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Planning dinner here at Winterpast is often as tricky as picking something to write about on a frosty autumn day. In honor of Tuesday, tacos will be served tonight along with Mexican Rice, Refried Beans, and all the trimmings. Sounds yummy to me.
As a child growing up in a very German farming household, ethnic meals were limited. My mother was an excellent cook who never repeated meals or relied on leftovers. With five daughters and a hungry husband, there was never anything left anyway. Her mental cookbook held a variety of meals that covered one month’s time and almost all were amazing, (minus the Hot Tuna Casserole With Peas). She never forced us to eat liver, but tried to serve a variety of foods to keep everyone happy, healthy, and trim.
It wasn’t until I was in high school that she learned how to make tacos. Perhaps my Dad asked her to try to make them, having been introduced to them by his employees. I can assure you, she didn’t learn how to make them from her mom. In those days, there were no cooking shows, and besides, she was too busy to watch them if there were. Before the age of the computer, recipes were passed around by word of mouth or on hand written pages. Someone, somewhere showed her a thing or two about making tacos and enchiladas.
Once every ten days, we’d have Mexican Night, which we all learned to love. A hard sell at first, but once we tried them, we were all hooked. Not hooked to the point we would ever venture out to have dinner at a Mexican restaurant. The closest town was a 30 minute drive. Eating out was something a farming family just didn’t do unless someone had died or was in the hospital dying. No. There were no favorite restaurants for farming kids.
About that time, Taco Bell was opening franchises around California. My town, being a farming town between Los Angeles and San Francisco, was always last to get anything great like a new fast food restaurant. My mother’s tacos were the only ones I’d ever eaten.
Visiting my older sister in Sacramento was always enlightening. She knew all the best places to eat and the most outrageous things to do. Already married with two small children under her wing, I think she enjoyed the outings with me as much as I enjoyed going to visit her. I was about 13 when she asked if I would like to try a taco at a place called “Taco Bell”.
What????
A taco from a restaurant???
Not from Mom’s kitchen????
So ethnic.
So risky.
So wrong on every level to a 13 year old who had zero experience eating out at ANY restaurant let alone an ETHNIC one serving TACOS that were not prepared by my MOTHER!!!!
This was just a step too far.
Just what was this sister of mine thinking?????
It took her some pleading and persuading to change my mind on this. At this point, she was hooked on Taco Bell, serving it to her little family many times every month. My little nephew was elated when he learned we might having Taco Bell for dinner. With every bit of bravery I had, I agreed to go and try a bite of their version of a taco. My sister seemed to be correct about many new experiences. I’d need to trust her on this one.
One bit and I was hooked. Mom’s tacos now took a back seat to Taco Bell. The best thing I had eaten in my entire life.
That day is the best example I can come up with to explain the sheltered existence in which I grew up. Surrounded by a miles and miles of vineyards in any direction for as far as the eye could see, there weren’t a lot of opportunities for mayhem or devilment. Just never ending work that changed from season to season. It was easy to get great grades when homework was the most exciting distraction there was. Even the phone was tethered to the wall and well within earshot of a mother preparing to cook, cooking, or cleaning up after cooking. Constance surveillance of the German variety in a 1900’s farm house in the middle of Nowhere-Ville.
One taco in a town far away from the vineyard opened a window to new tastes, experiences, and best of all, TACOS.
I still make my mother’s recipe, although I think mine is better.
German-Girl Tacos
Fry 1 large onions until translucent.
Fry 1 lb. ground beef until well done.
Smother in a secret tomato-y sauce.
Fry corn tortillas until they are the perfect crunch.
Top with cheese, tomatoes, lettuce and a little sour cream.
Serve with homemade Mexican Rice and Refried Beans.
The perfect meal to serve to one hungry Mysterious Marine who will join me for dinner this evening.
Whatever you do today, keep in mind Taco Tuesday is a real thing. Do some research in your town and find out where you can get your own piping hot street tacos at a reduced price. Taco Tuesday. It doesn’t get better than that, unless they’re tacos enjoyed with a friend.
Last week, temperatures were still reaching 80 degrees by late afternoon, but as I write this, my outdoor thermometer registers 23. Winter is just around the counter here in the high desert. Oliver is tucked by my feet as he snuggles under his blanket and my steaming coffee tastes wonderful.
I love weekends, frosty or not. This one was especially great. On Friday, the Mysterious Marine and I went to watch women’s basketball at the university in the middle of the biggest little city to the West. My eldest granddaughter plays for the team that visited. It was amazing to see her play in a professional sports arena complete with a four sided jumbotron. Men’s sports are big in our area. Women’s sports will never catch on. Looking around, it seems there were a lot of family members there to cheer on the team, while most of the seats remained empty.
Regardless of the lack of crowds or empty seats, watching a granddaughter play under the big lights of an event center of that size was pretty exciting. After an illustrious high school career, she earned a four year scholarship to a private college in California. I remember her as a toddler, using a basketball to get her balance. Over the year as she watched her dad’s moves, she developed a few of her own. I’m glad I got to see her play as a young woman. With a front row seat in heaven, VST must’ve been full of pride!
Saturday was full of chores in preparation for the big freeze. In these parts, one must be sure to disconnect all sprinkler systems before freezing nights are here to stay. If not, a homeowner will face broken pipes and costly repairs.
I’ve been unable to complete this task myself, as the valve to turn the water on and off is a beast. Thank goodness the Mysterious Marine helped me out with that problem. The gardens of Winterpast are officially beginning their deep sleep. Let the autumn winds carry my leaves off to parts unknown. If not, my gardener will help tidy things up for the winter.
Playoff games, Pan Seared scallops and home-made Fettuccini Alfredo, visits with family members, home-made chicken soup with Amish noodles, breakfast out and breakfast in. All in all, this weekend was action packed and gone way too soon.
This week fall cleaning here at Winterpast is in full swing. Working full time has it’s draw backs. In retirement, I wonder how I did everything while working. It’s quite obvious. I didn’t. This week, I need to play catch up and get things shining. It’s almost time to start decorating for the holidays and Winterpast needs to shine.
A few weeks have passed since I turned in my letter of resignation and I’ve had lots of time to thing about my decision. The peace that surrounds me tells me I made exactly the right one. Although I don’t know God’s master plans and why I was asked to teach for such a short time, I’m sure it was his intervention that landed me the job.
In talking to others still working there, it seems conditions are improving. My kiddos are doing well. Problems are being resolved. Things are better than when I started there.
Not only did I improve my skills of patience and tolerance, I also practiced making boundaries for myself. Protecting myself, it became clear this wasn’t the environment I’d envisioned for one final year in the classroom. The best ending of all happened. I walked away with no malice or hard feelings. It just wasn’t a fit for me. In that decision, I feel total and complete peace without a single regret. What a blessing!
Whatever you do today, enjoy the crisp autumn days and take a moment to look for signs of the changing season. I plan to visit Virginia City, this the week before Halloween. With a lunch of Gospel Fried Chicken, I plan to go sit awhile at VST’s resting spot while I watch the leaves blow by. This my favorite season of all and I don’t plan to miss a minute.
As I’ve gardened over the decades, I’ve come to believe that flowers are God’s way of laughing. Truly. It would take a very hard heart not to appreciate the beauty and diversity of flowers. Coming in every imaginable color, they are powerful. We order them at times of extreme happiness and celebrations and need them in times of great sadness. Their energy is real and able to mend a broken heart.
Miss Sunflower is a treasured friend of mine. Shy and reserved inside, she hides behind a powerhouse attitude of “I believe I can do this, so I will.” And, she does. She has been through many trials and tribulations in her 50 years. She reminds me of myself at 50. Overwhelmed while she forges ahead, she’s determined to handle whatever needs handling. Being a master florist, she just bought the flower shop on Main Street.
Of all the women in Bible Study, I’ve probably spent the most time with her. Miss Sunflower radiates the goodness of the earth. Surely floral spirits are lodged in her blonde locks as she transform a bucket of flowers into an arrangement of beauty. Don’t get in her way as she handles business in the shop. She might run you over with a bucket of soft, grey roses, intended for those customers in the Halloween spirit.
Yesterday, her business partner was out of the shop. I learned a one person flower shop is tough to handle. A person needs to take orders and also make deliveries. People come in at random times during the day to make varied requests. Homecoming wristlets. A hospital pick-me-up. Red, long stemmed roses that scream about new love. Red, white, and blue cemetery arrangements to watch over the grave of a newly fallen soldier. In a single day, the emotions that come and go are as varied as the people walking through the door.
Miss Sunflower had asked if I’d be able to come and hang out with her in the absence of her partner. She didn’t need to ask twice. As I wrote yesterday, my love of plants and flowers is intense. To spend a day peeking into the back side of a floral shop would be fascinating.
Yes. I’d be there.
Sitting on Main Street, Miss Sunflower’s new shop has a front row seat to everything our little town has to offer. Big semi-trucks roll by as they snake their way towards Las Vegas, only seven hours to the south. I noticed that many honked as they drove by. Miss Sunflower filled me in on the back story. It seems the owner of Tee Pee Bar and Grill has a deal with the truckers. If they gave a honk, they’ll get a discount on their meal. All afternoon, hungry truckers tooted their horns at the restaurant just a little down the street. Another little bit of folk-lore of which I wasn’t aware until yesterday.
Yvonne’s hot pink hot dog stand is now a thing of the past. It’s changed into All American Home Town Burgers. The little stand is now painted lavender and boasts the best Philly Cheese Steak Sandwiches in Northwestern Nevada. I’ll need to give this place a try.
My first assignment, which I eagerly accepted, was to deliver two beautiful arrangements. One a birthday gift and one a gift of new and intense love. Two very different arrangements sat in the Barbie-mobile on their way to two unsuspecting women. What a fun assignment to share such happiness with strangers!
The first arrangement was accepted by a young man. Not sure if he was a husband or son, he opened the front door to reveal a room full of balloons. The lady of the hour was out lunching with her mom. I hope she enjoyed such a wonderful surprise on her special day. When the young man looked at the card, his face softened into a knowing smile. A lovely moment in every way.
The second delivery fell on an unanswered door. The roses professing deep and abiding love would need to journey back to the shop for another delivery at another time. The lady of the house wasn’t there.
During the afternoon, Miss Sunflower refilled her display floral display case with beauty. When I arrived, she had three arrangements in the case. When I left, her cases were full. I learned about pricing and arranging. She even let me arrange two bud vases, which I must admit, turned out pretty nice.
Before I knew it, her daughter arrived to help and I went on my way. I really didn’t want to wash my hair last night, knowing flower fairies are perched up there. I’m quite sure some hitched a ride home with me after such an enchanting day.
Miss Sunflower would have it no other way than to give me a rose filled bud vase and a box of chocolates for helping out. Not a bad exchange for a day I really needed.
The Mysterious Marine has asked me twice about my favorite flowers. I had to give this question careful consideration. In the garden, roses and peonies are unbeatable. In the wild, California sunflowers and high Sierra wildflowers of any variety always make me smile. The smell of a gardenia or the shape of hydrangea blossoms make me think of my grandmother. Coastal flowers make me want to move there just to grown them. The simplicity of a daisy or the intricacy of a Bird of Paradise. The simple elegance of a crisp, white daisy. There are so many to choose, I can’t say that one flower is favored over the other.
The only flowers I really don’t like are lilies of any kind. I hope that some day when I’m pushing up daisies the kids remember that. No lilies of any kind. Rather an arrogant flower, in my humble opinion.
My day was topped off by sharing a PoPo appetizer at Golden Chef with the Mysterious Marine. Today, we’ll begin the long process of family introductions. It’s time each family gets to know the person who has been taking up our free time. By the end of the day, strangers will become acquaintances. What a wonderful way to begin the weekend!
I’ll be back Monday with much more to tell. Until then, buy yourself some flowers. They just may heal what ails you.
Like so many children of the 70’s, I fell in love with houseplants. Angel Wing Begonias. Spider plants. Pathos. Mother-In-Law’s Tongue. Grape Ivy. Elephant Ears. I loved them all and had plants every where I lived. At that time, plants were an inexpensive way to decorate, bringing beauty and life to any home.
Through my life, I would have a reoccurring dream that someday I would own a home covered in plants. That was quite an odd dream because, at that time, VST and I were living a healthy and happy life together. There were no thoughts of bugging out and finding a little hippy shack somewhere. Certainly no thoughts of becoming a widow at 64.
During those years, we were gone so much of the time, there wasn’t time to nurture an indoor garden. VST never coached our kids in the variety of sports he enjoyed throughout school. He loved all sports, having been a starting player on an award winning football team throughout his high school years. The legend lives on in the memories of his team mates.
While our five children grew, VST was one busy guy. Professionally he worked full time. When I met him, he had 3 college credits. Throughout our lives together, he earned his Associates Degree, Bachelor’s Degree, Master’s Degree, and Doctoral Degree, all while raising our kids to the adults that brought our grandchildren into the world. He also built everything from a waterfall to an outdoor smoking room and a garage for his parents, supporting them in their elder years.
During those years, I was racing as fast as I could with my own professional endeavors. I, too, became the evening famer specializing in irrigation of 16,000 100-year-old-vines. When we weren’t growing them, we were shaking the dust from hundreds of tons of dancing raisins There just wasn’t time for any indoor plants, as the outdoor ones drained the life from us on a daily basis.
Once we retired and moved to Virginia City, there were three more teaching gigs in store for me. VST continued to build. We also became feral parents, riding the range in the RV. When I look back, it’s lucky that Oliver found a spot with us. Our days flew by until I was left with days alone to dream up new adventures on my own.
Houseplants are now thriving at Winterpast. The dream I had so many times over the years has come to be. A home full of lovely and calming plants. Their pots sit everywhere there is enough light to sustain them.
I sure wish houseplants still cost what they did in 1970. As I’ve started to get back into my hobby, I’ve realized that some varieties are no longer sold as house plants. Coleus were the most beautiful plants, coming in a variety of colors and textures. They are now sold at my hardware store as an outdoor plant. Not sure how the delicate leaves would do in my backyard, as the desert winds would surely kill them in a few days.
One little coincidence that has been noted with a smile is that Mr. Mysterious Marine happens to share the same love of houseplants. His Angel Wings stretch towards his ceiling, while plants frame and fill every window. Such life they bring to his home. I must say, one doesn’t often meet a person with such important similarities and sensitivities. It isn’t lost on this Gardener who Grieves.
Last night, I showed him my favorite place to shop. In the back of the hardware store, near the garden exit is a wonderful little secret. It’s the “On Sale Because We are Almost Dead” plant section. On shelves sit fantastic bargains of the 50% off kind. There, (if you are optimistic, handy with Miracle Grow, and able to look past a few dead leaves), are wonderful plants that just can’t sit on the perfect shelves anymore. Between the selections of the two of us, there aren’t many good ones left on that lonely shelf.
After a wonderful shopping adventure of the best kind, the Mysterious Marine cooked a gourmet meal of specially seasoned chicken and very purple homegrown potatoes and onions. Complemented with homegrown tomatoes in a salad, the gourmet meal couldn’t have been purchased anywhere because the man who cooked it also grew the potatoes, onions, and tomatoes.
Thinking about gardening plans for the 2023 season, this Mysterious Marine and I have many notes to compare. I see many new fruit trees and flowers in my future, along with more houseplants.
Retirement has returned. With a new appreciation for hobbies from long ago, I am blessed to have found a friend with whom to enjoy them.
There is nothing better than a Small Town Candidates Night on which to base political decisions. So much is said through body language and voice. Random questions reveal a candidates true colors. That’s something one never sees on the hundreds of staged political commercials polluting the airwaves at this time of year.
I don’t know what is worse. Wasting life by the 1/2 minutes while watching people tell political lies through perfect teeth and tightened skin, or being convinced to take drugs that might cure your condition, but could also kill you while doing so. Think how good you’ll feel on the way out!
Oy Vey.
OFF. On many days, the best television setting is OFF.
The Mysterious Marine invited me to join him in support of his brother who happens to be running for THE Mayor of our little town. Having the entire day to think about meeting a portion of his very large family, I decided to get dolled up for the occasion. Black on black with a wool blazer. Hair blown and curled just enough. Eye shadow, lipstick, a faint hint of perfume. It was nice to prepare for an evening out to support a mayoral candidate I actually know and like.
I’d protested against attending the meeting just a little bit. I used to be a voting member of the political group hosting the event. Many of the members are not the most genuine people. If they were, I’d still be a card carrying member, right? But, for the Mysterious Marine, there aren’t many things I wouldn’t do to support him and his family. Going with him was an easy “YES”.
There were many, many nephews, nieces, and even a Great-niece to meet. His brother and his wife have been married almost 50 years and have 25 Grandchildren and 3 Great-grandchildren. They have lived in the town I now call home for 62 years. MM’s nephew was also on the panel, running for a position on the School Board. It was fun sitting with the movers and shakers of our town.
At the table, I met two VIP’s about which I want to know more. MM introduced me to his high school track coach and his wife. Now, not to give out too much information, MM is 68. This fit, funny, and great man sitting at the table was his track coach. You do the math. His lovely wife was there with him. Both were energetic and alive, coming out into the desert night to support our candidate. This man had coached MM to award winning records that have stood for decades. The two are still great friends. What a feel good story!
Through the night, youngers came over to say Hello to this rock star couple. Just two elders enjoying a date night while listening to candidates talk about their positions on important issues. What careers these two people had! How nice that I had a chance to meet them. I’m so proud to live in a town small enough that our vote will make a difference in the quality of our lives. Even more so that the locals know the importance of a single vote.
The two sheriff candidates sat across the room from each other like buffalo bulls. Not signaling that anything was amiss, but ready for a sparring match if the need arose. I noticed residual tension from their long day at work. I can’t imagine the days our police officers experience. I pray for them often. These two men stomp out crimes in an area covering over 24,000 square miles. A lot of territory to keep safe.
With a new sheriff and a new Mayor, our town will be ready for 2022 and beyond. It’s time. We have water, school, and policing issues. Our roads are in dismal shape and getting worse with each passing season. The “Good Ole Boy” system that worked so well for so long isn’t working anymore. The housing bubble has again burst. With gas at almost $6 a gallon, the 30 minute commute makes our town just a little too far away. Skyrocketing rent has priced us out competition with bigger cities. All these situations spell tough times for a little town and the residents. Last night, there wasn’t an empty seat in the house.
Mr. Mayoral Candidate looked dapper in his suit and tie. He’d prepared for the evening of questions and had meaty answers. At one point, the current mayor (hopeful Past Mayor) threw out a big lie. After careful consideration, Mr. Mayoral Candidate didn’t pick up the rope. Tug of war is a nasty game in which someone gets muddy. It was refreshing to see a candidate that preferred to take the high road. Mr. Past Mayor (hopefully) had sent a letter to the entire community that held a big lie, (quite provable), about Mr. Mayoral Candidate. It was wonderful to see Mr. Mayoral Candidate take the high road. Way to GO!!
Many old women were there, older but not wiser. I was glad MM’s family was so big and welcoming. A little baby with the sweetest curl was the icing on the cake. I can’t wait to know everyone better. Blending into a gigantic sea of supporters, it was easy to focus on the debate. A night I will not soon forget and issues that will steer me to vote my conscience at the polls.
Today, Oliver is coming home from October puppy camp. I must say the house is very quiet without him. These days, we are a working team. Although he doesn’t understand why I’m again home and tending to Winterpast, he loves it and is at my side at all times. After almost four years, when I make a request, he complies. Sit? He sits. Down? He’s down. Bed? Off he goes. When alone, we’re a team. Add his new girlfriend to the mix, it’s twice the crazy all over again. There’s always more a dog can learn, right?
Have a wonderful day today. Take time to look at the political candidates before you vote. Make sure you are voting for a person and not just a party. If you get the chance to meet candidates, I highly recommend it. You might find some new friends in the process.
Today is the perfect day for a little drive about to clear my head. There are so many beautiful places located within a two hour radius. Today is a wonderful day to bug out and drive. Autumn in the high desert is a kaleidoscope of color this time of year and a major tourist attraction. Our version of the colors of New York. The Eastern Sierra Nevada’s are the prettiest mountains anywhere around. Just look at the picture taking in Minden, Nevada. It’s even prettier than that.
I have a friend that needs to come along. She’s a New Yorker that I met in early summer. I’ve never met anyone like her before and probably won’t ever meet anyone like her again. She became the first brick in the foundation for our Women’s Bible Study. She would tell you that she isn’t the reason our Bible study continues to grow. We all know differently. This woman could move mountains before breakfast. She’s all the things admirable. Wise, calm, witty, intelligent, a beautiful woman inside and out. A real no-nonsense kind of woman. The kind you want for a sister.
She needs our love and support in a big way. She’s loosing her sight. Suffering from a progressive disease, this isn’t improving by the day.
Macular degeneration is a horrific disease. It attacked both my parents. It has blinded my God Mother. It can happen to anyone. It’s genetic and final. The outcome is blindness. It can happen overnight. How scary is that? My Gal-Pal is slowly going blind from this disease.
She would love to see the colors of the changing trees of her hometown New York. Well, we have some pretty amazing trees around here. It’s not New York, but, the Cottonwoods and Aspens are also pretty spectacular.
Thinking back to last Thursday, I realized I haven’t shared about the most perfect day with women that have come to mean the world to me. She was there, running the show.
Early in the summer, my life wasn’t all roses and lollipops. There were many truths that had come to light as I forged a new path in my life. Taking a mountain walk in the early summer can be treacherous. With unexpected rainstorms, one often needs to take shelter and wait for them to pass. Life is a lot like that, too. If you’ve created the storm, you need to wait out the rain of your own making. Such was the situation in which I found myself on a certain Thursday that now seems so long ago. Some days it seems I’m just a master at raining on my own parade. Oy Vey.
On that early summer day, God had given me three reasons to leave the church I’d attended for over one year. Three “in my face reasons” that couldn’t be denied. On that certain Thursday morning, I’d woken to a sadness so deep it brought me to tears. My heart longed for friends. Not just a random friend here or there, but a network of true friends. The kind that don’t blow away with the first little disagreement. Friends in Christ.
The first idea that came to mind was to find yet another Bible Study to join. One in another part of time with different participants. I’d just start looking around town and see what was available. I knew where I’d start. A little church on Farm District Road. A real street name in a town that also has In-Town Park and Out-of-Town Park.
With that decision made and with great haste, I jumped in the Barbie-Mobile and drove there. If there were a building more tightly closed and locked, I’ve never been to one. The barren parking lot of the little church sat empty telling me to leave. I felt abandoned and alone.
I decided I’d go buy some flowers at Lowe’s and return home to tend the gardens at Winterpast.
Feeling pretty low as I drove, a vision of the warm and welcoming people of another church across town flashed through my mind. I had met them my right before my first Thanksgiving as a widow in my new town. They were collecting food for hungry families. I’d go there. They wouldn’t be closed. They couldn’t be. Although they might be, my heart said “Drive there, Woman!”
In that moment, Jesus truly took the wheel.
At 9:58, I walked into the very room where my group of friends sat. About 14 of the sweetest women of faith. Welcoming. Smiling. Ready to study the Bible. Waiting on ME, the woman they had yet to meet.
At each place, there was a paper that said the following…..
friend
/frend/ noun
someone who gives you freedom to be yourself;
one of the nicest things you can have;
the best thing you can be.
Last Thursday, we celebrated the 1-Year-Anniversary of our Bible study group. They listened as I shared all the details of my resignation after celebrating my happiness at returning to work only two months earlier. I hadn’t realized the disappointment and feelings of failure that were there for a true friend to see. They prayed for my broken heart while I cried, surrounded by true and complete love. The room was full of angels that morning. Both earth angels and the Holy Spirit. What a morning. What a beautiful group of friends God gave me on a morning I cried out to ask him for nothing more.
Yes.
I think I need to call my sweet friend. She mentioned she’d love to see fall colors again. Me too. We both need to seize this moment in time when the leaves are a brilliant orange, red, yellow, and bronze. In life you never know when our eyesight might fail or be gone all together. Storms can come at any time in life. We need to be ready for them.
Whatever you do today, be ready for Jesus to take the wheel. It just might be that you find treasures more wonderful than gold. The first step is getting in the car to go looking.
Autumn is my very favorite time of year. A time to be thankful for all the blessings we have, as well as a time to keep up with the leaves. During this last summer, Winterpast was cheated of hours and hours of careful attention given during past summers. I hope I can make it up to her this fall while completing some much needed gardening tasks. I seem to have a bit of extra time on my hands starting today, this being the first day of unemployment after my resignation.
As I think about my return to retirement, calm and comforting thoughts surround me. Yesterday, I returned all school materials and my keys to a room that seemed so foreign at this point. I did the right thing. A wise person needs to know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. Some people and their jobs are not a match. Such was the case with me and my little school.
After a last few months with littles, this week I turn my attention to Winterpast and the gardening chores awaiting me there. The leaves are just starting to change color, floating to the ground to make a carpet of golds, reds, and oranges. Remembering this time of year on the ranch in California, the big difference was the morning dew. In the desert, dew is missing while the leaves remain dry well into the winter. Many just blow away, never to be seen again. Crisp and light, raking and bagging them isn’t the mucky mess it was on the ranch.
If you are lucky enough to have a yard to tend, there are some autumn task that shouldn’t be forgotten.
Autumn is a great time to till the soil. I have a brand new rototiller to try on my flower beds. While tilling the soil, I plan to add some soil amendments. My soil needs a shot of gypsum to loosen it, increasing drainage. Hard as a rock, this desert soil isn’t the fluffy loam of the Central Valley, but desert soil that lacks organic matter. A few bags of mulch will provide a good bed for spring flowers.
Everything in my yard needs a good pruning. Fall is the time to prune back the roses and bushes, as well as unwanted limbs and branches on the trees. I can’t wait to fire up my tiny little chain saw and buzz away. Annual bushes, such as the Russian Sage need their turn with the electric hedge trimmer.
As the yard art goes back into the barn for the winter, there’ll be lots of time to reflect on the past two months while evaluating my summer of miracles. It was a summer I’ll never forget in which I finally remembered and embraced the woman I am at my core.
My Mysterious Marine has shared so many wise and profound thoughts with me. One of the best was one shared by VST, as well. You will be treated the way you expect and accept. Healthy boundaries are essential for healthy relationships. Communication and honesty are key to any strong friendship. All so true. In light of those truisms, the decisions of last week remain the correct course for me. No harm, no foul. Just an unsustainable path on which I couldn’t continue to travel.
I hope Autumn provides you time to enjoy your garden while pondering your own path. There is just something about the smell of newly tilled soil that is intoxicating. The birds will have a thing or two to share as I chase after the dancing leaves of Winterpast.
Whatever you do, enjoy today. There is so much beauty around us that can be missed in such a busy world. Enjoy it.
I wake up to a scene like this every morning here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. To the east, the sun peaks over the barren mountains, causing the sage to be drenched in early morning color. Awe inspiring, evert day I thank God that I live in this quiet and beautiful place. From here I will go to meet Him one day. In the evening the scene repeats itself as the sun sets behind the Sierra Nevada Mountains just to the west of me. And the seasons, they’ve gone round and round.
Either time of day is breathtaking. A day rich with possibilities or a day that has been filled with accomplishments through struggles and perseverance. Two different times to reflect on what the hours of light held for each one of us. Each individual creates their own story during those hours. Depending on what we learn from our waking hours, a personal path is formed. Sometimes there are some pretty scary forks in the road. It is at a life defining juncture I stand now.
I have chosen to resign and retire from teaching.
A sunrise took me to a little school at the wide spot on a very dusty road on a very hot day in July. Hired by a principal that, along with ten teachers, quit the next week, I might have taken a different path had I known the backstory. But, hind sight is 20/20, and we can never make good decisions based on the experiences and actions of others.
God gave me 20 littles to teach with love for the time I had them under my wing. We all learned a lot during the two months I had them in my care, and with pride, I can say they were always my focus. For those weeks, they got it all. Up at dark-thirty, I spent time preparing days that were the best they could be, but extenuating circumstances finally broke me. I refer to this as “Death of a Teacher in 60 Days or Less”.
Some might think their energy level was too much to handle.
Nope. I found it refreshing and delightful.
Some might think it was the computerized lessons that pushed me to my breaking point.
Nope. I learned a lot from the experience.
It was a set of circumstances so broken that they were not to be fixed during my employ.
One very green teacher reminded me that the situation in which we were all teaching was all they knew, therefore, not unusual or wrong. There lies the demise of things as they once were. Accepting insanity as the new normal. I couldn’t participate with the insanity called public school one minute longer.
In my beautiful teaching career, I spent the bulk of my career blessed to teach at an award winning school. People would travel from all over California and Nevada to observe our reading lab and literacy program. All employees were onboard and our students reaped the rewards. Every student’s educational plan was tailor-made just for them and the goal of every employee was student success. Educational minutes were golden and not to be squandered. I know what that looks like in a community and more specifically, in a school district.
When I became Secondary Teacher of the Year in 2010, nothing made me more proud. I earned that award while helping high school students achieve their very real dreams and goals. During those years with my district, I watched the best of the best teachers work their magic while loving every second of our days together. The brilliance of my time teaching will never be tarnished by poor working conditions and even worse educational decisions made by people that should know better.
It was never about the paycheck. It wasn’t about prestige. I wanted to have one more school year with littles. It proved to be too much. My career passed away into memories that I will cherish for the rest of my life. For a little time, I will grieve the loss while knowing my resignation was the right decision for me. If I hadn’t taken a chance at a new sunrise, I would have regretted that. I’m very glad I gave this my best and last shot.
Life is a series of sunrises and sunsets. The sun set on a wonderful time in my life in which I was The One and Only Mrs. Hurt. Now, I return to retirement with a new appreciation for all the opportunities that await. A sunrise brightening the mountains and presenting a day ripe with possibilities. How rich and wonderful!
While making this decision, I spoke at length with someone I met a very long time ago on a playground far, far away. Poppy. Although not her real name, she has a very REAL place in my heart. You see, when she was only 8, she declared that she and I were HEART FRIENDS. She went on to say that there aren’t many people that are that lucky to find a HEART FRIEND.
I chose Poppy for her name, because like the California poppies that color the foothills every spring, this girl was a force to be reckoned with. A child strong and brilliant beyond her years. A child that has forged herself into steel as she walked through a fiery childhood. She is a once-in-a-lifetime HEART FRIEND.
Through the years, Nikki and I have found and lost and found each other again. Through her strength and resilience while homeless most of her educational years, Nikki schooled herself, graduating with honors in high school, UCLA, Penn State, and now, finishing her doctoral program at University of North Carolina. I’m blessed that Nikki is my HEART FRIEND. We talked about my decision to resign from my teaching position.
Torn up about leaving my students in the middle of the year, she said the most beautiful thing to me.
“Joy, those kids are so blessed to have you teach them for two months. You didn’t cause their troubles and you can’t fix them either. You came at the right time in their lives and they were so lucky to spend any time at all with you. They were a lucky class to be with you.”
There is a golden crown a teacher gets to wear very few moments in her life. An almost-30-year-old-student looking back to say you were HER teacher. That you made a HUGE difference. That she loved you then, throughout the years, now, and forever more. That is the shimmery bow that ties up my career. Thank you, my HEART FRIEND. I owe you for the council.
As you can imagine, this week has been one of the most intense since the passing of VST. I need to change gears and celebrate a bright new chapter in my life. I promise I will be back on Monday with new stories from this wide spot on a very dusty road running through the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Know I’ll be celebrating all the upcoming sunrises and sunsets my life has left with new appreciation. Don’t worry. I plan to celebrate my REAL and FINAL retirement in rare form. Stay tuned.
Cows are quite possibly one of my favorite animals. Trusting and wise, these animals provide products that are vital in every day life. Along with the ultimate sacrifice for humans, they are gentle and beautiful animals. It is with this love that the 1st Grade Teachers at my school are adopting five little cows for the rest of the school year. Yes. Five. They are arriving sometime this week.
I just informed my principal. I sure hope they don’t make too much of a mess when they arrive in the office. I also hope the other teachers don’t decide to run off with them. Cows are pretty trusting and 3rd grade teachers can talk a good game. It is for that reason I alerted the principal to watch for the arrival of the newest additions to our classroom.
I remember a certain summer night that VST had asked me to join him at a fund raiser at a local dairy. The farmer, quiet and shy as the dairy farmers I know can be, had taken the very old family barn and renovated it into a magnificent party venue. The wooden structure was built by great grandfathers and neighbors. Every board was as perfect as the day it was built. If it didn’t start that way, the farmer had made it new again.
VST never shared the same fascination with animals as me. I was born loving every living creature on our farm. I was always messing with the rabbits, chickens, lambs, dogs, or cats. Wild animals were observed from afar, knowing that some things can’t be tamed. VST was into football, cars, and girls. Animals didn’t make the cut.
Under the brightest full moon while bathed by warm summer air, the evening unfolded with great food and lots of gossip and laughter from our neighbors. Farmers are the salt of the earth. Great men that work hard during the day and seldom get out for frilly parties or fancy events. A night in a barn at the local dairy was an inviting affair in which they could wear their Stetson’s and Levi’s. Throw on a pair of boots and they were dressed for the night.
All of that was really grand, but the real interest for me stood just to the side of the lighted barn. There, the farmer had tubbed and scrubbed six or seven of his prize “Girls” to watch over the partiers. These ladies were the most beautiful cows I’ve seen in my 66 years. Holsteins, they quietly chewing their cud as all cows do. Coming to the fence to check me out, their friendly nature was a bit shocking. Their eye lashes hung heavy as if they were wearing their finest mascara. They looked right through me and decided I was okay. We shared a moment.
I spent awhile just taking in their beauty. These cows were of the finest pedigree and part of the prize winning herd. Solid and huge, the time spent affirmed how much I love cows. They will forever turn my head. Maybe someday, I’ll have one of my own. I love them that much.
VST finally found me by the fence and just shook his head. Taking me by the hand, we walked back to the party while he told me I would not be bidding on the calf to be auctioned off as part of the fund raiser that night. Dang. I’d just met her mother. We’d bonded. His answer remained a solid “NO”. Even living on a farm with lots of space has it’s limitations. Mine was a husband that drew the line on any animal over 200 pounds. Thank goodness the Mastiffs were just under his weight limit.
Well, my calves are on the way now. When they arrive, I hope to instill a love of bovines in my littles. First, our calf will need a name. Then, I’ll need nightly a nightly “Calf-watcher” to care for the little guy. That’s right, the calf will travel home with each child and return the next day. Along with the calf, the child will take it’s journal and record just what the it did that evening. I hope the parents will be onboard. It’s not every day that a teacher sends home a calf for additional care and love. It will be the most fun kind of homework.
In the spring, I’m hoping we can travel to the town just to the East of us (home of the REAL Top Gun program) to visit a dairy there. I want my littles to appreciate just how huge our calf will become. A glass of fresh milk would be pretty nice, too.
That’s the Moo-ving news from Room 56.
Tomorrow my site will be down for improvements, so I’ll return on Wednesday.
Drink Milk. Better yet, Eat Ice Cream. While you do, please pray for our farmers. They need all the prayers we can send.
