Lily Selfies

I’ve been disappointed with my garden lately. On second thought — it’s not the garden that’s disappointing me, it’s the lack of photo opportunities. The plants themselves are doing what they are supposed to be doing. For example, the hollyhocks have stopped blooming and are now going to seed, which is great, because I want those seeds, but the plants are not very pretty. The stalks are brown and scraggly, and the leaves have huge holes where the grasshoppers have been feasting.

Today, however, I was surprised by the lilies. I had forgotten I’d ordered and planted the lilies almost two years ago because only one ever poked its way above ground, but this year, several are growing and a couple of them are even blooming. And wow! Those flowers are big!

I had a hard time photographing the flowers, because they are shy things and hang their heads.

Luckily, I remembered that my phone’s camera has selfie capabilities (the function was easy to forget since I never take selfies), so I put the phone in selfie mode and managed to get a good look at the lilies. Lovely! And such dainty colors.

As I was heading into the house, I happened to see a pairing of flowers that looked so beautiful together that I took that picture too.

I enjoy growing things, but photographing the blooms adds to my enjoyment, so much so that sometimes I wonder if that’s why I like gardening — it gives me a reason to use the camera.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God

The Moral of the Story . . .

I’m feeling a bit disgruntled this morning and fed up with people who don’t show up to work when they say they will, and who don’t even call to cancel. The mechanic was supposed to come get my car and fix the brakes today, but I can’t get hold of him. I did have a hunch that he wouldn’t be here because his shop was closed yesterday. He and his family have been having problems with both The Bob and the vaccine, so that could be the problem. Though I’m only guessing. I’ll call next week and find out what’s going on and make a new appointment. And the worker who was supposed to be here this week to continue the various jobs that have been scheduled has been on again and off again — mostly off. I texted him a little while ago to see what’s going on but haven’t heard back.

Even more disgruntling, the heat is keeping me from working off my frustration, either by walking or working outside. All I did today was water a few things that seem to be desiccating in the heat and take a few photos.

One special pleasure is my friend the toad was basking in the shade today. I startled him yesterday and didn’t want to disturb him by taking a photo, so I was pleased to see him again today. Although he turned his back on me, he did hold still while I took his picture.

I’m especially delighted with the honeysuckle blossom. I planted the seedling last fall, and not only did it survive the winter, but it seems to be thriving.

The hollyhocks are really starting to pop.

The trumpet vines are doing well. They always do, though they die back in the summer and begin anew each spring. If there is a need for full disclosure, I have to admit that I photoshopped out the ants. For some reason they love these blossoms, though I don’t see that they do any damage

I enjoyed seeing the striped gazanias when I was in California, but the only gazania I could find that was suitable for this area was a plain yellow one. Still, it’s cheerful, and even better, it’s a perennial, so it will be interesting to see what it does in the coming months and years.

Another plant that is flowering, even though I bought the starter plant a mere two weeks ago is this dark purple osteospermum. I’d never heard of it before, but the color intrigued me. Oddly, both the gazania and the osteospermum are called “African daisies,” though they are different genera.

I am disappointed at the brief flowering cycle of the prickly pear cactus, but since I didn’t plant them for the flowers, I am grateful for the blossoms that I do have.

This virtual tour of my flowers has helped with the frustration, though it did not help get the jobs done. Luckily, there is always next week. Or the week after.

I suppose the moral of this story, assuming there is a moral, is to enjoy the things that come my way and try not to be frustrated by workers who don’t come my way.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Undead Husband Thrillers

There is a subgenre of thrillers where a woman’s husband dies and then later, sometimes years later, she finds out that he is still alive.

Sometimes the widow is convicted of killing her husband, and when she gets out of prison, she kills him for real. Sometimes the widow killed her husband, and the supposed “sighting” is a hoax to flush her out. Sometimes the husband faked his death. Sometimes it’s the wife and the children who are declared dead, and only later is the husband united with the children, but not the wife.

I think about these stories as I read them, and wonder how I would react if I found out Jeff hadn’t really died. It would be impossible, of course, because I was there when he took his last breath. I even waited a few minutes before I notified anyone. And, I was there when they shrouded his body with a white blanket, covered it with a red plush blanket, and took it out to the mortician’s SUV.

Still, I wonder. What if I hadn’t been there, and they took the body without waiting for me. What if all I had was an urn they said were his ashes? If I had seen him just a few months after his death, maybe even a year or two, I would have been ecstatic. Later, of course, I might have second thoughts as the sense of betrayal set in. If I had seen him five or so years later, my first reaction might be delight, but it would be followed immediately by fury. How dare he let me think he was dead; how dare he abandon me and subject me to years of grief! Still, I’d listen to his explanation, and if it was reasonable enough, I might forgive him, but I don’t think I’d be able to pick up our life where it left off.

Now, if I were to see him, it would be completely different. To be honest, I’m not sure I’d even recognize him. Eleven years is a long time. And if I did, I’m not sure how I’d react. It would seem a betrayal of him — and my grief — not to want him in my life again, but I’m not the same person I was all those years ago. And if he was willing to walk away from me, then he wouldn’t be the person I thought he was.

His story would have to be truly remarkable to get me to believe that he didn’t simply abandon me. What if he did it to save me? He had actually talked about driving away and leaving me when he got too sick; he didn’t want me to spend my life caring for an invalid, and he didn’t want to be cared for. I can see a scenario based on this — he drove off a cliff, survived and was found, though he had no memory. Perhaps the person who found him was able to heal him. And perhaps years later, he remembered who he was but couldn’t find me.

That’s not an unreasonable scenario — there’s no way he’d be able to track me to this town. I haven’t left much of a paper trail. And yet, I still have the same cell number, and he could find me with no trouble on the internet, so he’d be able to contact me. Maybe he found out via this blog that I’d found a modicum of contentment and he didn’t want to disturb my peace.

Come to think of it, this could be an interesting book. So many of the undead husband novels end up with the husband getting dead for real, disappearing again, and — in a very few cases — becoming reconciled with the abandoned wife. But no book that I know of hints at what the reconciled life would be. The only thing similar is one of those stories where a kidnapped child finds his/her way home years later to a not-happily-ever-after ending.

Maybe someday I’ll write the book, but I don’t really want to think about the story. And I won’t until the next time I pick up an undead husband thriller.

***

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

Red Hat and White Trees

Yesterday while I was taking photos of the fog-frozen trees, a friend snapped my picture. Normally, I don’t like my picture taken when I’m unaware, but I can see why this image intrigued her. I probably would have done the same if our positions were reversed because the contrast between the red hat (actually, red with black polka dots) and the the white background really is stunning.

The trees remained white for several days, and in fact, the frost grew thicker each day. This is odd for the lower elevations of Colorado. Frost tends not to hang around for very long because of the heat of the sun on even the coldest days. But the sun seems to be absent for now.

It’s interesting how people remember things differently. My brother remembers the years in our youth when snow lay on the ground all winter. I remember the year when we didn’t have to wear coats on Christmas because of the heat, but had to bundle up at Easter because of the snow. Mostly, though, I don’t remember much about the weather back then; the only reason I remember the year of the sun at Christmas and the snow at Easter is because I remember telling someone that’s what I liked about Colorado — the contrary weather.

Well, I am certainly getting contrary weather this year! Colorado advertises itself as a place that gets more than 300 days of sunshine a year, but this year (or this month, anyway) it’s fooling us with one dreary day — one dreary cold day — following another.

People did warn me at the beginning of this winter that February was the coldest month. (Where Jeff and I lived on the western slope, December or January were the coldest.) And yep. Here we are! At least, I hope this is the coldest month. By this weekend, we’ll be lucky to get above zero. Brrr!

I’m still hoping by next year, I’ll be more acclimated to the winters, but for now, I’m mostly staying inside, going out only when necessary. And when I do go out, as you can see from the photo, I bundle up.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God

Did the Macaw Survive?

Someone wrote to me yesterday and said that Bob, The Right Hand of God was a cool book, but he felt bad about Rosemary and the scarlet macaw. Especially the macaw.

There really is no other interpretation of Rosemary’s fate than the one presented in the book, but I thought the macaw had a different end. Looking back, nowhere in the book does it say unequivocally what actually happened to the poor bird, though I had thought it’s fate could be assumed.

Apparently not.

I suppose it depends on if one believes what Bob says, and if one thought there were a stable environment where the bird could be sent, and if Bob were honorable enough to help the poor thing survive. All things that are debatable.

Now I’m curious. Do you think the macaw survived?

None of this, so far, spoils the story since these events took place toward the beginning of the book, so if you respond, I’d appreciate your not mentioning anything that might give away the story.

The book calls out for a sequel, the story of the next generation if nothing else, and your response would help me figure out if (a big if!) I were to write a sequel, whether I should include a mention of the bird or leave the poor thing to its ambiguous fate.

***

“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God

Along the Sante Fe Trail

It’s been almost two months since my friend and her sister were here visiting. They came right before all the restrictions, and wow, it seems much longer than that. A lifetime ago. We had a fabulous time exploring the Santa Fe Trail, Bent’s Fort,

and trails along the trail.

I haven’t been on any adventures since then except in books, but today I received a wonderful surprise from my friend, and now I have my own book of adventures to look at when I get tired of the adventures in the Wheel of Time juggernaut.

This friend makes books of all her adventures, so it was a real thrill to get a book of my own highlighting our adventures.

Most of the photos we took were similar, but she took pictures that I didn’t. I knew what the downtown looked liked here, so I didn’t bother with images of the slummy area, but she made the place look quaint and interesting.

We also went on a bit of walking tour in one town and found some interesting stories beyond the Santa Fe Trail mystique.

Her book ended with . . . what else but me and my hat!

I hope she doesn’t mind my sharing parts of her book, but I thought all of us — not just me — needed something fun to think about for a change.

And yes, my friend. Thanks for the memories.

***

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.

 

Trail!

I have missed trails, missed following a path into unknown wonders, so when I found a nature trail at Bent’s Old Fort when my friends and I visited the historic site, I took the opportunity to head out on an adventure. I’d felt as if I had stepped back in time at the fort, and the short hike in the prairie and along the Arkansas River did nothing to dispel that feeling.

I looked back once and saw the fort, but even that sign of civilization soon disappeared from sight,

and all was as it had once been. Prairie, and trees,

and the Arkansas River.

Unless I want to travel a hundred miles or more, or traverse gravelly roads for long distances, this trail seems to be the only trail that is available to me. It’s still further than I want to drive for what is a rather short walk (though with my tweaked knee, that mile and a half seemed like a far piece.) Still, when my garage is done (if it ever is) and I can easily get on my “horse” and head out without having to uncover the vehicle and unlock gates, I’d like to visit the place more frequently. Maybe even find a place where I could take a photo each time I went so I would have a visual presentation of the slow-changing scene.

It could be an interesting project, and even better, would help me overcome my aversion to driving to a place merely to walk.

***

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.

Treasure Hunt

I’ve been going on a treasure hunt every day, looking for signs of spring. A few leaves from the bulbs I planted have started peeking through the soil, which has been fun to see.

Even better, as a special surprise, I found one dwarf iris blooming in a far corner of the yard.

I suppose it’s just as well most of the bulbs haven’t yet broken ground — it’s snowing right now, and I’m not sure how hardy the poor things are. It’s not that cold, though, so they should be okay. (I’m okay too, sitting here at my warm computer, thinking of the flowers to come, and drinking a cup of blueberry tea.)

The most interesting aspect of the bulbs so far are the ones I didn’t plant. Last year, I noticed there were a few flowers by the garage — a crocus, an allium or two, and a couple of daffodils.

We thought it was the watering of that small garden plot that caused the problems with the garage’s foundation, so I tried to move as many bulbs as I could. I dug deep and sifted through the soil several times, and thought I’d gotten them all, but this year, there is an expanse of growing bulbs — several dozen at least. Considering my efforts to dig up the bulbs, the disturbance of the soil when the garage was torn down, and the additional digging when the sidewalk was pried up, there really shouldn’t have been any bulbs left. But there they are — if they survive the snow.

***

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.

 

Snowdrop in the Snow

I’m certainly no snowdrop, remaining steadfast and sprightly in the snow. Instead, I brew a cup of tea and huddle over the warmth of my computer and ignore the snow. Except, of course, a moment now and again to look out the window and enjoy the whiteness of the day.

Well, that’s not exactly true. I did sweep the snow off the ramp leading to the house. I’m not expecting either a package or a visitor, but on the off chance someone would need to come to the door, I wouldn’t want the fates of irony to get into the act. (As much as I appreciate irony, having someone slipping on the wheelchair ramp and ending up in a wheelchair is one example I can live without.)

Then, even though I have a car cover, the snow still needed to be brushed off. It’s been a long time since I had to do that — the last time was a year and a half ago when I got caught in a snowstorm on a road trip. And the last time before that was . . . I don’t know. Maybe a decade or so ago. Even though I haven’t had a workable garage since I moved back to snow country, I do have a carport, but the foundation for the new garage blocks off access. Hence, snow removal.

And then, of course, I had to take a photo of that resolute little bloom in the snow.

This is Tuesday, and as usual, almost all my activities for the week were scheduled for today but, apparently, I am taking a snow day. There can be no work on the garage, a stint of volunteer work at the library was cancelled, I lost track of time and missed the third activity, and I simply don’t feel like going out into the snow and dark for a meeting tonight.

So here I am, a cup of tea at my elbow, the computer shining brightly in front of me, contemplating how not like a snowdrop I am.

***

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

Going, Going, Gone

Another exciting day watching the deconstruction of my garage.

Since I’d never used the video on my phone, I didn’t have time to learn how to take a video before the building came down, so all I have are still photos, which is okay. It was fun being in the moment and seeing the rickety old building go down. At first, inch by careful inch.

A fast scurry as the deconstruction workers got out of the way.

And then . . .

I was surprised by how quickly the old concrete foundation was removed — not only was that foundation barely buried, the ground was sodden. (The only place in the entire yard where there was any moisture of any kind.)

I love this stuff!

At one time (and maybe still today for all I know) lonely women of a certain age would frequent doctors to have facelifts and various other surgeries simply for the drama and attention. If I were rich, I’d be one of those women, though it wouldn’t be myself I’d be constantly reconstructing, it would be my house and property — there is something truly satisfying about watching people giving my place a facelift.

Luckily, good sense, a modicum of taste, and a lack of funds will keep me from creating a monstrosity like the Winchester mansion. And just as luckily, there will be plenty of work to be done for some time to come.

The only problem right now is that the “murder house” — the white building behind the tree on the right of the last photo — is in full view. (Supposedly, right before I got here, two drug addicts got in a fight, and one ended up dead.) The new garage, which will be moved to the left of where the old one was won’t do anything to block the infamous view, but planting a good-size tree would do the trick.

And that means more work for the guys to do! Yay!

***

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.