Family, Friends, and a Reason to Celebrate

March 9, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I had the weird experience yesterday of living in two different time zones depending on what room I was in. In one room, it was afternoon, and in the other, before noon. It didn’t really matter, apparently, since it took me a while to realize that there were two different times in my house. I mean, I knew it was 12:30 in one room but immediately forgot what the time was. Fifteen minutes later, I went into the kitchen and there the time was 11:45. Figuring I’d misread the time in the other room, I went back and checked my phone again. Confused the heck out of me why I’d lost an hour in one room but not the other.

Then, of course, light dawned. Sheesh. Daylight saving time. Unlike my phone and computer, the stove and microwave don’t change the time automatically.

Neither does my body.

I never think the time change will affect me since I get up with the sun, but it does, mostly because bedtime comes an hour earlier (which really means an hour or two later since I’m not tired enough to fall asleep, so I toss and turn longer than if I had simply gone to bed an hour later).

I hope this moment of confusion isn’t indicative of what my old age will be like — a lot of confusion with (hopefully) a quick dawning of understanding.

Of course, if I’d looked at the calendar or continued my perusal of online articles, I would have been reminded, but I’ve been narrowing my focus to what is in my immediate surroundings.

And apparently, yesterday, what was in my immediate surrounding was two different time zones — MST and MDT.

I have been enjoying my narrowed focus. (Even though it’s an online activity, blogging is still a narrowed focus because what I see is the words in my mind being written in black and white.) It helps that the weather is nice so I can go outside to expand my horizons, but I’ve also been bringing my horizons inside. At least, I did on Saturday, which was the seventh anniversary of my buying this house.

The house anniversary is one of the few dates in my life I like to celebrate, and so does my next-door neighbor. (Apparently, I was an answer to her prayer for a good neighbor. Makes me feel special since I’ve never — to my knowledge — been the answer to anyone’s prayers.) To honor the occasion, she gave me these gorgeous roses!

She and a few other friends came to help me celebrate. It was nice that they couldn’t all come at once, so I was able to visit one on one or one on two which is best for me. I find more company than that causes me too much confusion, though unlike the time difference mentioned above, this isn’t age-related confusion (or whatever the problem with the time was) but simply the way I’ve always been.

My sister had asked what I wanted for a gift. Since I don’t need anything, I told her I’d like gifts for my friends. So she made me the most wonderful party favor kit, which was great on so many levels.

I had the fun of receiving the box of goodies, the fun of assembling the kit, and the fun of handing them out.

So, who needs a broader focus in life when one has family, friends, a reason to celebrate, and lovely hostess gifts to hand out!

I was proud of myself for cleaning up immediately afterward, so yesterday morning I woke to a clean house rather than a mess. Not that we left much of a mess, but I had to clear the table and do the dishes as well as finish the leftovers since I don’t like having cake and ice cream on hand. Though to be honest, I never have them on hand because if I do, they are too soon gobbled up, and neither of those treats treat me well.

So that catches us up on my news. I’ve been spending my blog time on topics other than me (though in a way, everything I write is about me or at least what I think), but there’s truly been nothing much going on in my life to write about.

Still, it’s been nice having this narrow focus even if it doesn’t give me a lot of fodder for blogging.

***

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

Posted in being me, blogging, dealing with old age, home, house, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 7 Comments »

Buying Colorado

March 3, 2026 — Pat Bertram

After Jeff died, I moved to California to help take care of my father. He didn’t actually need a lot of help, but he did need someone there to watch over him, so I was able to find a life for myself. During the first three years, I mostly walked. And walked. And walked. Then I discovered dancing, and that became a saving grace for me. (Well, maybe not “grace” since it didn’t make me all that graceful, but I still managed to hold my own, even during performances.)

After my father died, I became nomadic — housesitting, traveling, staying in motels. But always, I ended up back in that desert town because I didn’t know where else to go. Besides, I had friends there, and dancing.

Then came the opportunity to buy a house in a small town in Colorado. I was sad to leave my dance classes and my friends, but I was delighted to leave California. Although the high desert was livable, the politics of the state weren’t. Even if I could have afforded to live there, I would have left out of self-preservation.

I was glad to settle back into Colorado. That is, I was glad until I realized that the Colorado I left wasn’t the same one I returned to. The state had always been moderate, and yet somehow the state had become uber-liberal, as bad if not worse than California, with punitive policies and little representation of the rural areas. I live far from Denver, but that sanctuary city with its insane laws neutralizes the outlying areas even further. Not only do they try to take our water (which makes the building of the conduit from Pueblo out to the Kansas border a boondoggle because there won’t be any water for them to share with us) but they are also taking away the ability for counties to create their own zoning laws. Instead, small towns must adhere to the same unaffordable “affordability” zoning laws that are being put into place in the big cities. A state that once had a tax surplus is now in a sinking hole of debt because of liberal ideologies and the fraudulent misuse of tax dollars. Then there is the bought-and-paid-for governor who’s making his own deals with WHO and Zelensky and anyone else that can further his agenda of separating Colorado from the governance of federal agencies. (Though he still wants federal funds.) All this creates at times an uncomfortable dichotomy between the individualistic rural areas and the collectivistic urban areas.

So how did Colorado come to this when I wasn’t looking? Tons of money from east coast liberals, and maybe even west coast, came flooding in. Most of the money for democratic candidates comes from outside the state, while most of the money for conservative candidates comes from inside the state. Which says to me that the state would have preferred to remain conservative, or at least somewhere in the middle where it had always been. (Today, slightly less than a quarter of registered voters are democrat, another scant quarter is Republican, and slightly more than half are registered as independent or unaffiliated.)  Many districts no longer even put forth a republican candidate for any office. They simply can’t match the funds the democrats have at their disposal.

Why the push to buy Colorado? I have no idea, though I guess it was easy in part because so many people from California had moved here. I never understood that, frankly. You move from a cesspool of high taxes and an overreaching government, and you immediately start creating a similar cesspool, but that’s what they did.

Although the politics of Colorado has changed drastically, the feel of the state hasn’t. The air feels like home. The weather, though not always to my liking, is what I was used to growing up.

And I’ve made good friends here, making this small town even homier.

Even though I grew up in Denver, it turns out I’m a small-town girl at heart, though I do wish — silly me — that politically things were different. Still, the machinations of politicians and their backers, and those who espouse extremist policies have always horrified me so I don’t imagine things will be that different. I hope not. And anyway, I’ve managed to survive seven years here, so with any luck, I’ll continue to do okay.

***

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

Posted in being me, history/myth, home, life. Tags: , , , , . 28 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: , , , , . 15 Comments »

Ten-Year Anniversary of My Road Trip

January 13, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Think back on your most memorable road trip.
View all responses

It’s odd to think that my cross-country road trip was ten years ago! It doesn’t seem that so much time has passed, and yet, I’ve lived what seems a lifetime since then — moving (both into a new location and out of grief), becoming a first-time homeowner, landscaping the yard, meeting new people and making new friends.

Despite the vast change in my life during the past years, I never had any problems adjusting to anything that happened to me probably because of all the traveling that had gone before — the twenty-one week cross-country trip, the longitudinal trips, the half-cross-country trips (from California to Colorado). I really enjoyed all those trips, but now, I’m just as glad to stay home. (Though I tend to think part of that is not wanting to drive my geriatric car too much anymore. I shudder at times to think of my traveling solo all over the country in my ancient VW bug. I made it safely, but I’m not sure I want to test my luck.)

There was so much to see and do on all of my trips, but the most memorable one has to be that cross-country trip. I was out there by myself, doing what I wanted, going where I wanted, camping when I could, staying in motels when I needed to, visiting friends. Most of those friends were people I’d met online, and I was amazed and honored by how well they treated me, taking me to see the special sights and sites in their area. I experienced more of the continental USA during that time than I had in all my previous years.

Lucky for me, even though I do remember the trip, I don’t have to. I documented my travels, from the first hesitant raising of my first tent to the final feeling of loss at finding myself the same at the end as I was at the beginning.

And lucky for you, you can experience my trip for yourself by clicking on this link: Road Trip 2016.

Safe travels wherever you go!

***

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

Posted in Adventure, home, life. Tags: , , , , , , , . 4 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 »

Fifteenth Anniversary

March 27, 2025 — Pat Bertram

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post a grief anniversary blog this year. It seems as if after a certain number of years, one should stop counting, but we do always count birthdays, wedding anniversaries, and other milestones, and Jeff’s death was a huge milestone date for me, so perhaps counting is still acceptable.

If that’s the case: today is the fifteenth anniversary of that painful date.

To be honest, this isn’t an especially noteworthy day. Well, except for the near-record temperature. 86 degrees! It will cool down to normal temperatures in a couple of days, so I took the opportunity to do various outside chores, such as mow the grass, pull a few weeds, maybe fertilize (I say “maybe” because I’m not sure how well the dispenser I attached to the hose works). I even took a very short walk. (Those days I had to spend on the computer updating my email address wreaked havoc on my knees, and they’re still not working as well as I hoped.) And I visited with a neighbor in the middle of the street.

In a way, I suppose, all those normal activities do make this a noteworthy day. It wasn’t that long ago that I had no plans, no place I wanted to be, nothing I particularly wanted to do. But the years passed. And here I am.

Oddly, that’s about all I have to say about this anniversary. There’s no real vestige of grief left, though I do still feel his absence, more of a vague feeling that something’s missing than the gaping hole I used to feel. Those times when the missing is more than a vague feeling, I talk to him, which helps bridge the gap. I’ve also noticed that I still dream about him, but not in any message-from-the-dead sort of way. He’s just part of the lexicon of my dreams, forgotten when I wake along with all the rest of what went through my sleeping mind.

I did get a flower today, only the second bloom in my yard so far this spring. A fitting reminder that life goes on.

***

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

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

Update

January 8, 2025 — Pat Bertram

After an early heavy snow, followed by higher than average temperatures, we’re now in a deep freeze. Later in the week, the temperatures will get above freezing, although only fleetingly.

And then all too soon, it will be time to work out in my yard again.

I enjoy these months of respite from the struggle against weeds and sun-dried grass, but I miss the daily gifts — the flowers that come up despite this harsh climate, the volunteer plants that so tenaciously take a stand, the perennials that stretch their territory. I do get a flower fix with paint-by-number kits. It’s not the same as real gardening by any means, but it’s a real boon to someone without an artistic bone in her body.

Oddly, what I don’t miss is writing — about gardening or anything else, for that matter. For almost three decades, writing (and blogging) was my life. It kept me going during the long years of Jeff’s ill health and in the dark times after he died. It gave me a reason to get up in the morning, gave me a focus that I might not otherwise have had. In fact, because of this blog, I went on excursions and attended events I might have passed on, but I figured anything I did gave me a topic to write about.

So did my desire to stay at home squelch my desire to blog? Or did my lack of desire to blog squelch any desire for venturing out? Silly questions. Silly because the answers don’t matter. I’ve become a homebody, and that’s it. My being a homebody is not surprising since I’ve always had reclusive tendencies, but what is surprising is that I have a home. And a garden! It still astonishes me that this place is mine. In my restless years of grief and its aftermath, I spent a lot of mental energy trying to figure out what my unshared future would be like, and never once did I come close to imagining this reality.

I remember back then occasionally thinking that my future should be wonderful, because if the pain of grief was something I never knew existed, then there had to be some joy to come I also never knew existed.

And now here it is. And now here I am.

Of course, that raises a conundrum that I try not to consider: the only reason I’m living this particular good life is that Jeff is not here. Still, the last thing Jeff ever said to me was that everything would work out for me, so I know he’d be pleased for me. And yet, there’s that niggle in the back of my head that I try not to think about.

But those are thoughts for another time.

Today I’ll think good thoughts and be grateful for all I’ve been given.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in being me, blogging, home, life, writing. Tags: , , , , . 5 Comments »

What’s New

November 8, 2024 — Pat Bertram

I seem to be on a blog streak lately: every two months on the 8th without fail I’ve managed to find some words to post. Perhaps bimonthly three times in a row isn’t much in the grand scheme of the world, the galaxy, the universe, but it’s a lot for me. I’m lucky in that there isn’t much to write about. I lead a quiet, sane life (at least it feels sane to me) without a lot of trauma or excitement, but that suits me well. I’ve had enough of both to last the rest of my life.

Oh, there are some things of concern, such as a couple of visitors of the small rodent kind and a crumbling corner of my foundation (for some reason, that particular corner decided it didn’t want to have anything to do with the rest of the house, so it went walkabout) but mostly, I (and my house) have been doing well.

So, what’s new? Snow! Lots and lots of snow. I haven’t seen so much snow in years. In fact, I think we’ve had more snow the past couple of days than all last winter. It’s been so warm that I’d been procrastinating on cleaning up my garden areas for fall, mowing one last time, readying the ground for planting wildflower seeds (which in previous years I did before the first snow) thinking I had plenty of time to do the work, but no. Snow!!

Luckily, they got the foundation concreted in before the snow started, but it will probably be a while before they can replace the dirt and redo the landscaping around the house. It’s ornamental rock, so it’s not much of a problem, and it’s out of the way so I won’t be putting myself in danger, but they might have to wait until the snow melts and the excavation area dries out. Or not. What do I know. And anyway, it’s not that cold, so I doubt the snow will be around for very long.

There isn’t much snow in the above picture of my ramp, but the snow that’s there is just from the early hours this morning. Yesterday, I shoveled the ramp twice. Each time the snow was about six or eight inches deep, so you can imagine how deep the snow would have been without all that work! And without the melt from late yesterday afternoon when the snow turned to rain.

After this storm passes, the days will warm up (though the nights will be colder than they have been), so I’m sure I’ll still be able to do the fall cleanup I’d planned, assuming, of course, I feel like it.

Right now, what I feel like is a cup of hot tea, a warm blanket, and a book to read, so goodbye for another couple of months! It was nice connecting with you.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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

Lily Forest

July 8, 2024 — Pat Bertram

Ever since I heard of lily trees (a cross between an oriental lily and a trumpet lily) and how tall they grow (an average of four feet), I wanted to grow a forest of lily trees. To that end, I’d been planting a few lily bulbs every year, and this year, they decided to really pop. And oh, my! What a lovely mini forest!

The lilies are large and vibrant, with lots of dark pink

light pink,

white

And even a couple of yellow that just showed up this morning.

Although for the most part, there isn’t a lot of color in my garden this time of year (after I pull up the spring-blooming larkspur, it takes a while for newly planted flowers to grow) the lilies command so much attention, that it doesn’t really matter. And then, of course, there is the purple echinacea that frames the forest. (It’s called purple, though in my garden, it’s actually pink, and can be seen at the bottom of the lily forest photo.

My raised garden is doing well, too. A squash!

A frog house nestled among the cucumbers and tomatoes. Well, tomato.

And contented birds shaded by another tomato plant. Luckily, the real birds are leaving my garden alone, though they tend to roam in the grass. With any luck, they are eating the myriad baby grasshoppers.

It is interesting to me that of all the things I thought of doing after Jeff died, owning a garden with a lily forest never even entered my mind, and yet here I am. Despite times of late-night loneliness, I am doing well. A garden can be such a comfort, at least as long as one concentrates on what is working rather than what is not. Even better, it provides a focus. There is always work to be done, plans to make, views to enjoy, and perhaps even a little food to harvest.

Best of all, it gives me fodder for an occasional blog post!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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