My, oh my, oh my.

Remember what your mother said
Read the books your father read
Try to solve the puzzles in your own sweet time
Some may have more cash than you
Others may take a different view

My, oh my, oh my.

Time asks no questions, it goes on without you
Leaving you behind if you can’t stand the pace
The world keeps on spinning
Can’t stop it if you try to
The best part is life’s mystery staring you right in the face

But Always Remember……..

You gotta be bad
You gotta be bold
You gotta be wiser

You gotta be hard
You gotta be tough
You gotta be stronger

You gotta be cool
You gotta be calm
You gotta stay together

All I know for sure is this…..

LOVE will save the day

Whatever you do today, find the strength to practice just a little more patience throughout your day. If the sun shines, go dance in it. If it’s raining, enjoy a cozy day inside. And, for you living in the Sierra Nevada’s, have faith. Spring is just days away, along with the thaw.

More tomorrow.

Would you know my name?
If I saw you in heaven
Would it be the same?
If I saw you in heaven

I must be strong
And carry on
‘Cause I know I don’t belong
Here in heaven

Would you hold my hand?
If I saw you in heaven
Would you help me stand?
If I saw you in heaven

I’ll find my way
Through night and day
‘Cause I know I just can’t stay
Here in heaven

Time can bring you down
Time can bend your knees
Time can break your heart
Have you begging please

Begging please

Beyond the door
There’s peace, I’m sure
And I know there’ll be no more
Tears in heaven

_{Eric Clapton}

Naomi represented so many different things to each of us. Youth. Beauty. Innocence. Wonder as she found her own way in a new life.

Naomi was just an independent 18-year-old girl going to work on an early March morning. She was kidnapped and then murdered on the lonely high desert plains of Northwest Nevada.

She loved rainbows and The Beach Boys. She had big dreams that she was working towards.

Rest In Peace, Naomi. Enjoy heaven’s rainbows. We’ll think of you every time one appears here on earth.

More tomorrow.

What a weekend it’s been. Days seem longer now that the time has changed. Here on the high desert plains, the snow has stopped. For now. The daytime temperatures are in the low 50’s. Pleasant. Except for the atmospheric rivers that are flowing right over the top of us. All of those things combine to make for high desert flash floods.

I’d only read about such things until a few days ago. When studying for my Nevada Driver’s License test last summer, I learned that as little as 6″ of water can cause you to lose control of your vehicle. Fast moving water doesn’t help. There are signs everywhere.

“Don’t Drown. Turn Around”

The meteorologists here have been warning everyone to prepare for the worst. In case you haven’t been following the snow pack in the Sierra Nevada’s, here’s the latest. Emerald Bay at Lake Tahoe has frozen over for the first time in decades. Yosemite National Park is closed indefinitely, perhaps until Spring 2024. Donner Pass has received at least 17′ of snow in the past month alone. The surrounding desert mountains where I live are covered in snow. At least they were until an atmospheric river came along.

Once you live in a remote area, you begin to understand that the roads are what they are. Some are gravel. Most are riddled with pot holes. But very few have flowing rivers raging over them. On Saturday, I traveled on one such road twice. The first time, there was no water on the road. None. It was early in the morning, but I would have noticed if 1/2 of the road was covered in water. It wasn’t.

Just an hour later, the entire road was under 3 – 4″ of water which was traveling downhill at a pretty good clip. Not just a small part of the road, but at least 100 yards. The atmospheric river and warmer temps had melted the snow pack on our desert mountains. This water was coming down the hills, hitting the high desert plains and gushing down the hill.

Due to some untimely construction on our local irrigation canal, the water had no where to go. My two favorite horses were each on their own little island as the water rushed past them. There were flashing lights and “Severe Flooding” signs warning everyone of the disaster. Thank goodness my neighborhood was built with a great drainage system. It’s the people on the little road that leads to my neighborhood that got hit pretty hard.

This is only the beginning. In Tahoe, the Raley’s Grocery Store has been closed due to fears that the roof may collapse. It’s one of the only large grocery stores in town. Ski resorts have closed due to the possibility of avalanches, and the fact that snow is burying the lift chairs. Unbelievable.

I plan to keep an eye out. I don’t own a canoe, but am thinking it might be the time to invest in one. Water wings, at the least. All this has made me aware of a need for emergency plans. One never knows when disaster will hit. There is only one main road in and out of my neighborhood. If that is washed away, it could be disasterous.

Every home should have a Go-Bag ready to grab and run. Birth certificates. Insurance documents. Perhaps a current back up of computer files. Some cash. Things you would need if trouble comes knocking. For detailed information on planning for disasters, go to Ready.gov. There you’ll find complete information on being ready for the unexpected.

Whatever you do today, check out the crazy weather over the Sierra Nevada’s, and other parts of the country. Then, remember to be grateful if you are living in an area that’s not under 17 feet of new snow. No flash floods in your area? Celebrate! Things could always be worse.

More tomorrow.