What Makes Me Nervous

April 24, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What makes you nervous?
View all responses

Appliances make me nervous. Not operating them. Not even so much the thought of their breaking down. But what comes after when they do malfunction.

I try not to worry, and mostly it’s easy. I just turn my thoughts in another direction. But when a particular appliance makes an unfamiliar noise or what sounds like it could be a vibration, then I go on alert.

My washing machine needs new rods or new bearings because unless the load is small and perfectly balanced, sometime during one of the final spins, it shakes and rattles so hard that it makes me very nervous. I’ll get a new machine soon because there’s no one around here that I know of who fixes washing machines (the one repair service in the next town over has never returned my calls). That’s what really worries me — having to deal with a machine that suddenly stops working with my wet apparel locked inside. Even worse is the thought of having to deal with all that buying a new washing machine entails, and all the decisions that have to be made until everything is settled down once again.

In rereading what I wrote above, I noticed that I used the words “worry” and “nervous” interchangeably, so I checked online to see what the difference is. Apparently, worry is long term, is mostly in the mind, and often centers on specific future scenarios. Nervousness is short term, primarily physical, and often centers on an immediate or unfamiliar situation.

So I suppose what it comes down to in my appliance scenario is that I am worried about being nervous about dealing with breakdown issues.

What does unequivocally make me nervous are appointments. I don’t care how important or trivial those appointments might be, I always find myself getting nervous. I suppose the nervousness comes not just from worrying about a perhaps negative outcome of the appointment, such as a dental visit or a DMV appointment to get my license renewed, but it’s also because of someone else being in control of the situation. I am lucky to be pretty much in control of my life. Admittedly, I have a self-restricted life — I don’t go out much, don’t party or “have fun” (whatever that is). I do simply things, try to be mindful of dangers that come with letting my thoughts wander, and generally take as good a care as possible of myself and my house and property. I am pretty much in control, barring accidents and appliances breaking down, so it makes sense that I’m nervous when I have to deal with an appointment where suddenly, I am not in control. Someone else temporarily gets to have a say in my life. So far, those “say”s have worked out, but that’s not always the case.

Oddly, the one appointment that did have a negative impact wasn’t even my appointment, but a friend’s. I’d accompanied her to the eye doctor, and while waiting for her, a woman sat next to me and began to chat with me. That wasn’t too much of a problem until she started coughing. Then she admitted she’d just come from her medical doctor and had been diagnosed with bronchitis, but that she wasn’t infectious anymore.

I moved away from her, of course, but it was too late. I’m still dealing with the lingering result of her uninfectious bronchitis.

It might seem as if my life is fraught with worry and nervousness, but the truth is, I am almost always focused on the moment, which brings, if not serenity, at least calm and a modicum of contentment.

Wishing the same for you!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, home, life. Tags: , , , , , . 4 Comments »

Creating Favorite Holidays

April 23, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite holiday? Why is it your favorite?
View all responses

My favorite holidays are the ones I created or created with the help of a friend. When I was young, I lived in Denver, not far from City Park where an ancient elm resided. A plaque beneath the tree said “Shakespeare Elm: The scion from which this tree was grown was taken from the tree at Shakespeare’s grave at Stratford-on-Avon.” The plaque also noted that the tree was planted on April 23, 1916, which is exactly 300 years after Shakespeare’s birthday — April 23, 1616. (And exactly 110 years before today —April 23, 2026, hence this post.)

How could such a momentous occasion not be celebrated? Many years ago — decades ago! — a friend and I baked elm tree cookies, made a “pin the leaf on the tree” game, stirred up gallons of green punch, even baked a tree shaped cake with candles. We sent hundreds of invitations to friends, family, Denver notables, the media, but on April 23, only family and friends showed up. And two cops.

The cops stood apart from all of us, though they did nibble on cookies and take tentative sips of punch. At one point, one of the cops turned to the other and said in amazement, “They really are having a birthday party for this tree.” Apparently, they had been dispatched to the site in case we were staging a drug rendezvous or some such. As it turns out, it was lucky that no one showed up. Since it ended up being simply a family picnic, we weren’t fined for putting on a public event without a license. Whew!

In honor of that tree and that friendship, I celebrate April 23 every year, if only with a nod to the past and a text to my friend.

I used to celebrate the birthday of “Pat Bertram,” the day I signed up for the internet and started a new life with a new name (Pat Bertram is my pseudonym, though it is a form of my offline name). Somewhere along the way I stopped celebrating, perhaps because that online persona gradually morphed into my offline persona. Still, next year will be the 20th birthday of that Pat, and it should be — will be — celebrated.

I never forget to celebrate the first day of winter. I call it the End of the Creeping Darkness because the nights stop growing shorter and light gradually begins returning to the world. Truly something to celebrate!

Perhaps my favorite holiday was one that could come only once in a lifetime — the day my father turned 35,000 days old. Of course, I had a party for him; how could I not!

And this isn’t the end, of course. There are always holidays to celebrate or create.

Until then, happy birthday, Shakespeare’s Elm!

Since I don’t have a picture of that Elm party, I’m attaching a photo of my father’s party.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , . 13 Comments »

How Does My Garden Grow

April 22, 2026 — Pat Bertram

A friend left a comment yesterday saying that the pictures of flowers I’ve been posting are inspiring her to plant more. I understand that — they’re inspiring me, too. Last year I had little interest in my yard. The work-to-result ratio just didn’t seem worth it, but this year, so far, the gardens are doing great, with bits of color popping up all over.

The freezes we had a couple of nights this week didn’t do much damage, just burned the edges of some leaves, but I don’t think it will affect the flowers this summer. Luckily, the snapdragons I planted late last spring turned out to be hardy enough to survive the winter as well as these freezes, so I’m much further ahead with that gardening area than expected. Look at all those buds!

Columbines are still going strong, and this self-seeder seems to be enjoying the companionship of other flowers.

A new volunteer has shown up — blue flax! They might have been in a package of wildflower seeds or been blown in, but the reason doesn’t matter, just the enjoyable fact that are here.

Oh, don’t let me forget the star of Bethlehem! They’re easy to forget because they don’t bloom until the afternoon around here, but so dainty and pristine!

The ice plants flowers are starting to bloom, adding more cheerful ground color to the garden.

The wild roses surrounding the raised garden seem to be waiting for May, when I can plant whatever it is I am going to put in that planter. Dwarf zinnia seeds, maybe?

Ah, May! The fifth of May, to be exact. That’s historically the last day of a possible frost around here, so that’s when I plan on getting petunias to plant in my containers and whatever catches my eye to fill in a few empty spots.

Until then, I’ll continue to appreciate my yard and try to find satisfaction in a job well done even if I don’t always enjoy the work.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

 

Posted in gardening, home, life, photography. Tags: , , , , , , , . 2 Comments »

Risky Behavior

April 21, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?
View all responses

The risks I take nowadays are nothing I would have considered risky in my younger days. The most dangerous risk I took recently occurred a few months ago when I climbed a ladder to replace my smoke alarm batteries. The risks of such a venture for older folk are real. If you fall when you’re young, you get up, brush yourself off, and continue as if nothing happened. If you fall when you’re old, it could change your life since breaking a hip or some other body part makes living alone problematic.

Luckily, I managed to change the batteries without mishap. Will I try to change the batteries again? I don’t know. Most people I know who would help are as old as I am or even older, and those I know who can still climb ladders are people I’m uneasy about having in my house. I’m not scheduled to change the batteries again for a few months, so maybe I’ll meet someone young enough or tall enough who will do it for me.

Other risky behavior is not something I can avoid by having someone else do it. Getting out of bed in the morning, for example. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? But the truth is, many older people stand up too quickly, get dizzy, and end up falling. Or they are awakened by their alarm clock, get disoriented, and get up without pausing to orient themselves. Such silly things to be so dangerous! I’ve gotten in the habit of sitting on the side of the bed for a minute before rising, which does mitigate the danger, but still, it’s a very real risk.

Even sillier, though perhaps not as dangerous, is staying in bed. Gravity works to pull joints out of whack, loosens ligaments, and does other nefarious things. I never had problems with my knees until I got up one day a few years ago and could barely walk. It took months of rest, ice, heat, and the proper exercises to get me walking again. I’m still not back to where I was. Even though I’m careful when I’m awake and careful about how I position myself in bed, I can’t control what happens when I am asleep.

I’m not even going to get into the whole shower thing, which is perhaps the most dangerous activity people can do. I’ve minimized the risk with a step-in shower and railings, which help. And so will the bath chair I can see in my future.

I suppose working in my garden could be classified as a risk because the last couple of times I’ve fallen have been when I was outside working. Somehow, garden work doesn’t seem to be as dangerous as the risky behavior listed above, but being outside, especially when I’m concentrating on something other than where I place my feet, has its perils.

Life sure does narrow when one gets older! Still, we all take risks anyway because there’s no other choice. The best we can do is to be careful and to pay attention to what we are doing.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in Adventure, dealing with old age, gardening, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 7 Comments »

Cross Country Risks

April 20, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Yesterday I wrote about my cross-country trip. As important as that journey was to me, I’ll ever do anything like that again, not just because my car and I are ten years older, but because risks I took back then could now land me in jail. Well, one particular risk could.

When Jeff and I traveled together and stopped at a truck stop to fill the car and unfill us, we found the difference in the use of male and female restrooms to be staggering. In a lot of cases, both had a single stall, which didn’t take in the reality that women needed longer in the little room. Or perhaps there were more women needing them. Whatever the reason, there were always long lines of women waiting their turn and generally no men. So one day, Jeff suggested I use the men’s room while he stood guard. I was in and out quickly, and despite my nervousness at having done something wrong, it all worked out. The women I passed on my way out, looked at me, looked at each other, looked at the men’s restroom, and suddenly there were two lines of women waiting for both restrooms.

When I traveled alone after he was gone, I continued to sail past long lines of women if there were no men waiting, and head directly to the men’s room. I figured that even if someone noticed, they would prefer my misuse of the restrooms to a puddle on the floor for them to clean up.

There was only one time that I met a man as I was coming out of the room, so I looked back at the designation on the door, shrugged sheepishly, and said, “Sorry.” (Occasionally, it truly was a mistake. When people got too cute about the male and female signs, sometimes it was hard to figure out which was which.)

What once could have gotten me a nasty look now could get me arrested.

When the debate about who can use what restroom started, I thought about those single side-by-side rooms and wondered why men would want to use the women’s restroom. Obviously, they never traveled much because who would want to wait in a long line of jittering women desperate to go when there was a perfectly usable room right next door. (Besides, the solution in those cases was easy — change the signs so that anyone could use either.) Admittedly, there were often several stalls in some restrooms, but there weren’t long lines at those stops, so it wasn’t an issue for me, though I can see where it would be an issue for others. New laws in some states now demand you use the restroom that matches your biological gender, and of all the risks I imagined while traveling, I’d never once considered having to stand before a judge and admit guilty to an overfull bladder.

Hmmm. Do I really want to post this? It’s not something I’ve ever talked about with anyone, and in fact, it’s a bit embarrassing, but what the heck. It’s not the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever posted, or the worst thing I’ve ever admitted, but at least the picture of my garden is pretty.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in Adventure, being me, dealing with old age, life. Tags: , , , . 8 Comments »

No Regrets

April 19, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Describe a risk you took that you do not regret.
View all responses

I don’t like taking risks. Too often I’ve seen people taking risks, such as with their investments, because as “everyone” knows, the bigger the risk, the greater the rewards. Except, of course, when those risks don’t deliver the sure thing people are expecting. Quite frankly, I’m not sure “everyone” knows what a risk is — if they don’t get the outcome their bravery at taking the risk seems to call for, then they’re shocked and they get upset. But that’s what a risk is — you take a chance, and it might work out or it might not.

In my case, I never take a risk if I can’t handle the negative outcome. Which means, I don’t take risks.

And yet . . .

I’ve done a few things that other people considered extremely risky, though I didn’t. Ten years ago, when I planned a cross-country trip in my vintage VW bug, people were horrified and kept telling me I couldn’t do it, that it was too dangerous for me to go alone. Of course, none of those people offered to go with me to mitigate the danger, but it wouldn’t have mattered. The point was for me to do it by myself.

I wasn’t foolish about the trip. I had my car restored, a new engine put in, bought reliable camping equipment, and stocked up on emergency supplies for when unexpected and perhaps dangerous things might happen. And dangerous things did happen, but I handled whatever came along. To me, it was all part of the adventure, that willingness to go wherever the road took me and to live with the uncertainty (and consequences) of each day. Even more than that, it was a way of reclaiming my life after the death of both Jeff and my father. (After Jeff died, I was left homeless, so I went to take care of my father, and after he died, I was left homeless again.)

Perhaps the trip was a risk, but I didn’t see it as such. I wouldn’t do a long trip again, though just writing this I think maybe . . . someday . . . Still, the car is ten years older, as am I, and I’m not willing to put myself in the danger a trip could bring, not just the driving danger, but the uncertainty of the situations I might encounter — the USA isn’t the same as it was ten years ago, and even back then there were times I wasn’t sure what country I was in.

Besides, I’m homeful now, not homeless, so there is a lot more at risk than there was a decade ago.

Another risk I took was when I bought this house sight unseen. I’d seen photos, of course, and had an inspector check out the house, but I never saw it as a risk. The way I figured, it was my house, and I’d do whatever needed to be done. Other people were appalled at what they thought was my lackadaisical outlook, and the realtor made me sign a document absolving her of any responsibility if things didn’t work out.

I don’t regret either of these risks. Both worked out, but however they would have worked out, they would have worked out. I’m just glad, and so very thankful, to have had both these experiences.

Nope, no regrets at all!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in Adventure, house, life. Tags: , , , , , , , , . 9 Comments »

Treasure Hunt

April 18, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I went hunting this morning. I even took a few shots! Camera shots, that is. And the game I was hunting? Treasure!

Although right now there aren’t many flowers in my yard in comparison to the size of the lot, when I looked at each treasure for itself rather than a piece of the whole, I found a whole lot of color.

The most surprising to me was the flower on the vinca. When I moved here, there were a few plants in the way of my soon-to-be sidewalk, so I transplanted them. It seemed as if they all died, so I eventually planted other flowers. Then, of course, the vinca decided to grow. So I moved it to another location, but it didn’t like the new place and pined away. And then the original transplanted vinca came back. I just left it alone and this year, it seems to be taking over that garden spot. I suppose I’ll leave it, especially now, after seven years of being barren, that it’s decided to flower.

The plum trees have blossomed the past couple of years, but so far only a couple of those blossoms managed to grow into plums. Maybe this year there will be more than a couple greengage plums for me to savor.

Unfortunately, there was a frost last night, so who knows what will happen. Meantime, the blossoms still are cheerful!

A few columbines are now flowering.

The wallflowers provide a colorful backdrop for one of the columbine plants.

The wild roses are just coming into bloom. Too bad they have such a short bloom season, but the vibrant color makes any bloom season a joy.

Lilacs, of course, are always a joy. This year, I’ve had a longer lilac season than normal because the white lilacs didn’t start blooming until the purple ones faded.

The garden today was such a delightful place. So many treasures!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in gardening, home, life, photography. Tags: , , , , , . 6 Comments »

Gift of Companionship

April 17, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Yesterday was one of those special days that can’t be planned. Well, I suppose it could be planned, but the logistics of arranging such a day and making it all come out to perfection would take more energy than I have. Besides, part of the perfection was the unexpectedness, the way everything that happened coalesced into something special.

When I was outside watering my lawn, a neighbor stopped by to visit. We chatted a bit, then I asked him if he was still strong enough to wield a hammer. (Maybe not a tactful question, but it’s something I am aware of, both for myself and other not-young folk.) One corner of my raised garden planter was pulling away from the rest of the boards, and though I tried, I couldn’t hammer a nail through that thick, two-inch board. It turns out that he could do the hammering, but unfortunately, the support post was all but rotten. Anyway, he worked on that planter for quite a while and finally was able to strengthen that corner so the weight of the soil wouldn’t keep pulling it out of whack.

Meantime, to my delight, a friend who I haven’t seen in ages stopped by to visit. She followed me around while I finished my watering and admired my flowers.

By then, the neighbor had finished doing what he could, so the three of us hung out in my gazebo to chat awhile. After he left, my friend stayed a couple of more hours, so we were able to get caught up. Such a joy that was!

After she left, I spoke a bit with a different neighbor. Then later I had a long text conversation with my sister. It was good to get caught up with her, too.

For sure, yesterday was a special day, and it wasn’t just the company after a long stretch of aloneness that made the day a good one, but the people themselves.

Today, I’m back to my normal hermit-y self, but I still am feeling the glow of friendship from yesterday. Maybe the remembrance of the day will make me more conscientious about keeping up with friendships, but who knows. Sometimes overcoming the inertia of aloneness to make plans seems insurmountable, which makes yesterday’s gift of companionship even more special.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in gardening, home, life, writing. Tags: , , , , , . 9 Comments »

Blogging

April 16, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
How do you use social media?
View all responses

The only way I use social media is by blogging. I do check out a couple of people who scavenge the internet for pertinent news articles. Since it’s difficult to do the work myself, it’s nice to have someone else find the kernels of truth (or maybe the grains of wisdom) in that teeming chaos. But for what I myself post online? It’s this blog.

For the past nineteen years, this blog has been there for me when I needed an outlet, whether it was to talk about the writing process, promote authors, discuss books I’ve read, help me find a way forward during my years of grief (and coincidentally helping others as I helped myself), tell about my experiences as a first time home owner, showcase my garden, or express gratitude for my life even while my body is slowly declining into old age.

I’ve seldom considered why people read this blog (or why they don’t when they don’t). Sometimes I know, though, especially when people come to read my grief articles to find out that they’re not alone or to find out why they are going through what they are going through. Others use this blog as a way to keep track of me, not in a creepy stalker sort of way, but as a concerned friend. All too often, we let life separate us from our friends, and so this blog shows them that I’m still around and doing okay. But for the rest? Their reasons for reading belong to them, and really have no part in why I write.

Today I found a comment on an article I wrote back in February about my current run of daily blogging, where the commenter asked if blogging every day makes us confuse quality with quantity, and if it’s narcissistic to think that people want to read every day what one writes.

For the most part, I don’t write for others. I write for myself, and anyone who wants to can come along for the ride, so I responded: I suppose one has to ask if the blogger cares what people think of their blog. Sometimes it’s for the bloggers — keeping to a discipline, clarifying their ideas, telling their truth to a (perhaps) uncaring world.

And their rebuttal: Well, when you publish something it’s for a public. If you need an exercise for your discipline keep it to yourself and don’t publish it.

I don’t understand the point of this exchange. People always write for themselves. Even if the writing is published, it’s still for themselves. If bloggers didn’t get anything from writing, published or not, they wouldn’t do it. And just because bloggers publish their articles, no one has to read them. In my case, it’s not as if I’m chaining readers to my computer.

Do I want to be heard? Of course I do. Although I say I write for myself, I consider blogging to be a form of communication, a longer way than simply posting a comment on some other social site or sharing someone else’s commentary. And communication, even in such a sideways fashion as this, is important to one who spends most of her waking hours alone. Do I consider this blog to be narcissistic? Since it’s centered on me and my life (who else do I know well enough to write about?), I suppose it could be considered narcissistic, but then everyone who writes would by definition be narcissistic. And even if it is narcissistic, who cares? If what I write doesn’t resonate with anyone, they simply stay away. At least I’m not heaping more outrage on an already outraged world, not spewing hatred or trying to make anyone believe what I want them to believe. More than anything, it seems as if I show appreciation for whatever the day brings.

As for quality vs quantity, again, what difference does it make? I sometimes have interesting ideas. Sometimes I’m just letting a piece of my day slip out into the open. And always, I write to the best of my ability, proofreading until the piece is as well written as possible. (This is also part of the discipline factor, something I would not do if I were simply jotting entries into a for-me-only journal).

I might be getting away from the blog prompt of how I use social media and getting into the why of it, but it still comes down to the same thing: the only way I use social media is by blogging.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in blogging, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 12 Comments »

Satiation

April 15, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I used to like trees, but after digging up hundreds of sprouts from seeds blown into my yard from neighbors’ trees, I’ve become wary of them. The harsh winds occasionally blow branches into my yard, but at least those are easy to get rid of, especially if the owner of those branches hauls them away. But it’s the seedlings that cause the most work for me.

One next-door neighbor has locust trees, and those trees sure are prolific. Every year I find dozens of new baby trees to dig up. So far, the seedlings seem to be evenly distributed over the years, so I know what I’m getting into. Too bad that’s not the worst of it.

About three years ago, my other next-door neighbor’s ash tree had what is called a mast year — a year when it dropped a flood of seeds. I woke up one morning to find my entire yard a pale green. All the rocks around the house, the grass, the pathways, the garden areas were covered in ash seeds. I raked them, swept them, blew them, picked them up by the handfuls. I thought I’d gotten most of them, but two years later, I found hundreds of ash seedlings. That year, I felt almost kindly toward weeds — at least they were easy to pull up. Those seedlings? Not so much. They’d had an entire year to develop deep roots, and so each had to be dug up, not just pulled up. A not so fun year! I’m still finding seedlings, but now they’ve had an extra year to develop, and are harder to dig up because of that well-developed root system.

This year, Siberian elm trees belonging to both of my neighbors are having a mast year. A few days ago, the ground was almost completely covered in those tiny saucer-shaped seeds. The heavy winds we’ve been having do not blow those seeds out of my yard, only into it, so I get double my share of seeds no matter which way the wind is blowing. There have always been elm seedling for me to dig up because the normal amount seems to have a huge rate of germination, but I sure dread the work when this massive proliferation of seeds starts to sprout.

A mast year is also called “predator satiation.” Sometimes this satiation is cyclical, sometimes it’s an answer to a dry winter, and sometimes, I think, the trees just want to torment me. The satiation, of course, is to make sure that there will still be seeds left to become trees even after predators have eaten their fill. If I were out in the country, I wouldn’t care. If I didn’t spend so much time on my yard, I wouldn’t care, or at least not much. But as it is, I’ve come to dislike trees. None of my neighbors’ trees benefit me. I just get the mess and the work. And boy, talk about satiation! I’ve sure had my fill of trees trying to take over my yard.

Oh, well. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. And sometimes that “another” isn’t a bad thing. A couple of years ago, a columbine seeded itself into my hen and chicks garden, and I hesitated to pick it. It doesn’t belong there, but it’s not a weed, either, and it didn’t seem to be a problem, so I just let it grow. I’m glad I did. It’s not like any of my other columbines, which are the more traditional bluish purple and white as well as a couple of bright yellow plants.

This creamy columbine is a small thing to offset the dread of the seedling invasion, but it’s an important thing since it reminds me of the unexpected beauty a garden can bring.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in gardening, home, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 3 Comments »
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