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 »

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 »

Gardening Season

April 14, 2026 — Pat Bertram

In less than a month, it will be spring planting time. I won’t have to buy as many plants as usual because several that usually die off made it through the winter. Out here, where the heat is blistering and the cold is frigid, many perennials, such as snapdragons, that survive in less harsh climates are grown as annuals. Snapdragons reseed themselves, so they might as well be perennials, though the seeding is sporadic at times. This year, though, the snapdragons managed to stay green all winter, so I am much further ahead than I expected. Mostly, I want to see if I can find a few more colors of snapdragons since all I could find last year were yellow ones. If so, then one problem garden will take care of itself. After that, all I’ll have to do is get petunias for my container gardens and hanging plants and then plant seeds in the raised garden. It’s shaping up to be so much less work than previous years.

Of course, when the plants are available for sale, all bets are off. I’ll probably splurge on a few untried plants and see what happens.

Meantime, there are a few tulips still hanging around, but those were the flowers that got afternoon shade.

Most of the rest, the ones that get the burning afternoon sun, fizzled out before they flowered.

Still, there is a bit of color in the yard. The Siberian wallflower is doing well. It’s one of my favorite early spring flowers — so cheery! Unfortunately, it’s a two-year biennial. The first year there are a few small plants, the second year they are mini bushes, and the third year, the poor things are kaput unless they’ve reseeded themselves.

The lilacs did well this year. Lots of blooms!

I’m hoping for a good gardening weather so that plants (and the grass) don’t fry in the summer sun, but the hope is all that’s in my control. What the weather does is something else again.

***

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: , , , , . 2 Comments »

100 Days

April 10, 2026 — Pat Bertram

January seemed to pass so slowly, I was relieved to turn the calendar to February. If nothing else, it was proof that January wasn’t going to be the permanent fixture it felt like. Now suddenly, here we are, 100 days into the year. I haven’t kept track of the days and probably wouldn’t even have noticed how much time has passed, but I got a notification yesterday that I was on a 99-day blog streak. So today is not only the 100th day of the year, but also the 100th day of daily blogging.

That’s amazing to me, to have written so much this year. To be completely honest, I haven’t been able to write every day, but since some days I wrote an extra blog or two, I have been able to post every day, which counts as daily blogging, and certainly counts as part of the “streak.”

It’s funny how this blog seems to change. At the beginning, it was all about writing, then about promoting authors. Then, after Jeff died, it was all about grief. Once I bought my house, this became something of a gardening blog. Now it seems to be mostly a book blog, though I doubt that will last long. I’m still reading, of course, but I’m only reading the books in my own miniscule library, which means rereading and re-rereading the same books. Every once in a while, I think I should go to the library and pick out something different, but the thought of looking at those same shelves for the 1000th time changes my mind. (That number isn’t hyperbole. In the seven years since I’ve been here, I’ve gone to the library about 12 times a month. That’s a lot of library visits!) I’m sure someday I’ll return, but I can’t force myself to go back quite yet.

I look for books to buy, of course, but I want them to be in the mythological epic series category, where there’s depth and meaning not available on the first, second, or even third reading, and those books are hard to find. Some such books I enjoyed the first couple of times, especially when I was young, like the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but those stories got old. As did Harry Potter. Still, I continue to look.

The point I’m trying to make is that you can’t have a book blog without books, so I’m open to a new blog path to follow. Luckily, spring is coming. Oops. Spring is already here!! We are far from January!

Now that spring is here, I can go back to writing about gardening, assuming I can find a way to engage myself in the process rather than just going through the motions as I did last year. (I’ve already been doing a lot of work, such as weeding, digging up Bermuda grass, and watering, but nothing worth rhapsodizing about.)

Or I can continue to do what I’ve always done when it comes to blogging — just wing it. Write whatever comes to mind, and if the posts end up fitting in a category, that’s fine and dandy. If not, well, they still fit in a category — me. Ultimately, whatever the subject, it comes down to my thoughts and my life, even if my life is contained in the few thousand square feet of land I occupy.

But that’s all for the future. Today I am celebrating 100 days!

***

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

 

Posted in blogging, books, gardening, life, writing. Tags: , , , , . 6 Comments »

Creating a Peaceful Place

February 26, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Describe the most ambitious DIY project you’ve ever taken on.
View all responses

The most ambitious DIY project I’ve ever taken on? That’s easy. Landscaping my yard.

When I moved here, the yard was dirt and weeds. It looked okay because the weeds had been cut down to make the house look good when it was put on the market, but still, just weeds. I hadn’t planned on doing anything to improve the property because I didn’t want to have to take care of a yard, but there were things that needed to be done, such as rocks laid around the house to protect the foundation. Then, when I found out I was tripping on all the holes and rocks among the weeds, I decided I needed walking paths of crushed rock to keep from falling and breaking my neck. Or a hip, anyway.

Admittedly, I didn’t do any of the rock labor, but the finished work gave me a sort of yard pride that seemed to demand further work. So gradually, I planted a few bushes, a few flowers, filled in some of the gardens that were created by the walkways, and things escalated from there.

I had a lawn mower, so I put in a bit of a lawn since I didn’t want the mower to go to waste (a silly reason for a lawn, I know, but it’s the truth). I had sod put in, but when that all died (the people I hired put in the wrong grass), I dug it up and planted a more heat-resistant strain of grass.

And so it goes . . .

What makes this DIY project so ambitious is that there doesn’t seem to be an end to it. There’s a lot of work just involved in maintenance, so that keeps me outside for a couple of hours each day, which makes me see how much more I can improve. I can see spots that need to be filled in or bits of color that will improve the looks of one of the gardens. And then there are container gardens and hanging pots to be replanted every year.

Yep, an unending project when in fact, what I had wanted was a yard that took no work.

Oh, well, there are worse things than a garden demands attention. And truly, I can’t think of a better use of my time than creating this peaceful place.

Besides, there all are the surprises I find, like this morning. Look! Crocuses!

***

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

Posted in gardening, home, house, life. Tags: , , , , , , , . 8 Comments »

Dreaming up a Home

February 11, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Write about your dream home.
View all responses

I’m sitting here with a smile on my face, thinking about my dream home. For me, my dream home isn’t a fantasy, it’s a reality. It’s the very house I am now sitting in. What makes it a dream home is that I dreamed it up.

Years ago, I went through a huge change in my life. My life mate/soul mate of thirty-four years, Jeff, died, leaving me stranded here in this world without a home (he was my home) and with a single responsibility left to me — to go and help care for my aged father. I also was left with a sense that somewhere after the dark present, there would be a brighter future for me. During those long years of grief, I held to that thought. After my father died, I was adrift again, becoming a serial nomad — renting rooms and taking long trips.

I never thought of owning a house. It seemed too far from reality to even dream of it — just the thought of the upkeep seemed burdensome to say nothing of all the financial obligations a house engendered.

I spent years trying to figure out what to do, then when a relative suggested buying a house, it hit a chord. I had a bit of savings, but nowhere near enough to buy a house, or so I thought. Except, there was one corner of the world where house costs were still unbelievably low. I visited the area, and it was okay — way out on the plains, far from any major city, but I didn’t care. I just needed a place to live out my years.

A realtor took me around, and though I didn’t find a house I liked or could afford or that was still on the market a day or two after it was listed, I made friends with the real estate agent. Then I went home, thought about all I’d seen, and I dreamed.

I dreamed of a house with a new galley kitchen, a bathroom that would still be accessible no matter what old age brought, a living room with lots of screened windows,

an office with a day bed for reading and working/playing on the computer. Oh, I dreamed and dreamed, dreaming every single detail of what I would like into existence.

Then one day I got an email from Zillow though I’d never signed into that real estate site and certainly never signed up for emails. The email showed a simple house and said I might like it. I checked out the photos of the inside and gasped in disbelief. There it was — exactly what I’d dreamed up.

It wasn’t so much the looks of the house that got to me but the inside since I live in rooms and don’t spend a lot of time looking at the outside of where I live. I immediately called the realtor. She went to look at it, told me what she found, arranged for an inspector, and when I asked her to arrange the sale, she panicked and had me sign an affidavit that it was my choice to buy the house unseen. But I knew it would work out okay. After all, it was my house.

Three things were not in the dream — 1) the town itself because at that point I didn’t really care where I lived, I just wanted not to have to worry; 2) friends because I moved for the house and my future; the friends I’ve made have been a true blessing; 3) a landscaped yard because I didn’t want to have to take care of a lawn or a garden, and yet, over the years, I’ve created a beautiful outdoor space for myself.

So here I am, sixteen years after Jeff’s death, seven years after the Zillow email, living in that brighter future I’d believed would come. Living in the very house I dreamed up.

***

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

Posted in dealing with old age, gardening, grief, home, life. Tags: , , , , . 17 Comments »

Gardens on my Mind

January 5, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Yesterday, I watered my lawn. Perhaps it didn’t need the moisture, but when the temperature gets up to 74 degrees this time of year, it’s better to be sure the grass has the water it needs. I read and blogged about eighteenth century gardens. And I made a few sketchy notes in my new RHS Gardener’s Five-Year Record book, though there’s not a lot to record this time of year. Mostly, I just mentioned the weather and that the larkspur seedlings are making themselves at home.

This seems an odd time of year to be thinking of gardening, and yet for most people this is when the fun is — looking through catalogs and planning what to buy to fill in one’s garden. Not me, though. I usually wait until the local hardware store stocks up on plants and get whatever is available. Or I wait until fall and buy chrysanthemums and whatever else likes to be planted so late in the year.

Still, I have gardens on my mind. In the back of my Gardener’s Record Book, is a section to list any gardens I wish to visit. That’s a section that will remain blank. Any gardens I wanted to see, I already have, as well as a few gardens I’d never heard of until I was actually there.

For example, when I went to stay with a friend during my 2016 Cross-country trip, she took me to see Fort Worth Botanical Gardens. The highlight of that visit was the exotic butterfly garden in their conservatory.

She also took me to see the Chandor Gardens, a series of formal gardens created by Douglas Chandor, a renowned English portrait painter. Living artistry was certainly his calling!

The Calloway Gardens in Georgia was a garden I found on my own. I was lucky to get there just when the Azaleas were in bloom, and oh, my! So lovely.

Calloway Gardens calls the Overlook Azalea Trail the most beautiful place on earth, though that claim is rivaled by the Crystal Springs Rhododendron Garden in Portland. Another gorgeous place that a friend in Portland took me to.

Though not technically a garden, the Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve in California is up there with the best in beauty.

And though not a garden at all, the Painted Desert in Arizona certainly acts as if it is.

Despite all that loveliness, I have to say that there is nothing like one’s own garden. Even though mine doesn’t have the panoramic beauty of those gardens I visited, mine finds its beauty in the work I’ve done, the thought I’ve put into it, and the fact that it is here and not in some far-flung state.

***

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

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

Gardens, Now and Then

January 4, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I recently finished reading a book that was so unmemorable, just about the only thing I remember is how bad it was. I certainly don’t remember the title or the author. I do remember, however, all the talk of eighteenth-century gardens.

I didn’t know that there were various styles of gardens. I just figured people did what I am doing — create their own garden using the space, the climate, the soil, and their own sense of practicality to best utilize the area.

I started with a gravel border around my house to protect the foundation, which unfortunately didn’t keep one corner from collapsing. Luckily, that’s fixed, now. Whew!

Then I figured out where I would want to walk in the yard, and had pathways put in. When I moved here, there were only weeds and rocks and uneven ground to trip the unwary, so those pathways were important, especially as I knew I wouldn’t be getting any younger. (Though, who knows. Stranger things have happened, I’m sure.)

When the old garage was torn down, the concrete slab in front of that derelict building was left in place, so I used that as a foundation for a gazebo. And where the garage was, I had a raised garden built.

The rest of the yard, I filled in with bushes, grass, a couple of trees, and lots of flowers. That part of the garden is always a work in progress since plants die, seed themselves, and new flowers beg to be planted.

So, there is some balance in my yard: a few distinct areas, a couple of places to sit, grassy areas, places to grow vegetables. Best of all, it gives me something different to look at with every turn of the path.

Apparently, this isn’t the way everyone gardens, or even the way people used to garden. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon were definitely planned out. They weren’t actually hanging gardens (if they even existed), but were “overhanging” gardens, supposedly built as ascending terraces, planted with trees, bushes, and flowers, to create a luxurious green hill.

In the eighteenth century (what all this was leading up to), gardens were geometric, with the various pieces of the geometry shape enclosed by hedges to create outside rooms. A pleasure garden for picnicking. A kitchen garden. flower gardens. Topiary gardens. Gazebos and other outbuildings. Water décor such as fountains and ponds. And tree-lined paths to connect the sections.

Such gardens, as well as gardens before and after, needed architects to get everything correct. Even though in my haphazard way, I have a few elements of an eighteenth-century garden, such as distinct garden areas, paths, and a gazebo. Unlike eighteenth century gardens, I have grassy areas, as well as wild areas. But then, I didn’t set out to create such an historical garden. Didn’t even know they existed, to be honest.

Admittedly, my yard is a lot smaller than the usual eighteenth century garden, and I spent a fraction of the cost, but that was never the point. The point, for me, was . . . Hmmm. I’m not sure what the point was of creating my garden. What I wanted when I moved here was a work-free yard, one that took care of itself. And yet, what I have is . . . well, a mini park that takes a lot of work!

***

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

Posted in dealing with old age, gardening, home, life. Tags: , , , , , . Leave a Comment »

Out With the Old, In With the . . .

January 2, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Out with the old, in with the . . . same old, same old.

There isn’t any appreciable difference between December 31 and January 1 except for a new calendar. Of course, we pretend there’s a difference because . . . well, because we think there should be a difference. The only time there was a difference, at least in my life, was when it came to school years, and even then, the difference wasn’t appreciable since the first days of the new school year often duplicated the last of the old one as we reviewed the previous year’s work.

But now, as an adult, nope, there’s not any difference between the old and the apocryphal new. In fact, as far as I remember, I never did anything for the new year until after Jeff died. Then, I wanted to do as much as I could to make my new single life different from my old shared life, so once or twice, I even stayed up to midnight and toasted the new year with a glass of bubbly — sparkling cider, if I remember correctly. I wanted a change of focus, a turning away from the way I wished things were to the way things are and maybe even to the way things were meant to be. And that seemed to help me continue on without the person who’d been the focus of my life for so many decades.

What helped during those grieving years now seems ho hum. I do, sometimes, play around with New Year’s resolutions in an effort to make the new year seem new again, or at least to make myself seem new again, but resolutions don’t really help. It seems to me that making a resolution sets one up for failure. Because if you plan to do something for a year, chances are, you won’t continue when the year ends, and if the resolution is going to end, then why wait until the end of the year? Why not in June, or February, or even today?

Still, I did make one resolution I’d like to keep — to stay away from news and opinions of any kind. (Except for my own opinions, of course.)

There’s another resolution I’m planning to keep for a month — to stay away from sugar and wheat. Neither one of those things is good for me, and both create problems, but both are hard to stay away from permanently — no pizza ever again? I don’t eat it very often, maybe a couple of times a year, but still, even the thought of it can be a treat. And no chocolate? Heaven forbid! But I’m trying to do a body reset, if there is such a thing, and so I’m being careful what I eat.

A third resolution I plan to keep when I can — to walk every day. But that’s not much of a resolution when I allow myself an out from the beginning. I’m to the age where I notice every joint, every muscle, every ligament and tendon, and there’s no telling when I get up in the morning which of those things will be out of whack. When you think about it, that so many people live for many years, especially when they are young, without being reminded of a single body part is the true miracle. To think that all those parts once worked painlessly together is truly astonishing! Adding to the “out” of walking every day is the weather. I have no interest in going out in dangerous weather. (Dangerous to old bones, that is.) But, I’ll do what I can for however many years I can.

A fourth resolution isn’t so much a new year’s resolution, but rather a hope since I can’t do anything until spring. I would like to get my head more into gardening and lawn work than I did last year. Last year I went through the motions but didn’t really care. This year, I’d like to care, especially since a neighbor gave me a gardening record book, and I’d like to thank her by actually using it. Though admittedly, it will be mostly blank until March or even April.

And there’s a fifth resolution. Well, not actually a resolution, something that just happened. So far, I’ve blogged every day this year. Whoop-de-do! Two whole days! Sometimes I think I’d like to get back into blogging — I liked that it gave my days form and focus. Other times I wonder what the heck I’d been doing putting so much of myself out there for all the world to see. Did I really just spew out my grief, talk about my father and dysfunctional brother, show my new house and yard, let everyone peek into my private life? It was one thing to talk about author-y things back when I was writing, but the rest? Eek. Not smart! So far, the balance scale is . . . balanced. If I do, I do. If I don’t, I don’t. And either way is fine.

***

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

Posted in being me, gardening, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 4 Comments »
« Older posts
Newer posts »