nevadan blog 4 eg:/ Grieving Gardener

July 9, 2024February 4, 2026

Good Timber

Good Timber by Douglas Malloch

The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease,
The stronger wind, the stronger trees,
The further sky, the greater length,
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth
We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
This is the common law of life.

I hope that someday, when I’ve gone far away, someone compares me to Good Timber with deep roots and strong branches. You can fall for anything if you don’t stand for something. Standing for beliefs and values takes extra effort and courage at times. Doing the right thing isn’t always the easiest thing.

As I look through the decades at my ancestors, it’s obvious I came from an entire forest of strong timber. Life wasn’t handed to any of our fore fathers on a silver platter. They chose their own course in life and went for it, even when going for it was the toughest choice they could make.

Christoph and Anna Geringer — 50th Anniversary

When Christoph and a pregnant Anna (my great-grandparents) were deciding on a move to America, it would have made a lot more sense to stay put. The unknowns were deep and dark. Childbirth. Traveling through unknown and dangerous territory by foot. Depending on their faith and following their own Northern Star, they went for it. The courage and bravery of all the German’s from Russia that made the trek is awe inspiring.

Once here, they impressed upon their children the importance of education. Assimilation in the American culture was vital for success. Learning English, they became the Americans that helped build our country. They cherished the freedom that they had only read about while living under oppression in despair. In doing so, they found their own Last Green Valley.

Life in 1902 makes the troubles I faced in 2020 laughable. Too Cold? Turn up the heat. Too Hot? Turn down the AC. Hungry? Call “Door Dash” for a pizza. Just widowed? Order extra Kleenex from Amazon. The life of our forefathers made adults of children at an early age. What would they think of the state of things in 2024????????

Whatever you do today, think about being “Good Timber” in times of storms and strife. An easy life is promised to no one. In fact, if the truth be told, easy lives are a myth. With hard work and effort, some people are just good at making it look that way. So, buck up and carry on with one foot in front of the other. Life is beautiful and we are so blessed.

July 8, 2024February 4, 2026

Those Before Us

Last week, as afternoon temperatures soared well above the century mark, I found myself a a little bored. Having almost finished reading “The Last Green Valley”, I found myself haunted by questions about the journey my own ancestors had taken. With a new appreciation for the perils of traveling so far with a baby on the hip, I decided to go to Ancestry.com and begin.

With only my name as a beginning point, ancestors began to appear. In the beginning, they were familiar. Of course, it’s not unusual to be lucky enough to know grandparents. Mine built the very house in which I played as a child and later, grew into a woman raising her own children. My great-grandparents were a little more mysterious, most of them having died before I could memorize their face or voice.

Like images coming out of a fog, a sea of strangers appeared that possessed traits passed down through the ages to me. Reading the names of towns in which they were born, one fact remains. I am of German/Danish heritage, an undeniable fact.

To start your own journey, you simply go to Ancestry.com and choose the plan that works for you. Then you begin by searching your own name.

After a few nights of excitement from the computer, HHH became intrigued. The hook was set when I mentioned he could start his own research off my name now that we are legally hitched. And that we did.

So far, I’m just as enchanted with his stories as those of my own people. You see, he came from a family of writers who created and supported a major newspaper in the countryside of Nebraska. They were the movers and shakers of Nebraska and the East Coast. Some ran for political office, while others farmed.

One ancestor fought for the Union in the Civil War, even being a prisoner of war for a time. So far, only one of HHH’s great-great-great grandfather came from Germany. Surprising, as he is of Scottish heritage, a blue-eyed red head.

While studying different names and families, pictures and stories appeared that were downloaded by other. Details appeared that might shock some and confirm the suspicions of others. Don’t begin this journey unless you can roll with the answers you find which might be different than the ones you were sure you already knew.

One of HHH’s widowed grandmother’s homesteaded land in Nebraska while raising her young son. I would have loved to have been in her class as she taught school, or helped her in the fields after her school day was over.

While discussing these things with Auntie TJ and The Goddess of the Central Coast, the intrigue grew. How blessed I am to have Auntie TJ as a link to those names of long ago. She lived among German-speaking immigrants as the youngest of four daughters born to August and Lizzie.

She mentioned that the attending physician to her birth in a small country home was Dr. Pomeroy. After our conversation, I saw Doc Pomeroy’s name on many birth and death records. He was the country doctor who witnessed it all.

Whatever you do today, consider taking a little trip into the past to discover something new about your ancestors. Stories of those already gone is a lovely gift to share with family. Above all, stay cool while brutal heat of summer blazes on (5:54 am — 78 degrees).

More tomorrow.

July 5, 2024February 4, 2026

You’ve Got To BEE Kidding!

When you are dealing with 50,000 tiny animals, it’s bound to happen. Someone is going to break a wing or spike a temp. During the last month, something is going on with our hard working hive and it’s not good. They are not flourishing in abundance. They are barely holding their own here on July 4th. But, let me go back to the beginning.

We are being schooled in Bee-Keeping 101 by our beautiful friend, The Bee Lady. Having watched over bees for a very long time, she knows when to celebrate, worry, or run. We listen intently when she visits every other week to help us work our hive.

The most important lesson she has shared is that bees can kill us. A few weeks back, while enjoying a day of working bees, she was stung 8 times in the head. Suffering a huge reaction, she went into anaphylactic shock and was taken to the hospital by ambulance. Rule #1. Keep phone handy. Rule #2. Keep Epi-Pen closer. Those are two rules we won’t soon forget. Luckily, with the proper medications and emergency room care, she’s fine. Since then, she’s been stung a couple more times with no reaction. Just a very weird situation that could have turned deadly.

In case you are wondering, we have two Epi-Pens. Always be ready for the unexpected.

Since our bees arrived in early spring, our teacher has been assuring us that everything has been proceeding in the right direction. Our queen has been laying eggs on schedule while awaiting the bloom of the Russian Olive. We fed the right amount of simple syrup and pollen patties. The honey flow should’ve started around June 1, but, alas, it never happened. The bees are now making enough honey for their survival. They should be making enough to overwinter.

Although every flower seedling was selectedfor the bees, they haven’t been as interested as in years past. The flowers that they should have been thankful for remain visited. The flowers that they shouldn’t be interested, such as Fox Glove, have been their favorite. (More on that one in a bit.)

We’ve been awaiting the sign of wayward wax on the top of their second large super to tell us it’s time for the honey flow. It hasn’t happened. In fact, the honey and pollen storage have stalled a bit, along with our queens production.

If it were just us, The Bee Lady would let us know where we went wrong. According to her (and the latest talk around town), it’s every hive in the area. No honey or pollen. Just hives that would die if winter were around the corner. Ours included. They may not be able to overwinter at this rate and we may lose this bunch to start again next year.

So many people have asked us when the honey will be ready. This year, it’s almost a certainty that there will be NO extra honey. We’ll be lucky if the bees can put together enough for themselves over a hard winter. And so it goes. Farming is exactly like this situation. Some years you have bumper crops. Other years, you can lose you investment in the blink of an eye. And so, we wait.

We did need to do some housecleaning for the little ones. It seems they decided to lay their comb in creative ways, not following the pattern on the ten frames in their home. Not sure why, it seems the hive construction might have been off on the proper dimensions that bees require. Even 1/2″ off can make the difference between behaved and unruly bees.

The Bee Lady and HHH took time yesterday to fix the mess. In doing so, they brought me 6 1/2 pints of raw honey to drain and place in labeled jars. Our honey name was chosen by HHH and certified by me. Winterpast Honey. Simple as that. So far, we have 14 4 0z jars of honey and 6 8 oz. jars. That’s quite a bit from just four wayward frames.

The talk around our area is that experts are on the way. They will be looking at every aspect of the hive decline in our area. Thank goodness they are coming to the rescue, for without pollinators, we’re all in trouble.

Through their struggles, the bees remain sweet and calm. They are carrying on while flying in and out of the hive to forage for food. Time is running short and winter will arrive sooner than it seems. Please pray for our queen and the survival of her littles. We’re depending on it.

Whatever you do this weekend, you might want to learn a little more about bees. They are one of God’s most precious little creatures. There is still so much to learn from them. Patience is a lesson HHH and I are working on through this experience!

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.

July 2, 2024February 4, 2026

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!!

July 1, 2024February 4, 2026

Caring for Roses

One of the many things HHH and I have in common is our LOVE for roses! We aren’t fans of every kind, just Hybrid Tea Roses with gigantic and fragrant blossoms.

On our first Christmas together, I gave HHH his favorite rose, Mr. Lincoln. I wrapped up a certificate for the rose, explaining that the bush would arrive in March, and it did. Having purchased it from one of the “best” rose companies out there and at a premium price, I was shocked when it arrived, unwrapped with bare roots exposed in a carboard box.

HHH lovingly planted it here at Winterpast long before he proposed and then it refused to thrive. For 365 days, it was on the verge of dying, while HHH patiently worked his magic. From then on, I promised myself I’d only purchase potted roses that we could inspect.

This year, we purchased nine rose bushes named “Serenity” to celebrate Mother’s Day. With sweat and brute force, HHH used his trusty pick ax to plant each one. Slowly, they are beginning to settle in, blooming for the second time this season. There are plenty of very healthy roses sold at Walmart or the hardware store. It’s not necessary to pay twice the price because you just might receive half the plant.

Rose bush names are interesting. I’m sure the proper name can market more roses. Who could resist buying a bright yellow rose named “Happy Go Lucky”? (We now own two.) Or a stately rose named “The Grand Dame”, which she is. Mr. Lincoln now presides over the rose beds, while Independence Day, Tahitian Sunrise and Stainless Steel (a very pale lavender color), all fall in place. Bliss pumps out bloom after bloom.

All roses need good drainage and lots of water. Don’t plant them too deep, leaving the crown exposed so it can breathe.

Roses do need regular feeding. Bayer Systemic Rose Pellets are long lasting and work very well. Here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, aphids are proving to be a big problem which the Bayer food will solve. Luckily, the systemic insecticide is okay for use around the bees because bees don’t visit roses. Simple as that.

During the heat of the summer, all the rose bushes will slow down, using their energy to survive the heat. They will bloom again when the weather tames down in the fall. Last week, we had 2″ of rain here on the desert and the roses were thriving. This week, a heat wave is coming with a temperature of 106 predicted for Sunday.

After blooms have faded and died away, be sure to clip them off. There are many articles online about the proper way to do this. While growing your bush larger, clip them back to the first place there are five leaves growing. If you are just deadheading, clip only the dead blossom. There are specific reasons on what to trim and why, so do your own research.

Whatever you do today, try your hand at growing roses. There is nothing prettier than a freshly grown bouquet sitting on your kitchen table.

More tomorrow.

May 23, 2023February 3, 2026

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.