Grieving Gardener

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8 _{(King James Version)}

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

A time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew;

A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;

A time of war, and a time of peace.

Enough already. This isolation stuff is a nest for insanity. Two years ago, VST’s ankles became swollen for the first time in his 64 years. Really swollen. Giant in size, we first believed it was from a poor diet of fast food while looking for houses in Pahrump, Nevada. It was three days of Egg McMuffins and Bacon Western Cheeseburgers. Chips. Fries. Sodium overload. Such a weekend changed the course of our lives forever because the illness wasn’t caused by fast-food salt, but cancer. Little did we know. All was quickly revealed.

Just a year before that, we were enjoying one of the best hobbies in the world. RVing. If you know, you know. If you don’t, you might want to investigate. Having a completely stocked home on wheels, we rolled around the country to places we’d only read about in school. We went to the very meadows and hills where VST’s dad, Jack, ran as a boy. Missouri, with its down home ways, could have become our new home. I felt Jack’s spirit with us that entire trip.

Six weeks in an RV with a husband isn’t for the faint of heart, yet, VST and I found a rhythm that worked for us. Not all hearts and flowers, our daily goals were translated into unfamiliar names of towns hundreds of miles away. Meals were planned to the last sesame seed. Naps measured in 30 minute increments. Music set to Willie’s Roadhouse on Sirius XM while rolling at 55 to get to the Next Exit.

Two solitary years later, there’ve been no long road trips. Somewhere in Wyoming, at a lonely truck stop, I left a wisp of my soul. For a State Park outside Rapid City, South Dakota, my heart yearns. Mount Rushmore. Wall Drug. Ely, Minnesota. Lake Superior. All of them long for me to return as much as I dream of them. Once you drive through the peaks and valleys of our great country, you never look at her the same. I long for the mid-west.

Two years ago, VST was dying of cancer while the world was dying of Covid. The first I heard of this was a news story about a little place in Washington state where 90 people suddenly became ill and died. Such a mystery and horror, I paid little attention to the details. It would be the last news I watched for weeks.

April 9th, 2020, I again turned on the news, just one day a widow. The number of dead had grown to 20,000. Quarantining was in place. Go no where. Allow no one into the home. Close your doors and shutter your windows. Shelter in place. Be afraid. Very afraid. And so began my journey through widowhood.

Two years have passed. Because of my strange introduction to the world of Covid, I didn’t depend on the media to instruct me on my every move. Chilled to my bones by the horrors of VST’s cancer, there could be no worse illness. Viruses are a forever thing. There still is no cure for viruses. No eradication. The same is true for cancer. No cure. Certainly, there’s no cure for death. That’s a given.

For the last two years, I’ve done my best to keep living as normally as possible. I’ve eaten at restaurants as often as possible. Stayed in hotels on numerous occasions. Visited spas. Shopped. Carried on in a world that has gone mad. Thankfully, VST and I picked a new home in the perfect place. Spaced away from quiet neighbors, there’s room to breathe. Fresh air. Brilliant, disinfecting sunlight. No air pollution (unless California is on fire). Cleansing winds. A desert paradise.

Through all of this madness, I’ve had two colds in the last two years. Just plain colds. Sniffling. Sneezing. Running nose. Headache. Nothing more. Covid-Negative.

Now, it’s time for me to come out of isolation. Personally, I can’t cower another day. Two years of grief and loneliness is far too much time for navel inspection. 2022 is a time to return to normal, facing whatever that holds.

Healing. So much healing is needed in our world. Forgiveness. Tolerance. Love. Everyone just needs to take a deep breath and learn how to play together again. Drive a little slower. Wave a little more. Wear a smile instead of a mask, at least when you are driving, alone in your car. Plan a spring picnic. Get outside and resume one small part of a normal life. Living in fear is no life at all.

In all this craziness, something wonderful has happened here at Winterpast. A familiar name has returned to my life. Ace is back. Sometimes, isolation is necessary reflection on the course of life. With time and conversation, our friendship was stronger than our differences and we proceed with caution. Although one hundred miles still separate our lives, some friendships are just too precious to lose.

Now is the time for healing. Phone calls to old friends bring back forgotten memories. Walks together under the bright blue sky invigorate the spirit. Trips to the grocery store are more fun when the meals planned are for two. Flowers from a friend make me smile. Church is a room full of love. All those things help us heal together, because healing is always better with friends.

Have a wonderful day.

More tomorrow.

The weather has been super around these parts. Even though the nights are winter cold, the days have been bright, sunny, and warm. We’ve been experiencing the high 40’s, which for winter time, is just lovely. With the bluest skies shining overhead, I’m happy to report my cold is gone.

Almost two weeks have passed since I became sick. Normal viruses used to be predictable, taking ten days to run their course. How I long for the viruses of yesterday. Luckily, my regular old cold followed the proper course leaving me no worse off than before. It was just a runny nose, “I don’t feel well”, negative Covid-test, sneezy, cough-y, two Kleenex box cold.

A few lessons I learned through my little experience into illness isolation.

1. Stay prepared. A week before I got sick, I inventoried my medicine cupboard, taking note of what was missing. Dayquil/Nyquil comes in pill form in a 14 day package. It’s wonderful stuff. No drippy nose or stuffiness. Take the orange pills in the day and the green ones at night. This stuff kept me feeling better than I would have. It was great to have a package waiting at the ready, just incase. Be sure to check that all your medicines agree with each other. It can be complicated.
2. Keep orange juice on hand, even a small bottle. Vitamin C is great for fighting colds. It was also great to have a fresh bottle on hand.
3. Even if you aren’t feeling the best, don’t forget to take your prescribed meds on schedule. A friend was ill with a cold and forgot to take her insulin, resulting in worse problems. Remember to eat and medicate on a regular schedule.
4. Please don’t go anywhere if you are sick. Viruses are so contagious. Sadly, vaccinated or not, you can still get sick and spread viruses. If you have the slightest suspicion you are sick, PLEASE STAY HOME. Easy for me to say, I’m retired. But then, maybe it’s harder for us retirees that ARE alone. Main point, better be safe than sorry.
5. Stay in touch with others, just in case. I was so blessed to have family and friends reach out to be sure I was okay. What a blessing! It’s good to have friends that check in. Accidents or illnesses come without warning. You just never know.
6. Have an easy, nutritious go-to recipe that’s easy to prepare. For me, it was a pan of Mac and Cheese. When feeling the worst, it was nice to have a warm, gooey meal to keep me going. Chicken soup does warm the soul.

With shortages hitting us again, be sure to take inventory of your supplies. Stock as best you can. Don’t forget your furry friends. Oliver had plenty of food while I was out of commission. I keep a month’s supply of his food on hand, as the shortages have been hitting different items, dog food being one.

Today, I’m back on track. Even while riding out a silly cold, my days have been rich with happiness and fun. While resting, I’ve had time to reflect on the possibilities and goals that 2022 holds. Wondering if Walmart’s garden section is being stocked, Winterpast and I eagerly await bud break, still weeks away.

That’s it for today. Remember to start thinking about Valentine’s Day. Never forget to tell people in your life how much you love them. Spring is right around the corner!!!

More tomorrow.

Hi there, Folks.

It’s me. Oliver. I know. I know. I don’t have thumbs, but I figured a few things out while sitting in Mom-Oh’s chair. This computer screen and keyboard are pretty neat.

Mom-oh is still pretty sick. She would tell ya’ll the she feels as great as I do, but really, she doesn’t. This NyQuil stuff she takes isn’t so good for getting my breakfast on time. She says she “groggy” or some such thing. Anyway, she needs more sleep.

We’ll be back on Monday. She’ll be better by then. Please tell your friends to read Mom-Oh’s blog. She works really hard to write every day. I know. I’m her helper.

Thanks everyone. I just might blog more someday.

Oliver

PS….Don’t tell Mom-Oh. She’s not happy when I sit in her chair by accident.

With my cold on the run, I’m feeling better today. Steaming coffee, a blank computer screen, and Ollie at my feet I’ve not much to write about this morning. One could argue a story can be found in anything. Yes, I agree with that. Heck, I even named my tree Cheryl and gave her human attributes. However, after experiencing a head cold and days of isolation, a worthy topic isn’t obvious. Sitting here, the Snow Birds come to mind. They certainly know what to do when the temperatures drop.

Snow-Birding is on my bucket list. In case you’ve not heard the phrase, a Snow Bird is someone that leaves the ravages of winter snow to live somewhere warmer for three months. In Nevada, there are plenty of those “somewhere’s”. Pahrump, Laughlin, Las Vegas, Summerlin, Henderson. Those are just some of them. Each year, these desert towns swell with Mid-Americans and their RV’s.

The MIGRATION (believe me, it IS a migration) begins around November 1. On or around that date, the interstates swell with a mass of RV’s all traveling west or south. These people are determined to trade the bone chilling cold and winter of their homes for somewhere warmer. Towns like Yuma, Arizona explode. If you haven’t reservations, don’t go. RV spots and rentals are sold out months in advance.

While camping, VST and I would drive up and down the RV site in Pahrump looking at license plates. Minnesota. Missouri. New York. Wyoming. South Dakota. The list went on and on. In Pahrump, mind you. An isolated desert town, there’s not much there but beautiful scenery, a few casinos, and a Walmart. It does have something fabulous. Daytime temperatures of 65-70 with crystal clear skies of the deepest blue.

As the Snow Birds get settled, little communities form and the winter passes. RV’s are decorated for Christmas. Little yards are created with artificial turf and lawn chairs. Pets have outdoor areas in which to play. Shuffleboard comes alive and the pool and spa are hot spots to meet new friends. A mobile society of people that cannot take the winters anymore. In the desert communities, High Season is November to April. You can fry an egg on the sidewalk the other six months of the year.

As one might expect, many of these people are far past the normal driving age, and yet, navigate thousands of miles they do. They are hardy folks that are the fullest of lives. I respect them for that.

Towns prepare all year for the explosion of winter residents. Prices go up. Shelves are stocked with everything the travelers will need for their stay. A grand time is had by all until they pack it up and head back home April 1. Another day you might want to avoid if you are traveling on western interstates.

My bucket list includes wintering somewhere warm for an extended period of time. 70 degrees in the winter is heavenly. Cool enough for a sweater. No parka, gloves, wool cap, and socks necessary. No need for 4-wheel drive or chains. Just 70 degrees.

This morning, it’s 28 degrees with 95% cloud cover. No wind, but way too cold to venture into the hot tub just yet. I’ll wait until it warms up this afternoon. We’ll be having a heat wave at 48 degrees around 2 o’clock. Goodness. Short sleeve weather, eh?

Thinking about the Snow Birds, I remember our feral days when VST would get up and say, “Darlin’, you want to blow Dodge and head south?” In hours, we’d roll down the driveway towards another adventure. Someday soon, I’ll do that again.

To any Snow Bird reading this, please be grateful for your good fortune. You are truly lucky. To any past Snow Birds, please be grateful for all the wonderful memories you made. Without packing a bag, you can close your eyes and be there again.

Have a wonderful day. More tomorrow.

Wow. I sneezed and it’s January 11th. During retirement I thought time would slow but it seems to have done the opposite. Although up and writing today, I’m still not 100%. I’ve been enjoying movies, chicken soup, orange juice, and lots of naps. Today I need to move my brain and body towards normal.

A few bored days ago I wasn’t feeling well enough to write for an hour or two in my drafty studio. Not quite up to reading a novel, I wanted something to do. Daily journaling has become a part of my life. Like a best friend of the “No-Tell” kind, I vent about whatever has driven me mad, made me cry, or brought me to my knees. There are also boring little repetitions about feeding Oliver or the time I rise each morning. Just stuff that I find important at the time I wrote.

Journal One, August, 2020. Reading along, day by day, I revisited my early widowhood wondering where that version of me found the strength to pick up a pencil, let alone life. Grief soaked pages told of a long and arduous journey full of adventure and great memories. These journals speak of flags planted along the way. Milestones. Successes. Failures. My journals are a place feelings of one day are vented and forgotten the next. But when read one page after the other, a mural of this new woman appeared. As I’ve grown, the new me is a reflection of the decisions I’ve made along the way. Thank goodness I like who I’ve become today.

Want to journal for yourself? Here are some tips to help you get started.

1. Find a comfortable spot to journal in a quiet area. Hate quiet? Find a chaotic place. People are different. Find a place that works for you.
2. Choose a time that you are well-nourished and rested, preferably at the same time every day. Set your timer for 15 minutes.
3. Commit to writing for 14 days in a row.
4. To begin, date your page. On the first three lines write 1, 2, 3.
5. Think of three things you’re grateful for. They can be as simple as Air, Water, Light. After you list the item, write one sentence about each telling why you are grateful. This is just to get your mind rolling. As you’re writing these three sentences, spelling doesn’t matter. As long as you can read this, it doesn’t matter the penmanship. Punctuation??? FERGETABOUTIT. Just get your words down about these three things. You may write a page about each one. You may write four words and call it good. It’s up to you.
6. Next, write about one thing that happened over the last 24 hours. This can be as simple as walking to the mail box and seeing a cloud. Write one sentence about what you saw. Continue a little about what you smelled, touched, heard, and tasted. You’ll be surprised that if you start really thinking about your day, you have so much to write, it’ll be hard to choose.
7. It’s okay if you only write 1/2 page. More is not always better. When you feel like stopping, stop.
8. Make writing in your journal a priority for two weeks and then see if journaling is something you want to continue.

Reading back through the months at Winterpast, the abundant and beautiful life I’ve experienced came flooding back. I’m so glad I saved those memories like preserved rose blossoms. Full of all the hope and wonder that comes with enjoying a spring sunrise, the words of 2020 show a woman full of hope, adventure, and faith. No matter the dark clouds, it took strength and courage to march on, one foot in front of the other.

Choose a journal that is well made and pleasing to you. Walmart has a wonderful selection with a variety of sizes and layouts. I choose to write in mechanical pencil for quick corrections. Again, remember, this isn’t something others will read. It’s meant for your eyes only, unless you choose to share. Make sure those around you know and respect that, or keep it tucked away. Words written one day will represent different feelings that those written the next. They’re a reflection of you at a single moment in time.

If you come to writer’s block, Google — “Journal prompts”. You’ll find many websites that can help you. The main point is to begin and don’t stop. Writing is life. You will discover things about yourself that you never knew. It cleanses the mind while making the sads and scaries easier to deal with.

Not at 100%, I return to my nest for more sleep. Stay well. More tomorrow.

Good Morning, Dear Readers.

Thank you for returning to see what’s up. Unfortunately, I’m down. I’ve been fighting a winter cold for a few days now. Need to take some more Nyquil and return to bed. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to fill you in on the latest.

Please stay well. Enjoy your day! Joy

Some days, there are just no words adequate. Life is too brilliant to compose into a few paragraphs. Complete happiness in a perfect moment in time. If your lucky, some days are just like that. As a writer, I need a little time to drink in these moments and contemplate life’s meaning.

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

I think I can begin to follow my G0D in a more meaningful way to to help improve my life.

No. Wait.

I can begin to follow GOD in a more meaningful way thus improving my life.

No. Wait.

I WILL follow GOD through meaningful scripture which will improve my life.

No. Wait.

I FOLLOW GOD’S WORD through scripture that IS life.

Better, but not quite there. The road is long to wisdom and understanding, and I’m only walking the first mile.

GOD speaks to my soul through HIS word.

Now, that’s a mission statement I can follow.

Following GOD’s word in an intentional way, I will find direction and correct my course.

HIS WORD will bring meaning.

No. Wait.

THE WORD is meaning.

THE WORD is life.

Life IS THE WORD.

The Bible. Such a beautiful book. Pick one up and read it. You won’t be disappointed.

Have a wonderful day. More tomorrow.

Some days, the only thing that keeps me upright is a sense of gratitude that I haven’t yet toppled over. It seems the smallest things can derail an otherwise okay day. A picture triggers a memory. A memory then triggers a tear. A tear finally triggers a frown. Well, you get the picture. A perfectly good hour can be lost to the dark side.

When VST passed, I chose focus words each month. One positive word a month that represented our relationship. In those moments life seemed too dark, I’d focus on the word of the month and ways that word represented us. Words like Friendship, Adventure, and Everlasting Love. Before long, the sadness turned to something else. Gratitude.

Gratitude for the smallest things helps me stay mindful and grounded in the abundance of wonderful events that happen every day. Just last night, my trash cans didn’t blow over in high desert winds that shook Winterpast to her timbers. What a blessing! The horses haven’t pooped in my front yard for a week. Hallalujah. My neighbor felt connected enough to call after losing a very dear friend. She is a true blessing to my heart.

Each day, there are so many things for which to be grateful, I could fill a journal. At this moment, there is the sweetest little dog laying at my feet, sleeping soundly. A little dog with which I’m lucky enough to room. As he lays sleeping, I know he’s thankful that puppy camp ended and Mom-Oh came to bring him home. A little dog can only celebrate so much before needing the safety and love of his Mom-Oh. Oliver is a very grateful little dog who smiles often, brightening my days.

When I turn on the television, which I do so rarely these day, my world starts to lose balance. Negativity flips the switch on gratitude. Fear. Confusion. Hatred. Polarity. Political insanity. It all comes flooding out of this flat screen until I start to slip into the land of pessimism. Life is too short to spend even one minute there.

Covid Fear is a great optimism extinguisher. I know of a family who spent 18 months without sharing hugs. Not one. They talked on the phone and face-timed as two-dimensional flat-screen images. No familiar smells. No feeling of the warmth of skin as one hand held another. No shared meals. No physical visits between a family that had been together every week since their beginning. All this because they were terrified of a virus they may or may not have caught no matter what they did. What a loss. What a tragedy.

Before Christmas, a friend was wondering whether or not to take her littles to see their grandparents for a holiday visit. The children wanted to see Grandma and Grandpa in the worst way. My friend wanted to see her Mom and Dad. Her family doctor gave her the best advice I’ve heard.

“Mental health is very important. You need to go and make a wonderful memory together.”

That’s just what she did. Weeks later, the happy memories of Christmas 2021 are still creating smiles. Guess what.. No Covid. Imagine that.

As gratitude for the smallest things fill hearts, others notice. There’s something different about the way a grateful person holds themselves while interacting. Other people are attracted to happiness. When you share good things, friends and family want to hear more. The more goodness you find in your life, the more goodness there is to be found. Funny how that works. Begin with health. If you have that, you’ve hit the motherload of goodness. Nothing is more precious, and good health deserves a ton of gratitude. A little sick? Be grateful you aren’t more sick. And so on. There’s always a flip side to bad and that’s the something for which we can sing praise.

Being grateful creates a more patient, compassionate, and empathetic person. It’s a way of thinking that can be learned. Just think of three things in your life for which you are grateful. Not things of your physical world. Not things you can buy at Walmart. Real things. Like a bird outside your window. Storm clouds. The sound of rain. The laughter of a child. A call from a dear friend. Those important things make life worth living. It’s a shift in the balance of thought that’ll keep you upright and moving forward, one foot at a time.

All things in life are connected. A smile is the most important kind of medicine. Spread them around and see the magic they leave in a day. Magic. Healing magic of the best kind.

Have a wonderful day. More tomorrow.