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Cooling Down

July 26, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Today is the hottest day of the year so far. Not of all years, just this year. I’ve survived hotter days than this — days when today’s high of 108 degrees was a cool-down — but still, it’s hot. Hot enough to have fried whatever energy I have. Hot enough to boil any ideas right out of my head.

So instead of writing anything of significance — assuming, of course, that I ever do — I thought I’d post photos of previous winters in the hopes that images of all that ice and snow will cool me down.

And if not that, then they will be a good reminder that although winter is officially five months away, winter weather could come as early as next month. Not that I think it will, just that it has. I remember snow in August. I also remember snow in June.

Just a reminder for people who aren’t paying attention: these are photos from previous winters. Not last year, because we had only a couple of real snowstorms, but previous years.

So are these images this cooling me off? Not particularly, but I must admit, seeing the photos is nice, especially since I don’t actually have to deal with the cold or the snow . . . yet.

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

Posted in being me, home, life. Tags: cool images for hot day, thinking of winter, winter in July, winter photos. 2 Comments »

Best Purchase Ever

July 23, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Daily writing prompt

What is the best purchase you have ever made?

View all responses

All too often, these blog prompts leave me wordless. Literally wordless. In that I can’t think of a single thing to write. A recent prompt was if I could be an animal for a week, what kind of animal would I be. Yeah, wordless. I have enough trouble imagining myself as a human animal let alone any other sort of creature.

Another prompt was about what book inspired me to travel. How would I know? I’ve read tens of thousands of books. There’s no way I could pick out a single book. And anyway, as far as I remember, no book ever inspired me to travel — reading books was how I traveled. It was being left alone in the world with no place I needed or wanted to be that gave me the impetus to go on the road.

But this blog prompt? A no brainer!

The best purchase I ever made by far has been this house. I honestly never thought I’d be able to own a house, never really wanted the responsibility, but it’s been great, especially since it happened so late in my life. It’s nice to know I am where I will be until the end unless something drastic happens. It’s nice to know where I am going to be sleeping every night. It’s nice to have control of the temperature (the rooms I rented were either too hot or too cold, with no vote on where I wanted the temperature set). It’s nice to be able to do what I want with the yard.

It’s just . . . nice.

I was lucky to find a place I could afford to buy. (That window of opportunity has closed, so I truly lucked out!) It took a long-range move to get me here where I can live life under my own terms. Well, my terms and the weather’s terms. The weather does control a lot of what I do — when it’s too hot or too windy or too snowy, I pretty much have to stay inside where I can control my environment. It’s this modicum of control that confirms (as if I needed confirmation!) that this house is the best purchase I ever made, especially during these seeringly hot days. (Spell check wants to change “seeringly” to “sneeringly,” and while that might also be apropos, it’s not the word I chose.)

I wake up every day feeling grateful. And I give a last nod of gratitude every night.

Apparently, my best purchase was not just this house, but a life of gratitude, and that, too, is nice.

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

Posted in blogging, books, dealing with old age, home, house, writing. Tags: best purchase ever, buying a house, dailyprompt, dailyprompt-2831, going where I could buy a house, grateful, gratitude. 2 Comments »

Dealing With Bermuda Grass

July 20, 2026 — Pat Bertram

And today’s lesson, boys and girls, is all about Bermuda grass. The scientific name for Bermuda grass is Cynodon dactylon, though it goes by many names besides Bermuda grass, such as quickgrass, devil grass, twitch grass, and couch grass. It is a weed found all over the world, probably originating in sub-Saharan Africa or perhaps on islands in the western parts of the Indian Ocean. It’s called Bermuda grass because it was introduced to the USA via Bermuda. Although around here, Bermuda grass is used for lawns because of its tolerance for sun and heat, it is considered one of the world’s most invasive weeds, one moreover, that is almost impossible to get rid of. Not only is it hard to kill, it spreads by so many ways that containing it is an exercise in frustration. Its roots go down deep, sometimes as much as six feet. It spreads by rhizomes, which are long runners below the ground that pop up in unexpected places. It spreads by stolons, which are runners above ground that root themselves as they travel. (I’ve found them as long as eight feet, creeping beneath my front ramp from one garden area to the other.) They spread by seeds, and since every part of the plant is biologically viable, it also spreads by grass clippings.

So why this lesson? Because why should I be the only one to suffer with my Bermuda grass struggles!

That weed grass is taking over one section of my yard, and to be honest, if I’d known it wanted to be there so badly, I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of digging up that area and planting a “real” lawn. I’d pretty much given up trying to control the Bermuda grass the past year or so and just let it do its thing, thinking that it at least was green. But this year, the grass went to seed, and I didn’t want my whole yard overtaken by that invader, so I’d been pulling up what I can. It turns out, the grass seed heads sprout at the end of the stolons, so I’ve been able to get rid of a lot of stolons that have been interweaving itself through the grass I planted. I realize I’m not getting the roots, but by pulling up the long stolons, I’m keeping them from rooting in other places. At least that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

The area that I’m trying to clear isn’t that big, but when I’m searching the lawn inch by inch, it seems huge! Unfortunately, by the time I’ve worked a bit pulling up stolons, I’ve used up my energy for the day, and so the weeds are taking over my garden areas. And yikes — the spurge is everywhere! It’s funny — this is such a hostile environment so in many ways: shimmeringly hot summers, frigid winters, winds all year, low moisture, and alkaline clay soil — you’d think nothing would grow, but the plants that like it here, really like it. Unfortunately, many of those plants are weeds that are extremely hard to get rid of.

Still, for all that, my yard looks pretty darn good!

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

Posted in gardening, home. Tags: bermuda grass, Bermuda grass rhizomes, bermuda grass roots, Bermuda grass stolons, invasion of Bermuda Grass. 4 Comments »

My Back Forty

July 17, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Usually at this time of year, my “back forty” is lying fallow. It’s really a “back twenty” — an area about twenty feet by ten feet, but who’s counting. Almost everything I ever planted back there has died off except for a couple of plum trees I planted a few years ago, which in six years have produced a grand total of four plums. The plants that were here when I bought the place are still going strong — a wild rose, a honeysuckle, and a trumpet vine, but those plants are obviously well adapted to their environment. I think it gets too hot in that section for most plants, with the sun reflecting off the white garage next door and then kept sandwiched in between the two garages. In the spring, the area is lush with larkspur, but once I harvest the seeds and clean out the dead stalks, I just let it be. It just never seemed worth trying to grow anything.

Last year, I’d planted a tomato plant, a pumpkin vine, a watermelon vine, and a cantaloupe vine in my raised garden, and those four plants so overwhelmed the relatively small garden that this year I decided to try planting them in my back section, thinking they’d have plenty of room to grow. And they are doing supremely well! Perhaps the trees have grown enough to provide a bit of shade, but whatever the reason, I’m delighted.

I transplanted self-planted marigolds from the raised garden to provide a bit of protection for my “farm garden.” (If four plants can be considered a garden, let alone a farm garden.) I also threw out some wildflower seeds I’d been gifted, and though in previous years, nothing ever came of the wildflowers, this year they are adding to the lushness of the area.

Going by old blog posts I’d written around this same time, this is usually a discouraging time for me. Not only are the heat and humidity hard to bear, but they deplete my energy and my desire to do anything. (I know you people who live in truly high humidity will laugh at my thinking that 40% is high, but when you are used to single digit humidity, that is a huge change. And anyway, that’s just the afternoon humidity — the early morning humidity gets close to 80%.) This year, although the heat and humidity are playing with me, I am managing to keep up a semblance of enthusiasm for the yard, and I tend to think it has to do with that back twenty. With those vines growing so long (the pumpkin vine is at least ten feet long right now, though the others are catching up), they are easily filling the area with a lot of green and some luscious blossoms.

There seem to be many pumpkins starting to grow, but oddly, that wasn’t my main reason for planting them. And anyway, I have no idea what to do with the pumpkings once they’re big enough to eat.

***

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

Posted in blogging, gardening, home, photography. Tags: back forty, cantaloupe plant, larkspur, planting one pumpkin, planting one watermelon, planting pumpkins, watermelon plant. 2 Comments »

Lily Forest Update

July 15, 2026 — Pat Bertram

My lily forest is still going strong. Lush and vibrant, it’s at its peak, so I am making sure to enjoy the blooms every day.

And now, you can enjoy them, too!

It’s interesting that this tiger lily showed up among the more traditional lilies.

You can see it hiding among its taller brethren in the following photo.

As I’m sure you’ve figured, I have nothing much to say today.

Still, considering that a picture is worth a thousand words, or so I’ve heard it said, then this post is a good 5,000 words long. Well, 5,000 plus the 120 words of text.

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

Posted in blogging, gardening, home, life, photography. Tags: a picture is worth a thousand words, lily forest, lily photos, nothing to say, tiger lily. 1 Comment »

Alien Invasion

July 14, 2026 — Pat Bertram

If you think you’re going to be reading a blog about invaders from another planet or even from another country, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Though, truly, for all I know, this discussion of alienism could be about something from outer space. Spores, perhaps.

These plants are called hen and chicks because, I presume, of the way they proliferate. The mother hen grows multiple babies, then, when she gets tired of them clinging to her skirts, she gets ready for her end by flowering. Unlike other plants, when these particular genera of hen and chicks finish flowering, the worn-out hen gives up the ghost so that her chicks can have room to grow.

Although I like the plants, especially the way they create a lovely carpet of succulents that look like fallen blossoms, I find the flowers creepy.

The central portion of the hen grows and grows and grows, sort of like the alien in Kim Bassenger’s purse in the My Stepmother is an Alien.

Very creepy.

The flowers themselves aren’t really that bad, in fact, they’re sort of pretty in an otherworldly sort of way, like something you’d see under a microscope, but the whole thing — the base, the long stalk, the bundle of flowers at the very top — is . . . well, it’s just creepy.

Most years, my hen and chicks don’t flower, and if they do, it’s only one or two. Usually, when they start to become alienish, I pull up the mother hen. I figure, since it has to be pulled up after she flowers, I might as well do it before so I don’t get creeped out.

But this year, more than a dozen mothers all got to flowering. A veritable invasion! I let them do what they wanted, even knowing my reaction, for the same reason I do so much of what I do — it gives me a blog topic. (I used to do a whole lot of things simply to have something to write about, but I don’t do that so much anymore, so what goes on in my yard has to suffice.)

This morning, I took the photos, wrote this blog, and then I went out and got rid of my alien invasion.

Whew! Disaster averted.

***

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

Posted in blogging, gardening, home, life, photography. Tags: alien-like plant, hen and chick blossom, hen and chick plant, hen and chicks, My Stepmother is an Alien. 4 Comments »

Being Noticed

July 12, 2026 — Pat Bertram

It rained the night before last, enough rain that not only did I not have to water yesterday, it was too muddy to work in the yard.

So I went for a walk. It felt good being out and about despite the heat and humidity, though I actually did more visiting during that hour than walking. First, I chatted with a neighbor who was thrilled with the almost two inches of rain, and then we moved onto other topics, such as theft. Solar garden lights are disappearing around town. Both of mine outside the fence went first, then someone came into my fenced yard and took one of my expensive solar lights, so I put the remaining light in the garage, where it will be safe. Useless, but safe.

Apparently, kids are stealing them to use as nightlights on their bicycles. Even if they were caught, no one would do anything about it. The sheriff, of course, couldn’t care, and the new local police force . . . actually, I don’t know anything about them other than that this town decided not to rely on the county anymore. And that they have brand new vehicles. I guess I should count myself lucky I have no information about them — it means I have no need of their services.

I continued my walk, and on the way back, as I paused to look at a tiny rosebush, a woman came rushing out of her house and said, “I’m so glad to see you’re okay.” I’d been introduced to the woman once, and had never spoken another word with her, but apparently, she’d noticed I hadn’t been out walking for a while. She mentioned that another woman, one I’m not sure I’ve ever even seen, had also been asking about me. It’s nice to know people notice and care, but the truth is, by the time they realized I was missing, my corpse could have been moldering in my house for months. But still, it is nice. And weird, too, in a way.

It’s funny — every time I go walking, I realize how much I miss it, but then something happens, like the ground drying out and my needing to do yardwork as it did today, and I never get a chance to get back in the swing of daily walking. But maybe. Someday. When it’s not hot. Or windy. Or cold. Or snowy.

Oh, who and I trying to kid. There’s always an excuse. But yesterday, I did take a walk, and it was nice.

***

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

Posted in being me, home, life, writing. Tags: meeting neighbors, neighbors watching me, stealing solar lights, talking to neighbors, walking. 2 Comments »

Lily Tree Forest

July 9, 2026 — Pat Bertram

When I first started thinking about a garden, I came across photos of a luscious flower called a tree lily, a hybrid between an Oriental lily and a trumpet lily. (For obvious reasons, they’re also known as Orienpet lilies.) I’d always thought lilies were a rarified flower that only professional gardeners could grow, but apparently not. I loved the idea of a lily tree forest, so I decided to take a chance, even though the bulbs aren’t cheap.

Some of the original bulbs never came up, so the next year I planted a few more. And a few more after that. A couple of years ago, the lilies started to grow tall and to bloom. And oh, how lovely those lilies are! Large than my hand, on stalks taller than I am, they manage to deal with the weather extremes of this area very well. Even the late frost didn’t do much damage.

My one nitpick with the plants is that they need to be staked to keep them from growing in crookedly, but how does one stake a six- or seven-foot plant? I do fine when they’re young with my 2-foot metal stakes and the three-foot bamboo stakes, but after that, they’re on their own. I could tie them to the fence, but it would take a lot of plant ties or twine, and I’m afraid I’d forget it was there and trip on it or decapitate myself. Well, not decapite, of course, but something unpleasant anyway.

Although the forest looks as if it’s a narrow swath, the tallest lily and the one most needing to be staked is six feet from the fence. Still, leaning or not, my lily forest is awesome. The plants are just starting to bloom, and since each has multiple flowers that bloom at different times, I will have lilies to enjoy for over a month. (The flowers on the lower left-hand side of the photo are purple magnus echinacea.)

It’s amazing what an amateur gardener can do with no expertise but a head full of hopes. I’m still an amateur, of course, but after five years of gardening, I do know a few things, such as water them, remove weeds and weedy grasses, and let them do what they want to do.

Luckily for me, what they want to do is . . . bloom.

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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: gorgeous lilies, lily tree, lily tree forest, orienpet lily, staking lilies. 4 Comments »

Where I Want to Live

July 7, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Daily writing prompt

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

View all responses

Ha! I bet you can guess my answer to this blog prompt!

Yep, it’s true. If I could live anywhere in the world, I would choose to live exactly where I am living now — in this tiny forgotten town, in my own house with my own yard and my own flowers, and friends that I seldom make the effort to see but know they are always there for me.

It’s taken me decades to get to this point, decades of uncertainty, sorrow, and fear of not being able to afford to live anywhere. This last is not an uncommon fear among women — even those with financial security worry about becoming a bag lady. In my case, the fear was exacerbated by the growing requirement of being able to pass a credit check when renting, and with my lack of any sort of credit rating, I simply did not know how I was going to navigate that morass. Assuming, of course, I wasn’t priced out of the market.

Exactly ten years ago today, I was feeling rootless, feeling suspended over an abyss with nothing to hang onto, worried as always about my uncertain future. At the time, I’d just returned from my cross-country trip and was staying in a fleabag motel. (Actually, it was a mosquito-bag motel. Eek.) I had no real reason to go back to that town, other than friends and dance class, but I had no place else to go. As I wrote back then: “I have looked at tiny windowless rooms scarcely larger than closets with a higher rent than the three-bedroom house Jeff and I lived in, gated communities that are merely fenced rooming houses, apartments with incredibly stringent requirements. . . . Maybe I don’t belong here in the desert. Maybe I don’t belong anywhere. But then what?”

A few years later, through a series of unexpected events, including an unasked-for email from Zillow showing me a place they said I might like though it was far from that desert town, I found my “then what.” Now here I am, living in the very house Zillow picked out for me, a house I once dreamed up.

I’m sure there are many wonderful places to live, places I might even like to live, but my days of looking beyond the perimeter of my own yard for something more are long gone. With any luck, this is where I will live out my years, with even greater luck, I might even be able to continue taking care of the place. (I still find it humorous that my goal when I got here was to have a care-free yard, and what I ended up with was a mini park that requires several hours of work each week.)

If I could tweak one tiny thing, it would be to have a wilderness walking trail nearby, but considering that I’m not as fanatical about walking as I once was (in fact, I seldom walk at all anymore), that missing trail isn’t as much of a lack as it used to be. The truth is, any outdoor time is spent in my yard. Just this morning, I went out for a quick tour to see how everything was holding up in this heat, and ended up trimming a bush, cutting back leggy yarrow, lopping the tops off New England asters to keep them from browning out, staking the tomato plant, and various other small chores.

Since I wasn’t planning on doing the work, I hadn’t doused myself with mosquito repellant, so I ended up with several new bites, but it’s all good. It’s all part of being at home in my own place, insects and all.

***

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, writing. Tags: dailyprompt, dailyprompt-2815, living in a house I dreamed up, living in my dream home, living where I want to live, there's no place like home. 12 Comments »

78 Degrees

July 3, 2026 — Pat Bertram

There’s not much to laugh about when it comes to socialistic energy restrictions, or even simply grids so old that such restrictions are necessary, but I do find the current 78˚ restriction in some places amusing. For most of my life, despite living in the intense heat of Colorado summers, I didn’t have air conditioning at all, so 90+ temperatures in the house weren’t that uncommon. I’ve also lived a couple of places with air conditioning, but the person in control of the thermostat blasted air into the room so icy that I had to close the vents.

Now that I have air-conditioning and control of the thermostat, I have it set at 80. Sometimes, if I’m hot, I’ll lower it to 79, especially since my “office” is the least cool room in the house, but usually the room fan works as well as lowering the temperature.

Even if this weren’t a temperature I could get used to, I’d probably do it anyway. During my years (decades!) of no air-conditioning, I learned that the warmer the inside temperature, the less impact walking out into the heat has on one’s system. Going from hot to a blasting air-conditioner or from refrigerated air to extreme heat can be dangerous. For most people, the physiological stress is brief, but for others, it can strain the heart and worsen cardiovascular and respiratory conditions. And even if it weren’t dangerous, it’s easier to adapt to the outside temperature when the difference isn’t so great.

Too be honest, though, if a communist mayor were to tell me to raise my thermostat to 78˚, I’d lower my usual temperature to that setting just as a rebellion.

Or maybe not. Paying out money I don’t have to make a point seems silly. And anyway, I prefer to be able to set the temperature to my preference even if it does fit into someone else’s agenda. Having the choice is something to celebrate, especially during this holiday weekend when we’re celebrating 250 years of freedom.