Tag: love

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Those Before Me

Oy. Vey.

Have I got a book to recommend to anyone that might enjoy some great historical fiction based on the journey of a very real family! The story centers around Emil and Adeline Martell and their beautiful boys during WWII. It has everything a good story should have from romance to suspense and bone chilling descriptions of the horrors of war. Most importantly, it’s about a family’s love for the Lord, each other, and life.

My ancestors were Germans that moved to the Volga region to farm starting in 1763. Simple as that. Along with land grants from Katharine the Great, they were promised freedom to worship while building great lives around farming. For a long time, everything worked just as promised and their lives flourished. Until it all came crashing down.

Catherine the Great promised a new life along the Volga River to German Farmers

In 1902, as live became more dangerous and uncertain, with a brand new baby girl, my Great Grandparents left their homes to travel to a new country. America would be their next stop. About their journey I know nothing, and wish I would have asked my Great Grandfather Christoph all those years ago. It was he that built the box that held all their worldly belongings as they made their trip in faith and love right through Ellis Island and on to the San Joaquin Valley of California.

Over a century later, their descendants have made wonderful lives in this great country, while citizens of Russia and Ukraine struggle to this day. I’ve enjoyed every physical luxury at my fingertips during my life, except for the six months I returned to live in Moldavia, USSR (now Moldova). A time in my life of hunger and horrors I wish I hadn’t experienced. Travel there required ten vaccines for everything from cholera to typhoid and typhus. One of the few times in my life, I was thankful to be fully vaccinated.

Can you imagine leaving every friend, family member, and possession behind, taking only what you could carry? Then, leaving those things along the way as you struggled through heat, cold, weather, snow, rain, and sun while avoiding tanks, bombs and crossfire? Always moving towards the goal and Never, Never, Never Giving Up?????

When I wrote about my own struggles yesterday, I should’ve included that my minor problems in life were nothing compared to those my ancestors endured. Unspeakable tragedy. Unbelievable faith. Unworldly strength and courage. Those are the things that are woven into my DNA, whether I think of them every day or not. My ancestors were courageous travelers on their way to dreams of their own last green valley. Some made it and some died trying.

With the summer heat spiking, it’s a great time to read a wonderful book about some resourceful people who lived. They REALLY lived. The Last Green Valley by Mark Sullivan won’t disappoint.

If you have any thoughts after reading the book, please drop me a line. I lived in Moldova and swam in the Dniester River they crossed in their wagon. People in the surrounding towns near Tiraspol still used horses and wagons for transportation and harvests in 1977. Many men had never used a wrench to loosen the nut off a bolt. Actual experiences in the place I lived so long ago.

On the eve of Independence Day, take a moment to be grateful for all the freedom and luxuries we enjoy. From refrigeration for our food to pasteurized milk, we are a fully developed nation that folks from 3rd world countries can only dream. Our blessings overflow in great green valleys of milk and honey.

Whatever you do, consider reading something outside the norm. If you choose this book, you won’t be disappointed.

More tomorrow.

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Living My Dreams

Settled back into the routine here at Winterpast, I can tell you a few things. I’m not a chicken or duck person. I don’t understand them very well, and will continue to buy eggs at the store. I’m not a cat person, either. That’s good, because they don’t much like me. After staying in a house with three of them for five days and nights and only saw one, although the food certainly disappeared in the night.

I’m a true-blue dog person. Having just cared for thirteen dogs of various ages and sizes, that’s been established. I’m now a fan of hypoallergenic dogs of the doodle variety. It’s true that they shed almost nothing at all. Such a difference from those that do, like Goldens or German Shepherds. I was thankful for the lack of hair as I mopped the house twice a day while in California. Such is life with puppies underfoot. A lot of mopping.

Life pushed me to become the woman I am today and I’m at peace with the new me.

When I became a widow in 2020, I benefited from the fog made of my grief. Thank goodness I could only focus on the moment at hand. There were boxes to move to storage. Later, boxes to retrieve and unpack. My seventeenth day alone, I moved one hour away to a sweet little town on the desert plains of northwestern Nevada. I moved into a new home in a new town where I knew two people. That August one of them died.

I began driving after not having been behind the wheel for a full six years. This happened for no reason other than my late husband loved to drive everywhere and I didn’t. When he was gone it was up to me to take the wheel and carry on.

I began caring for 1/2 acre of land with the trusty help of a gardener named Mr. B. During the dark days of Covid, I dined out several times a week and occasionally drove myself to the biggest little city to the west to stay in hotels for a change of scenery. Both actions were scandalous, with everyone sure that I’d die from a silly virus. But, I didn’t.

I refused to give up or give in. Sun, fresh air, and garden soil kept me safe from viral infections. I slept way to much and didn’t eat near enough. I caught up on movies while consuming vast amounts of macaroni and cheese, tacos, and ice cream (three amazing food groups).

Shouldn’t were replaced with Maybe’s, Why-Not’s?, and Heck, Yes’s. Slowly, my life began to change for the better.

September 24, 2020, I decided to write a blog. Creating Grievinggardener.com on the computer in an afternoon, I started writing and haven’t stopped since. In the beginning, I was up at 4:00 am every morning to start the day with words. My words kept me alive. I hoped at least one person in the universe would read them. It didn’t matter who, knowing if I could help one other woman get out of bed to read something I wrote, it was worth it.

Through every day, I’ve gardened in one way or another. I developed my own therapies to deal with my unique and personal tragedy when all the grief-groups were closed down. I found a church and began to pray. I found God, and began a relationship. I fell into the loving arms of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior, and gave my life to him, finally baptized at 66 years old.

I’ve lived through desert’s worst winters and bought my very own Snow Joe to help me deal with the drifts. Loving every short day of winter, I cocooned inside with my little dog, Oliver. At times I didn’t shovel snow and dealt with ice. Throughout those days, I slipped. I slid. But, again, I’d find my balance and keep going.

In 2022, I became restless and went back to college for a summer. I applied for a teaching job and was hired, went to work, cried every night, and quit after a few months. Sometimes, you just need to reset your course when the headwinds are too strong.

That year, I also met HHH and fell head-over-heels in love with this man. This wonderful man loves gardening as much as I do. He’s man’s-man that still tears up at a sweet story on the news. This man now co-navigates life with me. This man I call my husband and best friend in life.

Together, we’ve built a greenhouse. We’ve grown a house full of seedlings and then turned them into plants blooming in our yard. We’ve experienced the beauty of Yellowstone for the first time in our lives as honeymooners. We’ve cruised the high seas and crossed back and forth over Donner Pass many times.

Together, we’ve whelped and help raise two liters of wooklets, which were born in the middle of our bed in both 2023 and 2024. Neither of us would have had that any other way, loving these 13 little pups while they were in our care.

My reason for highlighting the really great stuff going on is simple. I was a lost and lonely widow in 2020. Five summers later, I’m getting ready to spend the 4th of July with family I love while watching a parade down Main Street and greased pig contest. To go from knowing no one to knowing hundreds of people in my little town is a miracle about which I marvel every day.

Was it hard? Almost impossible. What it lonely? Beyond what anyone should need to endure. Were there setbacks? Every day. Was I on a journey without directions? You betcha.

The truth of the matter is, I didn’t take the journey alone. God get’s the glory on this one, as he carried me for many, many miles. As the days went by, I changed into this woman I really and truly like and respect. A woman that has charted her own course. How blessed am I to have found a new life in the midst of such sorrow.

Whatever you do today, remember that the sun will shine again tomorrow. No matter how dark, get up, get dressed, and get going. Life is what you make it!! Get started!!

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One Man’s Trash

There is just something fun about going to the dump. From the time I was a child, there was something mysterious about hauling away discards and taking them to a large field where they would be thrown off the truck. There, the ever-present Jawa’s rummaged through mountains of trash, looking for discarded treasures.

Worried that I was a little strange in remember trips to the dump with fondness, I asked HHH what his thoughts were on the subject. As a child, he also liked going. There were always interesting take-aways from the adventure. His dump even had a dead animal pile which does sound like something to see in a country kid kind of way.

These days, going to the Transfer Station is not nearly the adventure it could be. The inspector at the gate will let you know if you’ll be allowed to pass through with your discards. Then, you’ll be given the number of a lane and expected to quickly dump and go. Of course, at the Transfer Station, all items will be sorted and resold as scrap. Such is the way of garbage these days.

We had done our best to pack HHH’s work truck with everything that needed to go. There was a functional tool chest that no longer functioned well in the Man Cave. Along with that, there were other heavy items that were no longer things we would need or want ever again. With every bit of energy HHH could muster, all things were loaded into the truck and we were off.

When we arrived, the old generator was checked for oil and gas, both of which had been drained. It would go on the metal pile after we disposed of the other things in the large barn that kept everything from blowing all over town. We had our orders and proceeded to Lane 4.

It was then two men unloading in Lane 2 came to pay us a visit. Would we mind if they took the generator? Did it work?

Yes to both questions. Off it went.

Would we mind if they took the huge tool chest?

Yes again.

Then the other big items went sideways instead of into the large dump pit. Our entire load went home with the men of Lane Two. Just like that, one man’s trash was another’s treasure. HHH didn’t even need to strain his back another second while the items magically disappeared from our possession.

The Man Cave is a thing of beauty, all of the treasures in place. With barn door curtains installed and a little more sweeping, it’s ready for summer parties. For everything there is a time and place!! Even a 15′ Marlin.

Whatever you do today, purge a little. I use the 1/10 rule. For every 10 thing that sit around the rooms in our home, at least one could go. It gets easier each time.

As for us, it’s the beginning of day three as kennel masters. Land mines are multiplying. The puppies only woke us once last night. We’re making headway on that. Maybe today I’ll float around in the pool a little bit. Sure looks inviting!

More tomorrow.

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Interstate Standstill

Ahh, the wide open spaces. How wonderful to put the new car on cruise control and jet through the high desert plains without a care in the world. Yesterday could have been like this, but it didn’t turn out that way. My beautiful day ended up more like this.

Okay, okay. maybe not quite that bad, but bad enough. A 30 minute drive took three hours. That’s a lot of time to sit and wait for traffic to keep moving.

The start of the day had been wonderful. After a meeting with my financial guru, I’d planned a shopping day with two girlfriends. I’ve known them the longest of any of my friends, having met in 2014 in Virginia City, Nevada. Tried and true blue girlfriends, these two. They were my support when I lost VST and have remained so.

Sitting over lunch in a beautiful restaurant in the Biggest Little City to the West, we had a lot on news to cover. Tree removal. Greenhouse delivery. My Mysterious Marine. Their sweet husbands, who were besties to VST. New fashions. Our lunch disappeared, and we talked on, just as a lunch with old friends should be.

After lunch, it was on to the mall. Mazelike, it’s easy to get lost there. I don’t visit malls all that often, using Amazon to do most of the shopping around here. It was fun to see and touch the clothing. It seems this year, natural fibers are in. Thank goodness holes over the shoulders are yesterday’s news. I never understood that trend. Or bell sleeves that could drape through a dinner plate. I didn’t see one ruffle yesterday. Hallelujah!! Praise the Lord.

This year, I think I’d better snatch up quite a bit, because next year, it might be mini-skirts and polyester on the racks.

The girls and I had a wonderful time, ending at the SEE’s candy store to end our day. We all purchased some candy and then head home. I was elated at the great day in the city. It’s been some time since I would just jump in the car and go. My GPS gave me perfect instructions to get on the freeway and I was headed home, back to the land of the mosquitos and green hills.

Yes. Mosquitos. I’ve been nailed several times in the last few days. Sadly, troublesome bite is just below my eye, which has puffed a little. I’ve also decided that dogs rolling around in the grass and weeds and then coming in for a pet is allergy inducing stuff. The last two days have been a bit itchy.

Desert + Rain + Sunshine = Noxious Weeds. The up side is that any property that isn’t mine is nice and green. The bad thing is that my property has way too many weeds, all which need pulling or spraying. It’s going to be that kind of year.

So, as I was driving along the interstate, three highway patrols raced by me with sirens blazing. I didn’t think too much of it, as these things happen when you live in a big city. What I didn’t know was that a poor soul going WEST rolled his brand new truck into the EAST bound lands, tying up BOTH directions of the interstate. By time I knew, gridlock made it impossible to get off the freeway. Besides, it would have made a 30 minute trip a 2 hour trip. As it turned out, that would’ve been the quicker choice.

How the poor soul survived is beyond me. His beautiful truck lay to the side of the road, trapezoidal prism in shape.

Hours later, I returned to Winterpast.

Whatever you do today, consider lunch and shopping with friends. The stores are full of brand new summer fashions. Shoppers are out having a great time! It’s nice to touch and feel merchandise on the shelf, rather than guess at what will arrive at the door in brown wrapping. Time for this world to get back to normal.

For me, the day holds more weeding. I better get going before the temps get too high. Summer is on the way.

More tomorrow.