Memories on Marshmallow Ranch

When Your First Friend Dies

Fri, 27 Jun 2025 04:30:00 -0600

Lisa married me and Mr. FixIt. Forgive me for cropping him out of the picture. His name and his image are mine. I only share stories about him here.

We were in second grade together. I’d rarely seen a black child before. We met in the line to wash our hands before lunch. I had terrible anxiety, and our teacher didn’t much care for me. She sent my anxiety through the roof to the point I could not eat. And if I didn’t eat, she held back my tray to show my mom when she came to pick me up after school. Mrs. Alexander crossed her arms over her chest and scowled whenever she looked at me.

As I stood in line to wash my hands that day, I prayed quietly. I asked God to please settle my stomach so I could eat and not get into trouble anymore. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and this little round chocolate-brown face met me with concern. Her name was Lisa.

“Are you praying?” she asked.

“Yes. Mrs. Alexander scares me, and I can’t eat. Then I get in trouble every day after school.”

“Well,” she said with a firm confidence I knew little about. “I’ll pray with you!”

So, she wrapped her little arm around my shoulders, and we prayed together that God would make me feel better so I could eat. After that, I knew God was always with me and I didn’t need to be afraid because my new friend Lisa would pray with me as many times as necessary till I got through second grade.

As it turned out, my parents bought a house in another school district, so I didn’t see Lisa again till high school. By that time, we had our circle of friends, and we didn’t really connect till many years later at high school reunions. Eventually, I moved back to my home state of West Virginia and started getting together with Lisa. She had become a pastor and worked with several churches in the area and with Urban Ministries in town. Lisa joined our Divas do Coffee group, and we all enjoyed her stories and warm presence.

Lisa was funny, yet she didn’t mince words. If you needed correcting, she didn’t care who you were or what the social norms were. You got corrected. She was also the humblest human I’d ever met. She never tooted her own horn. She always made sure those who were considered the fringe of society knew they were loved.

Lisa died the other day. She was diagnosed with advanced cancer in September 2024. Lisa chose to go on Hospice to maintain quality of life instead of quantity. Her beautiful family put a hospital bed in her daughter’s den where she could watch the comings and goings of her grandchildren and love on them all she could. Occasionally, her daughter would record a video at Lisa’s request. On it, she reassured us all that she was doing fine. She told us she knew where she was going, and it would be glorious to walk with Jesus.

Lisa never really had much. She worked hard and raised an amazing family, living in the same town where she grew up. She lived in an older neighborhood because that was home. Lisa didn’t put up with any shenanigans from folks who may not have had her best interests at heart. She wasn’t afraid because she knew Jesus resided in her house, so there was nothing to worry about.

Our friend was in a terrible accident years ago. She stepped out into the street in front of her church. The sun’s glare in her eyes blocked her view of the car that could not stop. She was gravely injured, and the family was called in to say goodbye. Lisa was a strong woman with a lot of fight in her, and she recovered… unfortunately, with memory loss, back and spinal pain that stayed with her the rest of her life. She worked and did amazing things in this town. There was a settlement after the accident, but she did something special with it that she didn’t reveal to anyone.

I spoke with her daughter at the funeral home yesterday. It turns out that Lisa, in her humble way, created an endowment that would help support the Urban Ministries in perpetuity. No one in her family had any idea she had done this. It was a lesson for all of us in humility, love for your fellow man, and living like Jesus. None of us was surprised by the generosity coming from our stout little friend. It just makes us love her even more and makes her family very proud.

Miss Lisa, you were a peach, and we’ll miss you! We’ll see you in Heaven!!!

💜

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, 1 Peter 5:6 ESV

***Gratitude Journal***   Today, I am grateful for the friendship I had with Lisa and that she’s singing and praising Jesus in His presence…right…this…minute. I’m grateful for her gentle lessons in humility and the way she jumped out of her chair and danced around the room when I told her Mr. FixIt and I were getting married. “Perfect! A perfect match!!! This is exactly what I wanted for you two.”

The Stealthy Nope Rope!

Thu, 26 Jun 2025 04:30:00 -0600

I sat down at my desk last night to write this, and the Ring camera at the farm sent a motion sensor notification. Even though I’m out there quite a bit, I like to keep an eye on the place since it was broken into last winter. I turned on the live camera feed and watched. I could see something dart in front of the camera, but it was too fast to identify. I kept watching and saw nothing, so I turned on the speaker and microphone to see if I could catch anything… or anyone. I called out a couple of times and didn’t get a response. Shortly afterwards, I got quite the surprise!

A snake stuck its head into the frame just long enough to identify it as such. Then it moved over the camera itself, and I heard the long rustle of scales brushing across the microphone. I was so shocked, I didn’t even think of getting out my iPad to record the live feed since I don’t have access to that part of the system. The snake was actually clinging to and traveling across the vertical wooden wall of the front of the house! Eeeks!

The rain was pouring down, beating a brisk staccato on the old tin roof. The snake rested on the old glass insulators where the electric line went up to the cellar house. It stretched itself out as if to see if the rain was cold, though I’m sure it was just trying to find something good to eat. Some bats come out at dusk there, so it could have been after one.

I don’t think it’s the big black snake I saw out there in the past. This one looked a lighter color, but I can’t get a close enough look, other than its head didn’t look like a viper. Grandma’s mantra about snakes was, “The only good snake is a dead snake.” I differ with her on that. Unless it’s poisonous and living a little too close to the kids or the hen house, it’s doing its job by keeping down the rodent population. Mr. Virgo was deathly afraid of snakes. After time in the jungles of Vietnam and the verdant flora of Florida, he was “once bit, twice shy.” Mr. FixIt isn’t crazy about snakes either, so I’ve always been the snake wrangler in the family. To be totally transparent… I’ve never been close to a poisonous snake that I know of.

💜

“One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much. Luke 16:10 ESV

***Gratitude Journal***   Today, I am thankful for the example of Godliness that my beautiful friend Lisa demonstrated throughout her life. And I’m really, REALLY thankful that I wasn’t sitting on that chair on the porch right under that big fat snake!!!

Finally, A GREAT Loaf of Bread!

Wed, 25 Jun 2025 04:30:00 -0600

I am sure I read online that I could turn my smoker up to at least 350° to bake bread. I got the bread ready and went out to turn on the smoker. It only reached around 240°. In the meantime, with the temps hovering in the low 90s, my bread was going to run out of yeast pretty quickly. I was down to two choices… heat the house and bake there, or run out to the farm. Mr. FixIt looked at me, horrified, and I said, “Don’t worry…I’ll head to the farm right away.”

I grabbed my go bag that I keep pretty much ready to head out to the farm on a moment’s notice, gently carried the two loaves in their carriers, and hightailed it out of there. One good thing is that the air conditioner cooled down the truck quickly, and that slowed the rise a little. I only saw two deer on the way out. One of them was two houses away from the farm, and it walked out in front of me. I rested my hand on the top of those two carriers the whole way because I wasn’t about to lose my bread. This recipe turned out lovely. The only thing is, I think I’ve overproofed the dough again. No surprise there, given the timing. Baking with fresh-milled flour isn’t as forgiving as commercial flour.

As I write this, the loaves are cooling on their wire racks. They look and smell lovely. I considered spending the night here at Grandma’s house, but I thought about the nice air conditioning at home and decided to drive home. I’m running out of time before next week’s trip to Colorado, and there’s still lots to do. You know me…I always get down to the wire before I complete something. Still, it feels so nice to sit here for a few minutes… remembering a time I came to visit Grandma. She mentioned that she could never bake yeast bread. She said the best hot rolls she ever ate came from my Uncle Ernie’s mother, who was a caterer in Chicago.

I went to the store, bought the ingredients, and made a HUGE batch of bread for her. I think I baked two dozen hot rolls and 12 loaves of bread. We drove all over the countryside, visiting family and friends and gifting them some homemade bread. I think Grandma looked at me differently after that. I kinda proved myself to her in some way, and I was no longer the little kid who sat on her knee. That made me so proud!

Our pool is still hazy. This time last year, it was sparkling clear. The heavy rains this summer drew our attention away from opening the pool and onto things like keeping the basement from flooding and rescuing baby deer from the floodwaters. We’re trying to get it ready before the weekend so the kids can come out and swim. I hope you are all staying safe in this dreadful heat! Water is your friend, y’all!

🔆

Though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand. Psalm 37:24 ESV

***Gratitude Journal*** I am grateful I got another couple of loaves of bread baked before I have to leave for Colorado. I’d love to bake a great deal and leave it for him in the freezer, but ours is on the fritz. We’ll have to enjoy this batch, and he can buy bread while I’m gone.

Are We Living in a Tropical Jungle?

Wed, 18 Jun 2025 04:30:00 -0600

It sure feels like we’re living in the Amazon! West Virginia is currently experiencing hot and muggy conditions. I was going to stay out at the farm for a couple of days, but Mr. FixIt called me yesterday morning to say the kids invited us out for dinner. I stayed as long as I could. I decided to take my box of stuffed toys from my childhood home, and when I was in the basement, I turned on the dehumidifier. Now there’s one in the basement and another on the main floor. That should help keep things from mold and mildew.

I rushed home to change before we headed to the restaurant in town. I had to go downstairs to the laundry room to get some clean clothes, and when I stepped onto the cool cement, it was wet. My heart sank because the first thing I thought of was water leaking in. It turns out the walls were actually sweating from the humidity. I pulled the dehumidifier out and turned it on. The humidity in our basement was 98%!!! That’s about as close to RAIN as you can get!

It seems like the last week has made everything grow like crazy. It almost makes you feel a little claustrophobic because everything is closing in on you. I feel the need to get out the machete and start hacking away at this overgrowth of greenery. If it weren’t so hot, I would. I think there will be a lot of cold drinks and cool showers for the foreseeable future. I can get the Ninja Creami out and make some light and fruity sorbets. That would hit the spot!

I had several people call, text, and message me to see if we were anywhere near the severe flooding here in WV. The floods were about 120 miles away, up in the Northern Panhandle. The latest reports say seven people were killed and a few are still missing. Please keep everyone affected by these climate disasters in your prayers. So many people lost everything they owned. We Appalachian people are strong and resourceful, but still…losing everything you own but the clothes on your back is devastating, no matter who you are.

I hope y’all are safe!

💜

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Romans 12:12 ESV

***Gratitude Journal***   Today, I am grateful that my family is safe from harm. I pray for those estranged in hopes of reconciliation. I am grateful the water in the basement was condensation and not a leak!

Grandma's Hands

Thu, 29 May 2025 04:30:00 -0600

I did the math…my grandma was only forty-eight years old when I was born. I gave her the first great-grandchild when she was just sixty-nine. She was always old to me because…grandmas are old. Or at least they were when I was growing up. Nowadays, grandmas write blogs and pull thirty-foot campers across the country by themselves. Not my grandma. She wore short-sleeved cotton housedresses with a belt and a hanky in the pocket. She made “jelly bread” if you were feeling sad. She swatted your butt if you tried to bounce chicken eggs on the back porch like ping pong balls. Don’t ask me how I know.

Grandma never had anything fancy. She loved her rickety old house and always said it was the Taj Mahal compared to the way she was brought up. Her mama died when she was ten years old, and she basically raised her siblings. She worked hard and loved hard and wouldn’t know what a vacation was. She went past the Mississippi River only twice in her life. When I grew up and was married with my first child, my husband moved us to Denver. Grandma warned us to be careful because of all those rough and tumble cowboys and Indians roaming the streets out West. She didn’t know the streets were paved and there were skyscrapers there.

My latest learning quest is how to bake bread with fresh-milled wheat. As in, grinding wheat berries at my home on a grain mill specifically for home use. Whole grain flour has many more nutrients than white flour in bags at the store. I’ve been baking this month with fresh milled flour I bought at The Dutch Cupboard in Columbiana, OH, a few weeks ago. It hasn’t been too hard to switch over, if you don’t count yesterday’s fiasco. I will admit, nothing makes bread like King Arthur Flour, but my Nutrimill Classic arrives today, and I am so excited to learn this.

I slow roasted a pork butt yesterday and oh, my…it was so tender and tasty. After supper and the dishes were done, I mixed up a batch of cornmeal mush to slice and fry for breakfast this morning. I have a little sausage in the fridge, and I might just bake some biscuits and make a little sausage gravy to go with them. As I worked with my hands, it struck me how much they look like my grandma’s hands now. They should be with all I put them through every day. I’ve earned every wrinkle and strand of silver.

Between my husband’s and my family, we have four kids plus spouses, six grandchildren…most of them with spouses…and four great grandchildren. It would be the greatest honor if they look at their hands one day and think…”OMGosh! My hands look just like GiGi’s.”

I think I’ll make them some jelly bread when they come over next time. Wouldn’t that be nice?

ᓚᘏᗢ

Grandchildren are the crown of the aged,
and the glory of children is their fathers. Proverbs 17:6 ESV

***Gratitude Journal*** Today, I am grateful to look at my hands and see my mom’s and grandma’s hands in them. If I have a fraction of their goodness in me, I will be richly blessed.

Number, please.

Tue, 27 May 2025 04:45:00 -0600

I’m so old, I remember a time when your house phone didn’t have a rotary dial. You just picked up the receiver, and the operator would say,

“Number, please.”

“Hudson 1234, please.” And she would connect you.

All the phones were heavy, black behemoths that you were darned lucky to have. When I was a teenager, the only way to reach someone was to call their house phone. You know…the one on the wall in the kitchen with the 15’ curly cord so you could sit on the basement steps and talk privately. There were no answering machines. If there wasn’t an answer, you knew they were busy, and you’d try later. You carried a dime in each of your “penny loafers” in case you needed to call your mom to come get you.

The Jetsons promised us jet packs and flying cars. They got the video phone right. I remember when I bought my daughter her first desktop computer so she could write her reports on it. Her dad said it was ridiculous to do that. No one was going to use a computer at home, for heaven’s sake! Then came Compuserve and AOL. The familiar beeee-ba-beeeeeeeep-boooo…..buhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Then a portable phone that was bigger than a breadbox that you carried around. Hubby #2 was a physician and needed to be available 24/7 when he was on call. He wore a beeper, and when it went off, he had to call in to the answering service or the hospital or another doctor…all while we were walking the baby in the park. Never…in our wildest dreams would we ever think of taking a picture of ourselves! How utterly ridiculous! Or send naked photos to someone. (That’s what the Polaroid camera was invented for!)

When I went into the computer place to buy that first computer, the sales guy said, “Now, take this thing home and play with it. Don’t be afraid of breaking anything. If anything happens to it, you just bring it back in and I’ll fix it.” That was it. I went to town on that thing, and I’ve never looked back. When I co-authored a book for the National Institutes of Health, I actually used the first LAPTOP to type the manuscript! Those of us “of a certain age” remember when our days didn’t revolve around something that tethered us like a chain. We didn’t doomscroll our way through life. We just experienced it.

I went through a terrible clinical depression in the late ‘80s. I spent my days on the computer when my second child went off to school. I was disconnected from humanity….disconnected from my family and the world. And that was LONG before you could carry a computer with the kind of power that used to take a whole building to hold. Now, the world is in our pockets, and we’re raising entire generations on smoke and mirrors. I’ve been around long enough to know that most genies can’t be put back in the bottle, and AI will change everything all over again.

When I proudly took my first laptop with me to visit my family in West Virginia, I would say my grandma was mesmerized. But it was more like, “What IS this sorcery?” My father’s reaction was more poignant.

“The internet will be the death of this country.”

You may have been spot on, Dad. But there’s this thing called Snapchat that can take pictures of you, take away all your wrinkles. and give you the skin you never had in real life. I play with it occasionally.

Remember…Mr. Peabody and Sherman said we’d have a time machine, too. Didn’t they?

ᓚᘏᗢ

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self[a] is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 2 Corinthians 4:16 ESV

***Gratitude Journal*** Today, I am grateful for the magic of the internet and the budding yearn to cut back on its use.

Through the Chill and the Rain

Sat, 24 May 2025 01:30:00 -0600

I believe this is a drone fly. It’s still a great pollinator.

May seems to have been cooler and wetter than I remember. Or...maybe my rememberer isn't so good anymore. We are almost through May already. My Colorado peeps planted their tomatoes this week because they think…maybe they are safe from frost. I remember the first summer we lived in the mountains outside Glenwood Springs. I plowed a huge garden in the abandoned horse pasture and planted everything I could think of. Rows and rows of corn, tomatoes, beans, carrots…I was an earth mama on a mission! I envisioned canning all this yummy food for my family and feeling self-sufficient. That was the dream. The reality hit hard.

I was born and raised here in West Virginia. My dad and my grandma grew wonderful gardens. It seemed like they just plowed and threw the seeds out, and everything grew. I was young and unaware of the hard work that went into growing a successful garden. But I was hopeful when I marked out that 30x40 piece of unbroken ground.

I think I planted everything in mid-May, just like I was told to. I hoed and weeded and watered incessantly. I strung tin pans on twine all the way around the garden. The folks who lived up the mountain laughed and laughed. Apparently, this was a West Virginia thing. In Colorado, they put up electric fences. Or frequent farmers’ markets. Anyway, everything was coming up beautifully. My tomato plants had little baby tomatoes on them. The green beans were flowering and would soon grow long fingers of goodness. The corn was up. I thinned the carrots. Things were going well, and I left Hubby #2 to hold down the garden while I took our daughter to visit her grandma in late June.

On June 23rd, my husband called and said, “I have some bad news for you. We had a hard freeze, and everything is dead and lying on the ground. I’m so sorry.” I was crushed. So much work…so much time…so much money spent…and for what? It was a lesson learned, and after that, I also frequented the farmers’ market. I might just as well support those who were successful at growing things in the semi-arid elevation in the Rockies.

After I moved to West Virginia as a new widow, I yearned to plant a garden again…this time in the rich soil and temperate climate of home. Life’s uncertainties kept me from that goal until Mr. FixIt and I married in 2018. We tried a garden just big enough to plant a few tomatoes, but the ground where we put it wasn’t ideal. After three years of failing, I figured gardening just wasn’t meant to be. That’s when Mr. FixIt built me a beautiful raised bed that I don’t even have to bend over to work on. We only have tomatoes and marigolds in it. I have rhubarb in a big pot along the fence and a couple of tomato plants in another container. I’m feeling pretty accomplished at the moment. It’s not a big garden, but we are in our early seventies now…we don’t need to be putting in a big garden anyway.

I took a walk through the pollinator gardens this morning with my coffee. The field daisies have bloomed, and the pictures don’t do it justice! Little polkadots of white sprinkled over the bright greenish blue of the Kentucky Bluegrass make me smile. I’ve noticed more bird species coming around since I expanded to seventeen pollinator gardens spread out over the five acres. House martins are swirling and diving all around. I must get a Martin house put up. Lots of butterflies flutter by when I’m on my morning walk. I left great swaths of white clover for the honey bees, but we still aren’t seeing many. Lots of bumble bees, wasps, and carpenter bees are out there, so things are still getting pollinated.

And here it is…Memorial Day weekend already. I hope you all are safe if you are traveling. Enjoy your gatherings and remember those who gave all in their commitment to protect the downtrodden of the world.

ᓚᘏᗢ

And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, 1 Corinthians 2:3

***Gratitude Journal*** Today, I am grateful for the abundance of beauty that surrounds us as we go about our work on our little homestead.

He Loves Me…He Loves Me Not

Sun, 18 May 2025 01:30:00 -0600

Do you remember your first crush? I do. His name was Brett…or, maybe it was Kevin. We rode the bus together on a school trip. We kinda had a moment. He reached out and took my hand as we looked out the window at the landscape blurring by. My heart about pounded out of my chest. I had absolutely NO idea what the protocol was on hand-holding. I mean, how hard to you hold his hand? I’m taking it the vice grip I settled on wasn’t it. How long do you hold hands? Is there a prescribed time, or do you just hang on till one of you has to pee or dies of embarrassment? I was probably fifteen…definitely a late bloomer.

I knew NOTHING. My friend Ann told me about periods and that you get pregnant when a boy does something with his hand but I had no idea how THAT worked. My mom wanted me to stay in the dark and be an old maid. I probably would have if it hadn’t been for the other half of the school trip I was on.

We were in Gatlinburg, TN staying at a Travel Lodge. There was a stream roaring right behind the motel. I’d never been on a bus. I’d never been away from my mother. I’d never seen the inside of a motel room. This was all SO exciting and my mind was racing. It seemed like my hand-holding faux pas nipped the crush in the bud. Teenagers are nothing if they aren’t adaptable.

We were all running up and down the balcony walkways, talking and laughing and looking into everyone’s room to see what was happening. I was talking with someone when I looked in one of the rooms and there he was…my future husband. Oh…no, it wasn’t a crush thing. He wore striped pants and a polka dot shirt and he was calling his mom to let her know we were there safely. I didn’t see him as “my type.” The closest thing to “my type” that I could think of was Jay of Jay and the Americans. He was dreamy.

But, as fate would have it, three years later that fellow and I were dating and at the VERY young age of nineteen, I became his bride and we moved to England for his tour of duty in the Air Force. Ours was the tender teenage love of the movies. He courted me relentlessly till I gave in and went out with him. Hubby #1…the father of Daughter #1. It was a complicated relationship and failed out of nothing more than naïveté and disillusionment.

I remember those sunny days when we were first dating…the summer of ‘69…the Beatles…the Ed Sullivan Show…Armstrong walked on the moon. Woodstock. The Summer of Love. Firsts. Lots and lots of firsts. But running through it all is a memory of laying in the grass at the top of our hill pulling the petals off of daisies.

He loves me. He loves me not.

If I’d only known then what I know now. Good thing it doesn’t work that way. I may not have my beautiful daughter and I wouldn’t be who I am now. I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again. We cannot rewrite history. I don’t think I would if I could. Besides, God put me where he wanted me. It may not have been for a lifetime, but it certainly was for some valuable life lessons.

🩵

“When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13‬:‭11‬-‭12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today, I am grateful for all the lessons I’ve learned in life and for a loving God who waited for me patiently.

Another Bit of Time Travel

Tue, 08 Apr 2025 01:30:00 -0600

Where my grandparent’s lived in Pekin, IL - Credit: Zillow

I’ve been combining two of my hobbies in one this month. When I sit down to sit with Mr. FixIt when he watches some of his shows, I pull out my laptop and work on Ancestry and Google Earth at the same time. One of the best tools to help you with genealogy is the US Census. The other day, I was searching backwards in my maternal grandparents’ life together to see where they lived before I came around. I knew they had lived in Indiana and Illinois before and during the Great Depression, so I decided to look up their addresses on Google Earth.

I couldn’t find their home in Mishawaka, Indiana where my mom was born. The address is now a modern home so it’s obvious the land has been developed. I did find their home in Pekin, Illinois and was thrilled to see it. According to the 1930 Census, PopPop and Grandma lived in a rental house for $20 a month. Mom was four years old and Uncle Bob was two. They were poor as church mice, but they owned a radio. I imagine my great grandfather bought it for them. PopPop was 31 and Grandma was 25. (They were 21 and 17 when they married.) They were both able to read and write although neither of them went past 8th Grade in school. He worked as a mechanic for a construction company and Grandma was a stay-at-home mom. Since the house I found on Zillow with the same address was built in 1887, I am certain this is the same house they lived in.

They lived with two of PopPop’s brothers and their wives and families. At the time it was a boarding house. Grandma told stories about having to cook on a little stove on the landing between floors. It must have been nice for them to have family around, even though there wasn’t much privacy. During the Depression, they were happy to just have a roof over their heads.

When work petered out, they packed up and came back home to WV. They worked as sharecroppers in order to have a place to house their growing family. By the time they moved into the house at the farm, there were six children. Grandma told me her children would have starved to death if it weren’t for the two cows they had. They always gardened. They grew a patch of cane and a traveling man came every fall to squeeze the juice from the canes. Then she boiled that syrup down in the kitchen. My Uncle Bud says it used to rain in the house because of all the humidity that condensed on the underside of the tin roof.

As long as I can remember, grandma made do with what she had. She was so frugal, she would patch the sheet where their toenails and PopPop’s beard wore the cheap cotton away. She saved up feedsacks and when she had enough of one print, she’d take it down to Aunt Myrt to have her make a dress or shirt for one of the kids. She might trade some butter or something from the garden as payment. Aunt Myrt never sewed with a pattern. You could show her a dress out of the Sears & Roebuck Catalog and she could make it in any size.

When a blanket became too worn to use, she sandwiched it between two old patched sheets and she would have a new-to-her “quilt.” She and her sisters-in-law and some neighbor ladies would come over and help her tie the layers together with bright colored yarn. Their work clothes were always patched together but they usually had one outfit that served as their Sunday-Go-To-Meetin’ duds.

I’ve even found pots that had a hole in them that my PopPop patched with two washers and a nut and bolt. They had an old grinding wheel that looked like a stationary bike. They once had a big copper pot they used for making applesauce and apple butter over an open fire in the backyard.

One might say these were simpler times, and perhaps they were in some ways. But they weren’t necessarily easy times. I have to admit, I have become so used to everything being conveniently available on a shelf in a grocery store. I didn’t learn till recently you can make brown sugar by mixing white sugar with molasses! I’m turning 72 in a couple of months and I’m still learning new things…new ways to make things with ingredients instead of ready made.

You can look at these times as a crushing blow, a giant step backwards. You can get anxious or depressed or even disassociate yourself from it all. Or, you can treat it as a challenge…a game…see just how little you need to get by. You can learn to enjoy the simpler things.

You can find peace in many ways:

You can go out and stand on the grass in your bare feet.

You can read or write…stories, novels, cookbooks, journals.

You can plant flowers or a garden and get your hands dirty.

You can spend time with God every day…walking in the woods or a park, reading the Bible, praying.

I think I’m going to become “Everyone’s Grandma” and teach the youngun’s some old timey skills. It’ll give me something to look forward to and help me contribute to a new beginning.

🩵🌷🩵

“God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭4‬:‭10‬ ‭NLT‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***  
Today I am grateful to have a platform where I can share my knowledge and help others become more self-sufficient in the coming months and years. I give God the glory through my work.

What Was I Thinking?

Sun, 06 Apr 2025 01:30:00 -0600

The Inimitable Christine Lavin. (Credit: Christine Lavin)

Back at the turn of the century, Hubby #2 and I split up. My self esteem was in the toilet and my friend Karen asked me to go to a musical performance by Christine Lavin. She is a folksinger songwriter with quirky fun way about her. When I was a DJ on Public Radio, I played a lot of her songs. While I wasn’t really up for it, I made myself go…and I’m so glad I did.

Christine loves to gather with her audience before her shows. She’ll sit in the lobby and paint your nails or have a knitting circle as she asks about you and your story. I’ve only seen her twice, but we have spoken a few times since. She is just a sheer delight and I’d really like to see her again someday.

Christine Lavin and Friends at a knitting circle. (Credit: Christine Lavin)

Mr. FixIt was gone most of the afternoon, so while I cleaned house and made a double batch of granola, I watched YouTube videos. One popped up that I hadn’t seen. Christine Lavin on CBS Sunday Morning when Charles Kuralt was the host. I was tickled to death to see this and it captures the artist exactly as I remembered her.

Those were hard times for me during the first stages of divorce. Listening to Christine sing “What Was I Thinking” and “Harrison Ford” and “Cold Pizza for Breakfast”….”Bald Headed Men,” “Regretting What I Said,” and “Good Thing He Can’t Read My Mind” lifted my heart and made me start to find myself again.

Credit: Christine Lavin

There are moments in your life that you will always remember and many of them are associated with music. The Coca Cola Summer of Stars when the lead singer of The Temptations held my hand, looked in my eyes and sang “My Girl.” Or James Taylor singing “Up On The Roof” at Red Rocks as a full moon rose over Denver. Or John Denver singing “Country Roads” to this little West Virginia gal who was so homesick. Then there was Christine Lavin singing “Shining My Flashlight on the Moon” in the auditorium of Carbondale High School when I started to put the pieces of my heart back together.

“Where words fail, music speaks.” Hans Christian Andersen

🩵🌷🩵

“Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and like vinegar on soda.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭25‬:‭20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for the music in my life that soothes, heals, and uplifts a weary heart.

Time Travel

Fri, 04 Apr 2025 01:30:00 -0600

You can see our apartment building through the trees to the right. We called the large house to the left the Manor House. There was a small office around the right side of that building where we paid the rent.

A couple of weeks ago, I had fun playing with Google Earth. I looked at all the places I’ve lived in the states. Then, we had breakfast with my friend Cindy…my neighbor in England. It got me wondering if I could “walk” around the villages and see if anything still looked familiar to me. So, today I’m taking you on a trip to the UK.

”The Swan” pub about a mile from our apartment. There is a small garden to the left with market lights strung across. We used to meet Cindy and her husband there for Cornish Pasties and Guinness on Friday nights.

Hubby #1 was in the Air Force stationed at RAF Greenham Common and RAF Welford (a bomb storage facility.) Greenham opened in 1942 and had four runways. It was used by the USAF during WWII and the Cold War. While we were there, it was primarily a mail sorting and storage facility. There was a clinic, a movie theater, a grocery store, a base exchange, a post office, and several other buildings. I arrived in July of 1973, the first year of the International Air Tattoo, a large scale international military air show. That’s where I first saw the Concorde. It flew right over our apartment and was extraordinarily LOUD. We left in late 1974. In 1980, RAF Greenham Common was one of two British bases that housed the USAF’s mobile nuclear armed cruise missiles.

A narrowboat on the River Kennet near The Swan. I have a picture of my mom holding Daughter #1 in my green and white Mini Cooper sitting right there in front of the gate. People rent narrowboats for their holiday (vacation) much like we would go camping.

We rented a third floor flat in Thatcham, a small village near Newbury. It was quaint homes with small postage stamp gardens in front. Shopping was within walking distance and we carried a market basket with us for our daily shopping. I still have mine. Daughter #1 was born almost exactly a year after I arrived in country.

Another narrowboat further along the Kennet and Avon Canal.

The little shops that lined the streets were mesmerizing…especially the bakeries with their elaborate window displays of sweets. One of my favorite treats was “Walnut Whips,” a small crisp cookie with a whipped filling covered in chocolate and a walnut half on top. SO decadent. One of my favorite excursions was to a local shop for afternoon tea. This was traditionally a light mid-afternoon affair serving finger sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam, and pastries. This was especially lovely when I was pregnant. My GYN, Mr. Stallabrass, had an office in Reading at the Royal Berkshire Maternity Unit. After my appointments, I often took afternoon tea in a small cottage overlooking Windsor Castle.

We lived on the economy, not in base housing, so we experienced life as locals might…even though there was no mistaking the fact we were Yanks. Many of the locals didn’t care for us…especially the men. They held a grudge since the ward because Yanks came in and married the women and took them home to the States.

Donnington Castle near Newbury

We kept busy in our off time visiting the tourist sites like Donington Castle, Winchester Cathedral, Stonehenge, Windsor Castle, Buckingham Palace, Big Bend, the Tower of London. When my mom came to visit, we asked her what she wanted to do. My mother was quite naive to the ways of the world but she had an adventurous side. When she told me she wanted to go see a burlesque show, I was a bit taken aback, but we hopped a train to London and saw a show in the Soho District. I think mom was expecting something like Carmen Miranda. Instead, we got naked people swimming in a glass sided pool onstage. She wanted to wander through the shops. There were women posing in storefront windows and shops that sold “things we’d never seen before.” That’s where I drew the line and dragged her home. lol She was a hoot!

One of my favorite stores was Marks & Spencer in Newbury. It was kind of like a Penneys.

Many years later, when mom had passed, I picked up where she left off in building the family tree. The onset of the Internet made things so much easier to research and I was dumbfounded when I learned my PopPop’s ancestors came from a village not ten miles from where we lived in England. If I’d only known, I could have done research on site!

You cannot go to England without visiting Stonehenge. It’s truly magical!

My time living there left me with some of my most fond memories. I always thought I’d go back there and visit…maybe take my daughter there to see where she was born. I don’t know that I’ll ever get back there, but Google Earth lets me time travel from the comfort of my Big Red Chair…whenever I want.

🩵🌷🩵

“Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year. We will do business there and make a profit.” How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone. What you ought to say is, “If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.”” ‭‭James‬ ‭4‬:‭13‬-‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for the memories of my travels abroad in my youth. They will keep me company in my final years.

Egg-in-a-Basket

Wed, 26 Mar 2025 01:30:00 -0600

Seeing my downstairs neighbor from the apartment building in England on Monday brought back so many fond memories. The trips to town to shop at the market. The beautiful displays of all kinds of sweets at the local pastry shop. The walks down the canal to Pop’s Antique Shop located in a 400-year-old building. Such a time of youthful innocence and joy.

When Hubby #1 had a night off, we went out for breakfast in Newbury. We usually ordered what we called a grill which consisted of an egg, a banger (short fat sausage), smoked streaky bacon, mushrooms, baked beans, and toast. Sometimes we met Cindy and her husband at the White Swan…a local pub down by the canal where the wild swans swim. We’d order a Cornish pasty and a pint. More often than not, Cindy and I had a Baby Cham…a light and sweet champagne-like drink.

There is a dish in England called Toad-in-a-Hole. It’s traditionally made like a casserole with fat, savory sausages peeking out of a batter. I rarely go to that much trouble so I make Egg-in-a-Basket every once in a while from my homemade bread. It’s a great way to use bread when it’s still good but it’s just a little past its prime. Today I’ll make French Toast because the bread is nearing the point of being stale.

I can’t say the food in England was all that great. There were a lot of boiled dinners. We didn’t have much money so we ate a lot of things like Hamburger Helper and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches. There was a BX on base where we shopped. We could find food there from the states that we were more familiar with. But there were things we bought at the open air market like meats….usually chicken and lamb. Beef was pretty hard to come by. Besides, the meat over there tasted funny to me. Probably because it was grass fed without antibiotics.

The pastry shops were to die for. I was pregnant when Cindy came from the states to live with her husband downstairs. The displays of cakes and tarts were mind boggling and I wanted to try everything. That’s probably why I weighed 190 pounds and had a 5 pound baby. I always wanted to go back to England to live for a year or so. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to do that again, but I have wonderful memories of the two years I lived there in ‘73 and ‘74.

Have any of you lived in a foreign country? For how long? Where was it and what was your favorite thing?

💚

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭10‬:‭31‬ ‭ESV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for the memories I’ve made over the years. They will sustain me in the coming years when my short term memory becomes less reliable.

Springtime in West Virginia

Thu, 13 Mar 2025 01:30:00 -0600

I heard spring peepers Tuesday night! Ok, it may be FAUX Spring….but what a delicious reprieve from the worst winter we’ve experienced here in a long, long time. Yesterday was a beautiful day. The temperature soared up to a balmy 81°!!!!! Oh, my….I sat out in the sun in mid-afternoon and it was so hot, I couldn’t stay out too long. Now I’m going to have to acclimate to warm weather…but that sure isn’t a problem for me!

As you know, yesterday marked twelve years since I lost Mr. Virgo. And it’s funny…this year hit me a little harder. I don’t exactly know why. But that’s the nature of grief, isn’t it? It’s been a very long time since I’ve cried over him. My friend Gail is watching one of her dear friends slowly die of cancer and today was rough for her too. She sent me a link for a song. When I fixed my second cup of coffee, I took it out on the deck, turned on the song, and the tears began to flow.

I talked with Mr. FixIt Tuesday night about it. I reminded him what was coming up and I told him I didn’t understand why this time was hurting me. He held me and told me everyone grieves in their own way and sometimes it’s just harder than others. He makes room in our life for Mr. Virgo. I tell him funny stories and sometimes he even brings him up. Like one time, we were behind Mrs. FixIt 1.0’s house and her property drops off into a wide ravine. Mr. FixIt stood at the edge and looked down to see a buck with a huge rack and he said he immediately felt like Mr. Virgo was standing there with him. He smiled and said out loud, “Thanks for bringing the buck, buddy.”

I’ve been married four times. Some people would be embarrassed by that, but not me. I’ve married four really great men in my life. They’ve helped make me who I am and I love them all to this day. Two of my other former husbands have had life threatening health issues that could have killed them. One has died and Mr. FixIt has had two small strokes. You’d think men would stay FAR away from me, wouldn’t you?

By the end of the day, I was back on an even keel and ready to conquer the next thing. Today is bread baking day…I sure hope it’s better this time!

💚

“Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1‬:‭3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for the memories I have and that God saw fit to grace me with a wonderful man to ride into the sunset with. I think in many ways, He saved the best for last.

Today is Mr. Virgo's 12th Angelversary

Wed, 12 Mar 2025 01:30:00 -0600

The time keeps marching forward… further away from the actual loss. That doesn't mean he's gone from my memory or my heart.

For those of you who are grieving the loss of your special person, my heart is with you. Your grief is the worst in the world for the precise reason…it is YOURS. You watch the world around you in a dazed fog, trying to figure out which is worse…accepting their death or pretending they're just away on a trip. You feel like half of you is missing. You can't imagine living another day, let alone a week, a month, or years. I hear you. I didn't either. You move from thing to thing, mindlessly. You don't eat much, and when you do, it's likely a bowl of cereal standing over the sink. You spend money you shouldn't because you thing, "Why not? There's no way I'm going to survive this so I might as well spend to soothe." That's not a viable coping strategy…trust me. You lose all the color from your world…there's no music, or feelings, or hope, it seems. But, let me tell you…there is hope. I'm here as proof.

With less money, more wrinkles, and changes that can't even be described. But one day, you'll see colors. You'll hear music. and the tears will gradually be replaced with a gentle smile from a memory of your loved one. There will still be waves from time to time, but they don't drown you anymore.

Ever forward.

Ginny

A Portent of Spring

Wed, 26 Feb 2025 02:30:00 -0600

I awoke at about 3:30 yesterday morning to the sound of rain on the tin roof at Grandma’s house. Oh, that sound instantly takes me back to my childhood. We used to go to The Farm nearly every weekend when I was growing up. Unless my cousins were there to play with, my Bubby and I kept each other company. My brother has Cerebral Palsy and he couldn’t play like me. He and I sat on the floor with our feet touching making a diamond with our legs. We rolled a ball back and forth between us. Or we played with toy trucks. When we got older, Uncle Bob taught us how to play checkers.

When my Bubby was too tired to play, I headed outside for hours. Hunting for bugs and turtles and old bird nests. Maybe a snakeskin…or pollywogs in the puddles to keep in a jar. I was definitely a tomboy. This yard and crick kept us busy and taught us to appreciate nature. I took science and biology very seriously when I was in school. I’ve always been fascinated in how things worked. The skills I gained from that served me well all my life.

Once I had breakfast, I made my RYZE Mushroom Coffee and went out on the front porch to bask in the sun. It was 68° yesterday afternoon! OMGosh! It was heavenly sitting out there with the sunshine on my face! I decided to clean a little and get packed up. I wanted to get back to my sweetheart!

I received good news yesterday. First, Daughter #2 was feeling a bit better by late afternoon. They’re talking about sending her home on oxygen for a little while. I also heard from Hubby #2. His numbers are improving and kidney seems to be doing a good job. Both wonderful things and the answers to many prayers!

💜

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” ‭‭Mark‬ ‭11‬:‭24‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Gratitude Journal 
Today I am grateful my daughter is improving, as is her dad. These are prayers answered! Thank you to all who have been praying for them both.

‘Shine

Mon, 24 Feb 2025 02:30:00 -0600

Screenshot

I stumbled on this listing on FB Marketplace. For the bargain price of $300, you too can own a still! Gone are the days of bootleggin’ corn likker…or are they? This little home model says there might be some squeezin’s being made back in the hollers of the Appalachias. It’s still illegal to make…but, as long as you’re not runnin’ a big outfit, I doubt you’ll see any revenues coming to bust up your still.

The name “moonshine” was coined to describe the making of home brew under the light of the moon. Moonshiners needed to work under the cover of darkness to keep their stills from being discovered. The still itself was made out of copper. It came apart in pieces to ensure a quick getaway if word got around the law was on your trail.

Bootleg, firewater, home brew, hooch, stump water, skull cracker, wildcat were all colloquial names for moonshine. It’s rose in popularity during Prohibition when home distillers made whiskey, filling Mason jars with the coveted elixir and “running” it through the hills to all manner of folks. Farmers, coal miners, young boys itching to be men too fast for their own good. There are numbers on the bottom of Mason jars and those ‘shiners would break every one of them that had a “13” on them. They figured that was bad luck and they were a superstitious lot.

My Uncle Bud told me a story about my grandma. Seems Pop-Pop’s half-brother came for a visit one time, back in the day. That side of the family was a lot rougher than my side and Grandma wouldn’t have it. When the fella got out of his car, Grandmas saw him kinda sneak off to the crick. When he came back out, he adjusted his belt a little to let folks think he’d been down there “watering the grass.”

You would have to get up pretty early to pull one over on my grandma. When the menfolk went around the back of the house and the half-brother was busy rolling a cigarette, Grandma walked out the front door and down to the crick to see what was what. Well, she found that jar of moonshine and smashed it to smithereens on the rocks. The fella’s precious hooch was snakin’ down the branch to feed the fishes.

Oh, was that man fit to be tied when he went to take a snort and all he saw was shards of glass and a wet spot. But, I’m tellin’ you what, he had sense enough not to say a word to Grandma when he saw the icy glare she gave him. No sir…she wouldn’t abide such foolishness.

Grandma called all liquor “hootypog.” Hudepohl Beer was established in 1885. It’s been one of the most beloved breweries in Cincinnati and is known for not only its delicious brews, but also the inspiration for the famous chant…”Who Dey” at Bengals games. Apparently, Grandma saw an ad one time for Hudepohl Beer and extrapolated it to cover all forms of alcohol. When Pop-Pop drove her to town every couple of weeks for groceries, she’d warn him if the driver in front of them was weaving, or if the car had a dent. She’d say, “Now, you back off away from that feller, Mart…he’s been in the hootypog!” PopPop would just smile and do as he was told.

Grandma always had a good story to tell. I guess the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?

💜

“And do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit,” ‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭5‬:‭18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful to still have the opportunity to hang out at my grandma’s house and feel the memories and the stories wash over me with every sound, sight, and smell.

Fly Eagles Fly!

Mon, 27 Jan 2025 02:30:00 -0600

Mr. Virgo was a HUGE Eagles fan. He was born and raised in South Philly so he and his dad bled Green every Sunday. Philadelphia did well this season and they beat the Washington Commanders yesterday for another trip to the Super Bowl. Mr. FixIt was bowling so I was sitting here yelling at the TV all by myself. The, I had to watch the Chiefs v Bills to see who the Eagles will go up against the Chiefs on February 9th. It’s going to be a fun game! That being said, I spent all my writing energy yelling at football players so I’m sending a replay to you this morning. It’s a piece I wrote in January 2017 about turning the corner in my grief journey and was opening my heart again to the possibility of love.

Fifty-two years ago I married my first husband. I was so young…just 19. But, we were sure we knew what we were doing. I don’t regret that marriage. I learned so much and I got Daughter #1. Priceless!

Hope you had a good weekend. I’ll be back in the morning!

UFOs and a Transistor Radio

Sun, 07 Apr 2024 01:30:00 -0600

I’ve seen them. As a matter of fact, I have several of them. No, not the shiny cylindrical variety that you see on some alien SyFi shows. These are stitching projects… ‘unfinished objects.’ After yesterday’s post, my friend Sharon mused that she had projects somewhere and maybe she should go looking for them. That tugged as a memory way back in my mind. I remembered tucking one beautiful project away when I closed my little needlework shop.

I ruminated a bit and wondered where it might be. Is it tucked away in the basement in a tub of mementos? Or, is it stuck in the back bedroom that is packed with boxes of stuff that’s no longer needed…just waiting to head to a resale shop. I chose the latter, simply because it was easier access. I want to start cleaning out that room to move my studio upstairs. I really don’t like hunkering down in the basement to create. There’s no natural light down there. This room upstairs will work much better.

As I sorted through stuff, I came to a box and down in the bottom, I could see a familiar cloth tote that I used to use to carry a particular sampler I’d been working on. I dug it out of the box and peeking inside, there were several unfinished objects…AND my favorite wooden stitching frame! I was so excited! Now I can finish a couple of knitting projects then make a cross-stitch project my summer goal.

In the process of searching, I came across some treasures. My old transistor radio brought a smile to my face. Oh, the nights I lay in bed with that thing tucked under my pillow, listening to Petula Clark and The Beach Boys, The Beatles and the The Rolling Stones. I wondered if if it still worked. I rummaged around in the junk drawer in the kitchen. Everyone has one of those, right? I found the battery, popped it in, and sure enough…it worked! It brought back such warm memories.

Here’s a video of my radio picking up a local country station. Can you imagine listening to this quality of sound and thinking it was the greatest thing since sliced bread??? WE did! I sent this to my grandchildren and they got a big kick out of it.

I decided if I bring out two or three bags or boxes every day, I can get through that mess eventually without having to work at it to the exclusion of everything else. I’ve had a lovely winter where I kept busy and got a lot done while still enjoying our home and my Big Red Chair. Now it’s mowing season and things will start cranking up, but I still need to have projects to keep my hands busy and that relax my mind.

Thank you all for your great suggestions and referrals to find needlework supplies. You all are always so helpful and I appreciate you!

🌷

”Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.“
James 1:17 NIV

The Matriarch

Fri, 08 Mar 2024 02:30:00 -0600

My grandmother was fifty-six years old when I was born. My grandma was only forty-eight. Yet…they seemed ancient to me when I was a little girl. Their hair was gray and their skin was soft with wrinkles. Blue veins traced rivers on the backs of their hands and brown “liver spots” dotted their arms. They were magical beings with vast knowledge of such things as the perfect chicken and dumplings and soothing slices of jelly bread. They kissed away booboos and loved me unconditionally…my grandma most of all.

I was standing in front of the mirror at The Farm yesterday morning, brushing my own grey hair and pinning it up in a bun just as Grandma had always done. I never knew her to have short hair. As far as I know, she had never cut it or gone to a beauty shop. And she never had bangs. I’ve been letting my bangs grow out. I trimmed them myself through the pandemic so I just kept doing it. Then I waited a little too long and was afraid I’d botch it up. Not wanting to go to the hairdresser, I decided to let them grow out to see if I like them. I don’t NOT like them. I wore my hair swept back when I was growing up. My bangs are getting long enough to sweep them back when I pin my hair up, as long as the bun is high on my head. The jury is still out. I think I notice my face more and maybe that’s not a bad thing. I don’t feel the need to hide anymore and this is a little liberating.

That’s me in the center of the photo with my uncle and cousins going for a ride in the old Model A truck.

My Noom lesson yesterday was on self confidence and giving yourself compliments. We are quick to compliment others, yet we are so hard on ourselves. My exercise for the day was to stand in front of the mirror and give myself a believable compliment…out loud. I stepped closer to the mirror and looked at myself critically. I’ve always had a distinct widow’s peak and that’s why I’ve worn bangs. I was self conscious of the receding hairline on either side of my face. I finished brushing my hair back and said to the girl with the grandmother face who was smiling at me.

“You have a kind face. Your eyes crinkle with your laughter and twinkle with happiness. Every line on your beautiful face reminds you of the multitude of smiles you’ve given over the seventy years your presence has been known here. You are exactly as you were meant to be and exactly where you belong!”

I gave myself a big hug and you know what? I felt better! Why are women so hard on themselves…and on each other? We should be celebrated for the glorious and powerful creatures we are! We should be lifting each other up at every turn and encouraging each other with positivity, love, and grace. I used to be so threatened by other women. And now? No way! I am past all that. I am of the mind that if another doesn’t like me or accept me as I am, they are not deserving of my time and energy and I release myself from the burden of bearing the weight of something that is no longer mine to carry.

I took this picture because, honestly…I don’t see that angle of myself. I wanted to see what the roadmap of wrinkles on my cheeks were up to. When I looked, I smiled. I’m not sad to have my grandmother’s face or my grandma’s long hair swept back in a bun. I’m honored to be counted among the crones.

I am the matriarch now.

🩵

”Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.“
Proverbs 31:30-31 NIV

#Matriarch, #Aging, #PositiveAging, #InternationalWomensDay

Time and Treasures

Thu, 07 Mar 2024 02:30:00 -0600

Even though my main purpose of doing the taxes has been unfulfilled, my trip to The Farm hasn’t been for naught. I’ve been reading and knitting. And, I’ve been figuring out a way to send my posts as a sort of newsletter via email. There’s some prep work on my end before that becomes a reality, but I made some progress yesterday. With the way Facebook’s algorithms so haphazardly send my posts to people, many just are not receiving them. This might be a great solution. If you are interested in receiving these emails, you can scroll down on my website to the box that says “Become a Rancher” and register your email if you haven’t done so already. Thanks so much, y’all. You can help this little project grow by spreading the word to friends and family. I really appreciate it!

I snapped a picture of the treasures I found in the old smokehouse. None of it is worth a thing to anyone save for the memories they bring to mind. There’s the bottom half of an old wooden box. And look at those welding goggles! I remember my Pop-Pop wearing those when he welded something on the old Model A that he turned into a farm truck. I’ll never forget that summer day in 1969 when he let me drive it down to the road and back. He wouldn’t let my boyfriend drive it because he didn’t trust his “lead foot.”

It was a temperamental beast. It didn’t have a muffler and when you cranked it up, it went “Crack! Crack! Crack!” You could hear Pop-Pop coming from way back on the hill. We had family come from Illinois that summer and it was a big deal to pile as many people in the back as we could and go for a ride back to see the old home place. The road was SO steep, we had to lay down in the truck bed with our feet on the tail gait. In some places we were nearly standing up!

We had rain all night and most of the morning yesterday. I could hear the water roaring over the waterfalls up behind the barn so I grabbed my phone and went up to get some pictures. Along the way, there was a Mylar balloon stuck on some rocks in the creek. We’re ten miles from nowhere here so who knows where that thing started its journey. I walked the length of the creek to the road. There’s the frame of an old walking bridge that led to the garden across the creek and it’s rusted and sunk down several feet into the creek itself. There were all kinds of limbs, trees, mud and rocks caught up in it. The creek was running really high, so I got the shovel and worked on it awhile. I finally broke through enough to let the water rush out and in about fifteen minutes it was down by a foot. Crisis averted.

There’s always something that needs doing here, and even though my family doesn’t own it anymore, I’m still the caretaker and do whatever I can to keep it up. I try to breathe life into the old girl, but I’m sure you’ve seen old houses that just die when their people are gone. I’ve seen it happen a lot here because it’s so damp and all. But I honestly think a home has a spirit of sorts and when its usefulness has passed, it just fades away. I hope to keep her as habitable as I can for as long as I’m able.

There is one thing about this house that has always been a problem. It is so poorly insulated that it’s either too hot or too cold. The furnace kicks off and on all night and it’s located in the basement right underneath the bedroom I sleep in. I kept turning the electric blanket up and down all night. It’s only bothersome in the winter. There’s no air conditioning in the summer. Grandma used to open the back door and the front door and a cool breeze would come right down the holler. She called it “nature’s air conditioner.”

The screen doors still squeak and slam shut with a bang. The sound of the rain on the roof is the same now as it was the very first time my mama carried me across the threshold into Grandma’s waiting arms. She would rock me and sing “Bye oh, bye oh…baby bye” to the tune of Rock of Ages. I, in turn, did the same with my children, my grandchildren, and now the great grandchildren. My kids remember summer trips here, but my grandkids don’t really have an interest in West Virginia. They are Colorado kids, born and raised. They’re a different breed.

I am so blessed to have had this extra time visiting my past. I know full well most don’t have this opportunity and I am truly grateful to Frank and Beans for allowing me the courtesy. I’ve had my “farm fix” for a while and I’m ready to head back home today. Mr. FixIt is anxiously awaiting my return. I need to cook him a really good meal tonight!

🩵

”By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.“
Proverbs 24:3-4 NIV

Springtime at The Farm!

Tue, 05 Mar 2024 02:30:00 -0600

I went to knitting group yesterday morning. There were only three of us attending. One had business to attend to. Another tested positive for covid about half an hour before she was to head to town. Too many people aren’t testing anymore. I believe they figure if they don’t test, they can’t have covid. I am grateful this gal listened to her husband and tested to be sure. I may be the only person around here who hasn’t had it! But, I am militant with hand washing and I wear a mask, no matter what.

One of my knitting friends came in with two black eyes and a terribly swollen and blackened hand. She fell on Friday, carrying a bag in each hand. Nothing seems to be broken, thank God. But, I’m telling you…we are getting to the age when falls are becoming more commonplace. Two of my knitting pals have crossed the threshold of their 80’s and they warn that their kids have started “mothering” them.

I was thinking the other day about my escapades with the camper after Mr. Virgo died. Traveling cross country alone, towing a camper through cities and countryside. I wonder how long I’ll be able to travel solo? Will I ever take the camper to Colorado on my own again? I really don’t know. I was only sixty when I first started towing alone. I’m not nearly ready to quit that. I just don’t know at what point I should consider it. I guess I’ll know when the time comes. At least, I hope I do.

I got to the farm early yesterday afternoon. Once I got all settled in, I fixed myself something to eat and sat on the porch listening to the birds. Northern Cardinal, Black-capped Chickadee, Tufted Titmouse, Song Sparrow, Carolina Wren, Robin, White-breasted Nuthatch, American Crow, Eastern Bluebird, Blue Jay…all calling and singing, chattering and swooping in and out of the Flowering Quince that lines the crest of the creek along the house. The Daffodils out back across from the old outhouse are starting to bloom. The little Chipmunk that lives under the old ramp off the back porch skittered around nervously. Red Shouldered Hawks circling high about the woods on top of the far ridge were too far away to hear.

Someone around here is logging. I could hear the heavy equipment and the logging trucks as they slowly maneuvered their way out with their heavy loads. Perhaps I take a drive up the road today and see where the muddy tracks come out on the road to find out where they are working. A couple of loads drove buy some time after I got here, but they aren’t the big double trailers. They must be working in tight quarters.

The temperature was well in the 70’s as I sat and soaked up the sun on the front porch…my book lying unopened on my lap…a cup of tea in hand. I took a deep breath of spring and sighed in contentment. The house itself smells exactly as it did when I was a little girl and I never fail to smile in remembrance when I cross the threshold.

I’ll probably go home tomorrow. The deadline for entering photos of the items donated to the Girl Camper Raffle is Thursday. I need to finish a pair of socks that I brought with me. And finish the book I’m reading and at least get started on the taxes. If I complete these things, along with ample porch sitting, I’ll have accomplished what I came for.

My knitting friend Loretta is either-two years old. She has been married since she was sixteen. I told her at group yesterday that I was heading out to The Farm after for a little R&R. As we were saying goodbye, she called out, “Enjoy you alone time!” I laughed an called back, “You know…in about eight hours, I’ll be missing my husband and thinking of heading back!” She just smiled and nodded in understanding.

☘️

”Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.”“
Hosea 6:3 NIV

#Spring, #TheFarm, #Memories

This is My Heart

Sat, 24 Feb 2024 02:30:00 -0600

This guy right here…he’s been mine since the day I was born. I’m not sure my mom knew anything was wrong with Bubby till I was around two years old. A lot came down on my mom around then. Her brother was killed in a plane crash in Germany. And they told her my big brother had Cerebral Palsy and had intellectual disabilities. It was a hard time for her…for all of us. So much sadness. I didn’t understand what any of that meant at the time. He was just my Bubby. I was his champion. I interpreted his speech for others. I protected him from bullies. He was my whole world and I’ve loved him forever.

Remember when I told you a couple of weeks ago that I had a couple of special people with health issues? One of them was my Bubby. They called me on a Wednesday afternoon and they told me he was in the ambulance heading to the hospital. His nurse said it was dire and could I come right away? Traveling from West Virginia to Colorado in the winter is wicked awful and bloody expensive. Of COURSE I would go, but I asked her to please wait to see what the ER doctor said. Thank God they were able to give him medication and get him straightened up, but the kept him overnight for observation, just to be sure he was ok.

He’s fine now. It was an abnormal heart rate due to a medication change. This time. But I know it’s likely there will be a time when I’ll have to make that emergency trip to be with him when he needs me. I can’t bring him here. It’s a matter of funding. If he changes to West Virginia funding, it could take ten years to find a placement. He’s much better being where he is with people who know him and love him.

We had his annual review Thursday and it did my heart good to see him happy and doing well. We are both enjoying seeing each other on the Echo Show a couple of times a week. And, we’ll see him this summer during our annual trip to Colorado. In the meantime, the staff sends me pictures from time to time so I can see what he’s been up to. His latest adventure is ROCK CLIMBING!

Isn’t this the coolest thing???

Oh….my heart!

🩵

”A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.“
Proverbs 17:17 NIV

You’ve Got a Friend

Mon, 19 Feb 2024 02:30:00 -0600

I really DO give up. This is a lot harder than it looks. Don’t ever tell someone who knits on a circular knitting machine that it isn’t homemade.

Mr. FixIt went to the bowling alley to visit with his buddies last night. He left me with the TV remote and I was trying to download something onto an ancient laptop. As usual, when my sweetie isn’t in control of the television viewing, I head to YouTube and promptly fall down a rabbit hole of guilty pleasure…watching any number of videos. Sometimes I just land on the video of a crackling fire and snuggle up with a good book. Other times I search for how-to videos if it will help me with a current project.

Last night, I settled on music videos. I didn’t watch the Grammys this year so I missed the incredible performances of Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs singing Fast Car and the beautiful Joni Mitchell singing Both Sides Now. That sent me on a search of their earlier videos and then I stumbled on Carole King at the Kennedy Center Honors where Aretha Franklin sang Natural Woman and made President Obama cry.

One of my very first albums was Tapestry by Carole King. We had one of those little stereos that would play a record over and over. Drove my dad nuts so I would turn it down enough to keep him from going ‘round the bend. Then I’d lay down on the floor and position a speaker on either side of my head and I was lost in the rhythm and lyrics for hours. It was my coming-of-age anthem album and I loved her to the moon and back.

Life moved on. I finished school, got married, moved to England and listened to Carole and Elton and Rod on an 8-Track as I cooked and cleaned in our little flat. Music was always the undercurrent of my life. It carried me through myriad heartbreaks. It buoyed my spirits and soothed my loneliness and encouraged me to rise up every time I fell.

Music became my love language and during my second marriage, when we didn’t have a pot to pee in or a window to throw it out of when my husband was in medical school, we always had the radio playing in the background. Musical interests grew and changed as we got older and began to be the thermometer of where we were in our relationship.

After another divorce and a badly bruised ego, live music became an avid interest and I went whenever I could. I saw James Taylor, John Denver, America, Three Dog Night, The Temptations, Anita Baker…so many great concerts large and small. I never got to see Carole King in concert, but I did get to meet her and have an incredible experience. She was campaigning for John Kerry and came to the Daily Bread…a little restaurant on the Main Street of Glenwood Springs.

She spoke on women’s rights and the importance of raising our voices to be heard. Then, she sat down with her guitar and led us in song. We all sang You’ve Got a Friend and it’s a moment I will never forget. This tiny little dynamo of a woman with wild curls and signature sound reminded me…I may be going through a rough patch and a divorce I didn’t want, but I had friends. And that’s not for nuthin’.

I didn’t get much accomplished yesterday. It was Sunday and a day of rest. I chatted with friends and family. I read and listened to music. I didn’t cook…like, at all! I let Mr. FixIt take care of me for a change. It was really nice.

🩵

”Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.“
1 Thessalonians 5:11 NIV

The Recipe Box

Wed, 07 Feb 2024 02:30:00 -0600

When I was a young bride, I bought a green plastic box that held 3x5 cards. I diligently collected recipes from family and friends. I clipped recipes from magazines and glued them to cards from time to time. Recipe cards often arrived in the mail, or attached to newspaper inserts or products in the supermarket. Along the way, I learned from repetition what recipes worked and what didn’t. When I became more adept at cooking, I rarely looked at a recipe. Nowadays, we have this magic little device we keep in our pockets that will give you ANY recipe for ANY dish ever made. I don’t have any idea where that little box ended up. But, I love the memories I conjure up as a newlywed learning her way.

Mr. FixIt had a procedure yesterday which has him enjoying his Big Red Chair a bit more than usual. There were a couple of errands we needed to attend to before we headed home. I’m always thinking fifteen steps ahead so I decided to make tuna noodle casserole for supper. That’s because I sat in the waiting room working on a teddy bear I knitted and thought of that little green box and tried to remember what my favorite inexpensive go-to casserole was.

I think my first cooking class was a summer camp at the Vienna Community Building. I specifically remember making Green Bean Casserole…something I have NEVER liked. Tuna Noodle isn’t a very big stretch from there. I made it in many iterations, including one with turkey after the holidays. We affectionately called it “Turkey Tetrawhatzit.” As I picked up a few things at the grocery, I threw a bag of frozen peas in the cart and headed back out to the truck.

When we got home, I got Mr. FixIt settled in his chair and started supper. I was absolutely certain I had tuna in the pantry but I did not. I did have salmon, and if I could make Tuna Casserole with turkey, I could make it with salmon in a can. Add in the noodles, a can of evaporated milk and a cup of chicken broth, a cup of frozen peas, a can of salmon (drained), a little onion and garlic, salt and pepper. Mixed together and placed in a greased 8x10 casserole dish, topped with buttered breadcrumbs and grated cheese. Baked for 30 minutes in a 350° oven and…voila…

Salmon Tetrawhatzit!!!

SO good! Comfort food that brings up warm memories is a perfect way to end a day of loving on your hubby. And, the fact that there are leftovers for today?

Priceless!

🩵

”Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.“
Philippians 2:3-4 NIV

Screen Time

Sat, 13 Jan 2024 02:30:00 -0600

Look what showed up on my computer when I opened it yesterday!

I worked all day on the FB page, adding photos to the names on the list. Mr. FixIt went to town to run some errands and take our daughter out for breakfast and left me with a quiet house. I made my “coffee” and settled in the Big Red Chair with my lap desk and computer. I asked Echo to play the Spa Station and settled in to work. I didn’t look up till 4:00 and Mr. FixIt came home.

That was perfectly fine. We run around with our hair on fire all summer. There’s a reason God created winter. It’s our reward for all the work we did the rest of the year. It’s our time to rest. And, daddies need to spend time with their girls…even when they’re all grown up. He gets to do a lot of things alone with our son, but he hasn’t had as much of an opportunity with our daughter. It was a really good day for them as well.

I checked in with my brother this week and he sounded great. They’ll be doing some more tests to see what is going on, but he was feeling much better. The other prayers were for someone special and she is home now from having surgery. It doesn’t look like cancer and she is on her way to a full recovery. So, we are breathing a sigh of relief this weekend.

A day of softness was most welcome. As I copied photos from an online yearbook to paste into the list document, memories wash over me. All these people, all these familiar faces brought back such feelings of love. I didn’t necessarily have the happiest of childhoods in some ways. I was bullied in school by some people because I was a quirky kid. Yet, as I poured over the pages of smiling kids, all I could feel was love…and pride that I went to such a wonderful school.

Things change with time and not always for the better. Our high school was always a source of pride for our class. It was instilled in us as we sang the Alma Mater under the Friday Night Lights. We walked through the hallowed halls of this gorgeous building and everywhere we turned, there were reminders of students’ achievements. I don’t hear great things about the school now, but that may be the norm anymore. It’s been a long time since I had a child in school and my grands aren’t necessarily forthcoming in discussing the ins and outs of school. You know how kids are…they get to that geeky teen age and it’s hard to get more than a sentence out of them sometimes.

It will take me a few more days to get this done, but I’m determined to stick with it. And it’s the perfect week to do it with the weather changing in the coming days. I’m tickled to death to stay right here in our little nest.

❄️

”And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.“
1 John 1:4 ESV

In Loving Service to Our Fellow Classmates

Thu, 11 Jan 2024 02:30:00 -0600

My Beloved Alma Mater

Our high school class was huge. Somewhere between 700 and 800 kids. One would think it impossible to know more than two or three dozen of the kids. But, our class was extraordinarily tight. There were cliques, for sure. There were jocks and nerds and stoners…but most of my friends were happy to just love everybody.

We have a group of people who adopted one of the big flower beds in the City Park. For over ten years, they have religiously tended that garden, making it one of the showpieces at the entrance of the park. One very dedicated classmate has taken care of the memorial and flower fund for as long as I can remember. We send her checks periodically to fill the coffers and there has never been a former classmate go without something from us to show their family they have not been forgotten.

Somewhere along the line, one of our fellow classmates started a Facebook page for our class and that really started the ball rolling. We were able to reach out to our classmates all across the country and we became even tighter. As time went on, we started losing more and more people and it occurred to me that, should the page administrator pass away, no one else could access our page and that wouldn’t do. I reached out to the administrator..a gal from my home room…and she added me as a page admin. I in turn added another friend who was willing to help out. Having three admins just made more sense to us and it’s gone smoothly ever since.

My main duty is keeping a close eye on two of the most important files of the page… “Where Are You/They Now?” and “Gone, But Not Forgotten.” If I don’t catch news of a death, or things get hectic and I don’t get the pages updated in a timely fashion, I can count on my friends to be sure I’m up to speed. Over the years, I’ve had people say they wish the lists had pictures to go with the names on the list. Not everyone has their high school yearbook anymore and as we age, our memories fade.

We lost three classmates in the span of the last two weeks. I was going through my list yesterday and one of the things on it was to update the page. Since I was going to be on there anyway, I decided to start on the Memorial Wall and add photos from our yearbook. As of today, we have lost 139 classmates, and I at least wanted them to have a photo by their name. So, I sat down and got to work.

Mr. FixIt went to town yesterday to help his friend Joe fix a toilet. I knew I’d have a quiet house in which to work. By 10:00, I had that list complete. I will plug along and get photos on the other list as I have time. But, I felt really good getting that part finished. That’s just one thing checked off the list. Today’s a new day…and I’ll be checking my list to see what I can get into next!

❄️

”As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace:“
1 Peter 4:10 ESV

It’s My Re-Birthday!

Sat, 06 Jan 2024 02:30:00 -0600

On January 6th every year I celebrate my re-birth day. This is the day I didn’t die. January 6, 2000 is the foundation upon which I have stacked every day since. The comparison of where I am now compared to where I was then is unbelievable. Sometimes I look back and it’s like all that happened to someone else. I don’t relive the events like I used to. I’m far less likely to share the whole story with new friends. It’s not who I am anymore.

Looking back now with an understanding of my place somewhere on the autism spectrum, it’s no wonder I reacted the way I did when it happened. It was incredibly traumatic. If you want to read about it, I’ve posted it here in the past. Here’s one retelling, but I’ll not write about it again. I’ll just celebrate how far I’ve come. And, celebrate 24 years of sobriety. https://www.marshmallowranch.com/the-pivoting-point/

So, instead of dwelling on the not-so-good parts of the past, I asked my Mr. FixIt to go to the farm with me yesterday. Everything was in order. The table I was thinking might work, won’t. It wasn’t sturdy enough. I did bring home several bags of things my Aunt Peeps set aside for my Aunt Rosie. I went through it to make sure what was in it. Some of it goes to my uncle, and some to the step grandchildren of my aunt. And the rest goes to my cousin.

Since the table didn’t work out, we drove up to Harrisville to Arlo’s Antiques. They had two tables that would work. One was too expensive, and the other didn’t have a price so I need to call today and talk to the wife when she’s there. I would love that second table. It is so sturdy. It looks like something out of a chemistry lab. I have a feeling it’s going to be too spendy though. While we were there, we wandered around looking at everything and I found almost a complete two years’ worth of The Workbasket magazines.

I’ve been wanting to crochet a couple of doilies for the end tables we bought from an enterprising student from one of the local high schools. He buys things and fixes them up for resale. I think they’d be pretty with a big doily on it to protect the surface. I can’t remember if Mom got these or my Grandmother but I distinctly remember reading them every month. Between these and the Needleworks & Crafts magazines, my passion for all kinds of handwork was born.

I need to get a hat and scarf made today to take to the Former Mrs. FixIt at our great grandson’s 4th Birthday Party tomorrow. I’ll also start another tote/basket and do that cooking I said I’d do yesterday! We’re hanging pretty close in case the weather gets dicey. Has it snowed where you are? Be safe out there!!!

❄️

”Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.“
Proverbs 22:6 ESV

The New Santa Story

Sun, 17 Dec 2023 02:30:00 -0600

Mr. FixIt went to the retiree luncheon yesterday and I stayed home to fiddle around in the kitchen. I want to make some Cranberry Walnut Bread, but I didn’t have oranges or orange juice. I ran over to the Pig to get some and when I walked in the door, I was faced with… The Christmas Story. Like in the movie. There was someone in the pink bunny suit with a Red Rider BB Gun…authentic clear down to the horn rim glasses. They had a huge “Cookie Bar”…like a salad bar, but with twenty kinds of cookies! You could fill a box for $5.99 a pound. I got a big box for the neighbor children.

I turned to go on through the store and there was Santa! He was a BIG guy! All the kids were coming around and I don’t know how he did it…but he KNEW their names! You should have seen the look on their faces…it was priceless. I watched them and I was struck with the memory of a vastly different visit with Santa ten years ago. If you’ve been around for some time, I’m sure you’ve read the story.

When the kids were gone, I had a moment to visit with the jolly old elf. I asked him if he’d like to hear a Christmas story. I told him about losing Mr. Virgo and how sad I was facing my first Christmas without him. I told him about going to the mall for hugs and watching Santa with the children. I told him how Santa motioned for me to come sit with him and how I couldn’t talk because I knew I would cry. Then, I told him that I whispered to Santa… “My husband died. I need a new heart.”

I wrote that ten years ago. I’ve told that story hundreds of times. And still, when this Santa hugged me, the tears came and it seemed like no time had passed. I asked if I could have my picture taken with him and when I looked at it I realized…the time has definitely passed. There are more wrinkles. My hair has a LOT more grey. But the biggest difference I see is now the smile on my face matches my eyes. Time marches on, doesn’t it?

As I gathered what I needed and headed for home, I felt Mr. Virgo smiling at my memories of him. He’s always with me…he lives safely tucked away in a quiet little corner of my world. And every once in awhile, I go visit him and we sit quietly in that space filled with love and happy memories. And then…I come back to my beautiful life here with Mr. FixIt.

I know there will be a wonderful reunion in Heaven someday where every day is Christmas Day. Till then, we have so many things to see and do. I love the holidays again! There was a time when I never believed I could, but here I am.

🎄

”I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,“
Philippians 1:3 ESV

#Memories, #Mr. Virgo, #Santa

A Day on the Town

Tue, 12 Dec 2023 02:30:00 -0600

Doing a little shopping…for little bananas? Have you ever eaten one of these? What’s the point?

Mr. FixIt and I are together all the time. We love to be together and enjoy the same things for the most part. And, every once in awhile, I need a day that I can take just for me. I do that at The Farm whenever I can, but I seldom get a day to myself in town. Our trips to town usually entail one or both of us having an appointment or shopping. I had an appointment yesterday for my eyes and Mr. FixIt had the roofers at the house, so I went alone after knitting group.

I got up too late to have breakfast before knitting so I stopped at my favorite diner…Mary B’s. Pancakes, eggs, and sausage. Knowing how and when and what to eat is easier when you’re writing everything down and keeping track, but it gets tougher when I get in the driver’s seat. I’m getting down to the end of the Noom course and I made an executive decision to renew for another six months. Winter is my nemesis when it comes to eating and I want to be sure I can get through without regaining the weight I’ve lost.

I didn’t wander around town as much as I thought I would. I did go to Michael’s to check out their sales and picked up a few things. Throw in a quick stop at the store and to pick up Chinese food for supper and I was home well before dark. The roofers are winding up their job and it looks great! This roof ought to last us the rest of our lives. Isn’t that a sobering thought? I remember the first time we put a roof on a house back in 1990. We had our whole lives ahead of us. And now…two husbands later, we’re putting (hopefully) the last one.

I knew we were going to get old someday. I just thought it would take longer to get here. Not that I’m OLD, mind you. Age is just a number and I hear 70 is the new 50. It breaks my heart to see my contemporaries getting sick and dying. All the more reason to not wait to visit people. Call your friends when they come to mind. Add it to your calendar to check in. We don’t know when we’ll run out of chances.

I’ll get to stay home the rest of the week and I’m knee deep in holiday gift making. I may even start on some of the baking and candy making. Have you all started making things or am I really late to the party? I’ve been looking at toffee and pralines recipes. Doesn’t that sound yummy? What’s your favorite treat to make for the holidays?

🎄

”A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.“
Proverbs 17:17 ESV

Gratitude

Mon, 20 Nov 2023 02:30:00 -0600

A hearty breakfast of grits, eggs, and turkey sausage is a great way to start the day on the right foot.

I know we aren’t supposed to put up our Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving. But if you’ve been following me any length of time, you know I LOVE me some twinkle lights once the nights get longer. Mr. FixIt was kind enough to bring the decorations up from the basement yesterday afternoon and I started working on the tree while he was at the bowling alley last night.

Look at my nice, clean living room!

I have a long standing tradition that goes back to when Daughter #1 was a little girls. She loved what she called “singing and dancing movies” so we always watched White Christmas while we decorated the tree. I was really sad when I learned that Mr. FixIt isn’t crazy about that movie. See, his family owned the Palace Movie Theater in Parkersburg when he was a little boy and I’m sure he had to watch that movie every December at least seventy-five times. It’s just not his thing. If I can get the preliminaries out of the way when he’s not there, I can watch White Christmas. It really puts me in the mood for the holidays and we can finish decorating together.

I have the tree up, the angel on top, and the lights on. The Santa’s are in place and the stockings are hung. I found a string of light that are battery powered so I have them on the wreath in the window. The battery operated candles are on the window sills. We have decided this is the last year for this tree. I think it might have gotten wet in the basement during one of the leaks we had because it smells musty. We also had an issue with the stove last year and there was black stuff all over it. It’s time to get a new one when they go on sale this year.

You know, I don’t see anything wrong with decorating early if it brings joy to your life. These days are hard enough without trying to live up to the expectations of others. We have to look for joy wherever we can find it and if that means you have a Christmas tree up from November through February… or all year round for that matter… then I say go for it! Life’s too short.

I have three more holiday designs posted in the shop and I think that’s about all the Christmas things I’ll do. I don’t want people to wait too late to order items for gifting and then not get them in time. I’ll probably turn off the holiday items about the middle of December.

I had the perfect weekend. I had coffee with my high school friends on Saturday. I FaceTimed with both of my girls on Sunday! And, I have knitting group this morning so I’m looking forward to visiting with my new friends. Life is good and busy now and I’m feeling so grateful.

🦃

“Rejoice always,”
1 Thessalonians 5:16 ESV

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This Christmas Cow is SO cute! She’s all dressed up in her holiday finery and wishing you a “Mooooy Christmas.” This design features additional printing on the sleeve.

Shop Now

In My Other Happy Place

Wed, 13 Sep 2023 01:30:00 -0600

Any of you who have followed me for any length of time know my happy places. With Mr. FixIt and my family…at The Farm…on the tractor at Marshmallow Ranch…or in the Camper. Yesterday was such a cozy day and I was definitely feeling my happy titer rising. Gail and I knitted for awhile, then went to town, hoping to visit with Lonnie at Mama’s Attic before she closes up shop, but she was closed till today. I’ll try again later. By the time we fiddled around town, I was starving so we went to The Roadhouse for lunch.

Gail’s Autumn Sedum

When we got back to the campground, it was siesta time. As soon as I got in the camper, it started pouring the rain down. I didn’t nap…I just lay there drifting to the sound of raindrops on the roof of the camper. I seldom revisit my early days of camping when I was newly bereaved and wandered through the wilderness and backroads of Colorado. However, I do let my mind wonder at how different things are now.

After the Rain

I can distinctly remember the very early days of The Grand Adventure. I was barely at my first campsite and I got really sick with a bad cold. I was prepared for just about any eventuality, so I took medicine, ate soup, and stayed cuddled up in bed for three days. I’ll bet I slept twenty hours a day that week. I was so tired. I’d been running around like crazy since Mr. Virgo died. There was SO much to do, and I really hadn’t given myself much time to just be with my grief.

A very faint but full arc rainbow.

I can’t say I ever became friends with grief. But I did learn how to live with it…eventually. That little camper…TOW-Wanda…was my safe place. My healing place. My cocoon when I could block out the world and just BE. The camper itself is what I became friends with. It’s ability to embrace me and hold my tears and fears for safekeeping. I still feel that magical embrace when I enter my space.

I am so incredibly blessed to have a husband that holds me close while he lets me go at the same time. He so generous and loving and patient and kind. I miss him tremendously when I am away from him. And when we get back together after time apart, it’s the act of coming home when I feel his warm embrace.

I don’t take a moment of that for granted. I know how fast things can change so I make sure he knows just how cherished he is. Yes, I am blessed with so many happy places. This is just one of them. We called in the owls again last night. This time I got a picture of a beautiful Barred Owl in the tree not twenty feet from me.

He sat there for quite a while and never made a sound. By the time I went into the camper, there were several nearby…calling back and forth.

We are so blessed when we find such goodness in the world.

???

“Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for you are my praise.”
Jeremiah 17:14 ESV

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Looking ahead to the holidays…Meowy Christmas is for those cat lovers on your shopping list!

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9/11 Remembrance Day

Mon, 11 Sep 2023 01:30:00 -0600

Photo Credit: 9/11Memorial.org

Those of us who were glued to the TV for days will never forget where we were or what we were doing that dreadful day. We must never forget. For those who forget our history are doomed to repeat it. Our world changed that day…one of those pivitol moments where you can never go back to the way it was before. A collective grief. And now, a place rebuilt from the ashes. A place to remember, but also a place to live…the way those lost would want us to live.

Let’s remember the camaraderie we felt toward each other in those weeks and months after the disaster. We can get back to that. Let’s make America KIND again. Let’s bring back HOPE, and LOVE, and PEACE.

Please.

https://www.911memorial.org/connect/commemoration

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.”
‭‭John‬ ‭13‬:‭34‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Autumn Leaves Teach Us

Wed, 16 Aug 2023 01:30:00 -0600

There are lessons to be learned in the simplest of things. Once you look for God in the mundane, you see extraordinary concepts play out before your very eyes. I’ve been designing autumn themed shirts for my Etsy shop so I’ve been searching through graphics with images of leaves, pumpkins, Pumpkin Spice Lattes…even footballs. While I’m not ready for summer to be over, I do love the change of seasons and autumn is certainly stunning when she gets all dressed up.

I was studying a very old cherry tree out at the farm the other day. I remember when that tree was so small, even a little like me could reach up and pluck the crimson red cherries and put them in a pail at my feet. That tree must be 30’-35’ tall now. It’s not necessarily healthy and there hasn’t been a cherry on it for decades. But, I’m telling you, in her heyday…she produced gallons and gallons of pie cherries.

As she ages, her lower branches die and the leaves have mostly fallen off by the beginning of August. I watched each golden yellow leaf twist in the wind till it finally let go and made its single, solitary flight to the ground. It doesn’t hold on forever. It doesn’t get a second chance. It just flies.

There’s the cherry tree. That’s my mom’s ‘64 Ford Fairlane so this had to have been before ‘69 because she got a Plymouth Duster that year.

We can do that, too. If we don’t hold on so tight. If we live our seasons with love and intention. If we just let go we might find the subsequent journey to be a little less frightening than we imagined. But, ohhhh….we do want to hold on tight. We really don’t like change.

I’ve always said “Change is my middle name.” Bring me more of it. I get bored if things aren’t stirred up from time to time. Mr. FixIt is hesitant to change. We both grew up in homes that were unpredictable. My coping strategy was to roll with the punches and learn to look forward and anticipate change. His is trying to maintain the status quo so we can stay safe and secure. I think it’s just the difference between a man and a woman…seeing things so differently.

When I see a leaf in mid flight, enjoying its journey…fulfilling its purpose…I smile and remember.

It’s ok to let go of things and embrace change.
God will always be there to catch us when we fall…
or teach us how to fly.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
Galatians 6:9 NIV

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Autumn Leaves Teach Us - Long Sleeved T-Shirt

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A Respite at The Farm

Mon, 07 Aug 2023 01:30:00 -0600

I know how blessed I am to still have time at The Farm. It’s old. The pump on the well isn’t working now. The floor isn’t level and there is evidence of carpenter ants here and there. But no matter what else is going on in my world, when I walk in that back door…it smells exactly as it has since I was brought here the very first time. And that’s been quite a while ago.

It smells like old wood. It’s dank and dusty but I run two dehumidifiers to try to keep her old bones dry. And even though I cannot actually smell the red furniture polish Grandma used to use on the wood, my mind tells me this is what it smelled like. I keep gallons of fresh water on hand for heating up to do the dishes. Beans has some big containers of water in the bathroom to use to flush the toilet, but I use my tinkle tank from my camping gear. It works fine.

I remember when there wasn’t running water here. There may have been a water tank on the side of the house that caught rainwater. That’s what Grandma did the wash with. She heated it up for baths in the galvanized tub that she placed in the middle of the kitchen floor. She used to turn on the gas cook stove to warm up the kitchen so we wouldn’t catch a chill. We had indoor plumbing at home of course. But stepping back in time at Grandma’s house spoke to something primal in me. It was simple and pure and good. It was hard work and sweat and a feeling of accomplishment.

Sitting on the front porch during a rainstorm yesterday afternoon was better than a dose of medicine for an ache I’ve felt ever since my grandma died. Listening to the wood thrush’s song echoing down the holler. Watching the Eastern Wood PeeWee and the Eastern Phoebe pick the elderberries. Catching sight of a rabbit underneath Grandma’s Rose of Sharon. Picking seed pods from the 4 O’Clocks alongside the house. Rocking gently as the hot and humid day fades into the glorious coolness of the Golden Hour.

My children don’t get it. This was just a place to visit for them. A place to tolerate Mom’s obsession for a week or two before heading back to what they defined as civilization. I had the chance to move back here with Daughter #1 when she was about three years old. Instead, I elected to stay in Colorado for two reasons. The first was, Colorado had more educational opportunities than West Virginia did. And the second was, I was self aware enough to know that If I went back when Hubby #1 went, I’d end up back with him and I couldn’t see a positive future with him. So, I stayed out West…hoping one day to return to the home of my heart.

Sitting on this front porch, married to my best buddy from high school, and knowing my girls are happy where they are?

Priceless.

“My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest. Though hail flattens the forest and the city is leveled completely, how blessed you will be, sowing your seed by every stream, and letting your cattle and donkeys range free.”
Isaiah 32:18-20 NIV

A Calculated Guess

Wed, 07 Jun 2023 01:30:00 -0600

The quilt, tucked in its own little storage box

We ran to town yesterday for Mr. FixIt’s medical appointment and…as I predicted…it turned into an all day ordeal. I didn’t sleep well because I was afraid we’d sleep through the alarm and I was a little concerned about the procedure he’s going to have done. But the doctor was thorough, knowledgeable, and reassuring so I left confident everything’s going to be fine. He’s done over thirty thousand of these so we’re cool.

Afterward, we went on the hunt for the perfect shirt for Mr. FixIt for the wedding. He’s going to wear his grey sport coat over black pants. We went with a monochromatic look and got a grey shirt. Try as we might, we could not find a white shirt that he liked so grey it is. We walked all over the mall to get our steps in and we were really ready to leave. By that time Mr. FixIt’s back hurt and my feet hurt and we were over it.

We had to stop at Walmart. It seems we ALWAYS have to stop at Walmart. Gas is cheapest there. I had a prescription to pick up. I dropped Mr. FixIt off at Kohl’s so he could just make EXTRA sure the shirt we bought at Penneys was the best we could find. And it was. I swung back to pick him up and we headed home.

I did a little work on the itinerary for the Colorado trip. I finally have a place lined up where I can store the camper while we are visiting in Denver. Then I needed to renew my Good Sam’s Club and AAA. Their computers were the ones not working right this time so I gave up and came out to the camper to write.

I told you I found a box in which to package the quilt for this weekend. I went to Michael’s and found one of those pretty decorator boxes with handles that look all the world like a small trunk. I eyeballed it and thought about the quilt and how I could fold it and I was absolutely certain it would fit exactly within its confines. Granted, when I got home, I had to fold and refold several times to get it to fit, but it finally went in perfectly. The only thing is, I couldn’t fold it so that the tag was visible. I thought that would be rather pretty. But this will do and as you can see, I got that king-sized quilt in there with a little room to spare!

I’ve been a little off my game here the last couple of weeks. I couldn’t quite put my finger on anything, but I felt antsy, anxious, scared, worried. I know this procedure has been looming, but this was more than that. I felt myself watching Mr. FixIt with a kind of curious fear. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was. I had a rough night Monday so I had a lot of time tossing and turning and working it over in my mind. Then for some reason, the thought…”check the days” fluttered across my mind. I have an app on my phone that calculates the days since an event. When I opened it up and did a little calculating, my fear made perfect sense.

I had Mr. Virgo in my life for a certain number of days before he died. I calculated the approximate days since Mr. FixIt and I started dating and…it’s getting really close to the same number. My subconscious has been hyper-vigilant with worry and fear. Thinking things like, “What would I do if the unthinkable happened…yet again?” “Could I survive that?” What if…what if…what if?

Once I saw it clearly, I understood what I’ve been doing. I’ve been trying to avoid any and all pain. But that is not living a mindful, present life, is it? The Bible says not to worry about tomorrow today. Tomorrow has enough to worry about all on its own. It also isn’t good for our marriage and it’s not fair to Mr. FixIt. But now that I “get it”, I can correct the path and make things right. It made my heart melt into him and I know for a fact that all is right in our world.

Anniversary reactions are a real psychological phenomenon and while this wasn’t an actual date on the calendar, the body memory of my trauma losing Mr. Virgo somehow knew Mr. FixIt and I have been together just about the same amount of time. Grief is not limited to the actual loss. It weaves its way through every part of your life and pops up…sometimes years later…to give you another layer of your “self” to come to terms with. The mind will do whatever it can to protect itself. I’m grateful the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart and told me to “check the days.” It makes perfect sense to me now.

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”
Luke 2:19 NIV

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Even when it’s been ten years and you think surely you must be completely finished working through grief, you can easily step on that broken rake in the tall grass and it smacks you right between the eyes.

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A Busy Day at The Farm

Tue, 09 May 2023 01:30:00 -0600

This little guy greeted me at the barn door when I went to get the ladder!

The day started out pretty slow yesterday. I decided to call the phone company to see if they could check to see why we have no service. She sent the request to the technical department and they did whatever booboo they do in the back on the…I don’t know…computers maybe? She said she would call me back when she knew something. Then, as soon as Mr. FixIt got here around lunch time things started hopping.

He brought the tools I needed. The first thing we did was hook up the old phone he brought from our house, but it didn’t work any better than the other two I had here. Pretty soon, the phone company called back and said they would have to send a technician out. So we moved on to the next job.

We gathered up our tools and headed to the cellar house to work on the pump. First, we pumped air into the bladder inside the tank. Then we opened the top of the pump and poured in almost exactly six and a half gallons of water till the water came up to the top. We hurried and put the connectors back together and flipped on the pump and in just a few seconds, you could here the timbre of the pump that let us knew it was drawing water from the well. Hurrah!

Once the pump built up enough pressure to turn off, I went inside and opened a faucet in the kitchen sink to bleed the air from the lines. Wow! It’s been a long time since the well was used so water sat in those old pipes for at least six months or so. The water that came out looked like charcoal. Ugh! I let it run till the pump kicked on again and when the water was running clear, I filled up the empty jugs we use for priming the pump.

While I was filling the water jugs, I heard a big thud up in the cellar house. As soon as that happened, a whole bunch of air came gurgling through the faucet and the water turned dark again. I think we must have hit an air pocket in the well and it jerked the pipe and stirred up the sediment. I waited for the water to clear again, but by this time, the water coming out of the faucet had reduced to a trickle. There was so much sediment coming through, it clogged up the little screen filter in the faucet. So I turned it all off and took every faucet screen aerator off and cleaned them well. Now we were in business!

The next chore was to take the exhaust pipe off the hot water heater and clean it out and make sure there weren’t any bird nests in it. Once it was cleaned, we put it all back together and attached it securely to the house. We didn’t have any duct tape so Mr. FixIt ran over to the next little town that has a couple of stores and got what we needed. When he came back, he taped up the joints to seal them. There are still a couple of things to do to get it just right, then I can light the hot water heater and we’re back in business!

Right about then, the phone repairman pulled into the driveway I was happy to hear it wasn’t something inside. He started tracing his way back. The first box was fine. The box across the road was fine. So he had to drive to the next box. He was gone for a good half hour, but when he came back….we had phone service AND internet. Yay!

While Mr. FixIt stowed his tools in the truck, I cleaned the washing machine and ran it through a cycle, I was wearing leggings when we worked on the exhaust pipe and I had to sit down on that wet, muddy ground in order to see what I was doing. I worked for a while with a wet hiney, but as soon as I got the chance, I cleaned the washer and threw those dirty things in that first load.

Everything works like a charm. Mr. FixIt gave me a smooch and off he went back home to hold the fort down there. I fixed supper and ate out on the front porch. It was just a lovely, lovely day. Not too busy…not too hectic…just the two of us fiddling around and making things work. I texted Beans with an update and told her what we’d accomplished and that was that. It started raining just before 8:00pm and that was my signal to put everything away for the day and write my post. It was a good thing, too because I was pretty much done. My back had the last word!

I didn’t get a lot of pictures yesterday. I was too busy working. But here’s what I have. 1) The old road up to the top of the hill where the back of the farm is. 2) LOTS of milkweed shoots means food for the Monarchs. 3)Tons of Mayapples grow in the underbrush. 4) The creepy crawly dark place under the front porch. It has a wire gate in front of it to keep the critters from taking up residence down there. 5 & 6) What day would be complete without a snapshot of my meals for the day? I really only eat twice a day plus snacks. Brunch was the second half of my baked potato fried in a tiny bit of butter along with a big mushroom and a couple of scrambled eggs and some colorful peppers. Dinner was skinless boneless chicken thighs on top of a chopped salad. Sooooo good!

“All hard work brings a profit, but mere talk leads only to poverty.”
Proverbs 14:23 NIV

#Work, #TheFarm, #Repairs

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Being at the farm reminds me that everything Grandma cooked tasted better because it was seasoned with love!

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Ten Years Gone

Sun, 12 Mar 2023 01:30:00 -0600

He was quite a guy.

“When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all. He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken.”
Psalm 34:17-20 ESV

Christmas is Finally Over

Fri, 17 Feb 2023 02:30:00 -0600

I hate giving up on the twinkle lights. But something had to give. The ornaments and tree were getting dusty. It had been ages since I really took notice of the tree. I need to wash the big picture window the tree sits in. The carpet needs cleaned in the family room. And I was two days past my cutoff of Valentine’s Day. It was time.

After sleeping in the camper Wednesday night, I came in bright and early yesterday morning because the rain was starting around 8:00. I didn’t want to tote all my stuff in and risk getting my iPad wet. I put the kettle on for tea and tiptoed down the hall to see if Mr. FixIt was awake yet. It didn’t appear he was, so I fixed my tea, toasted a bagel, and went in to the Big Red Chair to start working on my project.

When Mr. FixIt hadn’t made his entrance by 10:00, I went looking for him. Try as I might, I still walk down that hall with trepidation when I think he should be up already. He understands that and tries not to worry me, but if he’s asleep, he doesn’t have a lot of control over that. When I peeked in the door this time, there he was with a great big smile on his face and I was ready for my morning hug!

We were soon up and at ‘em because there was a lot to do. The rain started so Mr. FixIt got back to work with the carpet shampooer. He needs to get more moulding and that has to wait till the rain has passed. I worked on the project then he brought the Christmas totes up. He snoozed a little while I took down the ornaments and carefully wrapped them. We weren’t quite finished when it was time to start supper.

The Pasta Primavera was such a hit last time, we’ve decided we’ll be putting that on the menu rotation. It is a little time consuming so I’m hoping after awhile it will go quicker. It is so tasty though and we have enough left over to tomorrow’s supper. I love having enough cooked that I don’t have to make a meal every day.

After supper, I sat down with Mr. FixIt to watch the news. The tree stood dark in the window and I wonder to myself if the children down the road will notice it’s gone when their parents drive them past. They’re such sweet little things and they love Christmas so much! I think I’ll bake some cookies soon and take some over.

So much to do in the coming weeks. I can’t really afford to dink around a whole lot or I’ll be WAY behind. My goal is to have this project ready by the middle of March, then I can move on to other things that need doing. And, before you know it…it’ll be time to start mowing again! Isn’t that crazy???

It is awfully nice to hear the rain on the roof…even if it’s asphalt shingles and not an old-fashioned tin roof like the farm. It would be a little louder in the camper, but it’s a rubber roof. Still not the same. I’m bound to get back out to the farm again in the next couple of weeks. Here it is, Friday again. Do you all have something planned for your weekend? I hope you are all safe from the impending storms! I know this scripture is a little early, but it paints such a lovely picture, doesn’t it?

“Fear not, Earth! Be glad and celebrate! God has done great things. Fear not, wild animals! The fields and meadows are greening up. The trees are bearing fruit again: a bumper crop of fig trees and vines! Children of Zion, celebrate! Be glad in your God. He’s giving you a teacher to train you how to live right— Teaching, like rain out of heaven, showers of words to refresh and nourish your soul, just as he used to do. And plenty of food for your body—silos full of grain, casks of wine and barrels of olive oil. * * *”
Joel 2:21-24 MSG

Farm Sweet Farm!

Thu, 12 Jan 2023 02:30:00 -0600

Oh…the soothing sound of rain on the tin roof! The smell of old wood and home. The feeling of love around every corner. This old house is like a great big hug and it makes me smile. I was up pretty early and made pancakes and tea for breakfast. I needed to pull some things together on my laptop and what I thoroughly expected to only take a couple of hours ended up being an all day chore.

I was going to knit. That didn’t happen. I was going to read. Nope. But, I’m working on a project and I made some good progress. I’m not ready to talk about it yet…it’s still in the formative stage. But I’m hoping it will be fun, productive, and maybe bring in a little money. We’ll see!

I did have time for a few phone calls. My dear friend Gail called to say her kids lost a dear family member and asked for prayers. I chatted with my sister/friend in Florida. I had a lovely long phone call with Arlene, my Uncle Sonny’s fiancé. She would have been my aunt, but Uncle Sonny was killed in a plane crash before they could walk down the aisle.

My reading nook at the farm…Grandma’s Window.

I worked on the toilet a little. It keeps running and I finally figured out what needs fixed. It’s an easy job. We’ll get it done somewhere down the line. I heated up leftover spaghetti for supper and it was wonderful. I always think spaghetti and chili tastes so much better on the second or third day. Have you ever had the pasta that comes in a bag? You microwave it for sixty seconds and its hot and ready to eat! I’m going to get some of those for camping! I finished off the Hummingbird Cake that I brought with me, too.

Mr. FixIt called me several times yesterday. It’s the funniest thing. We feel like we need a little break and two hours later we miss the heck out of each other! He had to go to town yesterday to get the oil changed and the tires rotated on the Lincoln because he was so bored without me there. I head home this morning to that handsome man.

A photo popped up in my FB Memories yesterday. It was a picture from our high school yearbook. Our high school had a program every year called the Sports Carnival. There were choreographed dances, demonstrations by the fencing and gymnastics teams, and just all kinds of fun things. One of the highlights was the “Living Statues.” One star from each team…football, basketball, wrestling, baseball, and crew were covered in metallic body paint. They turned off the lights in the gym and the “statues” posed, the lights came on. Then they’d turn the lights off again, and another pose was created. Every time the lights came on, there was always a gasp, and wild applause.

There was the crowning of the King and Queen of the Sports Carnival. Those members who didn’t win walked together…in couples down to the stage to serve as the Royal Court. On January 11, 2011…I shared a photo of the court on Facebook for my fellow classmates. Mr. FixIt was one of the Royal Court members! Little did I know when I posted that photo that I would be widowed sixteen months later. Or that in seven short years, I‘d be married to that tall redhead on the far end there. Who knew? Such sadness…and such joy. God works in mysterious ways.

“Friends love through all kinds of weather, and families stick together in all kinds of trouble.”
Proverbs 17:17 MSG

Memories of Times Long Past

Mon, 09 Jan 2023 02:30:00 -0600

I imagine I’ll be waxing poetic in the coming months as I close out my 60’s and turn 70 in June. I’ve been browsing old family photos of late, reminiscing and missing family members long since passed. I haven’t spent any time out at the farm since early December so I think it’s about time to get out there for a little R&R.

There are still a few things out there that belong to my family. The new owners have been kind and haven’t needed the space. But, sometime in December, my Uncle Bud asked if I could bring something to him…or at least get it out of the house in case there was a fire or some unforeseen tragedy.

That something was my Uncle Bob’s nutcracker.

Now…this thing isn’t like the Christmas Nutcrackers we have on the windowsill in the family room here at Marshmallow Ranch. No…this is the coolest thing. Obviously homemade, with well worn boards and what looks like the base of an old nightstand. The mechanism itself looks like some sort of Rube Goldberg Machine.

I can remember my Uncle Bob sitting in the chair at the front window where I love to sit and knit. In the winter when he couldn’t get out and pound rock or work the garden, Grandma had him hull walnuts. His hands were stained a deep bronze for months. Once the walnuts were hulled, they were spread out on newspapers in the basement to dry.

Uncle Bob carried that nutcracker upstairs to the seat by the window. He’d carry the dried walnuts up in a five gallon bucket. Then he would laboriously crack them into a bowl where Grandma would carefully pick the nut meats out of them into a separate bowl. Several weeks worth of work produced maybe a couple of quarts of shelled walnuts.

Now, this is where the magic happened. My uncle Bud’s favorite treat in the whole wide world was Raisin Filled Cookies. Grandma cooked the raisin filling on the stove top and stirred in toasted walnuts then placed a spoonful of the filling between two soft cookies and baked them. They were never my favorite growing up, but I learned to appreciate them as an adult, although I prefer pecans as walnuts make my mouth blister.

I think I’ll make my Uncle Bud a batch of Raisin Filled Cookies and take them with me when I deliver his prize. I know he’ll love that. I’ve lost all but two of my mom’s siblings. Uncle Bud is the baby and is doing really well…still building things like saw mills and machines that put Rube Goldberg to shame. My Aunt Rosie fell and broke her hip on Christmas Eve so she’s healing up after surgery, ready for rehab.

We aren’t getting any younger. And there will be more and more of those terrible phone calls letting us know someone we love is gone. I’m not really sure how I feel about turning 70. I mean, the alternative isn’t very good so I’ll take what I can get. The woman in the mirror has more wrinkles, but I LOVE her grey hair! I don’t feel sad, per so. It’s more like, I’m being reminded that I’d better not put off the things I want to do because there isn’t as much time to do them now. That’s what’s making itself more clear to me. I have a sense of urgency…but in a good way.

“Open up before God, keep nothing back; he’ll do whatever needs to be done: He’ll validate your life in the clear light of day and stamp you with approval at high noon.”
Psalm 37:5-6 MSG

There is No Time Limit for Grief

Fri, 23 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

MY Santa…my very special friend, Greg (Photo Credit: Leslie Coppedge Fore)

This is the tenth Christmas since Mr. Virgo died. So much has happened since that first Christmas without him. I’ve sold my house and gotten rid of 95% of my personal belongings. I’ve lived a nomadic lifestyle in my camper. I’ve moved across the country. I settled on the family farm…the home of my heart. I’ve become closer to Jesus. And…I found love again in the form of a kind and gentle man who makes room in his life for me and all my baggage.

I can still remember how that first Christmas felt without him. I remember the desolation. The kicked in the gut feeling I had every time I remembered he was really gone. I remember every single thing about the day I sat by Santa and cried. I remember how he placed his hand gently on my shoulder and whispered comforting words to me. He and I are still friends and always will be.

Every year, I am asked to repost that story at Christmas. I knew instinctively when I started this journey there would be others coming up behind me. I knew part of my healing would come in offering my hand and heart to those who feel the wretched pain of loss every day, but most acutely at the holidays. I knew I would never be the same…forever affected by a circumstance I never dreamed would be so painful. So, if I am feeling that pain…others are bound to be as well.

Mr. Virgo’s last Christmas…2012. It was his first Christmas Day off in 40 years!

What more can we offer to our fellow grievers than to sit quietly beside them and acknowledge their pain? I’ve written millions of words since that first Christmas, yet I’m still left at a loss as to what to say to another that would be the most helpful…the most kind…the most compassionate. So I say…

“My heart is with you, dear one.”

Always.

❤️‍?

“Blessed are the humble, for they will inherit the earth.”
Matthew 5:5 CSB

On the Outside Looking In

Mon, 19 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

‘Tis the season of happy holidays. Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, New Years…all times for gathering with the people you love. The sharing of meals, gifts, companionship. It’s all so hectic and frenzied and fun…isn’t it? It is…until it isn’t. I remember when I was a new widow. The fun evenings out with others pretty much ended. Invitations dried up. It was especially hurtful when I was left on the outside looking in.

Social media is the first to show when you’ve been left out of a fun event. Pictures of parties and gatherings you once attended seem to go on without you and that is particularly painful to note. It isn’t exclusive to the bereaved. Those of us who live far away from our families feel the same sense of longing and feeling a little left out. I haven’t flown to Colorado for the holidays for a long time. Partially for financial reasons…partially because of unpredictable travel to the Rockies in the winter months. I just don’t like to fly anymore and driving cross country in the winter isn’t reasonable.

We haven’t had our FixIt Family Holiday Extravaganza yet…it’s coming. But in the meantime, I watched the fun happening at the Annual Cookie Bake Off in Colorado yesterday via Facebook and I felt pretty darned sorry for myself. My heart has been tender this month anyway…it doesn’t take much to hurt it right now. It’ll sting for a bit…then I’ll pick myself up by the bootstraps and get moving on with something else.

It’s not like I have nothing to do. I am always busy doing something. Mr. FixIt went to the bowling alley last night. He’s a sub on the league he’s bowled on for decades so he’s in hog heaven hanging with his buddies. I sat at home in the big, comfy red chair…knitting another little stocking. I had the TV tuned to a roaring fireplace scene complete with sounds of a crackling fire. The gas fireplace kept the room toasty and I tucked my lap blanket up around me.

I was enjoying a bowl of warmed up chicken and noodles when I caught sight of the neighbors coming up the walk. My heart leapt with joy. They have three little girls and they were bringing us homemade cookies!!! I invited them in and they told me what kind of cookies they made. They told me their names and ages. The little one is three now! The last time they brought us cookies, she was just a toddler.

I gratefully took their precious offering and went to the dining room to get their box of cookies and fudge I had waiting for them. I handed it to the oldest, and told her what kind of cookies I made for them. When I got to “fudge”, her little eyes widened and twinkled. Now I know for sure what to give them next year! LOTS of fudge!

As they trudged back down the sidewalk, I stayed at the door and waved goodbye and I thought of my grandma. How many times did she stand on the front porch and wave goodbye to the littles? How many times did her hanky come out of the pocket of her housedress to wipe a tear away because she missed us all so far away?

I could feel her near me saying, “It’s ok to be a little sad, pet.”

It’s only because we LOVE that we feel anything at all. And LOVE…real love…is worth all the tears that come after. We have FixIt Family Fun coming up soon and that’s something joyful to look forward to!

“But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.”
1 Timothy 5:8 ESV

Step Two and I’m Through!

Thu, 08 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Tamales!!!

Ok, making homemade tamales is a CHORE! It’s a delicate balance of cooking and art. There is most definitely a learning curve to it. I fiddled and fussed with the first few till I figured out my masa dough wasn’t wet enough. After adding more broth, it softened up and was much easier to work with.

When you watch these YouTube videos that demonstrate recipes, you have to remember the people being recorded have done this a million times. They make it look easy. You can follow every step and yours still doesn’t look exactly like theirs. It was fun…and they are pretty tasty. If I make them again, I’ll wait till I have the ingredients for the red sauce she made from dried chiles. I think they would be more flavorful. The tamales will go in the freezer and we can pull them out as we want over the winter. I didn’t count, but I think there were at least three…maybe four dozen of them.

You can watch Rosanna of Villa Cocina make these lovely Homemade Red Pork Tamales on her YouTube channel HERE.

After I finished with the tamales and cleaning the kitchen for the 4,987th time this year (insert eye roll and heavy sigh), I went into town with Mr. FixIt. He had an errand to run. I’ve been thinking about getting my hair cut, so I made a rash decision and went to one of those discount hair salons. I don’t know if it’s because my hair has been straight with nothing but a braid or a ponytail, or if it’s a really bad cut, but I can’t do anything with it. I’m hoping with time and some deep conditioning, it’ll be better because I hate to cut it all off. As it is, she cut fourteen inches off! So the upside is, I donated it to wigs for kids! That made me feel a tiny bit better.

The last couple of days have been unseasonably warm so I slept in the camper and that was really WONDERFUL! My happy place is in the camper. We actually had a thunderstorm Tuesday night which is highly unusual this time of year. Listening to the rain on the roof was so soothing.

This is a bit of a hard time of year for me. The hard push of Thanksgiving is over but the Christmas rush hasn’t really started. I always have this little “slump” for about a week to ten days. Add to that…Tuesday is the first angelversary of my dear friend Sparky’s death. It’s hitting me harder than I care to admit. I’ve missed her every day. There isn’t a day I don’t think of her in some way and I still miss her texts and calls. So, I’ve been a little introverted and pensive this week.

I’m so blessed to have my sweet Mr. FixIt. He waited in the car for me while I got my hair cut, even though I was in there for an hour. Because he knew I’d feel better knowing he was close. I don’t get like this often, but if there’s anything we’ve seen over and over in the last ten years of writing this blog…grief is entirely unpredictable and it’s ok to not be ok for a little bit. I’m just sad. I can’t run away from it. I can busy myself, but it just puts off the inevitable. I have to make myself sit still and feel the pain of her absence…remember the good things and keep moving forward.

I am doing some positive things to honor her memory. I’ll make a donation to her favorite animal rescue. And, I’m meeting a mutual friend of ours next week for a biscuit baking lesson and tour of his beautiful Victorian home. Richard has been a longtime friend of Sparky’s. He’s the one who called me to tell me she had passed away. We’ve shared our grief over the loss of our friend and I think she’d be happy to know people who loved her gathered to remember her.

“A burden shared is a burden halved.” T. A. Webb

“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”
Galatians 6:2 ESV

Home of My Heart

Wed, 16 Nov 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I walked in the back door and it was as if a tuning fork was placed in my chest. It was raining and the sound of the drops on the tin roof was more magnificent than any symphony I’ve ever heard. Immediately, I was at peace and looking forward to a couple of days here at The Farm.

It’s rained a lot since Thursday and the creek is running high. I love the sounds and the smells of this house. It takes me back to my childhood. I have a vivid memory of a Thanksgiving here at my grandma’s house. I was probably around ten or eleven years old. Mom and Dad had us bundled up in the back seat of the Oldsmobile. It was raining and cold, exactly like it was yesterday. The leaves on the ground were no longer crisp and rustling. They rehydrated in the rain and were now plastered together like a macabre kind of carpet with tufts of green fibers intertwined. There was a heavy, wet smell of damp earth and moss and old pine needles.

Grandma met us at the back door, her apron hastily tied over her ever-present cotton house dress. Her hanky peeked out from the pocket over her once heavy bosom…her hair neatly combed and twisted in a bun at the nape of her neck. I never saw her any other way, save for the days she washed her hair and the long, silver and black tresses draped down her back. She bent forward with her hands clasped together and pressed to her knees. Her eyes crinkled up with her smile as she prepared to wrap us up in her arms for one of the sweetest hugs on the planet.

She smelled like vanilla and Beeman’s gum and Ivory soap. Her hands were worn yet soft from years of hard work on the farm. The roadmap of lines over her face told of countless joys and countless tears. Her heart was always overflowing with love for her family and she was never happier than when the house was full of conversation and squealing children.

When you stepped into the kitchen of this old house, the heat and humidity hit you like a ton of bricks. The aroma of roasting turkey and dressing competed with the pot of half runners and salt pork simmering on the back burner. She handed each of us a raisin filled cookie and sent us on our way to play with our cousins who were visiting from out of town.

The kitchen was quiet when I walked in yesterday, save for the rain on the roof. There were no yummy smells wafting out the back door to greet me. No “Ginny Lynnie…git yorself in here ‘fore you cetch yer death a cold!” I carried the groceries in and set them on the countertops where everything was still in the same spot as I left them the last time. Mr. FixIt called as soon as I walked in the back door, checking in to make sure I arrived safely. What a good husband he is! I put away the refrigerated items, gathered the magazines I brought from home, and pulled up the curtains in Grandma’s window.

It was dim in the room, even with the curtains opened so I went upstairs to find an old lamp to set by the chair. Once that was done, I sat there till the sun went down…my hands resting in my lap…the pages unopened as I soaked up the peace and quiet of this house. This home of my heart.

I sat back and closed my eyes….and remembered and remembered and remembered.

“but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.””
Matthew 19:14 ESV

Have I Got a Story for You!

Fri, 30 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

We lazed around the campsite yesterday morning. I fixed sausage and eggs and heated up some leftover corn cakes for breakfast. Mr. FixIt looked on his phone to see what was nearby. The largest state park in Pennsylvania is only eight miles from here so we picked up around camp and headed to explore.

Camp hair…don’t care!

Raccoon Creek State Park encompasses 7,572 acres of mixed forest with lots of trails. Located just 30 miles from Pittsburg, the park is a haven for avid outdoor enthusiasts hiking, biking, cross-country skiing, camping, swimming, fishing, and boating. While there is a large pool at the entrance to the park that includes a long, twisting water slide, Raccoon Lake is a lovely place to fish and play in and on the water. There are boat rentals available, but it is too late in the season for those activities. We really loved the spacious campground with lots of level sites. We drove around and took pictures of the sites that appealed to us and plan to camp there sometime next year.

Now…I have a great story to tell you!

Remember last week when we camped on the river? We met these really nice folks from Lewisburg…Sandy and Todd. As we talked with them, it occurred to us we had camped beside them…in the same two sites…sometime in the last few years. We think it must have been 2017 or 2018. Anyway, we figured if we’d run into each other twice in the same place, it was fate that we exchange info and keep in touch, right?

Well…keep in touch, we did. Yesterday, Sandy sent me a text with a photo…a screenshot of a post she had put on her Facebook page back in 2014 with the message, “Was this by any chance you I met in 2014?”

I looked at the photo closely. Hmmmm….

Holy Cats!!!!

That’s my camper…BIG TOW-WANDA! I was towing it with my Ford Expedition. Shortly after this, I traded it in for the F-150. The photo was taken in the parking lot of the Best Western Hotel. I cannot remember what I was doing there that day. The only thing I can surmise is I was working a shift for someone. I was indeed getting ready to head across the country to live on the farm and help my elderly aunt.

Sandy and Todd were staying at the hotel as they were on a cross country train trip and Amtrak goes right through Glenwood Springs. I only have a vague memory of meeting them. I do remember talking to a couple about Lewisburg and asking if they knew my friend Nan and, of course…they did.

What are the odds of this??? Astronomical! But nothing is out of the realm of possibilities when God is at work. He places us all in paths to cross with others. And now, He’s placed me and Sandy and Todd in the same place at the same time…three times…thousands of miles apart! I’m still flabbergasted. I wish we had taken a photo together when we were camping last week, but we decided we’ll have lunch together the next time we come though Lewisburg, so one of these days…you will see a follow up story!

Back to what’s happening here…something is up with Facebook and I cannot see the comments you leave, which makes me really sad. I love hearing from you so, until they fix the problem, please feel free to send me a private message with your comments. I so enjoy interacting with you all…especially about this story. I can’t wait to hear from you! Have any of you had a similar experience? Let me know!

“Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to those with knowledge, but time and chance happen to them all.”
Ecclesiastes 9:11 ESV

Looking Back Can Be a Good Thing

Mon, 26 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

To the right, through the trees, you see an appartment building with balconies. On the top floor, to the right of the balcony, is the window of the livingroom in our flat.

Have you seen that meme… “Don’t look back. You aren’t going in that direction.”? I have. And there’s a lot of truth in that. If we live in the past or hold grievances from long ago, that hasn’t healed anything that’s already happened. That day is gone. It can’t hurt you anymore. But the memories…ahhhh, that’s where we can get caught up in a lot of self-defeating angst.

On the top floor, the balcony closest to the camera was ours…just off the livingroom.

I read something about forgiveness the other day that really spoke to my heart.

The front walkway.

“Forgiveness is not a matter of exonerating people who have hurt you. They may not deserve exoneration. Forgiveness means cleansing your soul of the bitterness of ‘what might have been,’ ‘what should have been,’ and ‘what didn’t have to happen.’ Someone has defined forgiveness as ‘giving up all hope of having had a better past.’ What’s past is past and there is little to be gained by dwelling on it. There are perhaps no sadder people than the men and women who have a grievance against the world because of something that happened years ago and have let that memory sour their view of life ever since.”
Rabbi Harold S Kushner

There used to be clotheslines right about where the photographer would have been standing. I hung diapers there to dry as best they could between the frequent English rains. I ended up buying a drying rack and aired them out between the balcony and the livingroom.

I received some photos the other day that took me WAY back. Back to my first marriage. Back to living in England…a young bride, so far from home for the very first time. It’s where my first child was born. England was a wonderful life experience for me and I still have dreams of it from time to time. As every rose has thorns, that marriage had some prickly ones that were hard to go through and it didn’t last very long.

The narrow walkway from the parking lot to the front doors.

I’ve worked diligently through the years on forgiveness. Forgiving others. Forgiving myself. Forgiveness seldom takes on the first try…or even the tenth. But practice brings improvement and eventually I found peace with the hard knocks of life. Each experience contributed to who I am and where I am today. Without the experiences, I likely wouldn’t be writing to you today. So, I’ll live with that.

Driving on the wrong side of the road, sitting on the wrong side of the car, shifting with your left hand, navigating round abouts and zebras (crosswalks) and minding the cyclists and horses…land sakes, it was a challenge when I was young. I can’t imagine doing it now.

In the meantime, let me share these photos. Forgiveness has made these memories warm and sweet. I do hope that one day I can return here to visit and maybe take my daughter to see where she was born. For now, I look and remember simpler times. Times when I thought I knew it all, yet had no idea how much I didn’t know. The world was still rosy and fresh and new. Thank God, I’ve found those glasses again and can see it much the same way. As I wrote this, I heard a large jetliner overhead and checked on FlightAware only to find it was a flight headed to London! Lucky travelers!

I’ve no idea if this was the actual chip shop we frequented, but I have fond memories of paper cones made from newsprint, filled with golden, crispy, greasy fish and chips doused in malt vinegar and salt. Oh, yummmmm!

When we think differently, the world looks different.

“And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.””
Mark 11:25 ESV

Well…That Was Fun!

Fri, 16 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Don’t forget to look up when you’re out in the woods!

When a camper is the right fit…when the weather is picture perfect…when the park isn’t crowded…when you’re with your best mate…when the stars align and the owls hoot on cue and the whippoorwill calls…when the chairs are comfy and the tea is hot in the mug…when the stitches are on your needles and the sweater is coming together…when the leaves are beginning to turn and there’s just the faintest whiff of campfire smoke in the air…when it is cool enough for a sweatshirt and leggings and an extra blanket on the bed…when you hate to pack up and want to stay another day and another. Well, when you have all that and more, you can honestly say you’re onto something here. This is the camper we’ve been looking for…hoping for…wishing for!

Thank you, God. Thank you, Jayco. Thank you, Elizabeth. Thank you, Coleen. Thank you, Union Trades.

And last, but not least….Thank you, Mr. FixIt! You always make my adventures more fun!

We got home by 5-ish after running several errands on the way. We stopped at Menard’s in Athens and returned these two small lanterns with battery powered fans. We thought they’d be perfect by the bed. But they made WAY too much noise so they had to go back. I picked up a couple camper things there. We stopped at the Rest Area just off the interstate and dumped the tanks. Then we headed to the RV Parts & Supplies store and picked up a new anode rod for the hot water heater. And a wrench to remove the sewer hose once it’s attached to the camper. I had the worst time trying to take it off at the dump station. Then we went to Walmart and bought some of those cloth baskets for organizing our personal items like clothing and toiletries.

We parked the camper at the end of the house, plugged it in, and I grilled burgers for supper. As soon as we were finished eating, I came out to the camper to stretch out and there I stayed.

Waiting at our door…a Praying Mantis.

It was a long day…and a great getaway. The kind of getaway where you aren’t sure what day it is and you really don’t care! We head out again on Monday but till then, there will be mowing and knitting and all manner of things to do as the summer wanes.

Today would have been my dear friend’s birthday. Happy Heavenly Birthday, Sparky. I hope you get to celebrate with your parents and your sister and have all the cake you want! I sure miss you.

“Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.””
Matthew 11:28-30 NLT

The Death of a Queen

Fri, 09 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

My mother was eight months old when Queen Elizabeth was born. When Mom died, I kinda watched the Queen to see how my mother would have aged had she lived longer than her seventy-eight all too short years. They both were world treasures…my mom in MY world, and the Queen to all the rest of us.

I lived in England from 1973 to a couple of weeks shy of 1975. It was an amazing experience that I will cherish till my dying breath. Daughter #1 was born there. I still have dreams about the cobblestone streets and the little shops in Thatcham where we lived. I keep remembering a little yarn shop where I went in to buy some yarn and knitting needles. I was expecting my first child and I wanted to knit her a little something. I never got the hang of it and once the baby came, there was no time anyway.

The world changes on a dime, doesn’t it? When I heard the word that the Queen was “under medical supervision and the family were on their way”, I knew this was the end of a long and illustrious life for someone who seemed to be EVERYONE’S Queen. I remember when the Queen Mum passed away. I watched Princess Anne marry Capt. Phillips. I watched Prince Charles make Diana the People’s Princess.

Like other noteworthy moments in history, I will remember where I was when I heard the news. I was standing in the quilt store, looking for something in particular, when the notification came across my phone. I shared the news with the other women who were standing around the center cutting area and we all shared a memory or two. I kind of feel like I’ve lost someone special today. The end of an era. Yet another ending. There have been so many the last few years.

Not to take anything away from the death of the Queen, life quickly moved on. When I got home from the quilt shop, Mr. FixIt and I drove out to the farm and primed the pump. It didn’t take us any time to get it fixed and running and we promptly refilled the water jugs for the next time it may happen. I got down on the floor and checked the j-trap under the sink that I fixed the last time I was there and there’s still no leak. Also, the kitchen light was burned out so I changed the bulb and we called it good. Everything else was working great. It really needs mowing, but we’ll have to wait till I get back from my little sabbatical this weekend.

Earlier this week, I went into town to do some grocery shopping. There is a beautiful white house that sits on the next hill over from us and every time we drive past it, I tell Mr. FixIt how much I dearly love that place. Well, this particular day, there was a small camper out front with a for sale sign on it. I immediately called my sweetheart and told him about it. We are going to sell the a-frame and get a camper that I don’t have to open and close in the rain. One with a bathroom and a slide out that weighs under 3,500 pounds. This camper absolutely filled the bill.

It wasn’t till a couple of days later that Mr. FixIt had time to stop and look at the little camper. Turned out, there was a young couple with a baby that wanted to buy it so he figured that it was not meant to be. I wasn’t so sure. I felt that familiar niggling inside and thought…this is our camper. Two more days went by and I drove to town again. The camper was still there and still had the for sale sign on it. I called my sweetheart again and asked him to text the gal to see what was going on. Apparently the young couple ghosted her and we were welcome to come see it when she finished her errands.

As we were driving through our little burg on the way home from the farm yesterday, the gal texted and we went straight to her house. It was almost a formality to look inside it. I already knew everything about the camper from looking it up on the website. And…I had a heart connection to this woman before I even met her.

It’s a new camper…just one year old. The original purchaser was…believe it or not…the photographer at our wedding. (Small town, remember?) She soon realized a toy hauler better fit her lifestyle and sold this camper to her cousin and her husband in July. Then, just three days later, the husband collapsed and died…right in front of his wife. This was exactly what happened to me. Even if we didn’t buy the camper, I had to meet this woman and hold her in my heart.

What a joy she is! So strong, yet so devastated. Getting out from under the camper was one of the big things to cross off her list. And she wanted it to go to someone special who would love it to pieces. And here we are. Owners of yet another camper! This brings us back up to four campers, but as soon as the a-frame has the broken spring fixed, we’ll send her on to a new home. I truly…TRULY hope this is the LAST camper we ever buy!!! I believe God had His hand in this and brought us to the right place at the right time because I really like this little lady…camper AND human!

I’m going to set up reruns for the next three days and I’ll be back live with you again on Tuesday morning. Till then…make this life count! Life is like salt. What good is it if it has no flavor?

““Salt is good, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is of no use either for the soil or for the manure pile. It is thrown away. He who has ears to hear, let him hear.””
Luke 14:34-35 ESV

The Perfect Porch

Tue, 06 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

I was listening to Tipper Pressley on one of her Celebrating Appalachia videos on YouTube yesterday while I worked on this quilt. She was talking about her front porch and how important porches are to people…not only to those in Appalachia, but to people all over the world who have them. They expand our living space and bring us into the outdoors during the warmer months of the year. They offer safe places to relax and read or visit with friends, family, and neighbors.

Porches facilitate community or solitude. They offer a cool place to get out of a hot kitchen during canning season. They’re a resting place when you’re too old to chase the young’uns around the yard but you still want to be a part of things. You can watch for the mailman or the newspaper or the school bus. You can wave goodbye to your loved ones as they back out of the driveway and head on home.

I’ve had some really great porches in my lifetime. One of my favorites was the farm style house I had built after a divorce. I needed my house to be as Appalachian as I could get living in the Rocky Mountains. I had dreams of living in my home state of West Virginia, but I still had a young child to raise and those dreams had to rest on the back burner. It wasn’t a huge porch, but I had plenty of sitting room and flowers and, white wicker furniture, a barn wood bench, and an old chippy-green rush-seat chair.

My country-style porch in Colorado.

When Daughter #1 was little, we lived in an old brick bungalow that had a great front porch on it with swings. It was nice to sit out there and watch the world go by…and the traffic. It was a very busy street in Denver. I have had decks and patios that served as porches. And I’ve lived in tiny apartments with no porch at all. When I lived in my camper, the whole outdoors was my porch.

But, my favorite porch of all times was Grandma’s front porch out at the farm. We still sit out there and have a cold drink whenever we go out to mow. When I’m there for my R&R breaks, I sit out there and knit and listen to the birds. I have so much history…so many memories that include that porch. I remember sitting out there with my grandma, stringing and snapping beans to can. I still have the old roaster pan lid that Grandma used to sit in her lap and peel potatoes or shell peas into.

This sound takes me back to the long summer days of my childhood and Grandma yelling at us kids to quit slamming that screen door!

One of my friends has the greatest porch. He designed it and had it built onto his historic red brick home and let me tell you…it is stunning. One of these days, I’ll ask him if I can come over and photograph it for you because it is truly magazine worthy.

Here at our house, we have the pool deck with the pergola on it for shade and a nice table and chairs, but that’s not really a porch, per se. There is a porch on what is officially the front of the house, but it’s just not very conducive to sitting and relaxing. It’s on the busy road side of the house so there’s a lot of traffic noise. And there is a gravel road along the side of the house so it’s really dusty out there. Maybe someday we’ll have a covered porch we can sit on and watch the rain. But in the meantime, I’ll enjoy whatever porch I might get to sit on at any given time.

We’re almost at the end of porch sitting season. I hope you’ll share a picture of your cozy porch in the comments below and tell us what makes it your special place. Give us all something to dream on.

“My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.”
Isaiah 32:18 ESV

“A Time of Innocence”

Wed, 10 Aug 2022 01:30:00 -0600

“Time it was, and what a time it was, it was…a time of innocence. A time of confidences. Long ago, it must be…I have a photograph. Preserve your memories; They’re all that’s left you.”

This weekend is our 50+1 High School Reunion. Mr. FixIt and I graduated together. We were buddies during high school. We passed each other in the halls and knew a lot of the same people. The first time I laid eyes on him was on the playground in first grade. A red-headed, freckle-face little rascal who chased the girls at recess. He looked all the world like Opie Taylor.

My family moved to another school district halfway through second grade and I never gave that little red-headed boy another thought till I started tenth grade. I was in the art department and was high up on a ladder painting a backdrop when I heard someone below me clearing his throat. I looked down and that same red-headed, freckle-faced boy was looking up at me…a toothy grin on his face. He was much taller by that time and wore glasses, yet he was unmistakably the same little dude that chased the girls.

My heart smiled. “There he is” it said to me.

“And just what do you think you’re doing down there?” I asked.

With a chuckle and a wink, he pushed his reedy frame away from the pillar he was leaning on and disappeared into the shadows of stage left. He was easy to spot. He stood head and shoulders above most of our fellow students and I would call out, “Hey, Froggy!” when I saw him. It was a nickname one of his friends gave him. He hated it, as most people hate their nicknames. But he answered to it just the same.

I remember in our senior year, we were both dating someone else. It was “Color Day”…that day when seniors are excused from classes and we had a parade and played games out on the football field. I was acutely aware a change was afoot and we were all heading out into the world in different directions. I remember holding Mr. FixIt’s hands in mine, looking into those baby blues, and saying with perfect heartfelt honesty, “I’m really going to miss you!”

We didn’t see each other till our 10th Reunion. I didn’t like that reunion very much. It was cliquey and everyone was trying to outdo the next with their accomplishments. But we were so happy to see each other and catch up. We danced and laughed and said, “See ya next time!” We ran into each other several times over the years…each time the same. Just old friends reunited.

Some time after the last reunion, I heard from that lanky fellow with the now-graying red hair and white beard. He had the very same blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled. He invited me to lunch and the rest…as they say…is history. I’ve been waxing poetic this week with the passage of time. So many of us are gone. So many are missing and no one has heard from them in years. It’s the nature of aging, I suppose.

I think Mr. FixIt and I mesh so well together because we’ve known each other forever. We’ve lived our lives and accomplished things and worked out most of the kinks of our psyches long before we attempted to date. I honestly am not at all sure we would have made it had we gotten together in high school. We are who we are now simply because of what we’ve gone through in life. We are the people NOW who are meant to be together at this time.

I ran across this picture on Facebook yesterday. It was taken by Dave Ferrell, I believe. It’s a photo of young students standing in front of our High School. Mr. FixIt and I were likely playing on the grade school playground when this was taken, but it reminded me of who and where we used to be. It was truly an “Age of Innocence.” While it is a moot point and a waste of energy to wish we were back in times such as this, every once in a while…I do.

The world seems so big and scary and angry and dangerous these days. And, in some ways it is. But, it’s equally just as beautiful and fresh and lovely if you choose to look carefully. I’m looking forward to the weekend…of getting together with our friends and reminiscing old times. And maybe…even if just for a moment…it will be all Peace, Love, and Rock ‘n Roll….

”A Time of Innocence.” <<<< CLICK TO WATCH SIMON AND GARFUNKEL SINGING BOOKENDS/A TIME OF INNOCENCE LIVE AT THE CENTRAL PARK CONCERT.

“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,”
Philippians 1:3 ESV

Those West Virginia Hills

Tue, 05 Jul 2022 01:30:00 -0600

A lone little daisy in the field.

We have four days of rain coming up so we spent the entire day outside getting caught up on mowing and trimming. If we don’t stay on top of it, we will soon look like a tropical rainforest. I was looking at the hedgerow around the fields and the yard yesterday. We really need to get the hedge trimmers and the chain saw out and get some of this stuff cut back before it takes over.

I was out in the camper the other night and opened all the curtains and windows to let the cool night air in. It was a waining moon and really dark out. I pulled the screen aside and curled up on the bed…my chin resting on my hand. There was a light show extraordinaire going on outside in the trees lining the creek. The lightning bugs were out in force.

I hope you can see the little twikle lights of the lightning bugs.

When I was a kid, we ran around in the yard at Grandma’s catching lightning bugs and putting them in jars. We put them on our bedside tables thinking they’d be so bright at night, we could read by the light of their little tails. Unfortunately, the sweet harmless bugs met their end in the glass jars, I’m afraid. But we were children and it was the ‘50s. Life was simple and easy.

I had never seen lightning bugs the way I see them here. I suppose when I was a child, I just never looked up to see them in the trees. They turn the woods into sparkling twinkle lights and it delights me every time I see it. it happens like this for just a few short weeks, so I spend as much time as I can…sitting and watching. Storing up the experience and saving it for the dark nights of winter. I think that’s why I love the Christmas tree to be left up for so long when the days are so short.

Our babies…one laying in the shade and the other standing to the right.

We elected not to drive into town last night for more fireworks. We were pretty tired and we’d already seen them on Saturday here in our little town. The Annual Ice Cream Social was held with a parade, a 5K run, live music and vendor booths, culminating in a glorious fireworks display down in the field next to the elementary school. We parked our truck in the school parking lot along with several other local townspeople.

I’ve lived in a lot of places in my life. Big cities and small towns and on five little acres out in the country. I’ll take the country any day of the week where I can sit and watch nature’s fireworks…up in the trees in the form of fireflies or up in the sky in the form of lightning and the rolling thunder of these West Virginia Hills.

“Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.”
Proverbs 6:6 ESV

Taking a Stroll Down Memory Lane

Fri, 17 Jun 2022 01:30:00 -0600

I didn’t sleep well again. Although the little AirB&B is incredibly comfortable and blissfully quiet, it wasn’t my bed. And I missed my sweetie. So, when I heard there was a risk of severe weather again, I decided to knit for a while with Gail then head home. After all, we’ll be camping with her Monday, so I’ll get to see her again soon.

As I was on my way home, Mr. FixIt suggested I stop at an RV dealer in the general vicinity to see what kind of campers they had. I love the new R-Pods. Remember the one I got to haul around for the Girl Camper Trailer Raffle a few years ago? Well, they have them! It was fun to go in and look around and see the changes they’ve made. The biggest and best change is the window over the bed OPENS now! Wowza!

An R-Pod 196 like the one I got to pull for the Girl Camper Trailer Raffle

The biggest surprise came when I walked around the corner. There was a Sportsmen Classic from KZRV…two years newer, but exactly like Little TOW-Wanda…my very first camper. That was the one I bought just three weeks after Mr. Virgo died. I traded her in the following year for Big TOW-Wanda and I’ve regretted it ever since.

This little girl is SO tiny! As I stood in the camper, memories washed over me. I remembered my very first campout in her at Rifle Gap State Park. As a matter of fact, the photo on the left was taken on that maiden voyage! She was my first safe place to grieve…my cocoon, my nest. When I had to park her in storage in a field out by the airport, i used to go out after church every Sunday and walk through snow up to my knees in order to climb in and take a nap under a pile of blankets.

So, cute…but so tiny!

This one is certainly affordable, although she costs exactly what I paid for her in 2013. As my friend Lynn Butler of Setzer’s RV says, “The time to buy is now ‘cause the kids are going to grow up and the prices are going to go up!” The only thing is, I’m presented with the very same problem I had that made me trade it in back in 2014. The bunks are not comfortable for an adult to sleep in. So, I left the dinette down and put the best memory foam mattress in it. That was great, but it left no where to sit. It’s seriously great for a single woman to camp in, but it would be pretty cramped for two for any length of time.

It was sad to walk down memory lane and remember where I was nine years ago. However, where I am now seems a lifetime away from those dark days of grief. The Lord has blessed me bountifully and I know better than to look in the rear view mirror too long.

I’m not heading in that direction.

Evening storm clouds rolling in. If you zoom in, you can see a chimney swift.

In the meantime, we keep getting waves of severe storm warnings every few days. June is notoriously a rainy month here in West Virginia, but this heat is oppressive. It’s much more like August. Which, of course, makes you wonder what August is going to be like!

“But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”
Luke 2:19 ESV

The Difference a Day Makes

Mon, 30 May 2022 01:30:00 -0600

When I got home on Saturday at 4-ish, wolfed down the pizza, emptied the truck, got upsetting news, and crapped out…all in a matter of fifteen minutes, I thought I was stepping into the twilight zone. All that good work I’ve been doing on self soothing and maintaining emotional equilibrium seemed to have gone out the window. When we are excessively tired, it is extremely difficult to see the bigger picture and so easy to slip into old behaviors.

When I took that hot shower, laid down in front of that cool fan, and did my “God is…” exercise, I drifted off to sleep. I awakened a little hungry so I got up at 10:30 for a little bowl of cereal, went back to bed, and slept till around 9:30 yesterday morning. That bed felt so wonderful and when I woke up, I felt renewed and refreshed and ready to take on the world again. What a difference a day makes!

I got up yesterday morning and fixed a pot of coffee and went out to sip it on the deck before the day got too hot. I chatted with my sister-in-law in Utah, and I FaceTimed with my dear friend Gail as she was the guest host at her campground this weekend. Finally, Mr. FixIt made his way out to sit with me. We discussed our plans for the day and decided to go to town to get flowers to decorate everyone’s graves and head out to the cemeteries. It was an all day ordeal. We took care of his family first in Parkersburg, then went out to Ritchie County to take care of my people. We stopped at DQ for ice cream cones in between the two cemeteries.

We went to the farm and I cleaned and set up the dehumidifiers for the summer. I totally missed the irises and the rhododendron and we’re at the tail end of the peonies. That makes me sad, but I did get to see my own little Colorado flowers in the form of my loves, so this was a year of sacrifice, as it were.

We stopped at my cousin’s barn down the road and visited for the first time in ages. We marveled over their chickens and geese, ducks and guinea hens. And their cattle. We topped at The Pig on the way home and bought sandwich fixin’s and headed home. It was a lovely day and we had a wonderful time together driving around the countryside. By the time we got home, we were both beat and glad we didn’t have anything else that needed doing.

I think it may take me a few days to recuperate from the trip. The older I get, the longer the recovery time after any given strenuous thing. And, let me tell you…that was a strenuous trip. Today is Memorial Day. Our people have men remembered and their graves decorated, and we have nothing pressing to do. We may mow a little, and work to get the pool ready. Maybe do a little laundry. I totally plan to sit and knit a little. And to remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice that allows us this Memorial Day.

May you be safe and healthy and remember those who sacrificed for us.

“See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ.”
Colossians 2:8 ESV

Apologizing to Grandma

Fri, 15 Apr 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Zoom in on the picture to see Grandma’s Johnny Jump Ups in the yard.

When we went to the farm on Wednesday to mow, I backed the tractor off the trailer and headed to the road end of the yard to start mowing. As I turned off the drive and into the soft, spring green grass I saw a sight that stopped me in my tracks. I turned off the tractor and just sat there, admiring what lay before me.

A whole yard full of Johnny Jump Ups. I can remember as a very little girl, picking handfuls of these little treasures and bringing my bouquet to Grandma. She would pull out a tiny cup and carefully place the flowers in water to enjoy till they wilted away.

I could hear my grandma’s voice as plain as day.

“Don’t you mow down my posies, pet!”

It made my heart hurt. Grandma led such a simple, yet rich life. She’d had a hard row to hoe. The middle child of three, she lost her mom when she was nine years old. Her little brother had just turned five when their mom died. Her dad was a difficult man and made their lives pretty miserable growing up. He had a string of wives he picked up along the way to “mother” his children. The only one I knew was his last wife…Grandma Pearl. Grandma loved her, but she was already grown with a family of her own when she came along.

Take a really close look at Grandma’s old house and you’ll see it was cheaply made before the depression. Upgrades were made along the way and she eventually got indoor plumbing and a bathroom. She always said this house was like the Taj Mahal to her after the places she’d had to live over the years. She nurtured ever flower and plant on the place and often brought cuttings home from friends and neighbors to expand her gardens.

West Virginia has an abundance of wild flowers that take your breath away and one that Grandma treasured was the little violets she called Johnny Jump Ups that covered her yard. The grass would grow long and thick before they finally faded and she would finally allow my Uncle Bob to mow. As I sat there looking at her beautiful flowers, I pulled out my phone and took a picture. Even the iPhone 13 Pro Max with its incredible camera couldn’t do that yard justice.

Finally, I sighed and apologized to my grandma for cutting her pretty posies. I know she would be bitterly disappointed, but we need to “make hay while the sun shines” around here and we were right smack dab between rain storms. There was a lot of work to be done so I turned the mower back on and went on with the job at hand.

“I’m so sorry, Grandma. I took a picture…and I’ll always remember you when I see these pretty little posies.”

“The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.”
Song of Solomon 2:12 ESV

Photographic Memories of My Grief

Sat, 26 Mar 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Little TOW-Wanda…my very first camper. I wish I’d never traded her in!

I keep my photos stored in a couple of clouds. I use iCloud from Apple because it comes with my iPhone/iPad. I do pay a nominal fee to store extra data over the amount that is free. And somewhere along the line, I signed up for OneDrive which is part of the Microsoft 365 Suite of programs. I really love it because I get an email with my “memories of the day.” Similar to FB Memories, OneDrive saves every photo I’ve ever uploaded. And, occasionally I am surprised by something I haven’t seen in years.

I thought these photos might have been lost and I was so excited when they showed up yesterday. They were taken when I went off on my three month journey through the wilderness and backroads of Colorado…and New Mexico, Wyoming, and South Dakota. This was in the earliest days of my grief. I purchased my camper after Mr. Virgo died and I took off alone to navigate my grief…one campfire at a time.

Somewhere along a desert highway…pulling my camper on my own. I learned a lot that year.

I knew absolutely NOTHING about a camper. I really didn't know what I didn’t know and like they say…ignorance is bliss. I could hook it up and unhook it. I could back it in with some modicum of success. I didn’t use the plumbing…at all. This simplified things greatly. The heater was pretty self explanatory. I needed it at this point in the trip because it’s really cold in March in Colorado.

There were days I woke up with snow on the ground. If that happened, I made arrangements with the campground to just stay put till things looked better. I passed the days looking at colorful magazines and napping…and writing. I went to the Four Corners area of Colorado and camped on my dear friend Sue’s ten acres overlooking Mesa Verde for at least a week. She took me to my first “wild hot spring”…which was essentially a hole in the ground with rocks around it. Eventually I traveled on south to Ojo Calliente in New Mexico.

The only wild hot spring I’ve ever been in. Free and hot, hot, hot! There was no other water to temper this water that bubbled up out of the ground. You couldn’t stay in for long!

There was a small primitive campground at the mineral springs at Ojo. They had yoga every morning in a yurt on the grounds. A restaurant served wonderful food. You could buy a package deal that got you entry to the hot springs, a massage, a meal, and the campsite. At the time, I think it was something like $50 for all that. Quite a deal. I think I stayed there two or three nights. I was going to go on across the desert southwest to California but changed my mind. I still didn’t feel comfortable being that far away on my own.

I’m planning another solo adventure in a couple of months that I’ll tell you more about as we get closer to a departure date. In the meantime, the weather has turned chilly again with a final wintry mix of snow and rain over the weekend. Night time temperatures will be down in the twenties. I’m WAY over this and will be happy to see winter put to bed for good soon. I finished a pair of socks yesterday and started knitting a black winter hat to go with the pair of mittens I finished last week.

My latest projects…a pair of socks, some black wool mittens, and a hat to match.

I went out to check the camper last night and the refrigerator is still not getting cold so we’re going to have to do something about that. It is under warranty so it won’t cost us anything. But it is a pain in the rear having to take “The Birdhouse” in for service already. I’m sure it’s something easy to fix or replace.

Enjoy your Saturday, dear ones!

“She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands.”
Proverbs 31:13 ESV

#Knitting, #Memories, #Grief

“We’re All a Little Lost and It’s Alright”

Thu, 24 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

The irises are sending up their shoots, proving once again…the world keeps on turning.

The last time I was at the farm, I noticed a leak in the ceiling of the Girl’s Room upstairs. We’ve had a lot of rain recently, so I just wanted to run out and check to see how it was doing. Surprisingly, it was dry as a bone, but I left a galvanized tub on the floor below where it leaked before…just in case. I changed the message on the answering machine to reflect the new number, picked up the mail, and had a look around.

Spring is on it’s way here in West Virginia. That doesn’t mean we won’t have any more snow or freezes, but the evidence is unmistakable. The irises are sprouting up! I didn’t look to see if any other flowers are breaking ground yet, but it’s just a matter of time. Everything looked great and I enjoyed some time sitting at Grandma’s window.

Another sign of spring is all the road repairs going on. All the way out to the farm and back, there were numerous slips, rock slides, and fallen trees that had been cut up and moved off the roadway. There are a few choice points along the way where mudslides frequently come down at this time of year. In one such place, the traffic was reduced to one lane with flaggers. I patiently waited my turn, scanning the hillsides of naked trees, looking for wildlife. It is a big time for squirrels to come out of hibernation because I must have seen half a dozen that had been hit by cars. I narrowly missed a couple myself.

I decided to swing by my friend Sparky’s house on my way home. You may recall, she passed away unexpectedly in mid-December. I am still struggling with a sense of closure. There was a memorial with her cremains present, but there isn’t a gravesite to go to. At least, not to my knowledge. I thought, maybe if I went to her house where she died, I’d find what I was looking for. I did not.

I think, sometimes….we aren’t given a neat and tidy little package called closure after someone we love dearly passes away. I remember when Mr. Virgo and I discussed funeral plans a few weeks before he died unexpectedly, I was surprised he wanted to be buried up on the hill overlooking our house. I’ve always wanted to be cremated and assumed he would, as well. When I asked him why, he said I would need a place to go to to visit him.

I thought that was crazy, and said as much. However, I found myself surprised at how important it was to go to his gravesite and grieve…knowing his earthly vessel was laid there. It helped me immensely to wail and walk in circles around his grave with the mound of fresh earth and the trinkets we had left for him…a pack of his favorite cigarettes, some golf balls, a green plastic coin from St. Patrick’s Day. I don’t have this place to go to for Sparky. Sitting in the driveway didn’t get it.

Sometimes we need to make our own memorials for our loved ones who have passed. When I hiked into the Weminuche Wilderness to bury some of his hair along the trail he called “Aspen Alley”, I sang songs to him and erected a cross made from sticks tied together with the cord from the blue velvet bag that held his hair. Although I never went back, I know there is a piece of him there. There is also a piece of him buried between my mom and her brother at the family cemetery.

I don’t have a “piece of Sparky”. I have a few items she gave me over the years. One thing in particular I smile at every time I see it. It’s a cute pillow that says “Home is Where You Park It”. I have decided to take a little bit of the stuffing from that pillow and put it in a bag in my purse. Then, when I decide the time is right and the place speaks to me, I’m going to bury it. That will be my place. My special place to go to when I’m missing her and need to feel wrapped in her memory.

This “needing a place to go” has taken me totally by surprise. When I bought Mr. Virgo’s cemetery plot, I bought the one next to it for me. I still want to be cremated, but I want part of my ashes buried next to him overlooking that beautiful golf course across the road from our home. The rest is to be placed somewhere here in West Virginia. Somewhere that those who want to remember me and feel near me can come sit for a while. Maybe a bench somewhere. Maybe at the end of the far field. Maybe back up on the hill at the farm, or alongside my family on King Knob. Or, just someplace special to Mr. FixIt and the girls.

I didn’t mean to wax philosophic and get all morbid on you today. I just wanted to share that grief…profound grief…doesn’t only come when a close relative passes away. It can come when you’ve lost a beloved pet…or have to move from the home of your heart…or you go through a painful divorce. It can come if you lose a job…or a close friendship. And, it can come when the funniest woman you’ve ever known who was there for you every day…never more than a text or call or meme away…dies totally unexpectedly and leaves you rudderless for a while.

It’s ok to feel that loss to your bones and do whatever you need to find closure.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay if you’re lost, we’re all a little lost and it’s alright.”
- Nightbirde

❤️‍?

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 147:3 ESV

Another Project in the Books, Another Valentine’s Day

Mon, 14 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

My sweater is finished…and yes, the tree is still up! I think it’s coming down this week!

I finished my sweater in a little less than two weeks! Of course, other than having surgery, I didn’t do much else. Mr. FixIt subbed for his friend Harry on the bowling league yesterday afternoon and came home to a hot meal of spaghetti and garlic bread while we watched the Super Bowl. Although I would have loved to see Cincinnati win, it was a really close game. No one wants to watch a championship game that’s a blowout. It just shows these two teams were well deserving competitors and they both put up a great fight.

I loved the halftime show. It reminded me of when Daughter #1 was in high school. I’d gather a car full of kids and take them out for McDonald’s and we’d blast the stereo in my little Honda Accord. Oh yeah…I was a real bad@$$ mom. *insert eye roll here*

We had a beautiful visitor in the yard. I kept hearing a bird call that I didn’t recognize. When I went in to make my coffee yesterday morning, here was this beautiful male Yellow-bellied Sapsucker poking around on the maple tree outside the kitchen window. When I played the recorded bird call on the Merlin app, it was the one I hadn’t recognized from earlier.

It’s Valentine’s Day. I remember brokenhearted Valentine’s Days in the past and I hated them. I hated that people were happy. I hated that people had partners. I was so sad to be alone and so angry at God for taking Mr. Virgo away from me. If you are on your own on this yearly recognized day that reminds you of that fact at every turn…I see you. And, my heart is with you. I know how hard it can be.

❤️‍?

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 147:3 ESV

The Flying Tomato’s Last Ride

Wed, 09 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Mr. Virgo and I started dating in 2005. He was working at a 5-Star hotel in Aspen at the time. In late January of 2006, he called me up and asked if I had a black cocktail dress. I assured him I did. There was a party that night at the hotel and he could get me in. Well, how often do you get to hobnob with the Aspen elite, right? I drove up in a whiteout blizzard and changed for the party.

There were all manor of beautiful people there…Mariah Carey, Paris Hilton, Heidi Klum and Seal. And off in a corner stood a young man with flaming red hair…holding court surrounded by other young men who wanted to be this guy. The room was so crowded it was impossible to “mingle”. The VIP section was roped off on the other side of the room. You could see all the rich people, but you had to be special to see the rich AND famous up close.

The evening passed in a blur and before I knew it, all the glitz and glamor was over and Mr. Virgo and I wandered around the dark and quiet hotel with the rich and colorful history. It is reportedly haunted. Mr. Virgo had several personal experiences there that were unexplained. We sat in the empty lobby and talked for a while.

I was enjoying the ambiance of “Colorado Ski Resort” opulence when Mr. Virgo chuckled.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Did you notice that red headed kid standing in the corner with the crowd around him? That was Shaun White, the snowboarder,” he said.

“Really? Impressive head of hair!”

“What was more impressive was this. I went up to him and he said, ‘Dude! You want an autograph?’ I laughed and said, ‘No, dude…I want your beer. You’re underage!’”

I’ve watched that young man with the flaming red hair grow up and defy gravity and bring home the Gold in both the Olympics and the Winter X Games. And now, an older, wiser and dare I say, slightly more cautious Shaun White is bowing out after these Olympic Games. I feel a small sense of connection to him. After all, my Mr. Virgo put on his “dad hat” and dressed down the young dude in as tasteful a way as possible.

I hope he does well as the curtain goes down on this stage of his career.

?❄️❤️❄️?

“Where there is no guidance, a people falls, but in an abundance of counselors there is safety.”

Proverbs 11:14 ESV

Thoughts and Feelings on a Cold Blue Winter’s Day

Sun, 30 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Wow…is it cold or what? We were in Columbus the last few days and felt the bitter blasts of flat Midwest winds. I didn’t even look up the wind chill factor. I think it just makes you colder. But I do know this…when it’s 3° outside and the wind is blowing, it’s flat out miserable. Our hotel room was on the first floor. I don’t know if the room was cold simply because it was cold outside or the fact we were sitting on a huge slab of cement. The heater had a governor on it and you couldn’t turn the thermostat up over 78° and at that level, it blew nothing but cool air…until it didn’t. Then it got way too warm. Next time, we will elect to stay on an upper floor.

As we were driving home yesterday, Mr. FixIt asked if we could stop at Rocky Boots in Nelsonville, OH. We are of an age now that we know to ask each other what we want for our birthday or Christmas gifts. We have everything we need and there’s absolutely no need to go overboard on huge gifts…especially if it’s not something we really want. Mr. FixIt has a big birthday coming up so I’ve asked him to let me know what he would like. Unfortunately, he has an unusual foot size so he wasn’t able to find the comfy boots he was hoping for. We’ll have to keep looking.

We were surprised that Columbus got so much less snow than we have at home. You could really tell the difference between Columbus and Nelsonville. We got out of the truck and there were piles of snow reminiscent of my winters in Colorado. When we got back in the truck and headed home, there was something about the way the sun reflected on the snow under the clear cerulean blue sky brought me back in time.

Have you ever had a memory come to you and instantly you are transported across time and space to something warm and wonderful? That is what happened yesterday. It was the winter of 1982. Denver had a Christmas Eve blizzard that stopped the city in its tracks. People were delivering nurses to the hospitals on snowmobiles. And once you were there, you didn’t come home till the roads were cleared. Hubby #2 was in Medical School so fortunately, he was home with us.

We rented an old brick bungalow the color of a sandy beach. It had big windows and zero insulation. We had no money to speak of. We used a kerosene stove in the middle of the living room for extra heat. Daughter #1 was eight years old. We gave her the only bedroom in the house and we slept out on the sun porch in the back. Ice formed in the corners of her room and on the windows in ours.

We were poor and in love and didn’t care that we had no money. We walked to the store in the snow and carried our groceries back home. I was filled with dreams of living in the country and having a farm with chickens and gardens. I baked our bread, made homemade granola and yogurt, and started seedlings inside for what vegetables we could grow in the flowerbeds around the house. We did whatever we could to entertain ourselves on the cheap.

That’s where I was teleported yesterday as I drove through the farmland of Ohio. I held that warm memory up to the light of today and realized…I’m exactly where I dreamed I would be oh those many years ago. It isn’t at all like I thought it would be at the time. There was a whole other marriage and a death between then and now. Another child came along to add to the family. Dogs filled our hearts and broke them when their all-too-short lives came to an end. Moves were made. Hearts were broken and mended. Old lives were lost and new lives were added and here I am…back where I started.

West Virginia. With a different West Virginia boy than the one I first set out with. And a big family to love. I bake our bread, I can our food, I grow a garden. That’s why that warm feeling that came over me yesterday seemed so familiar.

It is my life. And it is so, so good.

❄️?❄️

“We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.”
Proverbs 16:9 NLT

The Mindlessness of Television

Fri, 28 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I grew up in Small Town, America in the ‘50s and ‘60s. It was very much the Leave it to Beaver upbringing most of us Boomers experienced. We didn’t have a TV till I was well into grade school. It was mesmerizing. I remember staring at the black and white screen with the snow and the squiggly lines and wondering, “What magic is this???” Mr. Cartoon and Captain Kangaroo and Father Knows Best. I Love Lucy and What’s My Line? and Donna Reed. They soon gave way to American Bandstand and Laugh In and Saturday Night Live.

The television became the centerpiece of modern living. Father with his newspaper and pipe, Mother with her mending basket. The children, sprawled out on the living room floor with a dog, maybe. All watching Ted Mack’s Amateur Hour or Sing Along With Mitch. Lawrence Welk or The Ed Sullivan Show. All after homework and baths were done, of course.

We watched the news with Chet Huntley, David Brinkley, John Cameron Swayze, Edward R. Murrow, John Chancellor, and everybody’s dad…Walter Cronkite. That was when the news was THE NEWS. No spin, just facts. Somewhere along the way, the regulations that governed news programming to be truthful were done away with and our sense of honor was whittled away with it…piece by piece.

But, I digress.

The center of the modern home was a box that started to tell you what you believed in, what you should buy, what you should eat, how you should live. What kind of house, makeup, car, books, movies, vacations….everything you NEEDED…carefully orchestrated and directed by Madison Avenue advertising. It is remarkable how much of it you don’t even realize till you unplug yourself from the tentacles reaching through the screen and into your hearts, your minds, and your wallets.

I didn’t have TV for the five years between my divorce and meeting Mr. Virgo. I didn’t miss it one bit. My life was full and active and fun. For the six-and-a-half years I had Mr. Virgo, the TV became the center of the universe again. I hated it. Except for musical competition shows and historical documentaries, I couldn’t stand it. But, we do things for love, don’t we? I sat alongside my husband, watching the shows. Watching the shows. Not fiddling on my phone or doing cross stitch or filling in the family tree. Watching the shows, so we could discuss the shows during the commercials. Did I say I hated TV? Oy.

Then, he was gone. And the TV was soon gone, as well. The quiet was jarring after the years of daily cacophony streaming out of the expensive sound system we had to have to make the Civil War scenes come to life in our living room. I didn’t miss the TV. I missed the man.

Five years passed with no TV. Then I married Mr. FixIt. Ever so slowly, TV crept back into my life…it’s insidious lure tearing at my resolve. I will say, it’s easier to stay away from the TV in the summer. There’s just too much to do outside to sit and watch mindless television. But it more difficult in the winter. If I’m going to sit and knit in the family room, Mr. FixIt is going to have the TV going. I will admit, I like the silly game shows like America Says and Family Feud. I really enjoy Andy Griffith reruns. And who doesn’t laugh at the crazy antics of Niles and Frazier Crane?

We watch the news at noon and again during the dinner hour. Then we catch two episodes of Big Bang Theory and I’m done. I gather my phone, kiss my sweetheart on the top of his very cute head, and head to the back bedroom to write. We drove up to Columbus yesterday for my preop medical appointments today. It’s harder to get away from the television in a hotel room. This time I remembered to bring my rechargeable Bluetooth headphones and I listened to my “writing soundtrack”…an eighty minute recording of a roaring fire with rain and thunder in the background. He can watch anything his little heart desires and I’m off on some mountain in the woods, happy as a little clam.

My sweetheart has a major birthday next week. When we were discussing the number the other day, we both marveled that we’ve actually lived this long. His parent’s died young…from the fallout of the ‘50s. Smoking. We both are kind of amazed we’re still here. And pretty darned happy about it, I must say. We still won’t go into a restaurant and eat a meal. We haven’t done that in two whole years. So, we’re going to order a lovely meal and enjoy it at the hotel tonight. It ought to taste pretty darned good after a long day at the hospital.

I’m almost finished with the third pair of socks and can start the sweater. I brought the yarn for that project so I can work on it if I finish the last sock. Seven more sleeps and I can get the surgery behind me!

❄️?❄️

“But you must not forget this one thing, dear friends: A day is like a thousand years to the Lord, and a thousand years is like a day.”
2 Peter 3:8 NLT

Learning New Things and Remembering Old Things

Mon, 03 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I seem to always borrow knitting needles from my dear friend, Gail. It happens when we are camping together. Why? Because, she either hands me a skein of alpaca that she just spun, or she is making something much cuter than what I am making, or I’m bored and need something to keep my hands busy. I’m like a kid in that way. I need something to do, most of the time.

Gail sent me a beautiful gift for Christmas…a full set of 32” circular needles as well as several sets of double pointed needles and a couple skeins of beautiful wool blend sock yarn. I remember her showing me a dandy technique for knitting socks with a single 32” circular needle, but I couldn’t remember exactly how it’s done. I got bored knitting dishcloths yesterday and decided to look up the technique on YouTube.

I found The Crazy Sock Lady (aka Kay Litton) of Centerville, Ohio. Of course…she’s everywhere. Ravelry, YouTube, Instagram, Etsy, Facebook. She has a bunch of patterns for sale. I’m making her Vanilla Socks on Magic Loop. Quick and easy…but there will be a learning curve when it comes to turning the heel. There always is. That’s the hardest part for me, I think. At any rate…there are certainly other things I could be doing, but it feels good to do some self care. To sit and meditate and pray. To listen to the crackle of a campfire with the distant rumblings of thunder over my headset.

I have to tell you…when my friend Diane died on December 13th…I went into such a slump, it really began to concern me. Having a history of clinical depression makes me super aware of my mood. Everyone has a down time. It’s one thing if if lasts two or three days and you shake it off. It’s a different thing altogether if it’s gone on for two weeks without improvement. The best thing I could have done for myself when I lost Mr. Virgo was to buy that little camper. Camping saved me in many ways. When I was grieving Diane’s death, I went to the same place…our camper.

Honestly, a camper is as near being in a chapel as I can get shy of walking into a church building. That and the farm. It’s a safe space for letting out my feelings and emotions. To cry and yell and bargain and plead. Then…fall into the deep sleep of emotional exhaustion. Those two days in the camper before I had my procedure last week were as helpful to me as a month of antidepressants and therapy. I feel so much better now. I still miss my friend and I always will, but I’ll find other ways to honor her…as she would want me to. I’ll find quiet ways to pay it forward in her memory and remember the many ways she affected my life.

I mean, really…isn’t that what you would want from those you love after you leave this life? To live on in their memories and good works? I can’t think of a better tribute. I think of this blog as a trail of breadcrumbs that I lay down for my progeny to find someday. The stories of my life are all here…held in the ether…just waiting for the day when my grandchildren or great grands or I don’t know how many generations to come. Some day, they’ll read this and think… “Wow! What an amazing life she led!”

I actually had that conversation with Big last week. She is getting ready to graduate from high school in May. She has committed to a college in the Pacific Northwest. She has such an amazing life in front of her. Somehow, we got to talking about my life and what I’ve done. She knew I was an x-ray tech and that I did clinical research. But there were so many things she didn’t know about my life before her. I told her story after story and kept getting “Wow!” “You’re kidding!” and “That’s awesome!”

The words I write in this blog are my time capsule. I think that’s pretty neat.

“but Mary kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often.”
Luke 2:19 NLT

So Long, Betty!

Sat, 01 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I think it’s rather fitting that, on the last day of what was probably one of our most challenging years since WWII…God would take Betty home. I think those who really enjoyed Betty White’s sassy sense of humor truly wish we could have helped her celebrate her 100th birthday. Then again, maybe she just knew when it was time to make a graceful exit.

I’ve always loved Betty’s depiction of Rose on Golden Girls. The ditzy widow from St. Olaf, Minnesota cracked me up time after time. Mr. FixIt and I love to end our days snuggled under the covers and watching funny comedy clips. We often watch Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, and Sophia as they share a home in Miami and laugh at their antics. While the rest of the cast is certainly funny, it’s Rose that steals the show for me.

It’s hard to believe 2021 is finally over. I swear, this seemed like the year that would NEVER end. It was full of challenges. But it was full of beauty, too. There was travel, camping, visitors, family, old friends and new friends, birthdays, anniversaries. There were campfires and cookouts, antiquing and baking, gathering and letting go. Goodbyes are some of the hardest things we have to endure in life…and there were too many of those this year.

Our first rule of the new year…don’t dwell on what went wrong last year. We ended the year full of hope for 2022.

May you and yours enjoy safety, good health, and prosperity in the year to come!

Happy New Year!

““Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”
Isaiah 43:18-19 ESV

Soft Memories, Hard Memories

Sun, 12 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

There are so many good memories wrapped up in this Holiday Season. Memories of Christmases past can bring us so much joy and peace. Unfortunately, these times can also bring us hard, painful memories. Hurtful things may have happened to us as children and the holidays can trigger that. And, some of us are experiencing our first or second holiday without our person and we find little joy in the twinkling lights and merriment invading the sturdily erected walls we’ve placed around our hearts.

I remember well that first holiday after Mr. Virgo died. All I wanted to do was draw up in a ball in my bed and stay there till spring. I know I went to Denver to be with my kids that Christmas, but I have no memory of it. I do remember an amazing visit with Santa and sharing my broken heart with him. I had such hopes that the second Christmas would be better, but things fell apart with my elderly aunt at the farm and I had to change directions yet again. The third Christmas was easier, and subsequent holidays easier still.

That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten Mr. Virgo, or that I don’t think of him…especially at holiday time. It’s really hard to explain the changes my new love has brought me. There has been great healing in my heart. Mr. FixIt is such a great husband and my best friend. And still, there is a place in my heart where Mr. Virgo lives. It takes a very strong man to marry a widow, just like it takes a very strong person to marry someone who’s been divorced. There are wounds there. And scars. We wrap our wounds together and hold each other close and in time, things mend and stitch together. But, there will forever be a scar there. Grief is the price we pay for love.

I attended an 80th birthday celebration yesterday for one of my mom’s cousins. I gifted Sue one of the memory books of the farm that I wrote this fall. I gave it to her when I arrived, then told her I knew she would be busy greeting all her guests, so I was going to borrow the book and return it before I left. I walked around and shared it with several family members and It was a lot of fun. Those are the soft memories that bring us warmth and joy. We talked about the summers picking strawberries. There were pictures in there some hadn’t seen. I’ve also done a great deal of work on the family tree. I showed them photos of their great-great grandparents and shared some of the stories I know. I’m sensing another book needs to be written…The Farm, Part 2.

I had coffee with some of my classmates yesterday morning which was lovely. I spent the majority of the day chasing down some last minute Christmas gifts. I’m almost finished with the shopping then we can wrap and deliver. For several reasons, we won’t be having a great big family gathering this year. But we’ll have smaller groups and still make warm memories together.

I think the biggest gift I’m giving myself and Mr. FixIt is as stress free a holiday as I can this year. We have a lot going on in the next few weeks, so “easy does it” is the name of the game. Mr. FixIt baked his FAMOUS peanut butter cookies with the kisses on top yesterday. I had hoped all the baking would be done by now, but I’m afraid not. He did get the new angel on top of the tree yesterday. Maybe I’ll get some baking done today and watch some Christmas movies. That sounds peaceful to me.

❄️

“remember the former things of old….”
Isaiah 46:9 ESV

Life’s Perfect Imperfections

Wed, 08 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

There is nothing in life that is perfect save for the love of God. Flaws face us at every turn and no matter how hard we try, we will never be perfect. When you operate as a perfectionist, you rob yourself of so many opportunities to laugh at yourself. You cheat yourself out of the glorious feeling of being good enough. That doesn’t mean you don’t strive for better. We all should. Like Little said this summer when we were baking together in our country kitchen in West Virginia….”We should have a baking show! We’ll call it Bear and Nana’s Baking Show. And our tag line will be…It’s Good Enough!” My Little Bear gets it! I wish I would have at that age!

I finally finished decorating the tree yesterday. The last of the precious vintage and hand blown ornaments went up and I carefully placed them where we can see and enjoy them all season. Mr. FixIt went out to the building and found a timer plug so the lights will automatically come on in the morning and off at midnight. I love to see the lights all day. I’ll take every opportunity to bring more light into my life…especially when the days are getting shorter and the nights still get longer.

I no sooner finished and put the boxes away when Mr. FixIt walked in and said, “What’s wrong with the tree?” I looked over and wouldn’t you know…another strand of those pre-lit lights went out?!?! My heart sank a little. I tried to figure out if it bothered me enough to take everything off the tree, string new lights on it, and decorate it again and you know? It does not. After we watched The Voice last night and I prepared to come in our room to write to you, I sat on the edge of my seat and stared at the tree.

“You know what?” I asked my sweet husband. “Nothing on this earth is perfect so this is just going to be our year of the imperfect tree.”

“Eh, we’re getting the new tree top angel pretty soon. Maybe she’ll brighten up the top of the tree.”

Yep, I’m sure she will.

As I was sifting through the box of fragile ornaments, I came across a little treasure trove. I put those ornaments away in February, and I have no memory of tucking this little packet inside. Maybe it got placed there as I absentmindedly searched through boxes at some point since. You know, like the time I finally found a long lost phone book in the freezer. It happened to be in my hand and when my mind went in a different direction, i just set it aside as I picked up the rump roast.

I sat down in my recliner and sifted through to see what I’d found. There were several photos of past employee parties when Hubby #2 was finishing his internship and residency in Denver. There was a photo of a cloth doll I made when you couldn’t get your hands on a Cabbage Patch kid to save your life. My foster sister and her husband, looking like the babies they were, in their wedding picture. I sent it to their son. There was a funeral card for my step great grandmother. How did these things even get in there? I found two slips of paper torn from notepads with the autographs of Avery Schreiber and Harry Belafonte. I met them back in the early ‘80s.

But, the very best treat was a letter from my grandma written in her eighth grade hand. Her letters were always newsy, telling us what was going on at the farm. She always told us about the weather and who had come to visit her and when she’d seen the doctor last. Whenever I find one of her letters, it almost feels like a little visit with her. Mom always read her letters out loud to us. They always started out “Dear Ones…” no matter who she was writing to. Mom wrote back to her faithfully, even though we lived less than thirty miles away. When I married and moved away, her letters were precious jewels to me and I still cherish them when I run across one.

The next thing we will tackle is the annual Christmas cookies. Mr. FixIt will make his peanut butter cookies with the kisses on top. I’ll search my recipes and come up with some fun ones to bake. We like to give away containers of cookies every year to the neighbors and family and friends. My back is all better now so I’m ready to rumble!

❄️

“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”
Proverbs 22:6 ESV

Ain’t it Good to Be Back Home Again!

Sat, 04 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

*che-wink* *che-wink* *che-wink*

I opened my eyes and listened to the cheery *che-wink* of an Eastern Towhee rummaging around in the leaves and lower branches of the flowering quince on the creek bank outside the open window. Yes…it was cold. But I had a pile of blankets on me and slept like a stone in the chilly air coming down the holler. I stretched and opened my eyes, rolling over and squinting without my glasses, trying to catch a glimpse of the beautiful bird with the black jacket and russet vest. I saw a flash of the showy “V” of black and white on his tail feathers as he fluttered off to another resting place.

As I laid there, gazing up at the ceiling, I took stock of what was hurting today. This parathyroid thing makes pain of some level a nearly every day ordeal. It’s just something I deal with and pray they can fix when they find and remove the offending glands. What I was most interested in yesterday was how my back felt. I was disappointed that it was more sore than the day before. Time to give in and see someone about it.

I made an appointment with the chiropractor for the afternoon and started gathering up my things to leave the farm once again. My sweet husband called to check in. He was on his way to pick up a deer someone gave his daughter. She had a full day of work ahead of her cutting up and packaging the meat for the freezer. He also drove all over town trying to find a new Christmas Angel tree topper. The lights finally went out in ours and it couldn’t be fixed, but…after a good twenty years of service, it was time to get a new one.

Mr. FixIt went to every store in town and finally found one. He tried to find an outlet in the store to plug it in but there wasn’t one to be had. So, he brought her home and hoped for the best. He plugged her in last night and we neither one liked her. This wasn’t a “well, maybe she’ll grow on us” thing. This was oh, heck no. She had colored lights, where we wanted white. Not only was she multi-colored, the lights changed colors every two seconds. You couldn’t even see the angel…just the lights. And she had fiber optics which for some odd reason just gives me the creeps. It’s like a hairy spider or caterpillar to me.

Since this was the only one to be found in town, we resorted to the internet and found one from Penney’s. She’s exactly what we both were looking for. She won’t be here until well after the tree is decorated so the old gal can keep her place of honor til the new angel shows up. Mr. FixIt moved the furniture out of the way while I was at the farm so we can set up the tree in front of the living room windows.

The chiropractor did x-rays and gave me a gentle adjustment. A lot of icing over the weekend and I’ll see him again Monday. He smiled as I left and said, “We can fix this.” That is always reassuring. I told him we need to because I’m a busy woman and I have stuff to do!

I’m really looking forward to setting the tree up today. I have so many wonderful ornaments that bring back warm memories. Some belonged to my parents, a couple to my grandparents. There are several I collected over the years at my friend Judy’s epic Christmas ornament exchange parties. Some I made myself. Some were gifts. And there are the special hand painted Ne Qwa ornaments I’ve been collecting for the last fifteen years. I am always so happy to see the decorations every year. It’s like running into old friends on the street and telling a story of how we met.

Hopefully I’ll have beautiful pictures to show you tomorrow. I took today’s snap of the barn out at the farm yesterday as I was heading to my truck. I love the way the naked fingers of the tree are reaching up for that azure sky. I love the weathered wood of the barn and old smoke house. I love the carpet of leaves the color of a well worn saddle. Everything about that farm is enchanting to me. This was just another example. I’ll be back again!

❄️

“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him? Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor.”
Psalm 8:3-5 ESV

It’s Palindrome Day! 12/02/2021

Thu, 02 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

The last time I came out to the farm, I expected to stay two nights but I had a dinner engagement wrong in my mind and had to cut it short. Then, there was all the hullabaloo surrounding Thanksgiving. Then I hurt my back and haven’t done much of anything since Saturday night. I do not like to take pain medication, but I did give in for the first couple of days. Then, just like clockwork, I stopped and my mood took a nosedive. It always does and that’s why I don’t like to take that stuff in the first place. So, if I was going to be blue, I knew where I needed to go.

The Farm.

I cannot tell you what a blessing it is to still have the opportunity to come stay at the home of my heart. My grandma’s goodness is baked into the timbers of this house and any time I get to stay here, it’s like medicine to my spirit. I got here mid afternoon and crawled into Grandma’s bed. It rained off and on and the sound on the tin roof lulled me off to a gentle slumber. I woke up and heated up a little supper and climbed back in bed with the memory book I wrote about the farm. I’m leaving a copy here so everyone who gets to visit can see the history of the place.

As I was looking through the book, I noticed the year Grandma and Pop-Pop got married. On October 13th, it was 100 years ago!!! I can’t believe that. My grandpa died forty-eight days before their 50th Wedding Anniversary. So, he’s been gone fifty years. It’s funny what the mind does to you when people are gone. When they are a part of you, and you hold them in your heart, that’s where they live and time is irrelevant. It is elastic. It stretches out interminably and shrinks back to the size of a grain of rice. They are always gone, yet they are always here.

On Thanksgiving this year, I experienced a wave of grief where I missed everyone. All of my loved ones who went before were tearing at my heartstrings. I don’t think I’ve quite put them back to bed yet. Hence another reason to make a retreat to the farm, gaze at my book of memories, and feel them all around me once more. I’ll rest and process and heal a little more, then I’ll head back home to my beloved Mr. FixIt.

And this time…I promise…we’re going to decorate for Christmas!

It takes a special person to love a widow or widower. I thank God I have that special man in my husband. He supports me and lets me fly and be who I need to be and feel what I need to feel. He’s so very special.

I am so grateful I had all these photos to put this book together for the family. My brother tells me he has it in a place of honor in his apartment. My Aunt Rosie says she held it and looked through it and remembered all the wonderful times she had growing up here and had a little cry. My cousin Cathy says she didn’t know half the stories that were in it. My cousin Tammy loves it and wants me to send her digital copies of all the photos. Daughter #1 took her copy with her to the family Thanksgiving dinner and shared all the stories she remembered. This is going to be a gift for generations to come and I’m so humbled I am the one to put it together.

❄️

“Then my God put it into my heart to assemble the nobles and the officials and the people to be enrolled by genealogy. And I found the book of the genealogy of those who came up at the first, and I found written in it:”
Nehemiah 7:5 ESV

A Farm Fix!!!

Wed, 17 Nov 2021 02:30:00 -0600

That’s me, standing where the house used to sit just after they moved it onto the new basement.

I had to go to town for a followup appointment with the endocrinologist to bring him up to speed with all that’s been going on with my parathyroid issues. The symptoms are the same and it’s obvious to everyone I need to get this thing taken care of. He said it’s like having termites in your house. You may not see much evidence, but behind the scenes the little suckers are busy and before you know it, the piano is in the basement. That’s what is happening with hyperparathyroidism. It is slowly leaching the calcium from my bones so the time is now to get to the bottom of it.

I woke up yesterday morning and told Mr. FixIt I needed a “farm fix”. I haven’t been able to stay out here as much as I would have liked this year…mainly because of all the traveling and medical appointments. There was always something going on. But I’m here now for a little R&R. I have a few new magazines to curl up with. I revel in the stillness here. No TV. Very little traffic. I am hoping to hear a lot of birds.

We are supposed to have a really warm day today, so I’ll sweep the zillions of dead ladybugs off the porch and sit out there with my coffee and my magazines and soak it all in. I love this place so much. I finished the memory book of the farm and ordered copies. I can’t wait to see it! It should arrive the 22nd or 23rd. They are having an 80th birthday party next month for one of my mom’s cousins. I’m going to take a copy to her. In one of the big group family photos, she is just a little girl holding a puppy in the front yard here at the farm. Her family lived down the road a mile or so. As a matter of fact, four out of my grandpa’s five brothers lived within two or three miles of each other most of their lives.

That’s something I marvel at. People have longevity here. My friend has been married all these years to the fella she started dating in 8th grade. They’ve lived in the same house within a block of where her husband grew up. When people announce they are nearing their 50th wedding anniversary, I jokingly say I’ve been married that long, too. It’s just been to four different men. I don’t know what that kind of “career marriage” would feel like. Or living in the same house, let alone the same city for all my life. I have made twenty-eight moves and have lived in thirteen different cities/towns in two states and two different countries. Change is all I know. I think that’s why I’m so flexible.

I am so happy to be where I am now. I love Mr. FixIt. We’re going on five years since we started dating, but it seems like so much longer since we’ve known each other since 1968. I love living in West Virginia. I love our little five acres in the country. And, I am so blessed I can still come and stay at the farm pretty much whenever I want. What a great barter…mowing in exchange for time here. It still gives me such a peaceful feeling to sleep in my grandma’s bed.

I may not have lived with the same person all my life, nor have I lived in the same house. But, this farm? This farm has been in my heart since the day I was born. This farm is what gives me that feeling of longevity, of steadfast love, of comfort….and peace.

This house still has the heartbeat of my family nestled in its walls.

“My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.”

Isaiah 32:18 ESV

Emerging from the Silence

Mon, 15 Nov 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I have a dear sister/friend who sends me songs through Messenger every once in a while. She and I actually met in choir and music has been much more a part of who she is than it has been for me. For years, I couldn’t drive without blasting the musing and singing at the top of my lungs. Mr. Virgo and I had CDs we had burned with “road trip music” in the days before MP3 players. To this day, when I hear “Hotel California” and “Go Your Own Way” it takes me back to a highway in Arizona that looked all the world like an old western movie.

Then…Mr. Virgo died and my world went dark and colorless and silent. Eventually the color came back and the light shines, but I’ve never really enjoyed music like I used to. Oh, I still love to go to live music, but I’m talking about turning on music while I’m working around the house or driving on road trips. I have learned to love the silence and the hours of meditation driving without noise provides me.

My friend sent me a recording of Matteo Bocelli singing SOLO. He is Andre Bocelli’s son. It was ok but didn’t know my socks off. All week, Mr. FixIt and I had been looking forward to Adele’s special…”One Night Only” on TV. It aired last night after 60 Minutes. Oh, my gosh! She was amazing!!! I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her. She hasn’t performed in six years and she had stories to tell.

When we go through the battles of life, we all have stories to tell about it. Adele’s stories hit such a spot in my soul last night. From her largely absent alcoholic father to the deep pain and soul searching that came from her divorce, I could relate to it all. It was so fun to see the faces of the celebrities in the audience as they were reduced to normal citizen status…dancing and singing and looking on with frank awe on their faces.

I don’t know if it will inspire me to listen to more music or not. It might. I doubt I’ll drive with music on. I’m older and need to concentrate. But listening to Adele and the stories her music tells was so refreshing last night and I deeply enjoyed it. I hope you got a chance to see it as well.

“addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart,”
Ephesians 5:19 ESV

The Journey Never Really Ends, You Just Learn How to Ride

Sun, 14 Nov 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I was writing my post Friday night as I always do. Then I schedule it to go live at 4:00am so you can sit down and have coffee “with” me. I checked my messages and a reader shared the following poem from the website, A Bed for My Heart.

— You Don’t Just Lose Someone Once —

You lose them over and over, 
sometimes many times a day.
When the loss, momentarily forgotten,
creeps up, 
and attacks you from behind.
Fresh waves of grief as the realisation hits home,
they are gone.
Again.

You don’t just lose someone once, 
you lose them every time you open your eyes to a new dawn,
and as you awaken, 
so does your memory, 
so does the jolting bolt of lightning that rips into your heart,
they are gone.
Again.

Losing someone is a journey,
not a one-off.
There is no end to the loss,
there is only a learned skill on how to stay afloat,
when it washes over.

Be kind to those who are sailing this stormy sea, 
they have a journey ahead of them,
and a daily shock to the system each time they realise,
they are gone,
Again.

You don’t just lose someone once, 
you lose them every day, 

for a lifetime.

© Donna Ashworth Words

She said it made her cry. I understand that. I know the sentiment of this poem. I’ve lived it. I still live it…even though I am very happily remarried. Even though I have a beautiful life I never dreamed possible. I’m still a widow. Not an actively grieving widow…but a widow nonetheless. I shared with her something that happened to me Friday.

I was sitting at the DMV, waiting for my number to be called, and decided to pick up my phone and scroll through Facebook. I came to a photo that puzzled me. It was a picture of a building, half torn down. The red dirt and scrub oak beyond the building were unmistakably Western Colorado. There was something vaguely familiar about that building but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I looked to see who posted it. It was someone I know in the town I lived in for many years. The caption said, “Let’s all do our own little Rivers dance…? in honor.” That is when it hit me. That far wall of windows.

They were tearing down Rivers Restaurant in Glenwood Springs. Ohhhh, the memories. Years and years of memories. It was called Penelope’s when we first moved to the area in 1986. It was in this restaurant that Hubby #2 and I had dinner with the doctors who were interviewing him to join their practice. It was in this restaurant where we spent countless Happy Hours schmoozing with our friends and cohorts in the medical community. Birthday dinners. Dinners out for no other reason than to indulge in their Elk Medallions.

It was also the restaurant where Mr. Virgo and I got married.

On the other side of those windows is…was…a large deck that overlooked the Roaring Fork River with a view of Mount Sopris up the valley. It was a chilly April Saturday, nestled between two snow storms…a day filled with sunshine and laughter and love. It was a beautiful day, a beautiful setting, a beautiful building.

And, now it’s gone. It’s just another thing…a page from a storybook…ripped away and floating off on some unseen breeze. The last time I stayed in Glenwood by myself, I went in and had dinner. I sat where I could see the area that held the reception. Sweet memories. I’m glad I got to dine in there one last time. I’d heard it sold, but I just assumed another restaurant would take it’s place.

There will always be losses and more losses tied to the death of a loved one. I am so very grateful time has softened the sharp edges of my grief and I’m left with warmth and gratitude that’s mixed in with that familiar little squeeze in my chest.

“When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all. He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken.”
Psalm 34:17-20 ESV

Grandma’s Kitchen

Thu, 11 Nov 2021 02:30:00 -0600

(I’m not sure I would attempt to make this recipe as written. I think the measurements are off.)

This is the cozy time of year…when you’re more apt to fire up the stove and do a little baking just for the comfort of it all. The smells, the tastes, and the memories they bring to mind are just one of the things I love about fall. I’ve always loved the change of seasons when the colors are rich and glorious and the light is filled with gold. I’ve always felt a little melancholy along with the fade from summer to winter, but this year feels a little different. We had such an incredibly busy year, I’m really looking forward to the down time winter inevitably brings.

We did some needed chores around the place today…Mr. FixIt outside and me mostly inside. It was a beautiful day…warm enough for short sleeves. We didn’t have the stove running in the family room today, so we didn’t have a plethora of pests trying to invade our space. That’s not to say they didn’t dive bomb us when we were outside. Mr. FixIt and I moved the little a-frame around to “the campground” here on Marshmallow Ranch (aka The Ponderosa). We chained it up to another camper and covered it for the winter.

I worked on a couple of projects today…the family room and the farm memories book I’m putting together for the family. I really need to get it finished so I can order them in time. I was going through a box this week trying to find the property taxes from last year. In the box, I found Grandma’s steno pad where she wrote down her favorite recipes. Honestly, there aren’t very many and for the most part, she didn’t cook with a recipe. But there are a few that just evoked such wonderful, warm memories of the kitchen at the farm.

Grandma had certain recipes that she made all the time. She always had Oatmeal Raisin Cookies. She said when her kids were growing up in the depression, the ingredients for those nutrient rich handfuls of heaven were affordable and with a glass of milk from the dairy cows she kept, she could always rest easy knowing her kids were getting something good to eat for breakfast. She often made Raisin Filled Cookies in the fall when the walnuts and hickory nuts had fallen. She made box cakes but always dressed them up. Pineapple Upside Down Cake was my mom’s favorite. My Uncle Bud and I loved the Yellow Cake with Penuche Frosting. I made Grandma’s Brown Sugar Pie for Thanksgiving the first year I moved back to West Virginia and my Aunt Peeps swore you couldn’t tell the difference between it and the ones Grandma used to make…a high compliment coming from her.

Grandma always said she couldn’t make a pie crust that was fit to eat. That’s not entirely true. There were many times when she took the extra crust, laid it out on an old flat pot lid, sprinkled it with salt and baked it plain. I could eat my weight in that…seriously. But, often her pie crust was dry and flavorless. When I found her pie crust recipe in the notebook, I had a rush of memory. I made pies for her and she raved over the crust. I told her how I made mine and she wrote it down. I don’t think the quantities are exactly right in this recipe, but it is pretty much the one I used when I baked for competition. I can’t guarantee you this would come out right if made the way it’s written so I’ll just say…let’s look at it as a great example of my grandma’s handwriting and her love for me that she would attempt to write down my recipe.

Anyway, as I read through and did some editing yesterday, I took pictures of the recipes most of us would remember and added them in the book. I know everyone will love seeing them in her own handwriting. I certainly do. I’ve got the price down to $42 a copy. I know that’s exorbitant for a memory book, but it’s the best I can do with Shutterfly. If you know of any other place to self publish high quality photo books, please let me know.

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
Galatians 6:9 ESV

Looking Forward, Looking Back

Mon, 25 Oct 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I went to town yesterday afternoon and had our Moderna booster shot. I didn’t realize till later that the booster for Moderna is a half shot. Some are questioning that…why only half? Will that keep me covered? Maybe I should get one of the others that’s a full dose? I considered all of these responses last night and came to a conclusion. I trusted science enough to tell me there is a covid vaccine and it is safe, that you still may get covid but it’s very likely not going to kill you, and the protection the vaccine affords you outweighs the small risk of a negative reaction.

Medicine is not an absolute science. Heck, it turns out not even physics is absolute. However, as we learn more, we grow with the knowledge, and we adapt to the changing information as it comes in. If the research has shown a half dose of Moderna offers adequate stimulus to the immune system to protect you…I trust that. If the information changes and they learn we need to take another booster sometime down the road…I trust that. The flu shot changes every year as the likely virus strain to come is projected. I trust that. Not blindly, but because the sheer amount of schooling and training these doctors, researchers, and scientists go through FAR outweighs my trust over what’s found in Facebook posts and conspiracy theories. I was married to a doctor for twenty years. I know exactly what they go through to learn and continue learning throughout their entire careers.

So, we got our boosters. (The dog was on a poster behind me. Looks pretty real, huh?) As I am writing this, my arm is a little sore. Small price to pay for increased protection. Will I continue wearing a mask in public places? Yes. Will I social distance? Yes. Will I practice good hand hygiene and not touch my face? Yes and Yes. Some will ask…What are you afraid of? Nothing…I’m being proactive and informed. If you’re going to continue doing all this stuff, why even bother having the vaccine? Because, I believe in science and I believe in vaccines. I have a little scar on my left upper arm that shows how smallpox was eradicated. I’ve had more vaccines than I can count. I remember when I had to fly military transport to come back to the States from England and I had to get about five or six hefty vaccines to do so. Holy cats…that was brutal. This is a walk in the park even if there’s just a chance of keeping me from being intubated and dying alone in an ICU somewhere.

You can sign up for the Covid-19 vaccine online at vaccines.gov and follow the directions. I understand the boosters are not available everywhere, but keep checking. And, if you haven’t had the initial series, please consider doing so. The massive amount of data gathered since the first shot went in an arm shows safety and efficacy. I know…it’s a personal choice. I appreciate that. I just pray for your wellness and love that you are here.

Now, for something on a lighter note. A friend of mine shared a link to a trip down memory lane. Remember the Sears Wishbooks and the Montgomery Ward and JCPenney holiday catalogs? Well, someone has digitized them and you can pull up a year from your childhood and look at the toys you were drooling over that season! How fun is that? So, here ya go…enjoy!!!

247 Vintage Christmas Wish Books and Retail Department Store Catalogs, featuring 209,424 catalog pages from Sears, Montgomery Ward and JCPenney over the years.

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“A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.”
Proverbs 17:22 ESV

Not Doin’ Nuthin’

Wed, 20 Oct 2021 01:30:00 -0600

The first thing we do every morning is open the shade on the skylight and oooooh and aaaaaah!

I told Mr. FixIt yesterday morning that I was not doin’ nuthin’ all day ‘cept what I wanted to do. And that’s exactly how it panned out. I ate cookies for breakfast sitting in my big blue chair. It was nippy so I brought out the little ceramic heater and aimed it at my feet while I knitted all morning. My friend Lynn showed up around 1:00 and sat and talked with us for a couple of hours, which was really nice. When she left, we fixed a late lunch and sat at the table watching the sunshine dapple the ground through the trees. We sat and watched the squirrels running around burying the plethora of nuts available in these woods. There is one black squirrel that hangs out nearby and he’s stunning. I also listened for, and identified, several birds in the campground with my Merlin app from Cornell University…including a Red-bellied Woodpecker, a Nashville Warbler, and a Cooper’s Hawk.

Once the sun started going behind the trees, we went in the camper and stretched out for a little reading/rest time. We like having that little break in the afternoon to just do nothing. Doing nothing in a day full of doing nothing was just what the doctor ordered! Our late lunches are normally our dinner and we eat fruit or a little cereal before bed. We are getting those “old folks” diets. We don’t eat a heck of a lot anymore.

I only had my iPhone to take a picture of the moon and it never does it justice.

As the sun began to set, Mr. FixIt and I hopped in the truck and drove over to the boat ramp so we could get a good view of the lake and the sunset. But what surprised us was the full moon coming up over the pine trees on the far shore of the lake. We were so mesmerized, we almost didn’t turn around to see the splendor going on behind us! The sky was clear, the lake was calm, and the moonrise/sunset was just icing on the cake for a perfect day. Once we got back to the campground, the day was done and we retired to our little nest. Mr. FixIt picked out a movie while I sat down to write to you.

The sunset was spectacular last night!

I snapped some photos during the day to share with you all. It truly was a beautiful autumn day here in Ohio!

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“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
Galatians 6:9 ESV

Fall Camping is the BEST!

Tue, 19 Oct 2021 01:30:00 -0600

The daytime temps are warm enough to wear a lightweight shirt, even if it’s long sleeved. And maybe leggings if you feel a little chilled. Night’s are cool enough to flip on the little space heater and cover up with an extra blanket. And throw on a fuzzy fleece jacket when you’re sitting around outside.

I can think of a lot of things I wish I had with us. Like, my propane campfire. That would have been perfect! A stepladder would certainly come in handy. And try as I might, I cannot find my little level that I use when I’m camping. But, we were really pressed for time to prepare for this trip. We had to run a ton of errands and empty out TOW-Wanda…all in one day. I grabbed some blankets and put them in a tote. Nothing matches, but they’re warm and functional and at this point, that’s all that matters to me.

When we decided to stay a few more nights, I looked online and saw that the site we were on was only available for two more nights. We drove around the campground and chose one we liked and reserved it. Then, all night long, I kept waking up and thinking about it. It was totally shaded with trees…which would be awesome in the summer, but at this time of year all I could think of was “There’s no place to sit in the sun and knit!” So, over breakfast, I asked if Mr. FixIt would mind if we took another look around and choose a better site.

We took the map and had the reservation system up on my phone and chose a beautiful site. Still surrounded by trees, but enough open space to feel the sun on my face. We both felt a lot better about it so we went to the camp office and switched the reservation. We stowed anything breakable, closed up the camper, and towed it…literally ten sites away from where we were. I laughed and told Mr. FixIt… “This is MY kind of travel day!”

We set up in the new spot. I have to say, this camper is not quite as easy to set up alone. I think I’ll be able to do it when I bring my stepladder from home. I always like to be able to set everything up on my own if I have to. That’s how I learned, and…God forbid…if the unthinkable occurs, I still need to know how to do things on my own.

That’s the biggest lesson I learned from losing Mr. Virgo. Don’t take ANYTHING for granted because life changes…and it changes quick. Sometimes it bothers Mr. FixIt when I ask him to let me do it. I know he knows how. And I know he likes to do it. I also know, he’d be the first one to want me to carry on doing this fun stuff if he should pass before me. We have a routine when we camp together and I’ve given up some of the tasks…things that I know I won’t forget how to do. But, with a new camper, there are new skills I need to master. It won’t take long and we’ll have it down to a science.

We have a routine at home that hasn’t transferred well to camping. Mr. FixIt is a TV watcher and I am not. I prefer to do my writing at night while he is watching his detective shows. Our new camper doesn’t have a TV and I really didn’t want to get one. I have an iPad I can download movies to, but we don’t have WiFi here. As a matter of fact, most campground WiFi is dicey at best. That wouldn’t work anyway because I write on my iPad every night. So, we splurged and bought a portable DVD player. Then, we found a Half Price Book Store and scored some movies he liked. Now, as soon as the DVD player charges up, he’ll be a happy camper in the evenings. We play cards, but he needed something to do while I write and he’s not a big reader. Oh, and I bought him headphones to listen to his movies quietly while I write.

I’ve tried NOT writing. I can’t do it. Sometimes when I’m really tired, I just post a rerun story…but I have to write. It’s like oxygen to me. Thank goodness I have an incredibly patient and loving husband who understands my proclivities!

We have one of my Girl Camper friends coming to visit today! Other than that, knitting, reading Miss Brenda Gantt’s new cookbook, and eating is the only thing on my agenda!

Have I told you fall camping is THE BEST!!!

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“The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.”
Isaiah 40:8 ESV

There’s a Project in the Works

Tue, 12 Oct 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I am working on a family project. Around the time the farm went up for sale, I remembered a bunch of pictures my mom took home from Grandma’s house. Grandma was slipping into dementia and would often stand up all night long in front of the buffet…sorting through papers and pictures. She was actually ruining the photos by crinkling them and even tearing some of them up. So, one afternoon when her mom slept, my mom quietly took the important and irreplaceable pictures home with her.

When Mom passed suddenly in 2004, it was my job to go through her things and sort out the treasures from the trash. And believe me, there was a lot of trash. She was a bit of a hoarder, and photos were stuffed in sacks with junk mail. It took me four months to clear everything out. Even with that amount of time, there was no way I could go through every single thing, so anything resembling photos, albums, letters, and important papers ended up in plastic storage tubs that I brought back to Colorado with me.

I met Mr. Virgo in 2005, so my life was a whirlwind of fun and activity till he passed in 2013. We moved several times and those tubs went right along with me. When I sold my house and downsized, I whittled those tubs down to two bins…stuffed with photos…and took them with me to West Virginia. They’d come full circle and after ten years, I finally sat down and sorted through them.

I scanned hundreds and hundreds of photos and put them on two external hard drives. When the farm was auctioned, and I’d met the wonderful new owners, I promised them I’d put some of the oldest photos of the farm together in order to give them a history of the old home place and the stewards of the land. When I got to thinking about it, I figured my family members would also love to have those pictures. So, I’m putting them together in a book and writing down some of the stories. I worked on it all day today and it was so much fun. I’m loving how it’s coming along. I know the old photos aren’t high resolution, and they’ll probably come out a little fuzzy but that just adds to the charm, don’t you think?

“And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.”
Deuteronomy 6:6-7 ESV

The Baby in the Box

Mon, 11 Oct 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Back in the ‘90s, Middleton Dolls were all the rage in my hometown. The Middleton Doll Factory was in Belpre, right across the Ohio River from Parkersburg. Daughter #2 was little so every time we went home for a visit in the summer, we had to go over and pick out a new baby.

The dolls were very lifelike. The did sell some porcelain dolls, but most of their babies were a soft, velvety vinyl that felt lifelike. Their little bottoms were filled with plastic beads to give them some weight and they were dressed in real baby clothes. Some had eyes opened, most were sleeping. There were even babies with little tears on their cheeks. You picked out your baby in the nursery, right from a bassinet, and were given a birth certificate. The baby had a real newborn diaper on, and tucked into the back was a tiny New Testament…the designer’s way of spreading the Gospel.

I loved these babies. I was at the in between stage of my life. My oldest was married and lived on Long Island with no thoughts of babies in the near future. And my youngest was pretty much past the “snuggle on mom’s lap” stage. I was adamant that I was not going to rag at my older daughter to give me grandchildren till they were ready. But my arms felt empty. I was going through a rocky marriage that was slipping away from me and I just flat out felt sad.

This weekend, Daughter #1 texted and said she was going through a shed at her in-law’s house. There were boxes of things they put in there when they bought their house…seventeen years ago…and it was past time to get rid of stuff. She found two Middleton dolls and she wondered what she should do with them. One was well loved and went in the donate pile. The other was brand new, in the box.

Try as I might, I could not remember how she got those dolls…until she sent me a picture of the one in the box. I sat and stared at that picture, puzzling over it when, it all came back. I knew that someday, Daughter #1 and her sweet husband would have babies and I would have the grandchildren I longed for. So, on my next trip to Parkersburg, I went to the Middleton factory and picked out a baby that looked like it could be theirs.

When I got the baby back to Colorado, I put it on the top shelf in one of the closets. And, when my arms felt particularly empty and I longed to rock a tiny baby again, I would carefully take the box down, gently unwrap the tissue paper, and rock that little bundle…holding it close…remembering the feeling of holding my own babies…dreaming of the day I would hold the child of my child.

The day came when they broke the news. They were selling my son-in-law’s truck. When I asked why, they said, “Because it isn’t big enough for a car seat.” The gears turned. Their eyes sparkled. And I squealed with delight. I was so happy when they had a girl and the little blonde baby went to live at their house. When they moved into the new place, a bunch of things got stored in the shed at Ben and Sue’s. And that’s how a perfectly pristine baby in a box was found.

Memories are funny things as we get older. There was a large stretch in late ‘90s to the early ‘00s that I have very little memory of. I call those my Prozac years. I lost most of my late 30’s and early 40’s to depression and drugs and alcohol. I had grief brain after losing Mr. Virgo. Then, in 2017 I had a bad car accident and had a subdural hematoma. That wiped out much of the first couple of years I was dating Mr. FixIt. He still asks me if I remember dining here or going there and maybe I have a tiny memory…like looking at a photo. Or, maybe I have no memory of it at all. And now, hyperparathyroidism messes with my memory. Add aging and well, let’s just say I have a very patient husband. And a blog with lots and lots of stories I can go back and read to remind me if I forget.

“But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.”
John 14:26 ESV

Connecting With the Past

Tue, 14 Sep 2021 01:30:00 -0600

We’re heading into the downhill stretch of our trip to Colorado and I’m starting to have those “last visits for a while.” That brings out all the feels. We have had incredibly beautiful weather, although they sorely need rain in these parts. While I went out to lunch and a walk with Daughter #2 yesterday, Mr. FixIt took his regular walk around the reservoir nearby. Colorado has the most beautiful scenery. Wispy clouds and bluebird skies….just amazing!

We sat around the table and played cards last night with Ben & Sue and laughed till our sides hurt. Today we’re going to go for a little drive to see some local sites. And tonight we’re going over to teach Daughter #2 how to set her sprinkler system. I know how fast this week is going to go and I want it to slow down. I’ll miss my Colorado peeps so much.

I had a wonderful video chat yesterday with a woman I’ve never met but she’s as much family to me as anyone. I’ve told you stories about my Uncle Sonny who was killed in the plane crash in Germany when he flew for the Air Force. Well, Arlene was his girlfriend and they were planning on being married. She went to the farm to meet Grandma and PopPop and the family. She was the auntie I never got to have.

When my mom was getting into genealogy research, I remembered people talking about Arlene and how wonderful she was. My Grandma loved her like a daughter, although they only met the one time. They kept up by writing letters over the years. I knew she lived in California, and…through the magic of the internet…I found her and reconnected her with my mom. Grandma and PopPop were already gone, but she came to West Virginia with her sister and spent time at the farm and visited Sonny’s grave for the first time.

Arlene went on and married and had a family in California. They owned a pecan farm. She tells of the time she finally was able to stand at Sonny’s grave and surprised herself with the tears that fell when suddenly, a jet plane flew overhead. She felt a sense of closure and was so happy she came for the visit. I was thrilled we could all reconnect.

I’ve thought of Arlene several times over the last couple of weeks. The last I’d heard, she was selling the pecan farm and moving to live near family in Oregon, so I wasn’t at all sure how to reach her. When I woke up yesterday, there was a message in my inbox…from Arlene! She’d seen my pictures of my brother’s birthday party and reached out. So, yesterday afternoon, I sent a video chat request and we had a lovely conversation. She hadn’t heard the farm was sold and I wanted to be sure she knew.

Isn’t it amazing when God presses on your heart a memory of someone, then within a short period of time you connect? I love those moments. I shared stories with her and she told me how she just never felt right in her heart in Oregon. She was trying to do things her way, when she finally realized, if she just turned it over to God, He’d straighten everything out. She did turn it over, and in three days, the movers came and hauled her back to her beloved home in Southern California.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from becoming a widow, it’s this…when God tells you to get in touch with someone, do it. There’s a reason their image is coming to you. Life is entirely too unpredictable to wait after such clear directives come to your heart. I’m so happy we reconnected and I’ll send her a copy of the memory book I’m making about the farm’s history and pray she’s with us for a while longer.

“For I want you to know how great a struggle I have for you and for those at Laodicea and for all who have not seen me face to face, that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. I say this in order that no one may delude you with plausible arguments. For though I am absent in body, yet I am with you in spirit, rejoicing to see your good order and the firmness of your faith in Christ.”
Colossians 2:1-5 ESV

Unexpected Joy… Unexpected Pain

Fri, 27 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I Broke the Mower!

We awoke to partly cloudy skies yesterday with a forecast of “slightly cooler” than it’s been. While we were having breakfast, I asked Mr. FixIt if he thought we should go out to the farm and mow. We had to take his truck because the camper is still hooked up to mine. The AC isn’t working in his truck so we drove through the countryside with the windows down and the air felt so good.

It’s apparent the seasons are about to change here in West Virginia. We may not get the beautiful leaf colors we usually have because we had such a long dry spell for much of the last month. The leaves will probably turn brown and fall off fairly quickly. Unlike the year I pulled the Girl Camper Raffle Trailer around the state of West Virginia all of October 2019. The colors were spectacular that year.

I’ve been looking at some of the beautiful pictures I’ve taken since Mr. Virgo died. I am moving photos from my phone to a flash drive and then transferring them to my computer. There are some 35,000 photos on my phone. Do I need all of them? Heck no. But just like going through a hoarder’s house, I have to go through each photo and delete the ones I don’t want and save the ones I do. (You think that’s bad...I have 42,643 emails in my inbox!) I just don’t stay on top of that stuff. However, seeing the photos of some of my solo travels as my grief began to ease filled me with a sense of unexpected pride and joy.

Back to the farm…I got the mower out of the barn and stopped in back of the house to check the oil. It’s been dripping oil and I wanted to make sure there was plenty. I lifted the engine cover and suddenly I heard a crack. I looked down in time to see one of the hinges broke completely off one side of the hood. Before I could reach and grab it, the other hinge broke from the added weight and the whole hood fell off on the ground in front of the tractor.

We just stood there dumbfounded, looking at each other. Dang. I picked up the hood and put it on the back porch. The tractor runs and mows just fine without the hood, but now it isn’t as pretty as it was before. On the plus side, the oil level was fine and I quickly had the whole place mowed while Mr. FixIt worked on the trimming.

I went inside and sat down for a moment to reflect. As I told you on Wednesday, yesterday would have been my mom’s 96th birthday. What I hadn’t remembered was…50 years ago yesterday, my PopPop died unexpectedly on my mom’s birthday. I sat in the chair in the dining room, remembering my grandma telling me how he didn’t feel well that day, but he didn’t want to go to the hospital…because it was my mom’s special day.

Losing my PopPop was my first brush with death. Grandma had asked him that day if he’d eat some corn if she heated it up. He said yes, so she went out to the cellar house to get a jar and by the time she got back inside…he was gone. She had my uncle carry him out to the car, and she drove like a maniac to town through those winding West Virginia roads I know like the back of my hand. She stopped at the State Police Barracks just at the edge of town and they led her through traffic with their sirens wailing to get him to the hospital as soon as possible…though even they knew it was too late.

Grandma was only 64…PopPop was 72. I sat there in the same room where she found him, thinking of her with a renewed sense of empathy for her pain. He died just three months before their 50th Anniversary. They’d been married since she was 15. He was all she’d known. I thought my pain was bad. I cannot imagine hers. They lost a beloved son in a plane crash a couple of years after I was born. She lost her beloved husband just before a milestone event in their lives. She went on to live another 29 years without him.

I shook myself from my reverie and gathered up my things to head home. I put the mower away and locked everything up. We loaded the push mower in the truck and headed to town to pick up some prescriptions. And here we are…at that age where it feels like we are either at the doctor or filling a prescription every time we turn around. I tweaked something in my hip the other night stepping into the pool. The simplest of things can bring the sharpest of pains…physical and emotional. Ice and NSAIDs are my friend right now because we are preparing for a very LONG road trip. I can’t get knocked down. I don’t have time.

At least all we have to do is put a few things in the truck and we’re about ready.

“‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.””
Revelation 21:4 NIV

#Memories, #Grief, #Healing, #Joy

Generations of Strong Women

Tue, 03 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I have a second cousin who was fortunate enough to have a portrait taken when her baby was born that included five generations. We never had a formal family portrait made with five generations because my grandma and mom were gone before my first grandchild was born. But, the photographs we have are cherished dearly.

I was playing around on Ancestry the other day and it gave me this collage with my maternal great grandmother, my grandma, my mom, and me. I think mom favors her dad’s people, but you can sure tell the family resemblance with the other three. My great grandmother, Nellie May, died when she was only 28 years old…my grandma was nine. Nellie left her husband with three little kids to raise and he soon had a new wife to take care of them.

Knowing my great grandfather as I did, I know Nellie May had to be a strong woman. Then losing her mother so young, my grandma and her older sister had to take care of the baby while Grandpa worked. I know what a strong woman she was. She only went to school through eighth grade and married my PopPop just shy of her 16th birthday when they ran off to Oakland, MD. Her first baby was stillborn, then my mom came along. Grandma had five other babies in seven years. She was much happier working outdoors than in, so my mom was left with a lot of the work of caring for the babies and the house.

My older brother was born with cerebral palsy, so she had to be strong to do all the things she needed to do to raise a special needs child while navigating the minefield of a marriage stunted by alcohol and emotional abuse. It wasn’t an easy life for any of these women, yet they created a beautiful line of strong women. I see it in my own children and grandchildren.

I’m proud to stand in this line. The lessons I’ve learned from the women who created me have been invaluable. They’ve made me who I am today. They’ve taught me to rely on Jesus to carry me through the rough times. They’ve taught me to love and care for others. I hope I do them justice as I try to be strong in the passages of life. Sometimes I don’t feel I measure up, but then I know…that’s the enemy talking and not the way God…or these women…saw/see me.

I know that the reason I live in West Virginia now is the love for these hills that I learned from my ancestors. I know it must be in my bones, because I feel a kinship to this red clay soil like nowhere else I’ve lived. Perhaps these three women who’ve gone before me are sitting in a row of rocking chairs on the front porch, looking down at me and mine. Maybe they smile and nod. Maybe there’s a lot of eye-rolling going on. I hope they’re proud of what I’ve done with what they shared with me.

“Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.””
Genesis 2:18 ESV

Hot! Hot! Hot!

Tue, 27 Jul 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Land’s sake…I don’t know how y’all out West are handling the intense heat and mega drought. It was in the 90’s here yesterday and, of course, that’s with a ton of humidity. As Little would say, you could see the oxygen. The former Mrs. FixIt and my bonus daughter came over yesterday to pick some squash and tomatoes from the garden. They brought lemons and green tomatoes in trade. It was so hot just standing out there for a short period of time. I can’t imagine how people stand it that have to work out in this heat every day.

I remember when I was young, we always knew every neighbor up and down the block by name. We knew where they worked and all their kids’ names. And, if you needed to borrow a cup of sugar, you might take an egg or a stick of butter with you so as to even your debt. That kept you from schlepping back over the next week with that cup of sugar. If you borrowed a tool, you cleaned it well afterwards and returned it in better condition than when you got it. If it used gas, you filled it up. If you broke it, you paid to get it fixed or you replaced it.

If someone was elderly or ill and unable to care for the yard or garden, you and/or your kids went over and did some chores to help out. When someone died or had a new baby, you took food and offered to shop or run errands. When someone had a birthday or anniversary, you sent a card. When you had a party, you sent an invitation. If you were on the receiving end, you sent a thank you note.

Yes, I know times are different. A verbal thank you is sufficient in most cases. And, depending on the depth of your friendship, a Facebook greeting or text wishing them a good day on special days is probably adequate. I don’t know what it is…being old school or being retired and having the time to do more…but I think about these things now and wonder if all this casual communication somehow robs the giver and receiver both of the joy of the giving.

Maybe it’s natural to look back when you are “of a certain age” and long for “the good ol’ days”. I know they weren’t always good, and we have selective memory loss at some point. But, I do miss the more genteel manners of yesteryear.

Speaking of manners, Mr. FixIt and I were heading to his acupuncture appointment yesterday when we stopped to get a drink on the way. We were sitting in line at the McDonald’s and could clearly see something hanging on the overpass. When we finished eating our breakfast sandwich, my curiosity got the better of me and I drove to where I could read the sign. It turned out to be from a violent, white supremacy, neo-fascist group. I was shocked to see something like that hanging there. This was a 2:00 in the afternoon, so who knows how long it had been there. We called the state patrol and they said they’d get right on it. It had been removed by the time we got back home a few hours later.

I just have no patience for hate anymore. When I see it, I call it out.

It’s going to be another scorcher today! Keep cool and safe out there, my friends!

“Do not be deceived: “Bad company ruins good morals.””
1 Corinthians 15:33 ESV

My Farm Fix

Fri, 16 Jul 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I Spy, with My Little Eye…Something PINK! Do You See?

We went to the farm to mow yesterday. The new owners, who I affectionately call Frank and Beans, have been gracious enough to let me visit and/or stay out at the farm whenever I can…which has saved me so much heartache over its sale. I told them, if they would provide me a riding mower, I would be happy to mow in exchange for their generosity. So, yesterday was mowing day.

They brought a wonderful “vintage” John Deere. Those things are heavy duty and run forever. Even so, I hadn’t used it yet, and just in case of something unforeseen, we towed our riding mower over. It turns out we needn’t have bothered because that ol’ Deere turned over on about the third crank. I couldn’t get it adjusted to cut quite as close as I like, but it is more than adequate and worked just fine. I have dubbed the old fella…John Boy. Mr. FixIt ran the push mower while I mowed with the tractor. It was 86 degrees and, as Little says, “you could see the oxygen”. Humid and sticky.

I heated up pepperoni rolls from JR’s for lunch. They’re West Virginia’s Official State Food and I think JR’s are really good. The best I’ve ever had came from the old grocery store not too far from the farm. Unfortunately, they closed a couple of years ago and that was the end of the BEST pepperoni rolls EVER. They made them there, so maybe I can get the recipe one of these days.

As we sat on the porch, I looked down and there…right at my feet…was one of those WICKED tussock caterpillars like the one that stung me a few weeks ago. Let me tell you, I dispatched that sucker toot suite, picked up his limp little body with a stick, and tossed it in the weeds where no one could get to it. They’ll still sting even after they’re dead.

I’m hoping their season is short and they’ll soon wrap themselves up in a cocoon and turn into moths. In doing some more research, I’ve found that nasty, itchy rash with the welts on my neck actually has a name…tussockosis. Clever. I try to be very careful when I mow and not brush up against shrubs and bushes where these nasty buggers can hide.

I always have to sit and enjoy how pretty the yard looks at the farm after we’ve mowed. No matter how hot it is, I’ll sit with a cold drink, take a pretty picture, and let all that farm love wash over me. But, after a while, it was time to pack it up and head back home to Marshmallow Ranch (aka the Ponderosa). I made a big pot of spaghetti for supper. Mr. FixIt left to go help a friend move some things. And I curled up in TOW-Wanda to write this.

Any day at the farm is a good day!

“You have fixed all the boundaries of the earth; you have made summer and winter.”
Psalm 74:17 ESV

What’s This…A Day Off???

Thu, 08 Jul 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Standing at the Foot of the Temporary Back Steps

I can’t remember the last time I actually took the whole day off. When we prepared for bed on Tuesday night, I told Little we were taking the day off and to feel free to sleep in. That we did. Poor kid keeps saying anytime we go someplace here, it’s a mini road trip. She isn’t far off. I didn’t cook breakfast…we fended for ourselves. Little packed for the camping trip, read and played with makeup all day. I pulled out my laptop and external hard drive and looked for old pictures of the farm. I want to make a memory book for the family. And I want to share some of the old photos with the new owners.

It’s been really interesting going through the pictures and trying to get an idea of the timeline. Some of the snapshots had dates printed on the border to indicate when they were developed, but most did not. I believe I have found the oldest photo of Grandma’s house that I have in my possession…and it is SO cool! I found a bunch of pictures that show the house before it was moved onto the new basement. I have memories of that, but had no idea how old I was. I found a couple of pictures of me taken right after they rolled the house onto the new foundation. I don’t believe we were there when it was actually being moved because it wasn’t safe to have littles around.

It’s also been interesting to go through these photos and “feel” my family and what they must have been feeling at the time photos were taken. There were happy times like large family gatherings. And there were sad times like the somber, haunted faces staring into the camera documenting the loss of my Uncle Sonny. He was an Air Force pilot and crashed in Germany in 1955. I was almost two. I often wondered if there were any pictures of him holding me. I found a letter where he asked my mom how she was doing and had I arrived yet. And I also found him holding a baby that looks to be about two or three months old. I’m trying to put times and faces and ages together to figure out if it’s me. I’m hoping my uncle can help me figure it out. Once Little goes back with her mom and sister to Colorado, I want to get over to my uncle’s house for a visit.

Little and I leave today to go camping for two days and we are SO excited. We are meeting a few of my camping friends, and we’ll do some crafts and things.

Little Bear and Nana’s Excellent Adventure!

““Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.”
Exodus 20:12 ESV

Facebook Memories and Family

Sat, 19 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I remember when the first “memory” with Mr. Virgo showed up on Facebook after he died. It slayed me. I couldn’t breathe and the only thing I could think of was, “Now and forever, Facebook will torture me with these. Maybe I won’t be thinking about him dying for like…five minutes…then, BAM! Right in the face!”

It turns out, they were really painful for quite a while, then slowly, slowly, slowly…I could look at them and they’d make me smile like most of the warm memories the FB algorithms deem appropriate to share with me. I don’t get as many Mr. Virgo memories these days. Not sure why. Just the nature of the beast. Sometimes I don’t even look at them. Maybe that’s why. Anyway, the one that showed up last night really brought back a fun, fun memory!

I lived in Colorado for forty years…the last twenty-eight of which were spent in the Roaring Fork Valley for the most part. Glenwood Springs or the surrounding area was home from 1986 to 2014 when I sold my house and took off for West Virginia in my big camper, TOW-Wanda Grande. I came back to see the kids every summer since then, except for last year because of the pandemic. I dragged the camper back every other summer and took the grandkids camping.

One summer, we camped in the Glenwood Canyon which was totally awesome. We spent time in the Hot Springs Pool and went to the park to hear live music. But the most fun thing we did was visit Glenwood Adventure Park. Located high above the canyon itself, you could actually see some of the rides from our campsite. If the wind was right, you could hear the screams of the tourists as they dared to swing out over the canyon’s edge and peek 1300 feet down into the canyon below. The cars on the interstate looked like toys.

The new roller coaster opened a couple of years before and I couldn’t wait to get the kids up there and have some fun. It’s a fast, FAST ride that is over in around a minute flat. But, Jeez-o-Pete…it was terrifying. I am not ashamed to say I totally wet my pants at about where that arrow is pointing. You are at a high point on the ride when you suddenly drop into a spiral that gets smaller and smaller and faster and faster till it literally feels like time stands still and you think you are surely in another dimension.

We laughed and laughed and laughed on that trip. We left from there and went up to Steamboat Springs and went on a horseback trip and rented a pontoon boat and spent the afternoon fishing and doing crafts out on the lake and visited their hot springs. That was the year before Big decided camping was horrible and she never wanted to do it again….EVER. The next time I wanted to take them, it was just me and Little.

Maybe she’ll go again with me some day. I sent her a picture of us on that trip with the message. “You had fun….don’t lie!” Her answer? “Yeah.” lol Little will go with me anywhere, I have no doubt. But, someday…someday I want to sit in the woods around the campfire with just me and Big. It can happen!

“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”
Proverbs 22:6 ESV

On a Saturday Night in West Virginia

Tue, 08 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Roller Rink in Belpre, OH - photo by Harry Barnett

I was born in the Fifties and grew up in the Sixties. It was a fine time to be a kid. We didn’t have a lot of money and we didn’t really go out and do a lot of “stuff”...especially if it cost money. Most of our Saturday nights were either spent at home or at the farm with Grandma and PopPop. During the summer, Saturday wasn’t any different than any other day of the week, except for one thing. Saturday night was “Skate Night” for the cool kids.

I wasn’t...WAS NOT...one of the cool kids. My cousins were cool. I knew people who were cool. But somehow...I missed out on the cool gene. However, when the Stanley’s moved in down the street in the summer of ‘66, I found my partner in crime. Sharon was my age, in my grade. My very fist same-age friend. Everyone else in the neighborhood were either much older, or much younger. We soon became inseparable.

We did everything together. We rode bikes for hours. We took tennis lessons at the town park. We were awful, but we had fun at it. We explored the woods up on the hill above our houses. Even though I couldn’t swim and was terrified of water, we went to the pool and “laid out” in the sun. From first light, off we’d go whenever we could. As long as we were home by the time the street lights came on, we were good.

One of our favorite things to do was go to Cavalier Roller Rink. I was in awe of the older kids who could skate backwards and do spins and never fall down. We were used to those awful metal street skates you crunched down on your shoes with a key. Mine came from the Plaid Stamp store. I can still see them. They were shiny and had a foam pad on the ankle strap that was red plaid. We were really uptown in those, I’m telling ya.

Skating in rink skates was an entirely differently proposition. The floor was smooth as glass and the wheels met the floor with precision. Smooth....and slick as ice. We fell far more than we skated till we finally got the hang of it. I never did get to be a really great skater. I couldn’t spin or skate backwards, but I could skate arm in arm and in long conga lines. We played “Crack the Whip” which was deliciously terrifying when you were on the end of the line.

By the time we were teenagers, there was the typical posturing...trying to attract the eye of someone who interested you. Getting to skate with someone during the “Couples Only” skate was our loftiest goal. We most often sat that one out, munching on popcorn and soft drinks till we could get back out there and zoom around and around. I think back to those Saturday nights with great fondness. For several reasons.

One...I have a birthday coming up soon. Sixty-eight. How that happened...I’ll never know. But it’s been fifty years since we graduated from high school...fifty years ago today, to be exact. It’s been fifty years since I went to a roller rink, too. That’s ok...I don’t miss it. I just miss those days of not being reminded I have knees every time I stand up. I miss long summer days playing in the sun without a care in the world. I miss that feeling of hurrying down the street when you knew the streetlight would be on any minute. The sound of TV’s in people’s houses. The quiet conversations on front porches. The shouts of, “See ya’ tomorrow!”

There is a whole lotta space in the “dash” between then and now. A lot was done. Many accomplishments. Too many mistakes. A rich tapestry woven with the experiences we’ve all had over these last fifty years. We’ve postponed our 50th High School Reunion till next year due to the uncertainty of Covid over the last year. It takes a lot of money and planning to put on that show, and it would have been terrible to have to cancel. This way we have another year to take off some of this Covid weight! lol

I guess where I’m going with this is...my sweet friend Sharon isn’t doing very well right now. She has some pretty major health issues, then ended up with long haul Covid on top of it so she’s struggling to get better. She has a fighting spirit. After all, at church camp, we were notorious, as our theme song stated...

“We are the Night Owls, Mighty Mighty Night Owls, every where we go-oh, people want to know-oh, who we are, so we tell them....”

Please join me in lifting up my life-long, good time loving, slumber party giving, all night skating, best iced tea making, bike riding bunk mate in earnest prayer that the gifted doctors at Mayo Clinic will fix her up so she can get back to this wonderful life and we can finally go camping together!

I love you, Shubs. Please get well soon!

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“A friend loves at all times......”
Proverbs 17:17 NIV

The Sunday Drive

Mon, 07 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I grew up with a family that took Sunday drives. Most often, it was out to see Grandma and PopPop at the farm. But, sometimes we’d go visiting someone else or maybe pack a lunch and have a picnic at one of the many “Roadside Parks” that used to dot the two-lanes around the countryside. Sunday was when you went to church, and then you went for a visit or a drive...or both. When you were really lucky, you got a nap, too!

Hubby #1 was a West Virginia boy...born and bred. We went for Sunday drives all the time...even when we lived in England. Hubby #2 was a Colorado boy and using up precious natural resources driving around with no purpose was beyond reprehensible. Mr. Virgo LOVED going for drives, but they were seldom on Sunday’s because of his work schedule. And now, Mr. FixIt...another dyed in the wool Mountaineer...is up for a drive any day of the week.

We hooked up the utility trailer midday and loaded up the mowers to head to the farm. It was 86 degrees by the time we were done. I think we hit a speed record for mowing and getting out of there. When we got home, We vacuumed the pool and put chemicals in. Then, it was time to go for a Sunday drive. We decided to go into town for carry out, then head to City Park to dine al fresco. It was downright pleasant with a breeze in the shade of the many huge trees.

When we were done, we stopped for gas then I asked...”Where to now?” First we went to visit one of the grandkids but they weren’t home. We decided to go out the road at the top of the hill not far from our house to check on the growth of the tomatoes in the high tunnels. They’re doing great...a good four feet high already. Then, when we were almost home, Mr. FixIt wanted to drive out another road to see if these people had finished building their house.

When we headed toward home, we came to a fork in the road.

“In all the years I’ve lived here, I have never been out this road.” He pointed straight ahead so that’s where we went. Another single track road with nowhere to pull off. We drove along and saw old farm houses and lush fields of hay. We hoped someone was going to mow it. There were many, many people cutting and bailing their hay this week. We finally came to a dead end and turned around. As we came to a small creek bed cutting through bedrock, I caught the familiar song of the Wood Thrush. I stopped and turned off the car and listened. There were other birds, but the Wood Thrush is what I identify most readily. It is the song of The Farm. For as long as I’ve lived, I’ve heard their sweet calls echoing through the holler up behind Grandma’s house. I do not hear them here at the house, but just a few miles away, in the dense lush West Virginia woods...there they were. I recorded them for a bit, then I just sat back and listened. What a treat!

The Song of the Wood Thrush

On our way home, we passed a beautiful field with the sun setting behind it. We found a big old houseboat looking decidedly out of place with the tall grasses growing up around it. It must have been a beauty in its day. Then, the last shot of the day was some beautiful white-faced calves laying in a field while their mamas grazed nearby. One little bull calf stood and watched his mama as if to find out if he should be worried about us. My Uncle Howard always raised white-faced cattle simply because he loved to look out his window at breakfast and see them in his field. I can see why. They are lovely creatures.

That was a wrap on the weekend. Sleeping in the camper was absolutely heavenly! I slept like a rock! Many things to accomplish this week as time is ticking away and the girls will be here before I know it!!!

“How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!”
Psalms 133:1 NIV

My Heart is Happy

Tue, 01 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Late Afternoon at the Cemetery on the Hill

Yesterday was a perfectly beautiful day. We slept in, which is always nice. We stopped for breakfast on the way into town, then picked up my bonus daughter and son-in-law. They didn’t know where some of the family graves were, so we took them with us. Every year it’s the same thing. We know where all but one of the graves are in this huge cemetery. We walked around for a good forty-five minutes when I had the bright idea to look at the picture we took a couple of years ago of the headstone we were looking for. We all studied the photo, then fanned out and our son-in-law had it in less than a minute. Thank goodness it wasn’t as hot as it was out there last year.

We Found the Elusive Headstone

Our high yesterday was only 72 and I consider that perfect. Even in the sun, you aren’t over heated. We decorated all the graves then I realized, same as last year...I hadn’t bought enough. We went to Dollar Tree and they were sold out. Then we went to Michael’s. They had flowers, but I wasn’t going to pay $5 for one flower when the cemetery is going to throw the decorations away in ten days. So, I bought pinwheels. They were festive and colorful and move in the wind.

A Stunning Lily Growing at a Gravesite

We dropped the kids off and headed out to the country to my family’s cemetery. On the way, Mr. FixIt asked if I wanted to drive through the state park that’s on the way. It was a lovely day. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the trees are all fully leafed out and provided a full canopy that cast a fresh green hue over everything. One campground was nearly empty...the other nearly full. We figure the empty one is where the families camp most often. The people in the other campgrounds seemed more our age.

We arrived at the cemetery and I once again was struck by how beautiful and well kept it is. Nearly every headstone was decorated...and all military graves were decorated with flags. I love that so many people have peonies planted on the graves. My grandma would love that. I am going to propagate some of Grandma’s peonies from the farm. I’ll plant some for us here at home and some up at the cemetery. We wandered around and looked at the headstones and the dates and thought of the families who had to say goodbye.

As I placed flowers on my grandparents’ grave, I told them the farm had been sold and we’ve al been working hard getting things out of there. I told Grandma all about Frank & Beans and how they already love the farm. They have grand-babies so there will be little ones in the house again some of these days. I told her she would be really proud of the way we took care of the farm all these years without her and that we will still be able to visit the old home-place because Frank & Beans really get it. They know how much we love the place.

A Carpet of Rhododendron Blossoms

On our way home, we stopped at the farm and brought another load of things home. There are only three things left in the basement, Grandma’s bed/bedding, and what little is in the outbuilding and barn. We drove home as the sun was setting and decided it was a really good day all the way around.

It is a brand new month...and, my heart is full and happy.

“Do not marvel at this, for an hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come out.....”
John 5:28 ESV

Memorial Day Weekend

Sat, 29 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I still get notifications from 911 in Garfield County where I used to live in Colorado. Not that I need them for me, but my brother lives there and I like to keep up with what’s happening. I got a notice yesterday afternoon of yet another accident on I-70 that was blocking the road with no estimated time to reopen. I’ve seen a huge uptick in fatal and near fatal accidents come across my notifications and I began to wonder what on earth was going on. Then, I read a couple of articles that said people who stopped driving or seriously cut back on their drive time during the Covid crisis are actually having to re-learn their driving skills. We get rusty when we don’t practice something. I’ve noticed it in myself and consequently, I’ve backed off the gas pedal a good deal to compensate for my slower response times.

Yesterday’s notice was serious. A semi jumped the rail on an elevated portion of I-70 where it travels through Glenwood Canyon and landed on its top on the eastbound lanes below. Some of those west bound lanes are over fifty feet higher than the eastbound. Traffic has been at a standstill for hours at the time I’m writing this and could be closed for twelve hours or more. In the meantime, hundreds of people are stuck in the canyon...no facilities, dicey cell service. The cars are parked and people are out talking and commiserating with each other over the delay.

More than likely, there’s nothing they can do about it. There’s no place to go. They just have to sit and wait it out. That’s why Coloradans carry an emergency kit in their cars at all times. You don’t know when or where you’re going to get stuck...in a snowstorm, a tornado, a rockslide. Blankets, flashlights, a change of clothing, jackets for layering, energy bars, water, a first aid kit are musts. Heck, these people are going to wish they had a tent! Many of them were heading east to catch planes for the Memorial Day weekend...travel they’ve been desperate to enjoy for over a year. I hope their entire weekend isn’t ruined by this inconvenience. But, most of all, I pray for the health and well being of the driver and that he didn’t land on top of someone else.

Memorial Day isn’t about barbecues and air travel anyway. It is about remembering those who gave their lives in the service of our country. Not to be confused with Veteran’s Day where we thank people who have and are currently serving in the military. When I was a very little girl, I remember family trips to the cemetery in Ravenswood where my dad’s family is buried. We called it Decoration Day, because that’s when we went to the cemetery to decorate the graves of our departed loved ones...military or not.

I used to go to the family cemeteries every time I came home to West Virginia for a visit. I could always find our people because they were buried beneath the biggest tree there. On April 9th, 1991 a derecho came through West Virginia, destroying buildings and houses and countless trees. One such unfortunate victim was the big tree over my family’s graves. The next time I went, I had a hard time finding them without the big tree to guide me.

I knew I had a photo somewhere of the big tree. I figured there was a picture somewhere in the family archives of us when we were little...and therefore the tree would also be smaller. I found this picture when I was going through things to bring home from the farm. It was tucked inside a box of tchotchkes which just goes to prove you need to go through everything before you throw it away or divvy it up. You never know what treasures you may find.

The first picture is of my brother and me on Decoration Day. I remember seeing this picture when I was very young, but haven’t seen it in decades. I am almost certain this is the same tree...some fifty-odd years before the second picture. You can see how big the tree was before the derecho took it out in 1991.

Remember the meaning of this weekend. There are parents missing their children, spouses missing their loves, children longing for their elders. None of us live long without experiencing the loss of a beloved family member. It is our duty to remember them, and to mark the solemn occasion with more than a hotdog and chips.

“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”
John 15:13 ESV

Pure Mountain Spring Water

Sun, 23 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

PopPop and three of his brothers in front of the house before it was moved onto the new basement.

Ok, I’m still doing some remembering. Even though the farm was sold at auction on Tuesday, that doesn’t end my relationship with it. I am incredibly blessed that the new buyers will welcome me there. And there are still so many stories to be told. This is the oldest photo I can find of Grandma’s house. The men picture here are four of five brothers...my PopPop is the third from the left.

This is when the house sat on stacks of stones. Vines grew on the front porch to help keep the living space cool in the summer. If you zoom in, you can see the oil well derrick that stood in the back yard. For many, many years, the house was left natural and weathered to a beautiful, rich grey. The bad part about that is, the wood is more susceptible to rot and insect invasion. Sometime in the late ‘70s, early ‘80s, I came home for a visit and my uncle had painted the house red with white trim. I was devastated because it didn’t look like “home” anymore. Now, I can’t imagine loving it more. The red has mellowed to a deep, rusty color in some areas...depending on sun exposure.

The Old Oxbow Spring

The house didn’t have running water till it was moved onto the new basement. That must have been around 1958 or so. This picture was probably taken in the early to mid-fifties, judging by the car parked in the yard. Grandma had to depend on the well to wash clothes and to bathe in the old galvanized tub. At the time, the well water was sweet and drinkable. However, once they took that derrick out of there and capped the wells in the area, the aquifer was fractured and the water was brackish. That was devastating when it was the only source of water.

An Old Milk Can (not my photo)

For a while, I remember hauling water from the old Oxbow Spring. I rode in the pickup with PopPop and hauled two or three milk cans of water home a couple of times a week. There was an aluminum ladle with a long handle that had a bend in the end of it that hung on a nail by the can in the kitchen. When it was really hot out, they kept the water cans in a root cellar to stay cool. I belong to a Facebook group that shares memories of the area and someone posted a picture of the spring. People still go and collect water there, although...someone mentioned there’s an old cemetery on the hill up above the spring. That might make me think twice about drinking the water now, but back then, we were happy to have it. I do believe Grandma always boiled our drinking water...no matter the source.

An Aluminum Dipper Like Ours (not my photo)

Our temps here in West Virginia have gone from meat locker to microwave in the span of a few days. It won’t be long and we can hop in the pool of an evening and cool off. We went over to see one of the granddaughters and her fiancé this morning. They just graduated from WVU and are fixing up an old house that was converted from a barn on 90 acres. They board horses and raise their own hay. I was telling Mr. FixIt...I would have given anything to have had something like that when I was their age. We are so proud of them...they’ve really been working hard, and it shows.

We went for a little drive afterward and checked out the high tunnels where they grow the best tomatoes just a few miles from the Ponderosa. They’re already waist high! I asked Mr. FixIt not to plant so many tomato plants this year...just enough for the table. I’ll buy from the folks at the high tunnels when I want to can tomatoes. We have ten plants instead of twenty-three! We also have zucchini, yellow squash, and lettuce planted. I’ve been so busy over at the farm, I haven’t dabbled in my flowers yet, but I will soon. I still want to bring some back from the farm. We will probably go over and mow today before it gets too hot. Even though the auction is over, it hasn’t closed and I don’t want to leave it looking like a hay field for the new owners.

I hope you enjoy your day. It’s been lovely!

“Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. What is the first thing you will do? Won't you sit down and figure out how much it will cost and if you have enough money to pay for it? Otherwise, you will start building the tower, but not be able to finish. Then everyone who sees what is happening will laugh at you. They will say, “You started building, but could not finish the job.””
Luke 14:28-30 CEV

The Open House

Thu, 13 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Kitchen

My goal was to have the house clean and presentable for the Open House yesterday, and I have to say...I was so proud of the way it looked when the auction agent (Wayne) got there. They arrived about 3:15 and needed to get back up on the hill to show the property lines to the one who hadn’t been there yet. Wayne took a quick look around the house and he was so pleased. The first time he saw it was when Mr. FixIt and I were at the beach so nothing had been done. It was in quite a state of disarray.

Kitchen - My uncle made this cabinets after they rolled the house down onto the new basement

None of us have ever seen it so empty, but it didn’t seem forlorn or depressing to me. It seem light and airy...like it could breathe in the sunshine. It was a beautiful, cool day. Members of the family or the sellers aren’t supposed to attend an open house. I didn’t realize that’s for our own protection against any liability. They are licensed and insured and that is their business. I really liked Wayne. He was genuine and personable. After he glanced at the house, he said, “I have a gift for you. You’ve worked so hard, you deserve a present!” He went out to his truck and brought me a wonderful Yeti travel mug! That was very kind of him.

The Dining Room

I had another truckload packed by the time they arrived, so all I had to do was put my overnight bags in and head home. I sent my cousin Katie the pictures of the house when it was ready and asked her to show my uncle today when they go help him mow. The house was always a shrine of sorts. It seemed like once we lost our Uncle Sonny in the plane crash, the house never changed much after that. Other than replacing worn out furnishings, it always looked the same year after year. The pictures were all hung in the same spots, the curtains were replaced by identical curtains. It was eerily comforting because you always knew you were home when you walking in the door. It still smells like old wood and dust and lemon oil.

Living Room

I haven’t heard if anyone showed up to the Open House. I hope so. I hope lots of people want it and they just fight over it and cause a bidding war. Not necessarily because it will bring in more money, but because it would show someone loved it enough to fight for it. I talked to my uncle last night to let him know the place looked nice for them and he said, “It’s kinda depressing, isn’t it?” I told him about talking to Grandma at the cemetery the other day and what she “told” me. I could hear his voice quiver. I said, “I know it’s hard because it’s HOME and it’s always been there. But, you know...that land saved a whole lot of people, myself included.” I thanked him tremendously for letting me live there and heal after losing Mr. Virgo. It was honestly like a medicine I took straight into my soul.

Grandma & PopPop’s Bedroom where I sleep. You had to walk through their room to get to the bathroom. Grandma always reached her hand out to touch mine when my mom walked me through.

So, the days of time at the farm are winding down. I’ll go back over one last stretch...maybe Friday. My last night there will be Monday because the auction ends on Tuesday at 7:00. I don’t want to sleep there after that...it won’t seem right. Oh...the stories we have! I’m looking forward to going over to see my uncle and sit with him and ask all the questions I’ve never asked. I want to know everything. For instance...I had no idea the back property line went clear over the back of the hill and across the creek and up the other side a little ways. No idea! All these years I thought it ended at the road on the other side of the old home place.

The Boys’ Room

Today? I HAVE to finish the taxes! Mr. FixIt is working away on the entryways in preparations for the carpet installation tomorrow. He has one finished. One to go. It’s always something, isn’t it?

The Girls’ Room

“Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.”
Proverbs 16:3 ESV

Froggy Went a Courtin’

Wed, 12 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

When I was a very little girl, my PopPop would sit me on his knee and sing “Froggy Went a Courtin’”. When I grew up, I thought everyone sang it this way, but apparently not. I have no idea if this is something he made up, or if this is an old Appalachian way. When I googled it, I learned the song PopPop taught me is a lengthened version of the bridge. So, I’m going to include a link to me singing it the way I was taught and to a recording of Elizabeth Mitchell & You Are My Flower from her fourth album with Smithsonian Folkways. Hers is decidedly MUCH better than mine...but here it is for posterity!

Me: https://youtu.be/mZI1OnUyP2M

Smithsonian: https://youtu.be/0XIT_xMHKJI

I can still remember sitting on his knee when I wasn’t any bigger than this little sprite. And now? That little towhead I’m teaching is our great granddaughter! Where did the time go? I taught it to my babies. I sang it to my grandbabies. And now...here’s a new generation begging me to “Do it again!”

Oh, this back porch. Right behind me there was always an old wooden rocking chair. Maybe another old dining room chair or two. We spent many a night out there...us kids running around catching lightning bugs in a jar or eating watermelon till it dripped off our chins. We’d have seed spitting contests because my Uncle Bud would warns us not to swallow them or vines would grow out of our ears!

This is on the cool side of the house as the sun sets on the other side. You could always be sure to feel a cool breeze coming down out of the holler, brushing over us so blissfully. We might find a toad in the hostas Grandma planted out behind the new cinder block bathroom they built for her. Later on, a big upright freezer sat on this porch for many years, along with an old wooden table with linoleum nailed to the top that could be pulled out into the yard whenever we needed a place to work.

I remember an old wringer washer that was powered by a hit and miss engine that sat out here. There was one memorable fall when we made apple butter in a copper kettle over an open fire just off this porch. At one time, there was a double washtub with a washboard and a bar of lye soap. The old smokehouse used to sit right off the back yard. Now it’s up near the barn and “leaning towards the peach orchard”, as my grandma used to say.

This is the porch where my PopPop played “Turkey in the Straw” on the fiddle I have at home. My great grandpa danced a soft shoe across the porch while he played. I have his walking stick and his spats. I gave his bowler hat to my cousin Tammy. This is the porch where grandma sat in a chair and waited for us to get out of the car and run into her embrace when we came home from so very far away. She cherished having her family around. Consequently, I came home every summer, dragging my babies so they could learn of the never ending love that springs from this place.

I know my kids have fond memories of the farm. I also know, it couldn’t possibly mean the same thing to them as it does to me. This was “home” to me...it was “vacation” to them. My oldest grandchild had a bath on this back porch when she was nine months old in the same galvanized tub I had MY Saturday night baths in. My youngest daughter and I took “moon baths” in the yard, not ten feet from where I’m sitting here singing. We’d get a bucket of warm soapy water, strip down in the dark yard, wash off, then pour buckets of cool rainwater over us so we would cool down enough to go to sleep.

Just shy of 67 years ago, my grandma carried my chubby one-year-old body in one arm and my birthday cake in the other and made a beeline for the yard. She wanted to get a picture of me digging into my cake with the single candle. Everyone else just sat there, mouths agape, wondering if there would be anything left to eat for dessert once I was done with it.

The fact that I got to share the farm today with our great grandchildren, and got a video for them to remember, means the world to me. After all, what are memories shared?

Well...stories, of course!

“For to the one who has, more will be given, and he will have an abundance, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.”
Matthew 13:12 ESV

Old Phones Equal Old Memories

Tue, 04 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

In going through the items I had stashed at the farm, I came across two old cell phones. One was Mr. FixIt’s. We were dating over a year when he switched to an iPhone so we could see each other on FaceTime while I traveled. However, during that first year, we talked back and forth often. We were laughing at the content of the texts...the majority of which went something like good mornings and how did you sleep and what are you going to do today? Funny how you think your early missives were filled with flowery romance and the reality was pretty much the same as our texts today. Which is a good thing. It means we haven’t tired of each other and we enjoy talking to each other the same as we did when we first started dating.

We looked through the old pictures on his phone, many of which had been taken in the years prior to his divorce. It was fun to see the kids and how little they were. It was interesting to see the things that piqued his interest and prompted him to memorialize moments in a photo. There were SO many photos of sunrises and sunsets at the beach and I can see why going there means so much to him. There were pictures of the flowers that grow here at the Ponderosa. I love that we both have a penchant to take lots of pictures.

The other phone was the old one I had when Mr. Virgo was still living. I got a new one just a couple of month before he died. I remember one of the secondary losses I felt when I realized I had cleaned out my voicemails in the new phone just three days before he passed. I was devastated because those were the sweet messages. The ones he left on the house phone were a tad terse because he was trying both places and couldn’t find me. I have NO idea why it never occurred to me to look on my old phone for those messages, but it didn’t...until yesterday.

It took me a long time to unlock the phone. It has one of those patterns on the screen that you have to trace. Time, grief brain, a head injury, and just plain aging and I could not remember what the pattern was. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t until I finally let my muscle memory take over, got it opened, and looked in the contact list that I was sure it even WAS my phone.

I wasn’t necessarily looking for the voicemails. I checked the photos first. I was hoping there would be more pictures on that phone, but there wasn’t anything that hadn’t been transferred over to the new phone. I looked in the emails. Nothing interesting there. Notes? Nah...just shopping lists and reminders to pick up the dry cleaning and phone number of the plumber. Ordinary stuff. The icons on a Droid are different than an iPhone and I wasn’t sure what I was clicking, but suddenly...up popped all my old voicemails.

It has been eight years since I heard his voice. There were about twelve voicemails from him...and they were the nice ones with the lilt in his voice. Not the all business “Where ARE you?” calls. I listened to every one. I believe there is a reason God didn’t let me find those sweet messages till now. If I would have heard them early on, it would have crushed me. It would have set me up for even greater longing and pain. And, knowing me, I may have obsessively listened to them over and over and over. Which in a way would have kept me stuck in mourning.

As I listened to the messages yesterday, I was thrilled because I could just SEE him in my mind’s eye. The years have softened that memory. I couldn’t exactly hear his voice in my head anymore. I couldn’t actually SEE him in my head. He faded to a fuzzy version of himself...ghostlike and far from me. Hearing his voice yesterday allowed me to “see” him again and this time without the pain. It was like... “Ohhhhh, THERE you are! I remember you!” Like seeing an old friend...someone I loved very much. And now, I have something else to tuck away in a drawer...just to know it’s there. I may or may not listen to the messages again someday. But I don’t feel the compulsion to do so that I absolutely KNOW I would have if I’d known I could.

Yes, this was a memory meant for now. I’m glad I found him and now he’s safe in a drawer. Someday, when I’m dead and gone, one of the kids...or Mr. FixIt...will be going through my things and think, “Isn’t that odd? Keeping that old cell phone in there?” They’ll never get a chance to get it unlocked to find the treats that lay within. Some treasures are meant to be left alone.

“remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me,”
Isaiah 46:9 ESV

A Face with No Name

Sat, 01 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

When I was rummaging around in the box with my late uncle’s flag, I found this photo at the bottom of the box. I don’t recall ever having seen this picture hanging in Grandma’s house. The frame is long gone...broken along the way somewhere with no money to replace it. When I looked at the photo in person, I didn’t notice a name written anywhere. But, now that I look at the snapshot I took of it, there may be some faint writing along the bottom of the woman’s white dress shirt. I’ll have to take a closer look when I go back to the farm on Sunday and maybe my uncle will recognize her.

I brought another truckload of stuff home yesterday. The boxes were so heavy and cumbersome and by the time I loaded and unloaded, I hit the wall and ended up sleeping for a couple of hours. This health issue has knocked down my typical go get ‘em stamina down a peg or two. I hope to build that back because there is much to be done around here and finishing up at the farm.

As I was bringing the last of the tubs for this load down from the upstairs bedroom, I noticed a huge scrapbook tucked behind an old mirror leaning against the wall. It was in a white plastic trash bag. I pulled it out and my aunt had stuck a note to it with my mother’s name. I put it in the truck with the rest of the stuff and looked at it when I got home.

When I was cleaning out mom’s house after she died, there were countless scrapbooks with newspaper clippings that caught her fancy glued into them. Articles from the local newspaper about people she knew or happenings in the valley that were interesting to her. She loved to cut out patterns or stories from magazines. It was certainly a treasure trove of stuff that interested her. I looked carefully and the only thing that was familiar to me was an announcement for my first in-law’s 25th wedding anniversary celebration. That I’ll cut out and sent to Hubby #1. I’m sure he’ll enjoy that. It’s a shame to toss something like this scrapbook, but if I hold onto everything anybody I’ve ever known has owned or loved, there won’t be any room in this house for US. Things have to go. Much of what I’m bringing home from the farm will go. I just need to take the time to go through it and I didn’t do it out there. Now I’m out of time.

When I finished packing up the truck, I went to check the mail. As I walked down the driveway, I noticed a white car pull up to the big sign announcing the impending auction. It was the neighbor from down the road. Jean used to walk with my aunt several days a week when Grandma was still living. She told me it just broke her heart to see the farm leaving the family. We sat there along the roadside for a good half hour...reminiscing and sharing stories. She loved my family and, like many who watch their contemporaries pass before them, she expressed her loneliness. I try to call her every time I’m at the farm. Now I’m going to set a reminder in my phone since I won’t be going out there after the farm changes hands.

My uncle is coming to the farm on Sunday with one of his granddaughters and her family to get another load from the barn. I’ll be there to help and we’ll go through the house to figure out what to do with the furniture that’s left over. It’s not worth much but maybe someone can get some use out of it. My cousin will come next Wednesday to get some more of my aunt’s things. It won’t be long and everything will be gone. I’ll sweep it all out...and that will be that.

On a brighter note, I received the extra yarn I ordered for the shawl I’m knitting and I’m making great progress. Mr. FixIt kept the home fires burning while I was gone and he started cleaning out the pool last evening to prepare for summer. Time marches on.

Today is May 1st! Happy May Day!!!

“Ask rain from the Lord in the season of the spring rain, from the Lord who makes the storm clouds, and he will give them showers of rain, to everyone the vegetation in the field.”
Zechariah 10:1 ESV

Protecting the Turf

Fri, 30 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I had a pretty productive day at the farm. The cabinets still had tons of food in them that had long ago gone out of date. It was one of those jobs I kept saying I’d get to, then there was always something more pressing to do. I’m amazed the place wasn’t infested with mice, but there wasn’t a single sign. My cousin dropped off some contractors bags for me and I filled two of them only half full and one I can’t even lift. I’ll have to use another bag and divvy up the goods so I can haul it out.

Once that was finished, I moved upstairs. There’s still quite a lot of my clothes up there and several boxes that need sorting through. When I got one of the closets empty, I noticed a box on the floor in the back. I lifted it out and put it on the bed. I found some pictures of my mom. There were several bags of things with names on an envelope tucked inside to tell the person who found them just who they were intended for. My Aunt Peeps was incredibly organized. I attribute that to never having had children. Nothing was EVER messy or out of place!

I noticed a cloth near the bottom with embroidery on it. I lifted the bags out of the way, and there...wrapped ever so carefully...was the folded flag that draped my Uncle Sonny’s casket. He was killed in 1955 in Germany. His plane crashed during a routine training mission. It was a loss that changed everyone and everything in the family from that date forward. There were some papers, a letter that accompanied his personal effects home, and some odds and ends. I didn’t dig further. But I did pick up that flag, and held it close to my heart, as I am sure my grandma did on that sad, sad day so long ago.

I tucked everything back safely in the box and set it aside. By this time, it was getting time to eat a late lunch, early supper. I took my meal to Grandma’s chair and sat looking out the window at the view she cherished. Suddenly, I heard something. I picked up my phone and quietly went out on the porch to listen. There it was again...one of the Barred Owls that woke me up in the middle of the night was calling in the middle of the day. (Watch the VIDEO here.) They do that when they sense something encroaching on their turf...especially when they’re nesting. In this case, it was probably a Great Horned Owl. These two breeds dislike each other and clear out when visited.

I brought my lunch out on the porch and listened while the rain pattered on the roof. The noise was amazingly joyful and it lifted my heart. I’ve done remarkably well not crying over the loss of the farm. That is, until Wednesday night when the rain started. Ohhhh....I will miss that sound desperately. I texted Mr. FixIt. I told him I am going to need a substitute place to recharge and write...even if it’s on our own property. Like a She Shed. I asked him if he could put on a roof just like this one and he assured me he could.

It’s been easier today. As things are torn up and tossed, gathered and tucked away, and distributed here and there, the house seems less like Grandma’s house and more like a tired old building...long past its prime. It’s funny...when you take the rose colored classes off, the walls look a little grimy, the linoleum a little tired, the furnishings a little shabby. Water spots speckle the ceiling tiles from leaks long since fixed. Pictures that were strategically placed to cover holes in the plaster have been removed...exposing the evidence of a hammer missing the nail sometime in the past. The windows are filmy from years of gas heat and neglect.

Dismantling the old homestead doesn’t dismantle the many wonderful memories me and my cousins share. One son and one daughter survive of the original six children and this was the actual home they lived in growing up. Grandma used to say, if it wasn’t for her dairy cow, her children would have starved to death during the depression. This ground saved them all, just as it saved me. In a totally different way, but it saved me just the same.

Sitting here with this old place, nurturing it as it prepares to leave us, is like sitting with an old friend who is preparing to make her transition to the great beyond. We say our goodbyes in our own way. Mine is making sure Grandma would be proud of the way I took care of it when I had the chance. She and I will rock on a porch in heaven one day, stringing beans, and talk of the place that was sheer heaven on earth to her. And to me.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.””
Revelation 21:4 ESV

The Strawberry Shed

Mon, 26 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I’m gearing up for a busy week both here on the Ponderosa and out at the farm. Both need mowing desperately. This is the time of year you can almost hear the grass growing. Warm days and spring rains bring everything to life here in West Virginia. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you have to stay on top of this stuff or it can so get out of hand.

We’ll bring Pumpkin home from the Kitty Hilton today. We sent her favorite kitty food with her this time in hopes that she isn’t as skinny as she was the last time we brought her home. There are errands to run in town, but I may send Mr. FixIt in to do those while I run the mower over the fields. I find it quite meditative and enjoyable.

We’ll go out to the farm Tuesday and mow. I’m anticipating driving separate vehicles so I can stay for a few days. There’s so much work to do out there, and I truly need some alone time to let out the tears that I’ve been holding in since I saw the auction listing. All that just makes saying goodbye more real. I am so pleased we have till July 3rd to vacate the premises, though. There’s a little more time.

Today’s photo from the farm came from the sale website and I had to share it. This is what we called the Strawberry Shed” where the ladies sorted the strawberries as they came from the field. Then, sometime in the mid afternoon, PopPop would take me with him in the old Ford pickup and take a load of strawberries to the local Farmer’s Market. Women would line up and grab the berries off the conveyor belt before they even got in the store. That rusty metal rectangle on the side was lifted up and hooked to chains to create an awning to shade the berries and keep things cool inside. I’d love to take that off and use it as a decorative piece someday...either in a family room, dining room, or sunroom...or maybe in the garden. But, now that it’s in the auction piece, I don’t think I could get it. I’ll have to make due with photos and memories.

I’m making great progress on the shawl I’m knitting, but I’m finding I simply cannot follow the pattern if the television is on. I do much better if I wear my headphones and listen to my “writing soundtrack”...the sounds of a roaring fire and a thunderstorm. I discovered the pattern is for a short shawl and if you want a longer version, which I do, you need to buy three more skeins of yarn. They didn’t have one of the colors I needed at the shop where I bought the kit, but I found another website and got two skeins on sale. I have someone special in mind for this piece and I’d like to have it finished before her birthday.

So, we’ll hit the ground running and see what we can accomplish with the gift of this week. Yesterday was a lovely day of rest and I thoroughly enjoyed my recliner and my knitting.

“He has filled them with skill to do every sort of work done by an engraver or by a designer or by an embroiderer in blue and purple and scarlet yarns and fine twined linen, or by a weaver—by any sort of workman or skilled designer.”
Exodus 35:35 ESV

Today’s Good Mood Brought to You by...God’s Paintbrush!

Fri, 23 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

The worst day at the beach beats the best day at the office. It’s been a long time since I’ve worked in the confines of four walls and a desk, but I have vivid memories. Yesterday’s chilly temps didn’t take away our enjoyment of the Outer Banks. Although it was a tad too nippy for me to go the beach, we did venture out for dinner and another glorious OBX sunset. I spent the majority of the day knitting and listening to a roaring campfire on my headset...hoping to thaw out my frosty toes. It didn’t help. I finally gave in and turned on the furnace. At the beach! That’s just wrong!

As Mr. FixIt and I drove to the restaurant for carryout last night, I asked if he’d had a good week. He remarked that he really had...it was very relaxing. I really love having people join us at the beach. Our condo is actually a double unit with a one bedroom on one side and an efficiency apartment on the other. We have had my son-in-law’s parents one year, and my stepson and family another. Both trips were great fun and full of sightseeing and long days on the beach. We both needed a lower key trip this year. With so much going on in our lives, it felt really nice to just kinda kick back, stretch out and take a nap every day, and knit. I hardly cooked. I made a hearty breakfast yesterday morning, but most of our meals have been takeout picnics.

Knitting: Sock Yarns, Shawl Pattern, Shawl Yarns

There’s something to be said for that. We didn’t haul a lot of food down. Honestly, we didn’t bring half of what we usually drag down here. The only thing I would have done differently was bring a heavier coat and my favorite chairs. Mr. FixIt likes the folding ones with the table simply because they are lighter and easy to carry. I, however, love my padded club chairs and I promised if we bring them next time, I’ll be in charge of toting them everywhere. The furniture in our condo has seen it’s better days and really isn’t very comfortable. The only comfy place I sat the whole week was when we drove places. Next year...we go for comfort!

One more day. Why does vacation take so long to get here and so quick to be over?

“From the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the Lord is to be praised!”
Psalm 113:3 ESV

The Things That Take My Breath Away

Wed, 14 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Redbud Out on the Two Lane

Unless you have driven down a country road in West Virginia in mid April and been treated to the magnificence of a full on display of redbud and dogwood...you are seriously missing out on God showing off! Some years are better than others and the stars must be aligned just right this year because they are show stoppers. And, no matter how hard I try, photographs just do not do them justice.

Violets Growing Out of a Crack in the Sidewalk

As soon as I had breakfast down me yesterday, Mr. FixIt had the mowers loaded up on the utility trailer and we headed to the farm. By the time we got there, the morning dew was dry and it was smooth sailing getting the lawn mowed. I think back to the year I lived there on my own and had to mow with a push mower. Land sakes...it took ALL day and I was exhausted. And it’s only about an acre. I once thought of getting a riding mower for out there, but never did. Let me tell you...a riding mower makes short work of that yard. Poor Mr. FixIt uses the push mower and trims around the edges where the riding mower can’t reach. He also mows the ditch out front along the road and when we’re done, it’s a showpiece! I did a load of sheets while we were mowing and once they were finished, we headed home.

The Lawn Always Looks Great Freshly Mown

As we pulled in the driveway, I told him not to put the riding mower away when he took it off the trailer. I could NOT believe how much the grass has grown since I mowed it last week. We quickly set to the chore and had it knocked down long before dark. But, man were we tired. Mowing is a lot harder on the back the older you get. I bought Mr. FixIt some pretty strong CBD lotion for his back and he swears it works. So I decided to try it myself last night. I’ll let you know how well it works.

Our Redbud at the Ponderosa

I also started bringing home some tubs of my belongings from the farm. There’s still a lot of stuff out there that I brought with me from Colorado, and since I haven’t touched it since 2014, you can imagine just how badly I need it, right? The last thing I wanted to do was drag that stuff to the basement last night, but I had to. The tonneau cover on the back of my pickup doesn’t keep the bed dry and we’ll be getting rain again today. Heavy boxes and my poor sweetie couldn’t carry one more thing so it was left to me this time. I just slid them down the steps, one step at a time. It wasn’t all that bad.

I turned off the gas heaters out at the farm now because we are long past the threat of freezing pipes. In exchange, I turned on the dehumidifier. It’s that time of year when it will start getting hot enough to bring up the humidity and left to its own devices, that house will get moldy inside and that just will not do. There’s so much to do there to get ready to sell and I know it’s not mine, but my uncle lives on the other side of the state so I need to at least get my part done.

So, that’s it for another day of farm life. I have a new appreciation for REAL farmers. Those who raise animals and hay and crops and work from sunup to sundown. This is just pretend farming, but I love it just the same. It is wonderful when you lay down at night with the bone weary satisfaction of jobs well done. I do love that!

“It is the hard-working farmer who ought to have the first share of the crops.”
2 Timothy 2:6 ESV

Listening to the Night Sounds

Mon, 12 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I love the sounds of spring. From rain on the roof to the happy chirping of frogs in the wet areas around us, Unfortunately, TOW-Wanda has a leak that needs fixing so we can’t sneak out there and “camp” till she’s fixed and I’m really missing that! I don’t know if we’ll have the time to get her down to the dealership to get fixed before we leave...mainly because it’s supposed to rain every day this week, except Tuesday. We’ll have to mow out at the farm that day.

The night sounds are different here at the Ponderosa than they are out at the farm. You don’t hear the frogs out there like you do here. But, we have neighbors that live closer now and we hear. Their dogs barking periodically. I’ve learned I can pretty well mask them with a fan in the window, but this week is cooler, so it may be a little less comfortable in the bedroom. The farm has the ever present sound of the creek. Sometimes it’s just a trickle...sometimes a roar. The biggest difference is the sound of rain on the tin roof of grandma’s house. There’s nothing that compares to that.

When we finally sell this house and build in town, I’d love to have a roof just like the one at the farm. Then I can hear that sound again whenever it rains. I don’t even know if they still make that kind of roof, but I can dream. At one time, I wanted to build an exact replica of Grandma’s house....but, it’s two stories and a basement and for practical reasons surrounding aging in place, we’re going to have to opt for a ranch style home. I’m going to have my favorite picture of the farmhouse printed and framed and present the family with copies this summer. And I’ll keep one in our home...perhaps over a fireplace. A place of prominence...a place of honor.

We had a busy weekend. We installed another security camera and we got the pump hooked up on the pool. You wouldn’t think that would amount to a lot of work, but believe me, it took all day Saturday. We have two more cameras to hook up and the pool to clean. We have to mow at the farm and get things ready for our trip to the beach. There’s never a dull moment around here!

“Prepare your work outside; get everything ready for yourself in the field, and after that build your house.”
Proverbs 24:27 ESV

In Search of the Silver Linings

Sun, 11 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

The Farm

Yesterday we talked about letting the farm go and the inevitability of change in our lives. I read the lovely comments and encouraging words you left me on my post and it gave me much to think about throughout the day. When life hands me lemons, I start looking for all the different ways to use them. There are so many ways to make a lemon sweet and more palatable.

When I took over the farm in 2016, I also took over the utilities. When I no longer have that to deal with, I’ll have at least an extra couple hundred dollars in my bank account. That’s a good amount of camping I could be doing. Also, we won’t be responsible for the mowing and that will give us a lot more time and less pressing need to always be here.

You know, normally I never would have had the opportunity to spend more than a week or two at the farm when I came home for vacations every year. After Mr. Virgo passed and I came back to West Virginia to help my elderly aunt, I had a taste of life in the country. It only lasted ten weeks that go round, but it was enough to let me know it was the life for me.

When I returned to West Virginia in the summer of 2016, I was presented with an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. My uncle was taking my aunt to go live with him and he needed someone to live at the farm and take care of it. He asked if I could come off the road and stay there for him. I didn’t have to think twice.

Having all this time to live in my grandparents’ house was such a gift from God. I did a lot of healing there. Not only from the wounds of losing my husband, but of losing so much of myself over the years. It brought me back to my simpler roots. I remember, as a doctor’s wife...talking to one of my lifelong friends. Apparently I needed to be brought down a peg or two because she reminded me, in no uncertain terms, that she and I had the same roots in the red clay of Appalachia and it would do me well to remember that.

I’ve never forgotten that conversation. Living a simple farm life after downsizing humbled me in a way nothing else has. As I read stories on Facebook yesterday, I was reminded of the most basic point. I am letting go of a house. I have friends letting go of their children, of their marriages, of their livelihoods. I have friends who are in life and death struggles with health concerns. I am letting go of a HOUSE. I’m not planning a funeral, yet I will grieve. I am not burying a loved one, yet I am bereaved.

It isn’t lost on me the way God is helping me through this. Daughter #1 and her girls will be here the week before we have to vacate the farm. We are planning a gathering of family to say goodbye to the old girl...and to the long line of loved ones who called her home and are no longer with us. Little is staying with us while my daughter takes Big to go see colleges. You see? I get to not only share the farm with Little, but I get to share my heart and the stories of her ancestors and instill a love and appreciation for what came before her. She and I have never been together....here. It’s extraordinary how well orchestrated this is. God is so good!

It is a natural process in life to grieve the things we lose that bring us such love. And, just as I have learned to keep Mr. Virgo’s memory alive within me, the same will be true of the farm. I will remember the sights, sounds, smells, and every little feeling that creaky old house gives me till the day I part this earthly plane. When I hear rain on the roof of a camper, I’ll be transported back in time to a little red house in the woods. When I lay my head on a pillow where I can hear the rushing sounds of water in a creek, I will close my eyes and remember.

When I hug those I love, I give away bits of the love my family poured into me. That love comes from an endless source...a fount of remembrances of love and joy and faith. I carry the farm within me. I AM THE FARM and THE FARM IS ME.

We are one and we are love...simply because, we were loved. By the family and by the land upon which we stood. For we are but sojourners here.

““The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine. For you are strangers and sojourners with me.”
Leviticus 25:23 ESV

The One Thing You Can Count On

Sat, 10 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Spring flowers on my walkabout on the Ponderosa.

Besides God, there is only one thing for absolute certain you can count on in life, and that is change. Mr. FixIt doesn’t like change. I usually relish it. I find change exciting and challenging and it can lead to many adventures. But there’s one change I’ve been dreading and the time has come to face it. My uncle is selling the farm.

I’ve known it was coming. And I asked him to put it off a year so we could have a family gathering this summer to say goodbye to the old girl. He was gracious to accommodate me, but we can’t keep putting off the inevitable. Grandma’s farm has been an integral part of my life. I have become who I am because of the love in that home. My roots grow deep in that West Virginia red clay.

I’m so grateful to have had all this time to spend out there. I think I’ve photographed every square inch of the place so I’ll forever have something to look back on. I have indelible memories of time spent there over my nearly sixty-eight years. I have stories and more stories...as you all well know. I imagine you feel you know the place, too.

From the stumps of trees my PopPop planted to the three story barn he and my grand grandfather built...from the cinder block cellar house to the basement they rolled the house down onto when I was six...from the original tin roof to the old smokehouse now teetering precariously by the creek...the farm is as much a part of my life as any of my loved ones. It’s almost as though it is a living, breathing entity...which in some ways, I suppose it is.

We ran to town yesterday to get sand for the pool filter and pick out carpet for the family room when my uncle called me to break the news. It makes me sad, but not as much as it would have had I not been so blessed to have had the last several years to be free to stay whenever I want. I have called around to let family members and close friends know it’s going to be sold. It would be ideal if someone I know buys it. Then, at least I could come back for a visit from time to time.

Then again...maybe it would be best to just make a clean break. To not watch what someone else does with the place. I mean, I have to look at the plus side. I’ve been paying the utilities out there for the last five years so that will be a little extra back in my pocket every month. And, we won’t have to mow out there any more. That will be a huge weight off my shoulders. Still...it’s hard when the home place is gone. My last tangible connection to my family member who have gone on to their rewards.

What was it I said about change? Ahhhh, yes...I relish change.

Just not this one.

This one will be hard.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: - a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;”
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 6 ESV

I Do My Best Thinking When I Drive

Thu, 08 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Sitting on the deck with the propane heater to keep warm!

Ok, so it was the riding mower...but that still counts, right? We are expecting rain today, so Mr. FixIt said we’d better get the lawn mowed beforehand or it’ll be out of control by next week. Since he was busy working on trimming the outside wall we just painted, and...since I’M the one that loves the riding mower, I quickly volunteered.

It was partly cloudy so it wasn’t very hot the first half, but then the sun came out full force and I retrieved my “mowing umbrella” to keep the sun off my skin. I used sunscreen and have to be particularly careful of my new scars...one from my surgery last month, and the other from a biopsy taken from my chest last week. Since I had a melanoma removed, I am so careful of my skin.

As I was mowing, my mind wandered around....making lists for our upcoming trip to the beach, all the things that need doing beforehand, reminding myself to KISS (keep it simple, silly!) Suddenly, I saw the date in my mind. April 7th. Mr. Virgo and I got married on April 7th, 2007. This would have been our 14th Anniversary and that is just not relatable. He died just shy of our 6th...he’s been gone well over the short time that I had him.

I didn’t remember with sadness or longing. I remembered with a sense of incredulity. Here I was, sitting on a riding mower, mowing the five acres I share with a new husband I’ve known for literally 52 years...in West Virginia...my home state. It still seems surreal sometimes. Life hands us curveballs that we never see coming. We wake up one morning, our life is in one piece. We go to bed that night and our life is in shards on the floor. There truly is no rhyme or reason.

I watch my dear friends navigating grief...some newly bereaved, some not so much. When they’re at a certain point in their timeline that I recognize, I want to hold them and tell them to just hang on...just keep putting one foot in front of the other. I see them struggle and I remember struggling. I see them scream at God and I screamed at God, too. My prayer is, when they see me on the road ahead of them, they don’t compare where they are to where I am. We greet each new day of grief differently and no two are the same. Yet, there are patterns that emerge over time.

Time doesn’t heal grief. Grieving heals grief. And “heal” is a slippery word with many meanings attached to it. As I rode the tractor, wind in my hair, I fully realized that God used something so incredibly painful in my life to make me turn to Him for help. He turned that incredible pain into words to help those coming up the path behind me. And, He taught me to appreciate every single moment as it if might be the last...because it might just be.

A sweet friend from my bible study group lost her 28 year old son, suddenly and totally unexpectedly on Wednesday. She got up Wednesday morning and all was right in her world. She went to bed Wednesday night, her life shattered and lying in shards on the floor. There is no rhyme or reason, but I’ll be reaching my hand back to help her up this awful mountain.

It’s what I do. It’s what God sent me here for.

“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,”
Philippians 1:3 ESV

What is That Noise?

Wed, 31 Mar 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I like quiet. I don’t like the television blaring or traffic humming or weird mechanical noises you often times get in a house. So, when I get to have some quiet time out at the farm, the last thing in the world I’m going to do is turn on the TV or listen to music. Consequently, I have discovered my tinnitus has cranked up a few notches since the last time I stayed out here on my own. I can really hear the ringing when everything else is still.

The refrigerator crapped out sometime last fall, so we bought a small dorm fridge and that thing is so quiet, you don’t even know it’s there. The old fridge used to run all the time...rarely cycling off...and it was just on the other side of the wall from Grandma’s bedroom. Fortunately, I sleep with earplugs or I’d never last a night. But now it’s so quiet, all I can hear is my ears ringing...and birds...and the occasional car going up and down the road.

We are supposed to get hard rain here today. I finished the laundry last night and put it in my truck so I don’t have to drag it out in the wet. I do love to hear the rain on the tin roof here. There are two levels of roof here so when there is a gentle rain, it drips down off the upper edge down onto the lower porch roofs. That’s when you hear a dripping “plink” sound that is somewhat like a wind chime. And of course, when there’s a good rain, the creek runs hard and loud about ten or twelve feet from the bedroom window.

I sleep with the bedroom window open, no matter what the temperature is outside. I have an electric blanket on the bed and it makes for cozy sleeping. I’ve read it’s healthier to sleep in a cold room and I believe it. Between always having fresh air and wearing masks, I haven’t had a cold in two years. I usually have one or two every winter and this is a welcome change. I do believe I’ll continue the mask wearing in public during cold and flu season from now on.

Speaking of the bedroom window, the shade has long since deteriorated to the point you cannot put it up or down. There is only a sheer curtain and the window is right beside the bed. Now, granted, you’d have to be about eight or nine feet tall to see in that window, but I always kinda feel exposed when I sleep here alone. I went upstairs to look for something to cover it with and came across this narrow twin sheet. I put it up and laid here feeling the good quality of the fabric. Who know how old it is. Then I noticed a marking stamped in the corner. Turns out, it is a top sheet from an old Pullman sleeper car. I have no idea where it came from or how it got here. My grandparents were NOT travelers. I do have two aunts that would have traveled by train and I suppose it could have made its way here through them. My best guess is, my great grandfather brought it. He was all the time buying lots at antique auctions and dragging the stuff over here. It very likely could have been in a box of things he brought here in the ‘50s and ’60s. However it got here, it’s pretty cool and works perfectly as a window curtain.

We are supposed to get down in the 20’s the next three nights with a chance of snow showers. March came in like a lamb so I suppose it’s going to go out like a lion! It’s always shocking when you have a nice day in the mid 70’s then crash down into a hard freeze. But this too shall pass and before we know it, there will be days so hot we can’t breathe and we’ll be wishing for some of that cool air. Staying in the present and enjoying what we have is always the best way to live. I’ll be heading back to the Ponderosa sometime today so I can see what Mr. FixIt has gotten himself into while I was gone. It’s kinda funny...my phone pings me when motion is detected on the security camera and there was my sweetheart, mowing and trimming around the yard.

It’s the last day of March already! Hokey smokes...time flies!

“And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”
Colossians 3:14 ESV

My Home Away From Home

Tue, 30 Mar 2021 01:30:00 -0600

“Grandma’s Daffodils “

I pulled into the drive at the farm at 2:30, shut off the truck, and opened the door to get out. Before I could move an inch, the sounds and smells of spring washed over me and I had to lean back and take it all in. The Caroline Wren in the old cherry tree called “Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!” as I watched a fat chipmunk scamper under my kayak. Squirrels rustled in the dried leaves at the base of hickory and oak trees, scavenging for nuts to munch on. The sky was crystal clear and the air was crisp. I smiled and a let out a contented sigh.

I’m home.

It’s just one of my “homes”, but this one rests so solidly in my heart. I’ve never known a time when this farm WASN’T home. Whether I was a little kid scrambling up the hills looking for moss and rocks. Or a young bride bringing her first baby home to meet her great grandmother. Or any other time I’ve walked in the back door and into my family’s embrace.

So many are gone now. PopPop in ‘71...my first experience with death. Grandma in 1999. Mom in 2004. Uncle Bob in 2008. I have one aunt living and once she is gone...I will be the matriarch. This place is woven out of memories and hard work and sacrifice. As I lay propped up on the pillows in my grandparents’ bed writing this, I can still see them laying here in the dark as my mom quietly walked me to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Grandma would whisper in the dark, “Are you ok, pet?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

As we walked back through she’d whisper, “Sleep tight.”

“You, too.”

Grandma called me “Pet”. My brother was “Geddy Lee”. My cousins were “Tissy Rae”, “TimTam”, and “Trinket”. She had a nickname for everyone and always made you feel like you were the very center of the universe. She was never happier than the days when everyone was here at the same time. That happened less and less often as the grandkids grew and had families of their own. We all came together a year or so before Grandma died so she could have us all here with her one last time. I will always hold that memory close. After this last year and not seeing my own children and grandchildren, I have a much deeper appreciation for what she felt during those gatherings.

When Daughter #1 and Co. come this summer, I’m hoping to gather as many of the family together as I can. This house is living on borrowed time. When Aunt Peeps died last year, she requested no funeral or memorial. But, she didn’t say we couldn’t have a picnic! I think it’s high time we get together and honor this old farm and all those who have called it home and gone before us to their heavenly rewards. It’s time to say goodbye to a piece of my past.

I’ve never known a time when this farm wasn’t “mine”. Unfortunately, that time is coming. My uncle is aging and can’t do what needs to be done. If I were 30 years, even 20 years younger, I’d buy it. But, there’s just too much work to do to bring this old gal back to life. I have a 2nd cousin 1x removed that would be the perfect person to buy this house and keep it in the family. This is something I’ve been praying on. If it’s meant to be, it will happen. But, for me, the days here are numbered.

I’ve been working on letting go for the last couple of years. It won’t be easy when I can’t stay here whenever I want. But, really...nothing will ever take away my lifetime of memories in this little slice of heaven. I think my blood is the color of the faded red paint on the rough sawn timbers or the red clay soil. The place is as much a part of me as my hands and feet.

It is my heart.

“By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established; by knowledge the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches.”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭24:3-4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Day 361: A Room With a View...and an Omission

Sat, 13 Mar 2021 02:30:00 -0600

We both slept pretty well the night of surgery so we awoke yesterday morning refreshed. I felt much stronger, but I had no voice. This often happens after being intubated. We managed to get up in time to catch the morning breakfast in the Starbucks in the hotel lobby. Hot oatmeal really soothed my throat. And I have to say...a cold brew coffee didn’t cause my stomach to revolt like it did before surgery so let’s hope I can drink coffee again! I love it so.

There was no one in the dining area and we were quite a ways from the front lobby. We sat down at a table in the window and, with great trepidation...removed our masks to eat. It felt...weird. We didn’t have a hallelujah moment, because we understand science and we know we are in an area with lots of mutant virus and mask-shunning individuals. I must say, everywhere we’ve gone, people have worn masks. Until, Walmart. We’ll get to that.

We didn’t dilly-dally around maskless. We finished eating and headed up to the room to pack for the move to the next hotel. I have to give kudos to the Courtyard Tampa Downtown for the first half of our stay. They work closely with the Norman Parathyroid Center in housing their patients before and after surgery and they couldn’t have been more accommodating. When I checked out, the front desk asked how my surgery went and was very sweet. Anything we needed when we were there, it was quickly brought to us. They were so professional and attentive and the rooms were impeccable.

Our trip to the new hotel was about 45 minutes. The weather in Florida right now is absolutely amazing! Just hot enough to warm your bones but not so much as to fry your brains. The app for the hotel has an interesting new covid creation built in. You can check in through the app on your phone and when your room is ready, a digital key turns green. You just walk up to the door with your phone in your hand and click “unlock” and the door...unlocks! Same with your room. This is really handy to minimize your contact with people in a pandemic.

I love our room! We have a suite with a separate bedroom so I can take quiet naps and close the door when I write. No more trying to block out the sound of the television while I’m trying to concentrate. We have a small kitchen and the furniture in the living room is perfectly comfortable. We did our routine sanitation process upon arrival, but when I tried to put the fitted sheet back on the bed, it was one of those that doesn’t have a deep pocket. I knew if I had trouble even getting the sheet on, that we would be fighting to keep it on for the next five nights. We decided, since we needed to pick up some groceries, we would just buy a set of sheets that we know would fit. We can always use them on the bed at the condo so it’s not a waste.

Now, Walmart. This was the first place we went to down here that was an indication of how people really feel about mask wearing. Since we are in a hodgepodge of people from all over the country, we were well aware of our surroundings. Mr. FixIt started to say something to those who didn’t have on masks, but I gently reminded him where we are and that I really don’t want to get killed this close to having surgery. We wore double masks and just steered clear of the unmasked folks and got the heck out of there as fast as we could. We came home and put the groceries away and both stretched out for a much needed rest.

I can’t believe how wiped out you feel after surgery. They say the third day is the worst, and that’s what I’ve usually found to be true. We’ll wait till Monday to explore the beaches and let the weekend crowd thin out. Although, we are into spring break now, so who knows. We have a pool here, but I am not sure it’s outside. We’ll play it by ear. It’s nice to not have a distinct plan in place.

And now, for the omission. Yesterday marked eight years since Mr. Virgo died. I’ve been so busy with the trip arrangements and the surgery, that I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. My dear friend Deneene texted me first thing yesterday morning to tell me she was thinking of me. My first thought was my surgery. Then she asked if it was Mr. Virgo’s Angelversary. It’s not that I forgot. I certainly didn’t. I’ve thought of it a number of times in the last couple of weeks. As a matter of fact, when they offered me the 11th for my surgery, I thought it couldn’t be more fitting. A year since the start of the covid crisis. And eight years since Mr. Virgo’s death. Having this surgery is an offer of hope for a healthier, pain free life. Why not have it done during a time that would normally be remembered with solemn sadness? Why not bring an element of hope into the darkness. We have vaccines. We have healing. We have hope for a better tomorrow.

This is what eight years of grief and healing have taught me.

Life is uncertain...and way too short.

In the midst of the worst crisis of our lives, we still have a choice...and choices bring power.

Time softens the memories of acute grief. It gives us space from the horrific anguish.

You never get over an epic loss...but, you do get through it. You learn to walk around that hole in your heart without falling in every time.

I’ve learned it’s ok to be happy again and to find a life again and to love again without forgetting the person you still love who isn’t here.

There is room in a new marriage for the memories of those you love and have loved before, but it takes a strong man to marry a widow...a confident man who knows his place in your heart and isn’t threatened by ghosts.

I am so blessed to have found such a man in Mr. FixIt. He is my rock and my roll.

“Most important of all, you must sincerely love each other, because love wipes away many sins.”
1 Peter 4:8 CEV

Day 353: The “Anniversa-reaction”

Thu, 04 Mar 2021 02:30:00 -0600

There’s a day in October that hits me in the gut. I don’t know the date, but I know when it’s coming, and I feel it when it arrives. When I was in 3rd or 4th grade, I was playing on the playground after lunch when a little girl came up to me and asked if my brother went to Sumner School. I said yes, and she went on to tell me she heard on the news that the little VW bus they used for transporting the kids had been in a terrible accident and someone was killed. I knew my brother was on that bus.

The air went out of the world. I had a sudden rush of adrenalin surge through me and I didn’t know what to do. The next thing I remember, my dad came to get me early from school and told me about the accident. He said mom was at the hospital with my brother and he was hurt, but he was going to be ok. One of the other kids was also hurt pretty badly, but the driver of the bus, Mrs Anderson, was killed in the accident. I was terrified. At that young age, I was already a survivor of child sexual abuse, and I had developed a “shepherd reaction”. I wanted all my people safely at home around me. I never liked having them out of my sight.

The trigger for this anniversary reaction could come from anywhere. The way the light slants on a certain day. A particular smell. Strains of music that was playing at the time the trauma occurred. It could be anything.

Anytime we experience trauma, we often feel a foreboding when the anniversary of that trauma is pending. I feel it in October. But I especially feel it in March. My ex-husband devastated me when he asked for a divorce on March 15th. Mr. Virgo died on March 12th. While I love that spring is coming, March is hard for me. And now, we are about to experience a collective anniversary reaction.

March 11, 2020 is the day the WHO declared we were in a global pandemic. And March 13th is the day the President declared we were in a state of emergency. Friday the 13th. The lockdown began. We all experience these types of events differently, so it goes without saying, the anniversaries will also elicit varying responses. There isn’t anyone in the world who was untouched or unfazed by the news of Covid.

In some ways, we are light years from that dark day. But, there are many reasons to feel hopeful at this point. We couldn’t have imagined there would be a vaccine for at least two to three years, yet now we have three in less than twelve months. That’s phenomenal progress. We have knocked the numbers down a great deal. However, the REASON we have knocked the numbers down is better hygiene, wearing masks, keeping socially distant, and avoiding indoor crowds, so please...keep it up. It shows character and strength when you persevere through troubling times.

If you find yourself feeling anxious and depressed this month, be gentle with yourself. We haven’t lived under this kind of threat since the Cuban missile crisis...and never this protracted. You aren’t alone. Find someone you trust to talk out your feelings surrounding the trauma of the last year. If you need to seek professional help, there is nothing wrong with that. We all need someone we can talk to about the tough stuff.

“Don't get tired of helping others. You will be rewarded when the time is right, if you don't give up.”
Galatians 6:9 CEV

Day 344: Blessed are the The Storytellers

Tue, 23 Feb 2021 02:30:00 -0600

We all have a story to tell. Some have a handful. Some can write forever and not tell them all. But, the point being...we all have something to share with others and with the world. We just have to be brave enough to speak. It isn’t easy for some people to tell their stories. Some are too personal. Some are too painful to repeat. And, some people think their stories aren’t worthwhile to others so they keep them inside.

I’ve always been a storyteller. There is a longstanding Appalachian tradition that a family’s history is passed down from generation to generation through the telling of stories. This isn’t solely a mountain tradition. It’s something that’s stood the test of time for millennia. Appalachians are great at it, so I can safely say I get it honest.

I sat attentively listening to the tales my elders shared when I was a child. I loved listening to the old folks talk amongst themselves about people long dead and it instilled the love of a good story in my young heart. My first published writing was in high school in an annual publication called Academia. (In my West Virginia naïveté, I placed the emphasis on the second and fourth syllables and not the third.)

I wrote poetry off and on and crafted a children’s book back when Daughter #1 was in grade school. I attempted to write a book once and unfortunately, listened to my critics and put it away. I’ve written personal journals off and on for many years. However, it wasn’t till after Mr. Virgo died that I began to write in earnest.

I’ve been indulging myself these last few weeks with exploring my family history after an eight year hiatus. I’m finding some fascinating information and connections. There are some really cool names like...John Quincy Adams (5th cousin, 9x removed), Lady Jane Seymour (3rd wife of King Henry VIII), and Barack Obama. Yes, THAT Barack Obama. It seems we are 10th cousins on his mother’s side. Who knew?

Looking back in time, I find myself ever so grateful for the modern conveniences we all take for granted...namely adequate healthcare. As I was searching death records yesterday, I came across a family that lost EIGHT children in the span of five weeks to “sore throat”...which could indicate any number of communicable diseases that struck before penicillin was discovered in 1928. Strep throat is something we consider a fairly common annoyance in childhood was often a death sentence in the 1800’s.

I cannot imagine the poor mothers...losing all their babies in the blink of an eye. I used to sit and moan over a nasty cold. Covid has changed my perspective forever on the impact of communicable diseases on families. So much that we took for granted has been changed...some lost, some forever different. It gives me a fresh eye in my genealogical research, as well. Having felt the sting of loss myself, when I stumble upon a widow, I look to see how long she was alone...did she have young children...did she remarry...what became of her children?

The weather warmed up nicely yesterday and you can see the snow melting. I know winter isn’t over by a long shot, but I will gladly accept the gift of a glimpse of spring.

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.”
Psalm 127:3-5 ESV

Day 332: Another Home Day

Thu, 11 Feb 2021 02:30:00 -0600

First thing yesterday, I got a call to confirm Pumpkin’s visit with the vet today. I was very happy to hear I can put off that visit and they will give her a checkup and vaccinations when we take her for boarding at the Kitty Hilton in a couple of weeks. We live twenty miles out a two-lane and we are getting quite a winter storm as I write this. Friends who have police scanners are warning people to stay in because there are wrecks everywhere. It was quite a relief to know I don’t need to go anywhere when the weather is bad. That is one of the best parts of being retired...the ability to kind of pick and choose where and when I go somewhere.

I spent my day wandering through my family history. One of the coolest things is when you find photos of your ancestors that you’ve never seen...especially when it’s the first time you’ve ever seen an image of that person. That is what I found yesterday when I found this photo of one of my second great grandmothers. This is who we always referred to as Grandma Abels because here she is with her second husband of that last name.

There are interesting little revelations when you dive into your family tree. You might find a wedding occurring just a couple of days before the birth of the first child. This particular great great grandmother had her first baby out of wedlock. She was my grandma’s grandma and this little bit of information was a closely guarded family secret. One of my great grandmothers found herself a new widow with five little boys under the age of ten. She was only 28 years old. She moved back home to live with her parents, but she had to do something to help feed and clothe her children. She found “employment” at a local hotel. This could be considered quite scandalous, but this was around 1910. I admire her determination and resourcefulness to care for her babies as best she could. She ended up marrying a young man, six years her junior, who parented her children. They went on to have three more children before she died at the young age of 54 of a heart attack.

It was a rough life in those days. Before the age of official death certificates, deaths were recorded in ledger books. You can scroll down the page and find the cause of death for everyone on the page. You often find child after child who have died of communicable diseases. There are accidents and murders, and strange diagnoses that I have to look up. I find out there are old names for modern diseases. Having worked in medicine all my career, I find that kind of thing sad and fascinating at the same time.

I can see now how my mom was so drawn to genealogy. It’s a treasure hunt and a mystery and sometimes a puzzle. At this point, believe it or not, I have 5,885 names in my tree on Ancestry. And I’m adding more every day. There are hints and I’m slowly weeding through them. I’m trying to follow the direct lines back first. Then I can add more later. It really is a never ending battle.

“Go now, write it on a tablet for them, inscribe it on a scroll, that for the days to come it may be an everlasting witness.”
Isaiah 30:8 NIV

Day 321: My Big Fat Family Tree

Sun, 31 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

One of my mama’s very favorite things to do was research our genealogy. Lands, she had boxes of handwritten notes and charts and graphs. She had books that were dedicated to different branches of our family tree. And she was on a first-name basis with the librarians in town who helped her do research. Oh, she loved it so. She gathered a bunch of her direct line and made a little booklet. She copied them off and sold them to family member for the price of the copying. She was so proud of it, and everyone still has their copies.

When the internet came along, I took over looking things up for her as best I could. The pickin’s were slim early on. Then Ancestry came along. When Mr. Virgo and I were married and he watched TV in the evening, I sat with my laptop every night, searching for my roots. Mom was gone by that time and I’m telling you what, she would have been blown away at what I’ve been able to accomplish. Then, Mr. Virgo died...and I lost my desire. To do a lot of things, not the least of which was having the concentration to do research.

I let my subscription to Ancestry lapse eight years ago. I looked at it every once in a while and watched the hints pile up, but you can’t make any changes unless you pay for it. When I finished copying the Facebook posts over to my website and balanced my checkbook, I decided to rejoin and see what it’s all about now. Oh my gosh...what a change! The sheer number of resources available, and others who have built their own trees and done their own research makes it a lot easier to get information.

I did the DNA test several years ago and it is absolutely amazing how you can connect with people who share your ancestor’s genes. I’ve heard of some downsides to that...people finding surprise family members or finding out maybe THEY were the surprise. One of the fun things is finding stories about people you may be related to, based on DNA and the research of others. One that popped up for me was Abraham Lincoln, believe it or not. And, I have several ancestors linked to passengers on the Mayflower.

When you think about it, there were FAR fewer people in the world back in those days, and the Mayflower was a “captive audience”, so to speak. It’s not terribly hard to track yourself back to people of some repute....ill or otherwise. I remember one time, I found an ancestor who had stolen a pig. They took him to court, but he got off because, you know...they ate the evidence. You might think that would be the last of the drama, but the pig thief got into a scuffle a couple of years later with that same sheriff and one of them didn’t make it out alive, unfortunately. Hint...I’m not related to the law enforcement officer.

I have found my new activity to do when Mr. FixIt watches his television shows. It’s kind of a full circle event...it feels like it’s the right time to get back into it. I can certainly tell my mental faculties aren’t quite the same as they were back when I did this before. But hopefully, when the parathyroid surgery is over, that will improve. In the meantime, I’m going to have some fun with this and see what I can learn about this big fat family tree of mine.

“So my God put it into my heart to assemble the nobles, the officials and the common people for registration by families. I found the genealogical record of those who had been the first to return. This is what I found written there:”
Nehemiah 7:5 NIV

Day 317: Missing my Gal Pals

Wed, 27 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

BC...Before Covid...I used to get together with my girlfriends from high school at least once a month for coffee. We had a class dinner at least a couple of times a year. I met friends for walking, lunch, or live music. It seems like that was a whole lifetime ago...maybe two. And now, with the threat of the more contagious variants, it can make one weary.

I’m feeling there is promise of better days ahead, though. Mr. FixIt and I have had our first dose of the covid vaccine and we get the second on February 18th. The numbers are wobbling but with a slight turn downward. We’re getting a better handle on what needs to be done to prevent the spread and hopefully keep the variants down till we can reach a higher number of antibodies in the general public. Even wearing two masks doesn’t bother me. Whatever it takes to get through this quicker and get it behind us.

As I told you yesterday, I’ve finished copying the posts from Facebook to my blog. But, what I did yesterday is scroll through the website and double check each post to see if they display properly. There is a step I take in posting where I select the main image I want to show up as the lead on each post online. It’s surprising to me how many times I missed that step. So, I spent a few hours scrolling back and fixing that. And, of course, that took me down memory lane.

It’s amazing how adaptable human beings are. We are more careful with distance, we wear masks more, and we practice better hygiene. I worked in medicine for 42 years and I swear, I’ve washed my hands more in the last year than I ever have before. I’m fine with it, because I know...or at least I HOPE...it won’t last forever. While I do believe this coronavirus will always be around, I also believe we’ll get enough her immunity through vaccine and illness to tamp it down.

That doesn’t mean I don’t miss my girlfriends. I am really looking forward to the warm, sunny days of spring where we can sit in the park with our coffee and visit. I’m not pushing it with indoors stuff because...I want all of my girlfriends THERE. I don’t want to lose a single one of them. I know right at the moment, there is mass confusion with the vaccines, but help is on the way. And, I know there is a disparity in the way the vaccine is being distributed. That’s also being worked on. Poor countries need the vaccine as desperately as the wealthier ones.

I still keep the healthcare workers, the scientists, the frontline and essential workers, our soldiers, our leaders, and all the people of the world in my daily prayers. I am loyal to my country, but I am also praying hard for ALL humanity...no matter where they live...that this crisis will be conquered sooner rather than later.

It kinda puts missing my girlfriends for coffee into perspective, doesn’t it?

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
2 Corinthians 12:9-10 NIV

Day 290: The Story of What Might Have Been

Thu, 31 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

When I sat down to write last night, I closed my eyes and let my breath go deep and slow. I often do this when I’m “fishing”...trying to find just the right story to tell you today. This is the last day of 2020. Lord, what a year it has been. We know where we’ve been. We know where we are now. And, we hope we have a good idea where we’re going in the coming 365 days.

We’ve all been here before, resting on the cusp of a New Year...hope this one will be better than the last. Or as good as. Or totally different. We have different hopes and dreams. We see ourselves through different lenses, yet we truly have more in common than we have differences. Well, beyond ideological, of course. In that, we have a lot of healing to do, I’m afraid.

As I rest on this ledge, preparing to dive into yet another year, I take inventory of how different it all could have been. In 2011, Mr. Virgo and I found ourselves at a crossroads of sorts. We managed to get through the Great Recession of 2008 when we lost half of our portfolio. We were blessed we didn’t lose more, but even after three years, jobs weren’t all that stable. We had already had our travel adventure where we lived in Pagosa Springs for a year, and the Denver Metro area for two more. We hated Denver and it was wearing us out. We wanted to go home, so we moved back to the house I had built on the Western Slope a decade before.

It took a while to get a job. It was summer and we hadn’t had a vacation for years. We made an executive decision...repair the landscaping and take a trip to West Virginia to meet what was left of my family. Oh, I loved it so much...and my desire to move back home was stronger than ever. Mr. Virgo and I had a dream of owning a Bed & Breakfast as our “retirement job” and properties in the Mountain State were so much more affordable than Colorado. While we were visiting, we started looking at suitable properties to convert.

The historical area of Parkersburg is called the Julia-Anne Square. Stately Victorian mansions line the streets steeped with history and drama of days gone by. We were particularly smitten by a certain house and we felt it might be perfect...but it wasn’t on the market. The following summer, when I made a trip to West Virginia alone, lo and behold...the “Purple House” was on the market...and at a price that seemed incredibly doable.

Then, two things happened. First, my realtor friend Geni took me to see it and....lands, did it need work! LOTS of work. The fact that it was filled with the current owner’s tchotchkes from floor to ceiling and the walls were covered in a stark green and white English Ivy print wallpaper was pretty overwhelming. The bigger disappointment was when Mr. Virgo divulged...he really didn’t want to move back East. He grew up in Philadelphia. He lived the majority of his adult life on the East Coast, primarily Florida. He just couldn’t face going back to the humidity and heat that is a West Virginia summer.

I was so disappointed. But it was one of those compromises you make when you’re married. It wasn’t till sometime after his untimely and sudden death in early 2013 that I realized God takes things away from us for a reason. If we had bought the big Victorian house, renovated it, and opened it as a B&B, I would have been left running all of that on my own while juggling my own grief. I wouldn’t have been free to buy that little camper and head off to the wilderness and backroads of Colorado for the three months that changed the course of my life.

So, when I opened my eyes last night, and turned on my iPad to write, I opened Facebook and the very first thing that popped up was...a video tour of the “Purple House”! It’s on the market again and the current owners have done a tremendous job fixing it up inside. I leaned back,took a deep breath, and hit play. I watched the story of “What My Life Could Have Been” play out on the screen. I looked at those stairs and thought, “Wow, those would be killer now...for me AND for Mr. FixIt.” The house is still really cool...and looks SO much better without all that hideous wallpaper. I’ve gotta say...those purple carpets upstairs have to go, as well as the blue living room.

I can look at this house now and say, “This is what could have been. But I am so incredibly grateful for what I have.” Mr. FixIt and I have birthed a new life together that is happy and fun and challenging (in all the right ways) and adventurous and so easygoing. We have five acres to play on and a camper to travel in and a life to love in. I love my life.

I thought I’d share the tour with you, so you can see where I might have been, had things gone differently ten years ago. The house itself is worth the share.

You can see the video HERE.

You can see the Realtor’s Listing HERE.

I hope you have a safe and healthy evening planned. Here’s to celebrating the end of the world’s longest year and hoping for the very best for 2021!!! Thank you all so much for being here with me for yet another year. Writing this blog is sort of like the “Letters from Home” that my grandma used to send us every week. Full of my stories, my hope, my faith, and most of all...my heart. I am grateful for each and every one of you!

“Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.””
Hebrews 13:5 NIV

Day 286: Wrapped Up & Warm

Sun, 27 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

As soon as Christmas was over, I told Mr. FixIt we need a little down time. There are things that need doing in the coming weeks, but right now there is nothing more pressing than fixing a meal every day, knitting, and maybe watching a movie or taking a nap. I love Christmas, but I love the week after just as much.

If you’ve been around here long, you know about my fur coat. In 2007, Mr. Virgo bought me a full length Icelandic Blue Fox fur coat. We lived near Aspen and spent a good deal of time there. As a matter of fact, when I first started dating him, Mr. Virgo lived in Snowmass so I was up there a lot. Winter in Aspen is truly magical and wandering town in the snow was a cold proposition. I mentioned how cold I was one day. The following winter, this baby was under the tree.

I know...I was torn, too. I mean, PETA and fur and controversy versus being that warm and toasty? Warmth won me over and I wore that thing to the grocery store....everywhere. I didn’t care...it was the warmest I’d ever been in the winters of Colorado. I continued to wear it, even after Mr. Virgo died. But one winter, I wore it to the Winter Concert at my granddaughter’s grade school. It was one of the poorest inner city schools in the area and I was embarrassed. I even wadded it up and sat on it during the concert.

The following year, I moved to West Virginia. There aren’t too many places you can wear a coat like that in the Mountain State. I wore it to coffee once when I met my high school girlfriends. They all had fun trying on the coat and having their picture taken, but I soon felt the coat just wasn’t “me” anymore. That’s when I had my friend Ginny cut off the top of it and turn it into a throw for the bed on my camper.

I’ve dragged this thing around with me all over the country. It has comforted me when I was grieving. It has kept me warm around the campfire with I travel with my camping girlfriends. The last big camping trip I took in the fall of 2019 with the Girl Camper Raffle Trailer, the lining started coming out so I carefully folded it and draped it over the back of the loveseat in the family room.

Since we had a White Christmas, the daytime temperatures haven’t been above freezing. And, since my entire goal yesterday was to sit in my new recliner and knit with some yarn my dear friend Gail sent me, I decided I’d be much warmer with my fur thrown over my lap. I gathered up what I needed and stitched the loose life of the lining and before long, I was snug as a bug in a rug...knitting away and watching football as Mr. FixIt snoozed off and on throughout the afternoon.

It was such a cozy feeling...kind of like loving bookends. I am so incredibly blessed to have such thoughtful men in my life...be they present in memory or in the recliner across the room. I couldn’t have been happier, feet propped up, a lovely fur across my lap, the sun bright on the new fallen snow, knitting and listening to the soft, steady breathing of my sweetheart. The dichotomy between now and just five years ago is stark. I remember the darkness so vividly...which is why the light is so remarkable. It continually surprises me and I try very hard not to take a moment of it for granted.

“So I never stop being grateful for you, as I mention you in my prayers.”
Ephesians 1:16 CEV

Day 280: The Ghosts of Christmas Trees Past

Sat, 19 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

This photo was taken 50 years ago today!

Most of the paper photos I have left are in boxes out at the farm. One of these days, I need to bring them home with me...like, when I have this back bedroom cleaned out. I imagine there are some pictures in that box of the Christmas trees from my youth. Sometimes they were straggly little Charlie Brown trees with sad, empty arms. Usually brought home a day or two before Christmas when my dad could get a better deal on one.

I always remember the decorating with such enthusiasm. Dad would trim the bottom of the tree trunk to make it level and give it a fresh cut through which it could suck up the water from the old fashioned tree stand. Mom would bring the boxes of ornaments down from their storage place in the eaves of the attic. Dad would check the lights and replace any burned out bulbs. We used big lights with reflectors behind them to keep the needles from getting hot and catching fire.

I was the youngest so I had the honors of placing the star on top of the tree. Dad lifted my high in the air and held me patiently while I fiddled with the top spire of the tree, trying to fit it in the topper. When I got too big to hold up, we used the kitchen stool that converted into a stepladder by lifting the seat. Ours was red, I think.

Many of the ornaments you see in this picture are hanging on our tree here at the Ponderosa. I tenderly store each delicate memory wrapped in newspaper and carefully placed in plastic tubs. Mr. FixIt would help me in a heartbeat, but I won’t let him touch them. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but if he accidentally broke one, he would feel terrible...and I wouldn’t want that for him. Instead, I put them up and take them down. I’ve only missed one year...Christmas of 2014. That was the year things went south on the farm and my elderly aunt and I had a parting of the ways.

I left the farm on Christmas Day and went to my cousin’s for the holiday. Then I started house sitting in my friend’s Victorian loft in Marietta. That was such a weird winter. It was not only my second without Mr. Virgo, but the split with my aunt was fresh, I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do next. When the offer came up to house sit, I jumped at the chance and spent the next few months scanning old photos onto hard drives and staring out the window at the snow. I remember there were twinkle lights, but I don’t remember a tree.

A legitimate Christmas Tree became a thing again once I moved back into the farm after my aunt went to live with her brother. I had lights on the porch and electric candles in the window and my mom’s ceramic tree on the dining room table. Christmas of 2017 was the first time Mr. FixIt and I had a tree together. I’ll never do a real tree again. Artificial trees are safer, more economical, cleaner, and they do the job just fine.

But the trees of my youth float in my memory whenever we decorate for Christmas. The smell of fresh pine. The prickly pokes you got when you hung the ornaments. The sticky sap on your fingers when you reached in to clip the string of lights to the branches. One year, Dad bought a long needle pine and I remember it looking so elegant, but it was so hard to hang ornaments from. We always put tinsel garland and silver “icicles” on our trees. I’ll never forget how glad I was when that went out of style!

I somehow have a vague memory of having a silver metallic tree with a rotating light that changed colors. That may have been when I was a young mother. My second husband was Jewish and we had trees for the first ten years, but when we had our first child together...my second...we didn’t have trees for many years. We only celebrated Hanukkah at that time.

Anyway, trees have always been the center of my holidays, and this photo was the earliest one I could find in my digital archive. It was in my mom’s living room. Hubby #1, who was Boyfriend #1 at the time, is dashing across the photo. Ahhhh...the things, and people, and celebrations that come and go in our lives. It’s a mystery, isn’t it?

“The Lord is your protector, there at your right side to shade you from the sun. You won't be harmed by the sun during the day or by the moon at night. The Lord will protect you and keep you safe from all dangers. The Lord will protect you now and always wherever you go.”
Psalms 121:5-8 CEV

Day 279: Be Careful What You Wish For

Fri, 18 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I was browsing photos in a Facebook Group I belong to the other day. It was one of those “You Might Be From __________ If...” pages. People post stories and photos. There are a precious few of the “old guard” who grew up and know those pictured. But there are far more who come on and say... “Does anyone recognize the people in this photo?” Those are the sad ones because the elders are dying off without labeling the photos or teaching the young’uns who were in them.

My grandma was pretty good about writing the names of folks on the back with the stub of a pencil, most likely whittled to a point with my PopPop’s pen knife. This particular photo caught my eye because I’ve seen it all my life. It’s the old one room schoolhouse that was a couple of miles from the farm. My mom and one of her brothers are in that photo and I smiled at the memories that came rushing back to me.

We have that photo somewhere in the family archives, and now, thanks to modern technology, I have it safely ensconced in my iPad and the Cloud. I can still see Grandma in her rocking chair by the front window, looking through her “picture book” and walking down memory lane. She would point and name everyone, then tell a story or share their nickname. Everyone had a nickname. Just yesterday, my baby cousin asked me what Grandma’s name was for me. I was “Ginny Lynny” or just “Pet”. She was “Trinket”.

This particular photo was taken shortly after the Great Depression. I want to say it was around 1936-37, judging by the size of my mom and her brother. When Grandma saw pictures like this, she shared with me the hard stories. Stories of struggles and just trying to get by. She would tear up when she said their milk cow was the only thing standing between her children living or dying of starvation. They never wasted a thing. Shoes were resoled at home because there wasn’t money for a cobbler. Clothes were sewn from flour sacks and mended and handed down. Grandma had a baby every two years till she nearly died after the last one and they saved her life with an emergency hysterectomy.

It was right around this time when Grandma and PopPop managed to scrape enough money together to buy the farm that I still take care of. When they moved down off the hill into that house, Grandma said she felt like a queen in a castle! She didn’t have running water or an indoor bathroom for twenty more years. They had an old wringer washer with a hit and miss engine out on the back porch. My earliest memories are of Grandma carrying buckets of rainwater she heated on the stove and pouring it in the washer.

She used lye she made from ashes and mixed it with rendered fat from butchering to make soap that was used for everything. Wash was done once a week. You started with the delicates when the water was still clean and soft and you ended with work clothes. PopPop worked in the pipe yard on old oil and gas well pipe and parts. He was always sticky and stinky with black creosote and a hard day’s sweat when he got home. Those work clothes had to be boiled and scrubbed on a washboard by hand to get the most of the grease out of them. I remember they were always an army green or khaki color.

Once the clothes were as clean as they were going to get, Grandma used the rinse water to scrub the floors of the house and the last bit was thrown out on the porch and worked with a broom to get what mud they could off the steps. It was a hard life she lived, working from sunup to sundown doing as much hard work as any man, then mending clothes and sewing on buttons at night after supper.

I look at that picture of my mom as a little girl, and I’m humbled. The “going back in time” I get to do at the farm at my age is a walk in the park compared to actually living the life they lived. You hear people say “It was a simpler time.” Simpler? Be careful what you wish for. Simpler in those day meant they didn’t have the time sucks we have now. They didn’t have TV and computers. They were lucky to see a newspaper or a magazine. They didn’t know what was happening in Asia or the Middle East or Africa unless a missionary happened to be traveling through trying to raise a little money for an orphanage somewhere. However, their lives consisted of hard work and more than their fair share of sadness. And fortunately, I come from the kind of people whose glasses were always full to overflowing and I heard of all the goodness of life.

What are we giving our children’s children’s children to know about those who came before us? What are we handing down from our great grandparents’ days? What are we teaching them about long lost skills like growing our own food and preserving it or making our own clothes and tools? Part of the purpose of this blog is sharing the past along with the stories of the present. You’ve followed along in my grief journey after losing Mr. Virgo. You’ve been here for the adventures in the camper and traveling the country as a widow trying to heal my broken heart, one campfire at a time. You shared in my joy when I found love again with my best friend from high school and remarried. Interspersed with all these events are the stories of my roots. I share them with you here because many of you grew up with similar lives and they spark your own memories. Some of you couldn’t dream of living such a life and it’s like reading a history book. So, why do I share so much of myself and my family’s history?

Because...one day, I’ll be dead and gone, and my grandchildren and their grandchildren’s children will read these stories and know from whence they came. I don’t have great material wealth to leave to my family...to the world. All I have are my experiences and my knowledge and my wisdom...the lessons I’ve learned along the way.

I’m the storyteller.

“Love should always make us tell the truth. Then we will grow in every way and be more like Christ, the head of the body. Christ holds it together and makes all of its parts work perfectly, as it grows and becomes strong because of love.”
Ephesians 4:15-16 CEV

Day 271: A Day in Chemical Valley

Thu, 10 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I grew up five blocks from the Ohio River. The soundtrack of my life was the constant background noise of heavily laden trains and tugboats pushing barges up and down the river. Their cargo varied from coal to sand and gravel to gasoline and chemicals. Honestly, you never knew what dangers lurked just a few blocks away when you lay sleeping in your bed on those hot summer nights. The toots of the barges signaling the locks...the locks signaling back when it was ok to move forward.

Union Carbide, Bayer, Shell, Corning, Marbon, Viscose, DuPont, Johns Manville...all were as familiar to us as Wonder Bread and Borden’s. We didn’t think anything of it. These chemical, plastics, glass, and petroleum plants were our bread and butter. Like the coal fields of southern West Virginia and the steel mills up north, big chemical plants ruled the Mid-Ohio Valley. If our parents didn’t work there, we knew someone who did.

Occasionally there would be an accident or a fire or a chemical spill at one of the local plants. But, before the EPA taught us the dangers of some of the things in our very backyards, we really never gave it too much thought. It was part and parcel of life here. I remember in grade school when the father of one of my classmates was killed at DuPont. It struck us on many levels. First, it taught us that parents can die. Second, it meant some jobs were dangerous. And, it gave us our first taste of death.

If you saw the documentary Dark Waters, you get an idea of the reckoning between big polluters and the little people who worked for them. DuPont worked with a chemical called C8 that leaked into the ground water all around where I grew up and caused cancers, deformed fetuses, and deaths. The people eventually won a settlement, but money is never enough to rectify a situation like that. Extremely expensive filtration systems have been installed to allow the drinking water from the aquifer below us to be potable because...C8 is a “forever chemical”. It will never break down and is here to stay.

They don’t use C8 anymore. One of my friends spent his entire career working for DuPont...the last several years in a lab trying to come up with a C8 substitute but they were still not successful when he retired. DuPont sold out to a French company called Chemours who subsequently sublease their facilities to other companies manufacturing any number of products.

Tuesday night at 10:00, when people were settling down to watch a little TV before bed, a loud explosion rocked the small communities surrounding the Chemours plant in Belle, West Virginia just south of Charleston...about a hundred miles from the Ponderosa. Amazingly, only four people were injured...one of whom died yesterday at an area hospital. A young man in his 30’s with a family won’t be home for Christmas...or any other holiday. Things are a lot cleaner now and much safer, but still...accidents happen. There’s still a much higher level of cancer here than most places.

West Virginia is a beautiful state. But the wealthy robber barons have continually raped my home state of her natural resources and left her permanently scarred and polluted. The price of progress? Or the “taking advantage” of simple Appalachians trying to get by the best they can? We were resource rich and education poor and it’s hard to complain when “The Man” was putting the bread in your children’s bellies.

I’ll never forget the time I flew into the Charleston Airport one summer. We were approaching from the south...not the way I commonly arrived. I looked out the window of the plane and the tops of the mountains...MY MOUNTAINS...were just...GONE! They were shaved off the top in a new, quicker, cheaper method of strip mining. The landscape has been permanently altered. Farmland that’s been handed down from generation to generation has wide, treeless paths cut through virgin timber to allow gas and oil pipelines to pass through. It breaks my heart and makes me sick.

All in the name of fossil fuels. Large, gas-guzzling SUV’s. Mr. FixIt and I contribute with our two pickup trucks so I can’t even complain. I pray for a cleaner world and for some way for my fellow Mountaineers to make a living once the switch is made. We have to do something more than pray. We have to change. And change doesn’t come easy, so I’ve found.

““ ‘Do not pollute the land where you are. Bloodshed pollutes the land, and atonement cannot be made for the land on which blood has been shed, except by the blood of the one who shed it. Do not defile the land where you live and where I dwell, for I, the Lord, dwell among the Israelites.’ ””
Numbers 35:33-34 NIV

Day 269: The Gift of an Heirloom Recipe

Tue, 08 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

The first day of holiday baking was a huge success. After a relaxing start to the day and enjoying my morning coffee, I got to work in the kitchen. I grew up in the ‘50s and ‘60s when the obligatory holiday fruitcake came to our house...usually as part of my dad’s Christmas bonus package. Fruitcakes back then came in these really great heavy-duty tins embossed with festive Victorian holiday scenes. These tins often went on to become the button boxes many of us remember sifting through at our grandmother’s homes.

I really hated fruitcake. It was almost a rule of thumb that children and fruitcake did not mix and if you liked it, you never admitted to it. It was thick, dark, gummy, and so sickeningly sweet. Once in a while, I might pick out a candied cherry and eat it, but that was the extent of my experience with fruitcake. The fact that it’s often soaked in booze might have been a deterrent in my house growing up. (I received a cookbook as a wedding gift from my grandma and she crossed out the word “beer” in a recipe for barbecue sauce!)

Enter, Mr. Virgo. Fruitcake, like opera and the Philadelphia Eagles, entered my world along with that tall, handsome man. Unfortunately, he liked traditional fruitcake. I happened to mention this to my cousin’s wife and she sent me my Aunt Marge’s White Fruitcake recipe. She assured me, even a diehard fruitcake hater like me would love this recipe. The following year, I made two loaf pans of fruitcake before Thanksgiving, wrapped them in cheesecloth, and started giving them a weekly drink of bourbon.

The week before Christmas, I brought the fruitcake in from cold storage in the garage and cut a few slices for Mr. Virgo’s gustatory pleasure. He declared it the best fruitcake he had ever tasted. I felt this was a fine endorsement and he talked me into trying a piece myself. Being the good sport that I am, I complied...fully prepared to again, hate it. But...oh my GOSH, people! It was divine! Granted...it’s still not something I’m going to overindulge in. It is definitely an acquired taste. But as far as fruitcakes go, this is the bomb. And here’s where the bad news comes in.

I cannot share the recipe with you.

My Aunt Marge was an incredible cook. Legendary. She worked and perfected this recipe over the years and would never give the recipe away, no matter WHO asked. I was privileged to be gifted this recipe and had to promise I wouldn’t share it. (Trust me, I asked with you all in mind...no go.)

So, why am I sharing this when I can’t share the recipe? Basically, to share my love for my Aunt Marge. To share a tradition. And, yeah...to maybe brag a little that I finally found a fruitcake I can eat. Don’t be too dismayed. If you hate fruitcake as much as most people, you’ll just scratch your head at the thought people really eat this stuff. If you DO love fruitcake, you can Google “White Fruitcake” and find a recipe that might give you something like Aunt Marge’s. But I doubt it will be as good as this one. ‘Cause...it’s truly a family heirloom.

Next up...Banana Bread!

“Your wife will be as fruitful as a grapevine, and just as an olive tree is rich with olives, your home will be rich with healthy children.”
Psalms 128:3 CEV

Day 268: Finally...The Tree is Up!

Mon, 07 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

It took much longer than I expected to get the house decorated this year. I really wanted to have things done by Halloween because I...like many this year...wanted the joy of twinkly lights. It’s really been a hard year and I wanted the lift that an early Christmas would bring. So, I set my sights for Thanksgiving which came and went with nothing more than piles of papers and books around the foot of my recliner.

I finally made the absolute commitment to getting things done this past weekend and by sundown yesterday, it was looking a lot like Christmas on the Ponderosa. I love going through the ornaments and remembering when they came into my life. Who made it? Where did we buy that? What year was this one? Mr. Virgo and I bought a special ornament every year we were together. I continued that tradition after he passed and bought ornaments that were meaningful to what I was going through. When Mr. FixIt came into my life, we picked up that tradition and buy an ornament every time we go on a trip.

This year was different. First, we’ve only taken one trip...to the beach. And second, shopping was limited and the Christmas Shoppe was closed when we were at the beach. The other day, I saw a friend post a photo of my favorite ornaments made by Ne’Qwa. These are very special glass ornaments that are hand painted on the inside. Many of those Mr. Virgo and I bought were Ne’Qwa and I really wanted another one. Since we couldn’t go shopping, I bought one online. It arrived Friday...just in time to decorate.

The only diversion from my decades long decorating day tradition was...football. I always have watched “White Christmas” when we decorated the tree ever since I was a kid. I raised my own kids doing the same thing. I think this was the first year in decades where I didn’t watch my movie. But, the results are the same and our house is beautiful. I swear I am not taking them down till Covid is under control. I love the lights, especially in the dark of winter.

Now that the house is organized and decorated, I can start baking. First up...my Aunt Marge’s White Fruit Cake. Mr. FixIt has to run to town today for a couple of things, so I’m going to have him pick up some bourbon or maybe cherry brandy to soak the fruit cakes in. This is when the fun part starts!

“Therefore do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink, or with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration or a Sabbath day.”
Colossians 2:16 NIV

Day 266: Another Sad Goodbye

Sat, 05 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

When Daughter #1 married in the summer of 1995, I had no idea what an integral part her new family would play in my life. Just five years after we met, these lovely people helped me through a very painful divorce and lifted me up from the fall. Then, years later when Mr. Virgo passed, they took me into their home and loved on me till I could stand up again. They nursed me when I was sick. They welcomed me with my campers and played host to countless “camping trips” in their driveway. They love my daughter the way I love their son. We are as close to being related as we can be without actually sharing DNA.

We have always said, Sue & Ben live at the epicenter of the universe. Way early on, I felt a twinge of jealousy about that because I wanted MY house to be the center. It wasn’t long till I understood why theirs was and I’ve spent many a long, leisurely breakfast at their table...discussing the topics of the day. You always learn something sitting there over coffee. Ben underlines particularly interesting points from the articles in the morning paper and enjoys the intellectual discussions that ensue when he shares them.

When Sue was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, I asked what I could do from here to help her.

“Just chat with me every night. Tell me funny stories. I love your stories...they give me something to think about.”

We have been chatting every single night since and I have to say, that has been one of the deepest experiences I’ve ever had. To watch her strength, courage, and determination has been admirable.

One of the bonus features of my close relationship with Ben & Sue has been Grandma Lois. Born in the northeast corner of Colorado, Grandma was raised to be a strong woman, a hard worker, and she could do anything she set her mind to. I could go through the details of her accomplishments listed in her beautiful obituary, but I’d rather relate what she meant to me personally.

For many years, I only got to see Grandma Lois when she came to Denver to see the kids. But, finally she got to the age where she needed to live closer where someone could be there should she need a little extra support. She bought a small house around the corner from Ben & Sue. That’s when I got to spend more time with her. You never went to her house without being treated to a fresh batch of cookies and a cup of coffee. I often walked over to see her when I was visiting Colorado.

Grandma Lois was widowed in 1996. She was so supportive of me when Mr. Virgo died. We had long talks and she shared her love freely, helping me through a difficult time with tender understanding while, still being the strong farm woman, kicking me in the butt when I needed it. Mr. FixIt and I went to her 90th Birthday Party last summer. She loved him and thought I’d found a real gem. Whenever we spoke on the phone, she asked about him. The other day, we were watching TV when my phone rang. I looked down and said, “It’s Grandma Lois!” Mr. FixIt lit up. This was an unexpected treat!

“Hello, Lois! How are you???” I smiled into the camera.

“Oh! It’s YOU!” she said with surprise. “I never know who I’m going to get with this thing. I just punch the buttons and hope for the best!” Grandma said with a deprecating laugh.

We spoke for a good half hour, sharing stories about the kids. She wanted to know all about our garden and the canning and what we had been up to. I hated for the conversation to end. You know, in the way you hate them to end because you don’t know when...or IF...you’ll get the chance for another one. We always ended our conversations with professions of love for one another, which is the way it should be when you love someone.

As it turns out, that was the last conversation I got to have with Grandma Lois. She recently came down with bilateral non-Covid pneumonia at the nursing home where she’s lived the last year. She passed in her sleep on December 1st at 5:00am. She was 91.

“Little”, my younger granddaughter said this about her great grandmother. “Most people get to the Pearly Gates, knock on the door, and they’re let in. Not Grandma Lois! She rings the doorbell and runs!” I do believe she is right. But this time, Grandma was either too tired to run or she slipped on the step and fell.

I will always be grateful to have known her and loved her...and to have been loved right back. We truly were family...and friends. I am so grateful to Sue for sharing her mom with me. She knew how much I missed my own mom. Grandma Lois gave us all many gifts...not the least was modeling her deep strength and solid faith to the rest of us. I will miss you greatly, dear one...and I have comfort knowing you no longer suffer. I’ll see you on the other side.

“You will be afraid to climb up a hill or walk down a road. Your hair will turn as white as almond blossoms. You will feel lifeless and drag along like an old grasshopper. We each go to our eternal home, and the streets here are filled with those who mourn. The silver cord snaps, the golden bowl breaks; the water pitcher is smashed, and the pulley at the well is shattered. So our bodies return to the earth, and the life-giving breath returns to God.”
Ecclesiastes 12:5-7 CEV

Day 263: Wishes to Prayers, Coincidences to Blessings

Wed, 02 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

In the spring, I noticed my knuckles were swelling and painful. Arthritis? Could be. It’s also one of the myriad symptoms of hyperparathyroidism...of which I was unaware at the time. All I knew was, I was baking a lot and gardening a lot and my rings were becoming harder and harder to slip off and on. One day in particular really scared me. It took lots of uncomfortable coaxing to get my rings off. I certainly didn’t want to run the risk of having to get them cut off. I’ve seen that done and it isn’t pleasant for the recipient. Once I managed to get the rings off that time, they went to the safety deposit box.

All summer, my finger was naked and I hated that I couldn’t wear my wedding rings. However, I equally hated the idea of asking Mr. FixIt to buy me another wedding band...even a simple gold band. As the year wore on, I thought I might broach the subject as a possible gift idea for Christmas, then the microwave bit the dust and there may be a trip to Florida coming up if this parathyroid surgery thing happens. Besides, we just bought these new recliners. I don’t need tchatchkes and I really have everything I could possibly want. I decided not to ask. But ohhhhh, how I wanted a ring on my finger. I did what I always do...I just handed it over to God and put it out of my mind.

The other evening, Mr. FixIt was rummaging around in the basement for quite some time. When he came back up, he had a small case and set it on the floor in front of his recliner. I turned on the overhead light and sat on the floor to see what was in the box. It turned out to be some of his uncle’s “treasures”. Things like war memorabilia and old pocket watches that didn’t work. I am a sucker for things like this so I was having a big time.

“Maybe my new wedding ring is in this box.”

I looked up into my husband’s puzzled face. He knows my rings don’t fit but we’ve never spoken about it.

I smiled. “I asked God to bring me a new one that fits.”

He looked down into the box and picked something up. “How about this one?”

It was old and worn and looked like a piece of an old brass tube. I buffed it hard on the carpet and the tarnished surface remained unchanged. I slipped it on my finger and...I know this sounds SO weird, but...it felt like it belonged to me. Like I’d worn it forever. It was absolutely the perfect size. As a matter of fact, I can’t even tell I’m wearing it. I instantly loved it. It felt like I’d found something just yearning to be back on someone’s finger to be loved again. I didn’t even care that it was rough and tarnished.

Mr. FixIt smiled at my pleasure over such a simple thing. He pondered who the ring might have belonged to and when it was worn last. We went through the rest of the treasures and put the box away. I kept looking at my new wedding band and was happy as a little clam.

We had to run to town yesterday. We never found the missing link of Mr. FixIt’s bracelet so we decided to stop at the jeweler to see if it could be fixed. While we were waiting, I slipped off the new/old ring and asked my sweetheart to see if the jeweler could buff it up a little. I went around and browsed at the sparklies. Finally, he stepped back over and handed me a ring.

“I don’t know about that old one, but they found this one for you to try.”

I looked down at the shiny gold ring and back at him.

“This can’t possibly be the same ring!”

“It is...one and the same. The jeweler just buffed it up!”

Oh, my gosh, you guys. You could have knocked me over with a feather! I slipped this beautiful 16K gold band on my finger and sent up a thank you to Jesus. This was way above and beyond what I ever thought I’d get for Christmas. I would have been happy with the tarnished one, but this? Wow.

My wish became a prayer. What seemed like an uncanny coincidence turned into such a sweet blessing. Not only did I get a new wedding ring that fits perfectly, but my sweetheart got to share something that once belonged to a very special man in his life. When his uncle was a widower and old and alone, Mr. FixIt used to go to his house every single day after work and fix his dinner for him. He took him wherever he wanted to go. He helped him around the house on his days off. I am so honored to share this piece of his past. I’m so grateful to be a part of this story.

“If you are a husband, you should be thoughtful of your wife. Treat her with honor, because she isn't as strong as you are, and she shares with you in the gift of life. Then nothing will stand in the way of your prayers.”
1 Peter 3:7 CEV

Day 260: Looking for my Merry Mojo

Sun, 29 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I’m having trouble finding my footing with the change from uber busy spring-summer-fall to...indoors. There are a million things I could/should be doing, but I am not finding the wherewithal to get after it. I STILL haven’t made those pumpkin pies. Not that I didn’t try. I pulled the dough out of the fridge yesterday and when I started rolling it out, I knew something was terribly wrong. It was springy, like bread, so I knew the gluten got activated. Also, I used that cheap bargain basement flour from the Piggly Wiggly and it’s just not good for much of anything. I ended up throwing both the dough and the remaining flour away. I promise I’ll bake these pies today!

We had company yesterday. It’s really something when you get super excited if someone comes over. The former Mrs. FixIt called Friday evening and asked if we had extra room in the garage freezer for a twenty pound turkey. This is the great thing about buying turkey after the holiday...you can get really good prices. Kroger had big turkeys on sale for $ .59 a pound so we asked her to pick up one for us. We already had a big twenty-four pound turkey in the downstairs freezer, so we put it in the garage fridge to defrost and put the new turkey in its place. Here’s the best part of the story, though. When she was checking out, the manager asked her if she would like a Black Friday Special. Well, who doesn’t want that, right? So, he sold her the turkeys for $ .39 cents a pound. Too bad there weren’t more turkeys (she got the last two) and we don’t have a bigger freezer. I would have bought several. It was really great to stand out in the sunshine and visit for a while and show her all the work we’ve been doing around the Ponderosa.

My missing mojo shows up in my missing Christmas tree, too. I swore I’d have it up before Halloween, and now here we are after Thanksgiving and I’m procrastinating for some reason. Maybe my motivation will return today! I’ll start with baking those pies after church, then we’ll drag the decorations out, turn on White Christmas, and before we know it, the job will be done. Then I’m not taking it down, like...ever! lol I think the fact that we have had to forego having the family over for the holidays is what’s bumming me out. I can’t jump on a plane and fly to Colorado to see the family, either.

Mr. FixIt made me a bowl of ice cream last night as we watched the news. He put a little chocolate sauce on it, and I added a couple spoonfuls of cranberry sauce on top. OMGosh! It was SO good. It tastes like chocolate covered cherries. I’m determined to try as many new recipes and methods of serving the leftovers. I will freeze a container for the turkey I’m thawing out.

“Big” sent me a picture of her “Gingerbread Camper” the other day. I had to laugh. This was the grandchild who went camping and absolutely loved it, saying over and over, “We need to do this again, Nana!” Till the next summer when her adolescent self decided camping with Nana was infinitely uncool. Yet, here she is...I knew those memories would come back with fondness one of these days. It warmed my heart.

Have you decorated for the holidays? If you are newly bereaved, you may find it very difficult. I managed to put up the tree the first Christmas then was promptly depressed the next day. The second Christmas was when things fell apart with my Aunt and we didn’t have any decorations. I don’t think I really decorated until I settled back on the farm in 2016. Do you have favorite ornaments? What about traditions surrounding trimming the tree? I saw a story where people are flocking to buy real trees this year because of the memories of the hunt for the perfect tree. I haven’t had a real tree in many, many years. Basically, because I feel it’s wasteful, but also there’s the fire hazard and mess it makes. I have a candle with a very realistic pine tree scent. That’s good enough for me.

It’s time to get back up and get in the game. There’s work to be done and fun to be had and memories to make...no matter the circumstances!!!

“It is truly wonderful when the people of God live together in peace.”
Psalms 133:1 CEV

Day 253: Can You Say...Quarantine?

Sun, 22 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I woke up yesterday with a stuffy head. I didn’t think I felt too bad till I attempted to get out of bed. Then I felt as though I perhaps had been in a tractor pull...sans tractor. As the morning wore on, the cough and the sneezing started. I just didn’t feel good. I went on the DHS website and took their assessment questionnaire and it advised I go in for testing. My initial thought was, “Yeah...I’ll see how I feel tomorrow.” Then Daughter #1 happened to send a video chat request. After hearing my story, she strongly suggested I go get tested.

Now, remember...I’m out at the farm. I can’t go near Mr. FixIt. So I called the nearest clinic and were told they do Covid testing. The gal said to “come to the tent and call this number. I’ll take your info and send someone out to do the swab.” It was about a twenty minute drive out to this little tiny rural hospital/clinic. I pulled out the envelope with the phone number, opened my phone screen and...zero cell service. I don’t know what they can get there...but it’s not Verizon. And, there was no tent. I drove around the buildings until I finally found three parking spots with “Covid Testing Parking” on a piece of printer paper taped to a pole.

I gloved and masked up and timidly went in the front foyer of the emergency department. The lady came and asked what I needed. She sent me back out to the truck, and came out about five minutes later with the test kit. This swab only went in about a half inch or so. It wasn’t the foot long swab that goes a full 4-5 inches up your nose. I don’t mind that, except I do want what is most reliable. She sent me home with directions to isolate till I get the results in three days when they’ll call me.

Now I’m doing what I can to feel better. Zinc and Vitamin C for immune boosters, anti-inflammatory for pain and fever reduction, fluids and rest. I have a stack of magazines and my electronics and my little mini-fridge of food. I was really looking forward to getting back home to see my sweetheart. I know I love a break and a little R&R, but now I’m missing my “boyfriend”.

It’s not all bad, though. I have another stretch of time to love on this house. The same house my grandma adored. It was the Taj Mahal to her. I look around at this old bedroom. The holes in the plaster where nails hung pictures till enough of the plaster was lost and the nail no longer held. I try to remember what was hung in each spot. A calendar from the feed store, perhaps. Or, more likely, a school picture of one of us kids.

Grandma was what we called “picture poor”. She might not have had a whole lot, but that woman always had film in her camera and every trip to the farm involved pictures. We would stop and get her pictures for her from the store and take them to the farm with a sack of groceries. After lunch, we all gathered around to look at grandma’s pictures. No one said a word about her photography. She had a habit of standing so far away from her subjects, you had no idea who they were. But, they were always standing in front of some flowers. Grandma loved her posies.

Resting here in her bed, I listen for her voice coming back down the halls of my memory. Her laugh. Her sayings. Her quiet judgment. Her gentle love. Her strong hand that she didn’t mind swatting your backside with when you acted a fool. I see her on a sunny day with freshly washed hair glistening with streaks of silver against the dark hair of her youth that refused to leave entirely. She washed her hair in a bucket of rainwater heated on the stove. She rinsed it with cool rainwater she dipped from the barrel at the corner of the house. She kept an old enamel saucepan hanging on a nail precisely for that purpose.

When my children were very small, she would get the step stool for them. They stood on the stool and combed her long hair over and over till it dried. Then she would whip it around and around with a few swift turns and pin it into a bun. I smile at that thought because I’ve taken to wearing my own silver-streaked hair in a bun, too. One of these days, when Covid is over and we are free to do as we will, I will have a family picnic here at the farm to celebrate. And, maybe my own little three-year-old great granddaughter will stand on that very same stool and comb MY hair.

The circle of life.

“Children are a blessing and a gift from the Lord. Having a lot of children to take care of you in your old age is like a warrior with a lot of arrows.”
Psalms 127:3-4 CEV

Day 250: A Little R&R at The Farm

Thu, 19 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I can’t remember the last time I got away for a couple of days at the farm for a little recharge time. Mr. FixIt is doing really well these days and I’m feeling a little braver in going off on my own for a little bit. Not too far, though. I’m only eighteen miles away, so if he needed me, I’d be there in a whipstitch. And, as he said...he has plenty to do to keep himself busy while I’m gone as there is never a shortage of work around the Ponderosa.

I had to run to town this morning, so by the time I did that and a couple of errands, it was after 2:00 when I got to the farm. The big refrigerator out there never worked again after the power was off for several days from the tree falling over the line. I have no idea how old it was, but it had certainly seen its better days. When Mr. FixIt and I went to Sam’s this week, I picked up a small dorm sized fridge to bring out here. All we really need is room to keep enough food and drinks cold to feed the two of us when we stay out here for a few days, so small was better.

It took a good two hours to clean, move the old fridge, and set up the new one. I brought four big baskets of laundry out to do today. I also brought a stack of magazines since I never seem to find the time to just sit and read them. I don’t know how to describe the feeling I get when I come out here. It’s like taking a king-sized step back in time. I connect to that little girl that lives inside me. I touch my grandparents, my mom, my people who have gone before me.

I sleep in the same bed they did, in my grandparents’ room. I look out the same window. It restores something primal in me and heals my heart. This year has been rough all the way around. But it’s been full of opportunities, too. Opportunities to touch people and be touched by them. To practice trusting God. To lean into my relationships...especially with my family. To continue to build on that foundation with Mr. FixIt that will carry us through good times and bad.

Still, I’ve come to appreciate the introverted aspect of my extroverted personality. I love people, and I thrive on service. Now I recognize...and don’t fault myself for stepping away to recharge. It doesn’t make me selfish. It makes me smart. Because, I know I can give so much more when my cup is full and I have to fill it with peace and quiet. No TV. No noise. No expectations.

Just me.

And God.

And the little red house on the farm.

“Generosity will be rewarded: Give a cup of water, and you will receive a cup of water in return.”
Proverbs 11:25 CEV

Day 218: Goodbye, Ocean...Homeward Bound!

Sat, 17 Oct 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Sandy toes on the Outer Banks...Mr. FixIt fishing!

This week was exactly what we needed. We had so much fun with the kids and we managed to get a little alone time in, as well. We did something yesterday that I’ve only done a couple of times before. We drove out on the beach. The sand here is decidedly different than Daytona Beach where it’s not quite as solid as concrete and practically impossible to get stuck. Outer Banks Sand is soft. You have to let the air out in your tires down to about 15 pounds to flatten and widen your footprint for better traction. You have to be very careful not to punch the accelerator and spin while maintaining enough speed to keep moving. I was determined to do it myself, but the closer I got to our destination, all I could think about was having to get an expensive tow off the beach. So, I gave it over to Mr. FixIt and observed his technique and asked him questions as we went along. I’ll try next time.

We drove down to the point at Oregon Inlet near the bridge and parked our trucks side-by-side. I settled into my chair with my 50-SPF sunscreen, knitting in hand, cold drink by my side, feet up on my handy footstool. The girls sunbathed and played bocce ball while the guys fished. We roasted hotdogs on the beach for lunch, with a little grit for texture. The sun was intense...definitely the hottest day we had this week. But, we had a slight breeze and dipping in the water occasionally helped a lot. I found a few nice shells.

The Ocean Pursuit - a scallop harvesting vessel run aground

One of the coolest things I’ve seen on a beach in a while was an abandoned scallop harvesting vessel that ran aground on March 1st near Oregon Inlet. This is a remote section of the Cape Hatteras National Seashore that is accessible only by four wheel drive. When the accident first happened, the Coast Guard air lifted the crew to safety and then oversaw the removal of fuel and other hazardous materials from the vessel. Since then, the surf has pushed the “Ocean Pursuit” onto the shore where she has become embedded in the sand. Rust is quickly taking over and signs ask people to stay off the boat as it is a safety hazard. Salvage has been delayed by the covid pandemic and estimates of $60,000 makes this one big job that may take some time to accomplish. You can read about the Ocean Pursuit HERE.

By 3:00, the clouds started to roll in and we decided to head back to the condo. Within a few miles, the skies opened, the temperature plummeted twenty degrees, and it rained buckets. When we got back to the condo, we warmed up leftovers and started packing. Today, we head back home to chilly weather. It was supposed to freeze this morning at our house...a far cry from the wonderful weather we have enjoyed on the Outer Banks. No more sitting outside having my morning coffee for a while. Hopefully we’ll get a little late summer-like weather before the cold blasts of winter set in. The beach is definitely my favorite place to go in October.

A storm brewing off the Cape Hatteras National Seashore

Every time I’ve traveled, and I’ve shared many of my travels with you here, you know I have such a hard time transitioning back to the normal routine at home. I don’t know if that will be as big a problem this time because 2020 has been such a screwy year. I mean...what’s normal anymore? Who knows?

Checkout is at 10:00. This party’s over...so what’s the next big adventure?

❤️

“We make our own plans, but the Lord decides where we will go.”
Proverbs 16:9 CEV

Day 217: Bringing Home the Sea Bass, Etc.

Fri, 16 Oct 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Sunrise on the Fishing Boat

The guys had a big day on their fishing trip. They came back sunburned and exhausted, loaded down with bags of fresh, filleted fish, individually vacuum packed. They divided the catch and each get to take home thirty-three pounds. There were sea bass, red snapper, trigger fish, and hammer jack. That’s going to be some good eating in the coming months.

Quite a Haul of Fish: Sea Bass, Red Snapper, Trigger Fish, & Hammer Jack

I sat out on the deck having my coffee yesterday morning. What a treat to have some quiet time with my thoughts before the activities of the day. While the fellas were off fishing, my daughter-in-law and I went out to the beach and sat for hours visiting. I worked on a little knitted Christmas ornament. I finally had to turn around because I was getting too sun and windburned. The day really was perfect...not a cloud in the sky and just the right temperature.

Some sort of Amphibious Craft Practicing Maneuvers

At one point, I looked up and there was an amphibious vehicle driving down the beach and straight out into the ocean. Where we are staying is near a government facility of some sort. There were military helicopters flying back and forth and I saw fighter jets a couple of times. When we were on the beach on Wednesday, there was an unmarked white van with several kinds of sonar and satellite antennae on top and there were cameras mounted on the rear part of the roof. They drove slowly up and down the beach and honestly, it looked as though they were filming us. It was a little eerie, actually.

A Perfect Day

I finally went back inside and started supper. We had spaghetti sauce with those Italian meatballs I made ahead and put in the freezer. Oh, my gosh...they were SO good. Dinner was ready by the time the guys got back and the fish tales began. They showed off photos and told how hard the fight was for this one and that. The friend they took with them didn’t have much experience fishing so they teased him about it some...you know, the way guys do. But he ended up getting the biggest fish of the day so it was paybacks, for sure.

All in all, it was a wonderful day and everyone enjoyed themselves tremendously. Mr. FixIt figured out a way he could sit and reel in his fish without losing his balance which made me very happy. Today is our last full day and tomorrow we have to head home. A vacation week never seems to last long enough, does it?

❤️

“The kingdom of heaven is like what happens when a net is thrown into a lake and catches all kinds of fish. When the net is full, it is dragged to the shore, and the fishermen sit down to separate the fish. They keep the good ones, but throw the bad ones away.”
Matthew 13:47-48 CEV

Day 215: A Memorable Anniversary

Wed, 14 Oct 2020 01:30:00 -0600

We caught this egret having lunch in the reeds along the boardwalk as we explored the shops on the sound side.

After a leisurely breakfast, we all went for a long walk down the boardwalk, looking in all the little shops and carefully avoiding crowds as much as possible. We used tons of sanitizer and as soon as more than three or four people came in a shop, we were out of there. We balanced feeling like we had as normal a vacation experience as possible with the least amount of risk involved and it felt good.

Like I told you before, other than going on trips with my kids, and a couple with friends...I have never had a “family vacation” and that is what this family has always done. While it is a foreign concept to me, I must say, I have enjoyed it. My daughter-in-law and I have had time one-on-one to really get to know each other better. We have an agreement. If I cook, she cleans. It gives us time in the kitchen to work side by side. I really miss that with my girls. Having this bonus family to share that with has been lovely. We each have our own interests and go off to do our own thing then end up eating together and sharing what we did, looking at each other’s pictures.

We were on our way back from our walk when I stepped on the edge of the sidewalk, turned my ankle, and went down like a shot. Mr. FixIt tried but there was no catching me with that kind of momentum. I rolled over on my back and laughed because I didn’t really hurt myself...just my pride. But, by afternoon, I could certainly feel where I took a tumble...nothing serious. I never really think about fall risks when it pertains to me. I have been very careful when it comes to Mr. FixIt since his stroke because his balance has been off. Between that and having my first “old-lady-skin bruise” last week...it gives me pause. It reminds me my days are numbered. No fear. No vanity. No envy. Just...observation. Acknowledgement. This is ok. This is good. This is the natural progression of life. This is...interesting.

I have a writing project with a tight turnaround so I’m going to be doing a little work on this vacation in the next day or so. I love the new opportunities that come my way that give me the opportunity to stretch my wings and write in a different style than I am used to. Today is Wednesday and the week is half gone. I’ve barely visited the beach yet. Today and Thursday are supposed to be our sunniest days so I’ll make sure I get out there as much as possible.

We had a lovely anniversary. We ordered carry out from High Cotton BBQ. I have to say...while it was fabulous the first time we ate there, subsequent visits have been disappointing. I think it’s because I bought my own smoker, smoke my own meats in small batches, and preserve it myself...I’ve come to like my BBQ best. Still, it was a lovely meal and fun to spend our anniversary with the kids. Here’s to many, many more healthy and fun anniversaries!

❤️

“Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.”
Ephesians 4:2-3 NIV

Day 213: Rain, Rain, Go Away!

Mon, 12 Oct 2020 01:30:00 -0600

When you are on vacation at the beach, it’s supposed to be sunny and warm, right? Well...maybe not so much in October. I’m always a little apprehensive about coming to the beach at this time of the year because of the threat of hurricanes. This year it seems we are getting the tail end of some rain from the latest storms to devastate the south. I think they are clearing out now, hopefully.

After a relaxing morning, we decided to drive back up the coast to some Farmer’s Markets we passed on the way down. One was just ok. One was SO crowded, we didn’t even stop. And the last one was just right. I took lots of pictures of pumpkins. I love pumpkins...they are such happy fruit. There were all kinds of jams, jellies, pickles, sauces, relishes, fruits and vegetables canned...at exorbitant prices, I might add. There were still tons of fresh fruits and vegetables available, including strawberries! There had to have been a dozen different varieties of apples for sale and they were gorgeous. Baked goods, fudge, and kettle corn rounded out the selections in the main building. You could buy meat and seafood in the back. And, there was a machine that squeezed oranges and bottled the juice for you while you waited. That smelled divine!

Mr. FixIt wandered around while I was looking at the jarred goods. When he came back, he told me there was a guy making fried green tomatoes in the central area. He had samples and they were really good. We bought a tray and two fresh BLT’s he had just made on fresh baked bread. By the time we were ready to go back out to the car, the rain was pouring and we had parked clear across the lot. By the time we got to the truck we were soaked, but that little picnic tasted SO good!

When we walked back into the condo, the AC was running and we were still damp. It took me two hours to warm up. We had such a good time though, so it was all worth it. It was a quiet day filled with football and just hanging out. The kids weren’t here yet when I was writing this. They were due in later in the evening. There are actually a lot more people here than I thought there would be. The last couple of times we were here in the fall, there were hardly any people. I think most of the places offered their timeshare guests the opportunity to still have their week if they came in October. That’s our best guess, anyway. I’m glad we have all of our food here and we don’t have to go anywhere. I have the meals I am responsible for prepared and in the freezer so I’m just pretty much taking it easy this week. It feels really weird to not be doing something or canning something!

❤️

“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.”
Psalms 4:8 NIV

Day 212: Just a Little 12-Hour Road Trip!

Sun, 11 Oct 2020 01:30:00 -0600

It is only 566 miles from our home to our condo. Google Maps says it will take 8 hours and 37 minutes to make that trip. I would say that is possibly true...in Kansas. But we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Google simply does not understand West Virginia miles. Nor does it take into consideration the tail end of a hurricane passing through or a long and tortuous orange cone season. The last time we were down here was a year and a half ago and they are STILL working on the very same stretches of road. I told Mr. FixIt, I recognized the same piles of dirt!

Other than the rain and the road construction it was pretty smooth sailing. Except for the driver’s side windshield wiper. The tip broke off the blade and it slipped further and further out of the channel with every swipe so I had to find a Walmart and get some new blades. By the time I came back out, the rain was pouring but we found a Sheetz station with a canopy and I changed the blades post haste.

We carted more stuff with us than we ever have this time. We are avoiding the grocery stores here so we brought our own food. I also brought cleaning items and went in the condo and wiped down all the high touch surfaces before we took anything in. The sheets and pillows were provided. We don’t mind sleeping on sheets that we can tell were washed well, but we still brought our own pillows. We brought our own blankets as well. And, the first thing I did was strip the bed and put a brand new mattress cover on the bed. My stepson bought them for both the A & B sides and will leave them with us. That way, we can launder them, put them away, and bring them the next time we come down.

It is really a shame it was so cloudy, rainy and foggy coming through the West Virginia mountains. The colors are magnificent this year, and if it would have been sunny, I could have gotten some great shots. Instead, I snuggled up under my car comforter and fell asleep for Mr. FixIt’s first driving shift. We only saw one small accident on the way down and thank God that He delivered us safely here. The kids arrive sometime late today! I’ve never had a “family vacation” except when my own kids were little. Family beach vacations are de rigueur for my husband’s family so I’m pretty stoked!

❤️

“If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:9-10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Day 191: Grandma’s Grape Arbor

Fri, 25 Sep 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I still remember the sour sweat of a hot, late summer day when I was around ten years old. My cousins and I had been playing up the hill on “Tea Table Rock”...a stone outcropping about forty feet up the hillside across the creek from Grandma’s house. We laid out soft, damp moss for tablecloths and served “tea” in our little cups made from acorn caps. It kept us busy for hours and our sole purpose was to stay outside and play as long as possible.

We were afraid if we went inside to get something to eat, Grandma might corral us into some chore or another or...God forbid...she might make us wash up. So, instead of heading into the house to eat, we snuck down to Grandma’s truck garden tucked in a small triangular space bordered by the creek, the hill, and the road. She grew an awful lot of food in that little space. We probably grabbed a tomato or two, and maybe some carrots...I don’t remember. What I DO remember is dessert!

We crawled under the sheltering canopy of leaves covering the grape arbor. Located right on the creek bank, the coolness of the shade was nearly shocking to our sunburned skin. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, all we needed to do was reach up and grab handfuls of the Concord grapes that Grandma made the best grape jelly from. I loved those grapes...warmed by the sun.

There was a trick to eating them. You popped the grape in your mouth, slipped the innards out with your tongue for a quick burst of sweet juice, swallowed that part down so you didn’t have to spit out the seeds, then pressed the skin of the grape to the roof of your mouth and sucked hard. What you got was an amazing blast of sour grape. When it was gone, you spit out the skin. Heaven!

When I went to the roadside produce stand earlier this week, they had quarts of Concord grapes. I smelled them before I saw them...that familiar heady aroma took me right back to those youthful days of looting Grandma’s grape vine. I pulled out my phone for a grape jam recipe to figure out how many to buy. Three-and-a-half pounds of luscious goodness went into my buggy. I added four big sweet yellow onions, five pie pumpkins, a flat of tomatoes, and ten pounds of Braeburn apples for a grand total of $55! Not a bad haul.

I finished the salsa on Wednesday so I started on the grapes yesterday morning. I knew they were going to be labor intensive because I had in mind a certain way I wanted to make my jam. After washing the grapes, I stood and painstakingly slipped the skins off of each one...dropping the pulp with the seed in a large saucepan and the skins in the bowl of my food processor. I gathered all my canning tools, set the lids and rings on the heat in a medium saucepan to simmer and the jars in the water bath canner to sterilize set on high heat.

I simmered the pulpy centers of the grapes till they were soft and the seeds could be easily removed. Then I puréed the skins, added them to the grape pulp and mashed away with a potato masher then set it all aside. Once the pulp was cooled, I pressed the whole thing through a sieve by hand to remove the seeds and any wayward stems that might have fallen in. I threw away the seeds and the dried pulpy bits that wouldn’t go through the sieve then ran the whole thing through the sieve one more time.

I was left with a deep purple sludge the consistency of a melted milkshake that smelled of grapes and sunshine. I had almost enough to to make two batches of jam so I added about a half a cup of bottled unsweetened Concord grape juice to make up the difference. I made two batches of jam in the Ball TechFresh Jam & Jelly Maker that I told you about the other day. I’m still tweaking the recipes a little because it has a tendency to make the end product a little too thick for my taste. I ended up with eight jars of the best grape jam I think I’ve ever had. Still, no comparison to Grandma’s grape jelly, but a good close second.

Today, I tackle the apples!

❤️

“And when you pick your grapes, go over the vines only once, then let the poor have what is left.”
Deuteronomy 24:21 CEV

Day 189: “I’m Makin’ Waffles!”

Wed, 23 Sep 2020 01:30:00 -0600

In April 2001, a brand new movie came out that kids everywhere loved. Shrek was a green skinned troll with questionable social skills who paired up with a delightful donkey named...Donkey. They lived in the swamp and met up with Princess Fiona...a girl troll. It was fun and funny. Daughter #2 and I watched it a lot! She was eleven years old at the time...one of our fondest memories.

Donkey wants a sleepover and he declares he’s getting up the next morning and making waffles!!! Ahhhhh....waffles. That was a very special treat at our house reserved for the occasional Saturday morning. We had a rather large waffle iron and the batter invariably stuck to the plates of the iron no matter how much you oiled them. But when they did come out well, they were decadent. The butter pooled in the little wells of the waffle, soon to fight for its place when the syrup was poured on.

I had a nice waffle iron at one point. And it may be one of the things I saved to use in TOW-Wanda when I traveled. But I haven’t see it in ages so I started looking for one. People must not be making waffles like they used to because I couldn’t find a regular waffle iron anywhere. I did find a few Belgian varieties, but that’s not what I wanted.

I’ve been in every store in town over the last few weeks just popping my head into the kitchen department and they were either out of stock or never carried them. I know God loves for us to come to him with even the most mundane requests so I asked Him to direct me to a waffle iron. And not just any old iron either. I wanted the big square one that made four smaller square waffles. And, wouldn’t it be wonderful if it was multipurpose like these new ones are now? Where you can open it up, lay it flat and turned the metal plates over to the smooth side to use as a griddle? That, please.

Every time I go to town, I check someplace else. Then yesterday, I was driving down the main drag of town when I just “felt” that waffle iron was nearby. I looked to my right and there was Goodwill. Masked up and phone in hand, I wandered in. I looked up and down the aisles and was not finding any kitchen items. Then, I got the nudge. “Look there!” And there she was! Exactly what I wanted. It even has the accompanying booklets to go with it!

I took my treasure to the front to pay and the clerk asked if I qualified for the “Senior Discount”. Part of me wanted to bristle up in indignation. The other part say, heck yeah...bring it on!

“That’ll be $2.89, please.”

Are you kidding me??? I was nearly giddy with the experience!

So that’s the story of the $2.89 waffle maker.

Guess what WE had for supper?

“I’m makin’ WAFFLES!”

❤️

“And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:19 ESV

Day 176: Beans & Tomatoes & Pickles...YUMMM!!!

Thu, 10 Sep 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Ok, yesterday was a marathon day in the kitchen here at the Ponderosa. I started out by packaging up the dehydrated mushrooms then rummaging through the garden to get a few more Roma tomatoes. I set what was ready in the dehydrator and turned my attention to the green beans.

I had enough of the beans cleaned yesterday to set a canner on to process. Then, Mr. FixIt and I enjoyed rocking in the recliners, watching old Frazier reruns while I finished stringing and snapping the last of the beans between canner loads.

I learned something yesterday. I should have weighed the beans, because apparently I had a LOT more than I thought. According to the weights and measures scale for produce, a bushel of snap beans should weigh between twenty-eight and thirty-two pounds. This should result in a quart of processed beans for every one-and-a-half to two pounds of raw produce. Initially, I figured I would get two canners full with enough leftover beans to cook up a mess for supper. ("Mess is Appalachian for a batch...a dinner's worth with leftovers.)

I ended up with four canners full! That's twenty-eight quarts. I did my math and I payed just over a dollar a quart for these babies. AND I got the fun and satisfaction of putting them up for winter. I know, I know...this is nothing compared to what my cousins can every year. They put up hundreds of jars of food. I'm a little limited by supplies this year as I was sort of starting from scratch in the canning department. I'll get more jars and lids next spring.

When the last canner was filled and on the stove, I got out my fermenting equipment and got two quarts of dill pickles started. They will sit for one to three weeks in the brine till they get to my desired taste. I made one quart with hot red pepper flakes for a little extra pizazz. I would normally use dried whole red peppers from the spice aisle but Walmart didn't have them.

And that was the end of my day. I was tired...but it was a good kind of tired. My hands smell like garlic and they're soft from working with wet beans for two days. My hips are sore from sitting so much. But, ohhhhh.....those beautiful jars of bottled summer take my breath away when I look at them!

It was not till I was typing this last night to post this morning that I noticed the date. Today would have been Mr. Virgo's 70th birthday! It feels so unreal. He will always and forever be 62...a number I passed five years ago. I can't even imagine him at 70. He would have reluctantly retired. He had no hobbies other than golf and me. I never, EVER would have considered taking off in the camper by myself and having adventures without him. He told me when we were first dating that if I was the kind of woman who was going to leave him alone for long stretches of time, he wasn't interested. I had been in a two decade marriage with a workaholic who had dinner between 8:00-10:00 every night. I was ready for that one-on-one attention.

Don't get me wrong...I absolutely adore Mr. FixIt and I treasure every moment we have together. AND, I learned I need some space to recharge from time to time...for my own mental health as well as the comfort of my spouse. Different people. Different marriages. Different expectations. Still...I think of that silver-haired man and smile now.

Seventy.

Wow.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mr. Virgo!

❤

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men,
Colossians 3:23 ESV

Day 169: Forever the ‘50s Mom

Thu, 03 Sep 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I was born in the early ‘50s. We lived in an upstairs apartment of a house that no longer stands. But the time I was in second grade, we had lived in six houses that I know of. Mom and Dad bought their first home with an FHA loan for a little under $11,000. Two bedrooms with an unfinished attic and basement. It wasn’t much, but we were grateful for it.

Dad worked in the parts department for Mack Trucks. Not a lot of money to be made there, so Mom had to work outside the home. I remember one of her jobs was working for AB Dick...a printing press company. She also worked for Ben Grant who owned a printing company. When, when I was up in school, she started working for the Easter Seal Treatment Center as their “Girl Friday”.

Still, even though she worked outside the home, she was such a ‘50s mom. She wore house dresses and fake pearls and red lipstick. She sewed our clothes and embroidered pillow cases. She wore heels and carried a patent leather purse with a hankie, a change purse, and a compact inside. Oh, and she always had clip on earrings to match her dresses.

She didn’t learn to drive till I was in second grade. That was the year we bought the house in the suburbs and she had to drive my brother to his special school and get to work. I clearly remember her best friend Elaine Gordon teaching Mom how to drive. We were in the City Park where you could just circle round and round without facing oncoming contact. For some reason, Mom turned on a straight stretch and panicked. She hit the gas instead of the brakes and took us right up a bank, narrowly missing a tree. It was always an adventure with Mom behind the wheel.

Mom was NOT a good cook, but oh...could she bake! She made the best Pineapple Upside Down Cake I have ever eaten. She baked cookies every week. We always had a sweet around...I suppose because they were relatively inexpensive to make and you felt indulgent when you had one of her desserts.

She wore an apron over her house dress when she worked in the kitchen. Grandma always made quilted hot pads at Christmas from quilting scraps so there were always bits of cheerful color floating around the house. She made curtains for the windows. When I was big enough to get my own bedroom, Mom made these fabulous curtains with pink poodles on them. She made a cover with ruffles out of the same material to put over an old TV console to use as a vanity.

The decades came and went and the styles changed, but I never really saw my mom as anything but a ‘50s mom. Even when she and my dad divorced, she waited till I was married and left home to do it. She always put everyone else’s needs before her own. Generous, kind, unintentionally hilarious...she was incredibly naive to the ways of the world, clear to the day she died. That was one of her most endearing qualities.

I was rummaging around during my thirty minute allowance of browser time yesterday and saw this contact sheet of “50s Moms” and it just made me smile. I can still smell the Evening in Paris she wore...simply because I bought it for her with my babysitting money. I can still feel the soft touch of her cool hand on my fevered brow when I was sick. I can still hear the frustration in her voice when I was a rebellious teen. She worked hard, and loved harder.

I think they patterned June Cleaver after my mom.

What I wouldn’t give for one more day.

❤️

“He will wipe all tears from their eyes, and there will be no more death, suffering, crying, or pain. These things of the past are gone forever.”
Revelation 21:4 CEV

Day 156: My God Appointment of the Day

Fri, 21 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I believe God places people in your path and gives you an opportunity to share. Your time. Your talents. Information. Faith. Or, maybe just a gentle conversation. Such was the case yesterday.

There’s always a little back story to my stories, so here goes. Last week when Mr. FixIt and I went to the farm to mow, there was a message on the answering machine left by a gentleman who was looking for my aunt. He hadn’t spoken to her in at least ten years, so he didn’t even know if she was still living. His name was Bill, but he didn’t leave a number and we don’t have caller ID on the line out there. After I listened to the recording, I said, “God, nudge this fella and have him call me again, but this time with his number, ok?”

I didn’t think about it again all week. This Monday, we went back out to mow and there were a couple of messages. I smiled, remembering my quick prayer for a return call. Could it be Bill?

The first call was AARP. They leave a message about once a week to tune in to listen to some talk about something or other. I just delete them.

The second call was Bill! I was so glad he called back and left his number. Thank you, God.

I called him back and got his voicemail. I left my name and number, told him why I was calling, and could he call me back?

Last night, I was sitting down to write my daily post and whispered, “God...what should I write about today?” My phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize so I let it go to voicemail while I got set up to write. A little while later, I received the notification I had a voicemail. I listened and...it was Bill!

I called him right back and we had the most delightful conversation. He was saddened to learn about my aunt’s passing. He had known her since college and actually had been college roommates (and best friends in high school) with her first husband. Now, this was a treat for me, because I don’t know a whole lot about my uncle. He was only forty-one when he passed away. He had rheumatic fever as a child and subsequently developed rheumatic heart disease...damage to the valves of the heart. This is a result of an untreated strep infection. He passed during the night after suffering a fall on their farm...just shy of his scheduled open heart surgery.

Bill remembered my uncle as a dandy basketball player...the best shot on the team at 6’1”. The guy who should have been on the first string, wasn’t. He played second team. Bill never understood why till he learned years later that my uncle had taken an early disability retirement from his government job in Washington, DC because of a heart condition.

I shared with Bill some of my memories of my uncle. I own three of his grandmother’s crocks and a small child’s rocking chair. He was a tease. He told me he worked for the CIA. Then he changed it to a perfume factory. I never did get a straight answer of what he did for a living and Bill didn’t know either.

He recalled a time when he was traveling through West Virginia and decided to stop and see my aunt. He knew she was living out at the farm and taking care of her mom and a brother. It was cool to talk to someone who met my grandma...who had sat in the little red farmhouse...who knew my aunt and uncle when they were kids. There were no big revelations in our conversation, except...he and I both lived in England and in Denver...both with the Air Force.

And...we knew a strong woman we both admired.

I’m glad I answered the call and could be the one to tell him his old friend was gone.

Yes, God gives us appointments.

❤️

“Then I heard a voice from heaven say, “Put this in writing. From now on, the Lord will bless everyone who has faith in him when they die.” The Spirit answered, “Yes, they will rest from their hard work, and they will be rewarded for what they have done.””
Revelation 14:13 CEV

Nesting

Fri, 11 Nov 2016 02:30:29 -0600

I've put off really making this house look more like my "home" since I wasn't entirely sure my aunt wouldn't be coming back here to live. Although no one can read what the future holds with any certainty, it is likely she won't return here to live...just to visit, perhaps. Anyone who followed Marshmallow Ranch in October 2014 knows I came here originally to live in TOW-Wanda on the family farm to help my aunt who was living here alone. That arrangement lasted until I made the mistake of hanging a painting she didn't like in the dining room. That was the beginning of the end of my stay. Which was fine. She just wasn't ready to have someone here with her and I had other things that needed doing. Now that she is unable to live here alone, she is with her brother and I am the caretaker at the old homeplace.

This is the home of my heart and even though it has taken me off the road for awhile, it is a welcome respite. And now I'm feeling free to make some changes that better reflect both my personal tastes and the character of the place. This cupboard has been in the family since I was about four years old. My mom and grandma took me to an auction down the road. I was young enough to be pulled in my little blue wagon. They bought me a hotdog for a nickel and I happily became addicted to auctions as I munched away, eyes as big as saucers with the activity. Grandma bought this cupboard for $5.00...an amount not easy to come by when you're pretty much living off the land. It was painted with several coats of white enamel paint. Being mechanically minded, I was curious when Pop-Pop started stripping it. He let me "help" and I can still remember how the paint wrinkled as I pushed it with the scraper I held in my chubby little-girl hands. I not only became addicted to auctions, I developed an instant adoration of anything old and the magic of bringing it back to life. There's only one thing out of the entire farm that I absolutely want as my own someday, and that is this cabinet. It holds so many beautiful memories for me.

This piece gets moved from the kitchen to the dining room and back...with the whim of the occupants of this little red farmhouse. Yesterday, it got moved back into the kitchen "where it belongs". That's where it was when I was growing up. So it's back home. I used to hate the color Pop-Pop painted on the inside. It was undoubtedly a bit of leftover paint he had under his workbench, or perhaps something he picked up from a neighbor. It used to be this garish orange. Now it has darkened to a beautiful deep pumpkin color. Perfect for a country kitchen. I steam cleaned the floors and scooted it into place, leveling it with paint stir sticks. Soon I'll retrieve my dishes from my friend's basement and place my treasured antique crocks on the top of the cupboard.

Step by step, my meditation of the mindfulness cleaning and decorating brings me is creating a safe haven for me. I'm creating a place of comfort for visitors to share a cup of tea and a word of friendship. A place where I can write. A place filled with love clear to the rafters. It feels really good in here.

❤️

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”‭‭
Colossians‬ ‭3:23-24‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Old Barns

Mon, 07 Nov 2016 02:30:59 -0600

The countryside of rural America is studded with old barns. Whether currently being utilized or whether they are slowly being swallowed up by the earth, barns are a symbol of our agrarian roots. Big, Amish barns of Ohio. Quaint barns with hexes over the doors in the Dutch country of Pennsylvania. Small barns along roadsides with the remnants of "Chew Mail Pouch" advertising fading into the weathered wood. Red barns...white barns...barns of old grey wood bleached by years of sun and rain.

I love barns. I love the smell of hay and manure...feed and sweat...leather and dust. I love rusty old farming equipment, especially the horse drawn variety. Barn cats sit on the stone stoop, waiting for a squirt of milk by the deft squeeze of a farmer's leathery hand. Cattle lowing and stomping away flies. Horses munching oats. Piglets grunting and rooting into their mama's belly during their evening feed. The crow of the rooster...the cluck of the hens. The coo of the doves and pigeons in the rafters. The haunting hoot of a barn owl keeping watch out for things that scurry to and fro.

Old, empty, forgotten barns make me sad. Their dreary, empty windows belie the life they once housed. They were the bread and butter of farm life. They held a place of honor. It was a celebration to build one. It is a sad day when one dies and falls to the ground. As I drove through the countryside the other day, I caught glimpse of this barn. I pictured a woman putting a touch of beauty back in her aging barn's eyes by placing colorful mums in the windows. It made me smile. It reminded me that not all old and dying things are without love, be they human...or big, old barns.

Take care of one another and share some love today. It could be a rough week coming.

❤️

“The Lord will send a blessing on your barns and on everything you put your hand to. The Lord your God will bless you in the land he is giving you.”
‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭28:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Looking Back

Sun, 06 Nov 2016 02:30:56 -0600

I seldom look back at what I've let go of. Mostly because of fear that I'll regret the decisions I've made and what's done is done. I recently learned my old next door neighbor sold her house and moved on. Yesterday, I was telling a friend about my former home and it set me to thinking about the space I shared with Mr. Virgo.

I bought my home after I separated from my second husband. It was the perfect size to share with my teenaged daughter. With three bedrooms and two and a half baths, I knew I was blessed to have such a lovely space to live in. As a single mom, I wanted our home to be cozy and inviting. It was girly and sweet. Flowers bedecked the top of each window. Green and white striped sofas and large overstuffed chairs, quilts, crocks, and antiques gave a shabby chic atmosphere that begged you to curl up with a good book and a warm throw. Tea pots and mismatched cups nurtured your soul with the warm elixir of the gods. It was my first sanctuary. My grieving place after losing a twenty year marriage I didn't want to let go of. It was where I began to find myself and become the woman Mr. Virgo admired.

When I invited this new man into my world five years after I bought my house, my décor was tired. I was outgrowing the cutesy-ness of it. And Mr. Virgo patiently waited for me to suggest we do some updating. Six months went by without me saying anything about all the sweetness and flowery ruffles around him, when finally he broke.

One day, Mr. Virgo and I were watching TV and he said, "Baby doll...have you ever considered redecorating in here?"

I put my book down and looked around...with MY eyes and didn't see what he was getting at. Then I looked at him and back at the décor with HIS eyes and saw it. The cacophony of patterns and colors must have wreaked havoc on his Virgo sensibilities.

"Well, I hadn't thought much about it, but I'll bet we can turn this place into something that reflects us both."

He beamed. Finally, he was going to get to see something that didn't look like it just stepped out of a Laura Ashley catalog! A friend of mine was selling her large home in a fancy subdivision and was not taking her furniture. I loved her stuff and when I learned she was selling it, I grabbed Mr. Virgo and went right over. He loved it just as much as I did and the week after we were married, we set about making this house OUR home.

When I made the decision to move to WV to care for my elderly aunt, I knew I could not keep all this stuff. It didn't make fiscal sense to pay to store it. Especially since I had no idea how long I'd be gone. Besides, I was selling the house and who knew if I was ever going to own another one. I took lots of pictures of that beautiful home before I dismantled it and distributed the contents to family, friends, and charity organizations. I look at these pictures and it's a museum. The Memorial Museum of Mr. Virgo. I only miss it in the way that I miss him in the picture. This is just stuff. HE was what made it beautiful. Without him, it became stuff again.

It WAS indeed beautiful. But it lost its life with Mr. Virgo's last breath. It lost its allure. I've been thinking about decorating the farm house here and making it homey. I daydream about how cute I can make it. And maybe I'll pick things up from estate sales and auctions here and there as I live here. In the meantime, I'm comfortable with my memories.

❤️

“My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭32:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Country Roads...

Tue, 01 Nov 2016 01:30:43 -0600

Take me home. I thought you might like to see what I see when I drive out to the farm. OMGosh...how I love this road! Several years ago, I discovered I could "drive" down this old country road on Google Earth by getting down on the street level view. It became my secret obsession...at least once a week I would log on my iPad and "go home". And now? Now I get to live here and see this every single day. I am SO grateful for this opportunity. I thanked my uncle again yesterday and he assured me he was just as grateful that I am here taking care of the place for him. He lives too far away and family obligations keep him from making the trip more than once or twice a year.

This serene setting gives me plenty of opportunity to reflect on the miracles of my life. The twists and turns. The potholes...HUGE potholes. But also the peaks. You cannot appreciate the peaks if you haven't been mired in the valleys. Eleven years ago today I had my first date with Mr. Virgo. We met at a little restaurant in Basalt, CO. He brought me a rose. He was charming. Devastatingly handsome. Funny. A good listener. Easy going. Tall. I love tall men. We had a long lunch, good conversation, and a kiss goodbye at the car. It was cold and drizzly that day. I remember feeling warmed by that kiss.

I miss that man. I always will. I'm grateful I'm in a different space in my head, and my heart, now. I can look back at every aspect of our life together and feel happiness...most of the time. I can appreciate the fact that I had him in my life, albeit for too short a time. If I allow myself, I can still revisit the pain his loss gave me. The emptiness, the fear, the longing. Sometimes it's good to go there for a little while to work on some grief. But it doesn't serve me in my everyday life to stay there too long. The pain gets in the way of celebrating his life...MY life. I'd rather dance with him on my shoulder than sit with his memory in the dark. Dancing is life affirming. And...I am very much alive!

I'm finding joy again. In the simple ticking of the clock I bought him on his last Christmas. I hung it here in the dining room. I find joy in the memory of his face when I presented him with the painting I did of Mt. Sopris for his 60th birthday. I hung it here in the living room. I find peace knowing I have a lock of his gorgeous silver hair that I can touch any time I want. I keep it in a red leather box along with our wedding bands.

Living at the farm has another benefit. Mr. Virgo isn't lurking around every corner here like he is in Colorado. He was only here once so there are very few memories of him at the farm. They mostly revolve around standing behind the barn while he smoked and that isn't one of my favorite memories. Smoking took him away from me. There are a few good memories here with him, though. One night we stood on the back porch and listened to a bear in the woods near the house. One afternoon we hiked back on the hill and put our names in the old church registry. We tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep in a double bed in the dead heat of August.

I dreaded getting to this point in my grief journey where he didn't occupy every thought. But this is good. This is where I'm supposed to be. He isn't "gone". He'll never be totally gone. He lives on in my heart and sometimes he makes his presence known, and I smile...almost always. For that I am most grateful.

❤️

“Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭30:2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Let's Do the Time Warp Again

Fri, 28 Oct 2016 01:30:33 -0600

"It's just a jump to the left..." Sometimes that jump is a big one. I'm not shy about stepping boldly out of my comfort zone and doing wild and wacky things. But for some, it's a big stretch to reach out into the unknown. Last night I got to do something I've wanted to do for years. There was a showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show at a newly refurbished historic theater. I've seen the film before, but never in a theater.

RHPS was not a hit when it came out in 1975. It was very racy for the time and there are still parts that would never pass mom approval. It wasn't until they started showing the movie at midnight in art theaters that the movie became a cult classic. Audience members dressed up as their favorite characters and interacted with the film. Squirt guns, newspapers, toilet paper, toast, cards. All become projectiles with certain lines shouted along with the actors.

I have no problem putting myself out there. But I was not married to men who would play along so I never went. A friend of mine is reinventing her life after losing her husband about a year and a half ago. RHPS was NOT in her wheelhouse. But when I asked her to go she didn't skip a beat and said yes even though she was shy about it. She didn't want to be a showy character. We both chose "Columbia". She in the pajamas scene and I as the showgirl scene. I was thrilled to see her enjoy herself and I had a blast.
I came out of the theater feeling like I was in a time warp. I was so present in the moment that I couldn't tell you how long the movie was. But I'd do it again. And so would my friend.

❤️

“This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!”‭‭
2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:17‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Settle Down

Thu, 27 Oct 2016 01:30:56 -0600

Wednesday's are long days for me. I have to get up long before dawn to take the trash out so the critters don't get into it. (I'm still working on a raccoon-proof trash can.) I had a laundry list of things to accomplish yesterday and before I knew it, the sun was setting and I hadn't made it to the grocery store. That doesn't count the drive back out to the farm. I needed to settle down and catch my breath. My favorite grocery store is just across the river in Ohio and I remembered a beautiful park nearby with a great walking path. I headed there and walked the long outer loop, stopping to read the names of the individuals and businesses who sponsor the large planters hanging from the lamp posts. By the time I got back to the truck, the sun was giving off the last bit of light and I grabbed this shot. While I love living at the farm, this river holds big magic for me and I needed her energy after a long and busy day.

I made a new friend yesterday. She found me a couple of weeks ago, actually through a connection I'd made earlier in the year after the New York Times article came out. I love synchronicity. This woman is creating a new podcast and wanted to interview me for it. While I love doing interviews, they do force me to dive back into my loss and it stirs up feelings. Not a bad thing. Just an emotional check point that I don't visit quite as often anymore. One of the questions she asked me was regarding those first few hours after losing Mr. Virgo. It wasn't one of those awful reporter kind of questions you see on the 10:00 news...like, "So, Mrs. Smith...what did it feel like when you saw the alligator eat your husband?" I hate that. No, this was an empathetic plea..."How the hell do you deal with something like this?" I've been re-hashing my answer all afternoon and I can't come up with anything better than what I told her. I answered her in typical Marshmallow Ranch fashion...with a story.

That terrible day, the cardiologist came out to tell me they did everything they could but the damage was too great and they could not save my husband. My very first response was to empathize with him because he looked like he got rode hard and put away wet. He was physically and mentally exhausted after working feverishly for three hours. I thanked him and told him I knew firsthand what he had just gone through and I appreciated his efforts. I told her about being led into the room and seeing Mr. Virgo lying covered with a clean sheet...and his hair was slicked back. Then, right there at that critical juncture of the story...I started laughing. I apologized and assured her the experience was truly horrific and there was nothing funny about it at the time. And there still isn't, save for his hair. And here's why....

Most evenings, Mr. Virgo would stretch out on the couch with his head in my lap and I would run my fingers through that gorgeous mane of silver hair. I swear, he purred. After a half hour or so, he'd get up to go make his tea and his hair would be slicked back. I would laugh at him and call him Guido because he looked like some sort of mafioso in a Saturday afternoon B movie. When I walked into the room to see Mr. Virgo and they had his hair slicked back, I said " Oh, my God...NO! He looks like Guido!!!"

Time has eased the pain of that memory and allowed me to blend it with the fun memory of stroking his hair and turning this handsome Irishman into an Italian mob boss. And yes, I laughed at the absurdity of what happens to your brain in grief and how you fixate on the stupidest things. It allowed me to explain "grief brain". I've worried all afternoon about what people might think when they hear me laughing after such a serious question as "How did you handle that?" But there is nothing crazier than trying to absorb the news that the love of your life is gone and your world lies shattered at your feet. I think people will understand that...especially when it happens to them. That's why I'm doing what I'm doing in the first place. I'm a grief mentor. I'm here to tell you there is NOTHING predicable about grief....except that it's totally unpredictable.

The interview went well, I totally bonded with the interviewer and I am going to make her join up and go girl camping. I got my shopping done and dodged about thirty to forty deer on the drive back to the farm and today is another day.

❤️

“We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.”
‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Pickin' and Grinnin'

Mon, 24 Oct 2016 01:30:47 -0600

I took my time getting home yesterday and decided to stop at Tamarack near Beckley. This is an amazing gathering of WV artisans showing and selling their wares. I had to stop in the grill and have some fried green tomatoes. Yummmmmm! I walk the full circle and when I got back around to the front, a small group of musicians had gathered for an impromptu demonstration of Appalachian mountain music. What a treat!

The other day, a friend was helping me move some things around at the farmhouse and I came upon my great grandfather's walking stick. The music yesterday made me smile as I remembered my great grandpa dancing the soft shoe across the back porch with that stick in hand, his bowler hat perched precariously on his head at a rakish angle, as my Pop-Pop played Turkey in the Straw on the fiddle. I now own that fiddle. I own that walking stick. And I'm living in that farmhouse. My life is so rich with memories. It was a delight to listen to that great music today. I spoke with the gentleman who makes dulcimer and psaltries at The Tamarack and he invited me to come down any time for a free lesson and demonstration. I've been thinking of doing some live broadcasts here so maybe that would be a fun one to do!

I got back to the farm after dark so there was no time to park and unhitch the camper. I'll do that today. Suffice it to say, it was a fabulous week away and I'm ready to get back to work on my writing!

❤️

“I will turn my ear to a proverb; with the harp I will expound my riddle:”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭49:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Into the Woods

Mon, 10 Oct 2016 01:30:36 -0600

My first real loss was when my maternal grandfather passed away. My Pop Pop was the absolute light of my life and when he died the summer I graduated from high school, I was devastated. Pop Pop showed me how to do everything he did on the farm and, being a bit of a tomboy, I took to it like a duck to water. I know this house like the back of my hand, but it's been a long time since I've walked the property lines of this farm and I was in for a workout.

Last week I was told the timber was stolen off the farm. I was so upset...not only at the loss, but that it allegedly occurred on my watch. I told my uncle (who owns the farm) and he came yesterday to check it out. We walked a good portion of the seventy acre property. My childhood memory had the orchard and spring on the opposite side of the farm.

It was so cool to spend the afternoon with my favorite uncle in the whole wide world. He told me so many stories. Like, the one where the old Model A they turned into a farm truck threw my Pop Pop out and rolled on top of him. This uncle and his brother, my Uncle Bob were there when it happened. Uncle Bob ran down and literally picked up the Model A so my Pop Pop could get out from under it. They went back later to get the tools out of it and the two of them together could not budge that thing. Adrenaline creates superhuman strength.

As it turns out, the only timber missing were some oak trees that had fallen during an ice storm. No one had clear cut our farm. I can't tell you how relieved that made me. I love our woods. I'll be keeping a close watch up there to make sure folks know there's someone around and I'm not to be messed with. When they see tire tracks they know someone is watching.
I once toured the Philadelphia Museum of Art with an artist as my guide. Yesterday afternoon was much like that with story after story of this land and those that have spent a lifetime loving and caring for it. What an amazing experience.

❤️

“To do righteousness and justice is more acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice.”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭21:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Mothman

Fri, 07 Oct 2016 01:30:04 -0600

In mid-November of 1966, five men were digging a grave near Clendenin, West Virginia when they reportedly saw a "bird man" with a seven foot wingspan swoop down over them. The next month, two couples were cruising the backroads in a area called TNT outside of Point Pleasant, West Virginia (named for the old munitions plant that was located there) when they saw the same creature swoop down over their car. It allegedly followed the car for some distance and understandably freaked the couples out. This was big news and in all the papers at the time.

In mid-December of 1967, I was preparing to go to my eighth grade dance when a special news announcement came over the television. The "Silver Bridge" that crossed the Ohio River at Point Pleasant failed and crashed into the cold, dark water below during rush hour. The bridge was filled with holiday shoppers and workers going home to their families. Forty-six people died. There were conspiracy theorists then, too. They thought the disaster was related to the Mothman. Or, perhaps it was the Curse of Chief Cornstalk in retaliation for the attacks on his people by the settlers pushing into the west. At any rate, there was never a sighting of the Mothman after the bridge collapsed. Scientists theorized what the hapless victims actually saw was a particularly large sandhill crane that had wandered off its migratory path. They can grow as tall as a man and have seven foot wingspans and reddish feathers around the eyes.

Those were the days of flying saucers and little green men, duck-and-cover drills in grade school, and the very real threat of annihilation by atomic bombs just 90 miles from Miami. Our parents still remembered Orson Welles broadcasting the drama series "War of the Worlds" on the radio causing mass hysteria across the country when people thought we were actually being attacked by creatures from outer space. The Roswell Incident was just twenty years old when this now mythical creature made its appearance over the sleepy town of Point Pleasant.

Mass hysteria, mob mentality, and the power of the imagination still wreaks havoc when something gets a foothold. And now, with the whole world separated by mere nanoseconds thanks to the Internet, large crowds of people are seen in videos as they rush down the streets of college campuses chasing scary clowns. The psychology of that fascinates me.

Anyway, I digress. I went for a drive the other evening. It was warm and the colors were really starting to look gorgeous so I meandered down the river roads till I found myself near Point Pleasant. I had never seen the Mothman statue nor the bridge that replaced the fallen Silver Bridge so I went the extra fourteen miles to see them. I was a little disappointed that I got there after the Mothman Museum had closed for the night...fall hours, you know. West Virginia is a fascinating state. You never know what you're going to find around the next bend.

❤️

“And this is how I saw the horses in my vision and those who rode them: they wore breastplates the color of fire and of sapphire and of sulfur, and the heads of the horses were like lions' heads, and fire and smoke and sulfur came out of their mouths.”‭‭
Revelation‬ ‭9:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Strathmore Farm

Mon, 29 Aug 2016 01:30:44 -0600

Strathmore Farm = My Great-Grandfather Lived Here

The Covered Bridge at Strathmore Farm

Inside the Covered Bridge at Strathmore Farm

I remember this house from a trip we took there in 1955 after my uncle was killed in a plane crash. This was my Great Grandfather's house.

Home of my Heart

Mon, 08 Aug 2016 01:30:59 -0600

Just a quick note to let you know I arrived safely. I had to run to the next little small town to buy a long distance calling card. I can't be TOTALLY cut off from the world! I'm going to sleep till noon tomorrow! I haven't stopped running since I got to WV. It's so peaceful in this little holler. Can't wait to sit on the porch and listen to the night. Talk to you soon!

❤️

“The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.”
Psalm 29:11 NIV

The Cathedral of the Plains

Tue, 02 Aug 2016 01:30:55 -0600

Driving across Kansas gives you lots of time to think. And sing at the top of your lungs to every song you know on your playlist. I always stop a lot to break up the drive. There are lots of grain silos, corn fields, sunflowers, and wind turbines on the I-70 corridor through America's breadbasket. I always look for something unusual to go see. In this case, there's a huge cathedral sitting out on the planes looking as "at home" as the QE2 would in Central Park. The Russians who emigrated and founded this church smuggled wheat sewn in the hems of their garments when they rushed away from home. Unfortunately, they also brought the scourge of Russian thistle with them as well.

I had every intention of camping in Salina, KS last night. However, by the time I got there, it was dark and still nearly 100°! So, a motel sounded like a better option!

The ground was still moving beneath me long after I stopped for the night. I'm meeting Sisters on the Fly friends today in Topeka! Look out...it will never be the same!

❤️

“‘The glory of this present house will be greater than the glory of the former house,’ says the Lord Almighty. ‘And in this place I will grant peace,’ declares the Lord Almighty.””
Haggai 2:9 NIV

Rhubarb

Sun, 31 Jul 2016 01:30:38 -0600

My grandma always cooked rhubarb and served it as a sauce...sort of like applesauce. There was always a covered dish in the fridge with this sweet-tart, pale pink nectar of the gods. She had to swat me away from it or I would eat the whole thing.

I used to cook up rhubarb when my father-in-law would bring us a mess of it. At dinner last night, my older daughter told us she often came home and there would be two buckets full of rhubarb on her porch and she knew Pop had been there.

We celebrated my son-in-law's grandma's birthday last night. Since I'm not eating gluten, I didn't have cake. But I did splurge with a little vanilla ice cream with warmed strawberry-rhubarb sauce over it. Oh, that was heavenly...taking me back in time. The addition of strawberries gives just a little something extra to an already divine concoction. Grandma Lois turned 87 and she wanted me to share the recipe she used.

Grandma Lois' Strawberry-Rhubarb

Trim and wash your rhubarb and be sure to discard the leaves of the rhubarb as they are poisonous.
Cube and measure out 8 cups of rhubarb and put in a large saucepan.
Add 1 cup of washed, hulled, and sliced strawberries.
Cook on medium heat till they start to break down then add 4 cups of sugar.
Stir and bring to a boil then simmer a little bit till the sauce is smooth.
You can adjust the sugar by adding a cup at a time till you get the taste you want.

This sauce is wonderful warm over ice cream. The family ate it over angel food cake last night although they are quite fond of serving it over warm biscuits. It's great as a side with roast pork. And...it's good straight out of the pan with a spoon. When I think of summer foods, I think of watermelon, cantaloupe, tomatoes, corn on the cob, cucumbers and onions, and rhubarb. Once I have had those foods, it's really been summer.

❤️

“This is what the Sovereign Lord showed me: a basket of ripe fruit.”
Amos 8:1 NIV

Photo Credit: sunnysidelocal.com

Have a Seat

Fri, 29 Jul 2016 01:30:15 -0600

Remember these? Everyone had them on their porches and in front of their trailers. What treasures they are. We never owned any, but I remember hot summer nights when we were visiting people. We'd come outside after supper and sit in the dark on the porch, hoping to catch a cool breeze. A tall glass of sweet tea sat sweating in a puddle on the matching table beside you. The metal felt cool on your bare legs. Some were made with springs to allow you to rock...well, more like bounce, really.

We did our best to dissuade the beastly mosquitos...big enough to carry you back to the nest and share with the whole congregation. I am sure Kung Fu was invented because of that incessant buzzing near your ear. As dusk began to settle, the night watchmen came out in the form of lightning bugs (fireflies to some)...shining their neon green lanterns. Children ran around the yard with canning jars and lids to catch them. I had a country cousin who squished their little tail ends and put the glowing glob of gut goo on her fingers and wrists for a kind of macabre jewelry. It was great fun then but decidedly unappealing now...the squishing of bugs for adornment.

In the distance, the distinct call of the whippoorwill sent a sigh of contentment around the old folks. Such a mournful, sweet call that is more and more difficult to find these days. One evening, as we listened to the far off call of the whippoorwill, we heard an earth shattering scream that sounded like a woman getting attacked. Almost instantly, the bird call stopped in mid-"poor" and grandpa told us the bobcat got it. The circle of life is learned early on the farm.

I spotted these beauties rusting in the New Mexico sun, lined up in a throwback vintage trailer park and couldn't resist snapping a few photos of them. I could just imagine the women sitting out here with their sun hats, play suits, spectator pumps...cosmos in hand, ice tinkling as their laughter filled the air. The husbands stood off to the side, carefully pressed white shirts tucked into their sharply pleated chinos....discussing "manly" things like cars and sports and politics. Children played Red Rover and Kick the Can as they dodged between the sleek and shiny Airstreams and the smaller Shastas that housed them on their travels.

I've been feeling oddly reminiscent this week. I guess I'm longing for a more genteel time when words weren't so easily turned into weapons and Lawrence Welk distracted us from more pressing matters. Danny Thomas and Red Skelton, Minnie Pearl and Grandpa Jones. I Love Lucy. Comfort shows. I am tired of feeling scared by the media. I have to remind myself who's REALLY in charge here. That soothes my mind.

❤️

“But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.”
Psalm 13:5-6 NIV

Dusty Summer Days

Tue, 26 Jul 2016 01:30:37 -0600

The thermometer at the bank read 102° as I pulled into Delta. The sharp glare of the late July sun glinted off the glass of the passing cars creating a kaleidoscope on the walls of the tired storefronts. A group of brown-haired children played in the dusty lot near an old antique store, their skin the color of beechnuts from countless hours of summer fun. I adjusted the radio and "Old Black Dodge" by Sean Rowe came on. I looked up from the dial and something caught my eye.

Cars. Old, dusty, rusty cars. A whole row of them in an empty lot off to my right. I pulled into the next available parking spot and walked the two blocks back to get a closer look. I love cars. I don't know a ton about them but oh, I love cars...especially old cars. My grandpa had an old Model A Ford that he converted into a farm truck. I loved that thing. It didn't have a muffler and the clutch was really tricky. He let me drive it once in a while. That mish-mash of a truck instilled the love of rusty junk in my heart.

I got to the lot full of old cars and noted their cracked windshields, rusty red fenders with flecks of the original paint colors still clinging to them, horsehair and excelsior barely covered with shreds of dingy brown upholstery. Printed in the lower corner of each windshield in red wax pencil was the simple direction "Do not raise the hoods!" It made me curious as to what one might find if one was wont to disobedience. I didn't touch.

A young man was there photographing these ancient relics...ghosts of a time when post-war bobbie soxers cruised the streets on a Saturday night with Rock Around the Clock by Bill Haley & His Comets blaring from the radio. The young man turned to me and broke into a huge, little boy grin and said, "You'll never find so many of these babies in one place...anywhere!" You'd think he'd invented cool. He turned around for one last shot then ambled back up the street to his car.

I went down the line and read every make and model thinking maybe the details would miraculously stick with me. But, no...I know makes like Ford, Plymouth, Oldsmobile. But models and details are lost on me. I see these rusty hunks of metal as works of are...sculptures silently disappearing back into the earth. And, on this day in the sweltering heat of Western Colorado, I stood and paid homage to a simpler time...a simpler world. A time when there was dignity and honor and respect among the citizenry. When children were safe and elders revered. When cars were sturdy and your dad could work on them.

Finally, the heat got the better of me and it was time to move on from this trip down memory lane...the dusty old bones of an era long gone left shimmering in a little town called Delta.

❤️

“I will give you every place where you set your foot, as I promised Moses.”
Joshua 1:3 NIV

Up the Crystal

Sun, 24 Jul 2016 01:30:59 -0600

Hotter than blue blazes yesterday so Little and I escaped to the high country. Redstone, Colorado is an old mining town. There's a castle there. Formerly known as Cleveholm Manor, Redstone Castle is a treasure. The mansion was built by a coal baron for his East Coast city wife or she wouldn't join him in this wild and wooly land. Nowadays, Redstone Castle can be rented out for special events and tours are given regularly. I went to a party there once that was quite memorable.

There was a band playing in the park last evening. Dr. Robert is a Beatles tribute band I really enjoy. The drummer is Hubby #2's wife's son. Convoluted connection, but always fun to hear live music in the park. There is a shaded playground by the park so Little made friends with every kid in the area and played for hours. She goes back to her mama today. The only thing we didn't do that she wanted was rafting and the zipline. She's still a little short for that. We'll do that another time.

Now I have a week to get things done before I head back east. I have several appointments and friends to visit while I'm here. I'll spend some quality time with my brother. I'll head back to Denver Saturday and spend my last full day with my family before I hit the road. And then, this part of The Grand Adventure is over. It all passes so quickly.

I stood on the front porch of the cabin last night with Little. She said, "Nana, this was an extraordinary trip." I smiled at her choice of words. I said, "More extraordinary than New York?" She looked pensive and said, "Welllll...it's tough to beat New York." Yes, doll...I know. But this was pretty darned extraordinary if you ask me!

❤️

“You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.”
Psalm 16:11 NIV

Cowgirls

Wed, 20 Jul 2016 01:30:18 -0600

I love Americana Roots music. I go to the Americana music series in Parkersburg every chance I get. But last night I experienced a rare treat. I went to the Olde Town Pickin' Parlor in Arvada with some of my Sisters on the Fly friends. An amazing group of talented musicians gathered to play their own music as well as some standards.

This was Americana with a twist...it was western music. Like Cowboy Poetry western. Juni Fisher was there. She sang about her beloved horses. She sang a haunting song about an Irish washer woman seeing a Native American across the river and recognizing her as a mother, just like herself, and not an enemy. There were a couple of cowboys there who sang other songs about ranches and cowboys and dancehall girls. The slow, sweet strains of a cowboy singing a love song will tear your heart in two.

I looked across the room and saw a man standing along one wall. He seemed familiar in some way. Perhaps we had worked together in the past. Maybe he just had one of those faces that remind you of someone else. As the evening wore on, I was drawn back to this man repeatedly. Then it hit me. He looked like someone I knew. An old lover from maybe '77. I was pretty young...he was maybe ten years older. I never caught his eye. I didn't interrupt him. He was with a woman I assumed was his wife. Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. But, I smiled at the memory of my time with him as I listened to songs about unrequited love, the lonesome lyrics making me feel my heart beat. He was a very nice man and, in my clumsiness, I may have hurt his heart. There was no need to revisit that.

It's difficult to impress on young people the stories of their youth may show up in the most surprising places...at the most inopportune times. These are the things we learn when it's too late because you can't un-ring a bell. I'm glad I saw him. I'm just as glad he didn't see me.

❤️

“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”
1 Corinthians 10:13 NIV

The 19th Hole

Sat, 16 Jul 2016 01:30:41 -0600

I'm sure I've told you this story, but it's been a while and we have lots of new Ranchers that may not have heard it. Mr. Virgo is buried on a golf course! Well, sort of. This area was a long time ranch. When the land was sold and developed into a subdivision, there was the question of how to deal with the pioneer cemetery up on the hill. Established in the late 1800's, when New Castle was a booming coal mining town, locals and miners have been buried there for generations. The final design has the golf course actually circling the cemetery with a right of way where a street gives access for visits and burials.

Mr. Virgo was an avid golfer. He bought me a set of golf clubs for the first birthday I shared with him. This course is right across the road from the house we lived in. Our first outing was on a wonderful fall day. We were on the fairway you see in the background in this photo. I noticed he was looking up at the top of the hill and squinting against the sun.
"Honey...what is that up there?" he asked.

"Oh, that? That's an old cemetery from the 1800's. They built the golf course around it." I told him.

Mr. Virgo turned to me, dropped his jaw, and said, "You're kidding me....you can get buried on a golf course??? Cooooool!!!" He looked back up wistfully and said, "Wow, I have GOT to be buried up there when it's my time to go!" We had no idea it would be less than seven years and his wish would be fulfilled.

I call his grave "The 19th Hole". He'd like that. He had a wicked sense of humor.

I am so grateful that I'm at a place now where I can enjoy family events without the terrible yearning I felt in the first couple of years. Last night, we celebrated my older daughter and son-in-law's birthdays as well as their 21st wedding anniversary. Dinner for twelve, cake and ice cream, and lots of laughter over family stories. Mr. Virgo would have loved that. That thought went through my mind as I sat there looking at this beautiful family he married into and I smiled. He would have really enjoyed the great food. He would have gotten a kick out of the grandkids and their cousins and how much they've grown. He would have loved our discussion of the Pokemon craze and how the forty-somethings kept explaining "But, they're not REAL." as we tried to grasp how they get there. I smiled. Sometimes I cry...but not this time. And, this is the true nature of grief. The unpredictability and how some events are OK and some are not...for no other reason than grief knocked at the door and I reflexively opened it up.

Today is my special day with Big. Little is next weekend. I'll tell a story or two about her Papa over dinner so she never forgets him. And, yeah...I downloaded Pokemon last night so we can chase those little boogers around town today! I'm a sucker for imaginary creatures.

❤️

“We love because he first loved us.”
1 John 4:19 NIV

Happy Birthday, Judy Ann Grabowski!

Mon, 11 Jul 2016 01:30:47 -0600

She was a little towheaded tomboy but she loved a twirly dress and shiny party shoes with buckles. She loved her Hobby Hobby doll. She said mazagine and cackeltator. She "put on a show" to anyone who would stand still long enough, dragging her step stool out for a stage. She learned to be tough because we didn't have time nor money for foolishness. She never broke a bone on my watch but boy when she did, she was steel. She flew alone from the age of four to go see her Dad across the country. I think about that now and can't believe I let her go. It was a different world back then.

I taught her to drive a stick shift when I was nine months pregnant with her sister....and we all lived to tell the tale. I saw her through homecomings and proms and college and her wedding. She gave me two beautiful granddaughters. There were things I wish I had done better, but she has turned into the strongest woman I know. A good woman. A hard worker. A good wife and mother. The kind of woman you want for a friend because she'll hold up the mirror and slap you and show you who you are so you can grow. She is direct and maybe sometimes a bit too blunt. I love her with the white hot heat of the sun, my sunshine girl. I am so, so proud of her.

Happy Birthday, my sweet girl!

❤️

“I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers.”
Ephesians 1:16 NIV

The Scent of Rain

Mon, 04 Jul 2016 01:30:55 -0600

Petrichor: the smell of rain on the dry earth. There is something magical about that scent. I remember living in an old farmhouse back in the early '80s. Even though it was in a highly populated urban area, it was the farmhouse for the original land that was subsequently developed with the housing boom after WW2. The house had huge trees around it and large windows you could fling open wide to let in the fresh summer breeze. It always stayed cool with thick walls of buff-colored brick and heavy, dark wood inside. For some reason, when I smell the scent of rain, my mind conjures up that house.

We were poor as church mice. Hubby #2 was an intern so my daughter and I were on our own a lot. I baked our bread...made our yogurt. I even made homemade tofu. We had a VW van camper. I read Mother Earth News religiously. I wore cut offs and football jerseys and went barefoot everywhere. We listened to the classical station and PBS. We gathered together to listen to Prairie Home Companion while I crocheted or quilted. I canned our food and made jams, jellies, pickles. We gave the only bedroom to my daughter and we slept out on the sun porch which, trust me, was colder than you know what in the winter!

But, summer....ahhhhh, glorious summer, with its thunderstorms and barbecues and bike rides is the stuff of legend. It is what gets us through the dark days of winter...the memories of the scent of rain.
Happy Fourth of July, everyone...let freedom ring!

❤️

“Land that drinks in the rain often falling on it and that produces a crop useful to those for whom it is farmed receives the blessing of God.”
Hebrews 6:7 NIV

Goodbye, My Friend

Tue, 28 Jun 2016 01:30:19 -0600

A special man died yesterday. I won't identify him by name because he and his wife have been involved in missionary work in extremely dangerous parts of the world. Yesterday, he and his wife were hiking when he fell and hit his head. We know no other details at this time...only that he has died. I'll call him JD, for John Doe.

JD was the ER Doctor during many of my emergency visits when I was struggling many years ago. I believe he was in the ER when I overdosed. He saved me...but more than just with medicine. He prayed for me. I once receive a hand written note thanking me for supporting his ministry and that he had Mr. Virgo and I in his daily personal prayer list....daily, for years. He always told me there was a special reason why God spared me. He knew He had great things in store for me.

JD has been in my prayers many times as well when he was off in foreign lands working in very, very sensitive areas. We still cannot speak of where he was to protect the other workers.

My heart is broken tonight. A good, good man has left us all too soon. His family are left behind to deal with this tragedy as best they can. If you are the praying sort, please send up prayers of comfort for his loved ones...and all who knew and loved him. He will truly be missed.

❤️???❤️

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.”
Romans 8:28-30 NIV

Happy Father's Day

Sun, 19 Jun 2016 13:30:00 -0600

I'd like to take a moment and thank all the good dads out there. I have many dads in my life. While my own dad and I didn't have a great relationship, I can appreciate that he did the best he knew how to do. I thank him for helping bring me into the world.

Hubby #1 gave me my first beautiful baby girl. He's a good dad to three great kids. Hubby #2 gave me my second beautiful baby girl. He's a good dad to four great kids. Mr. Virgo was a good step-father to my kids. My fathers-in-law were great dads to me. John D. is my "other" dad. My son-in-law learned from his own great dad how to do it right.

Strawberry Days was lower key for me this time. It was way too hot and I think I have a mild case of altitude sickness so that has put a little damper on things. I was supposed to go visit friends today for a couple of days but they live even higher than here and I still don't feel my best. So I'm just going to stay put.

❤️

“Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.”
Proverbs 22:6 NIV

Summer of Love

Wed, 15 Jun 2016 01:30:23 -0600

What I remember as the Summer of Love was also a summer of a great deal of violence in our world. We, the Pepsi Generation...the peace loving, tree hugging, sign carrying, protesting hippies were a shock to the older generation. We had long hair and smoked dope and flashed peace signs at everyone in our tie died shirts and bell bottomed jeans. We wore little round sunglasses and we tuned out and turned on. We produced music that we still groove to. And look. Look what's happened to our planet. Look what's happened to our world. Here I am...the eternal Pollyanna. And I'm discouraged. I am saddened. I am angry. But I am not defeated. I cannot walk out my front door, sit down in the middle of a square and change the world. But I CAN raise the vibration of this planet one person at a time. I can hug as many people as possible. I can hold hands. I can share tears. I can kiss cheeks. I can love on as many people as I come into contact with every single day. I can look for the good and look for the God in people. Maybe I can't change the world in one fell swoop....but I can surely affect enough people that it will cause a ripple effect. And if they spread the love and so on....maybe, just maybe we can turn this around. I'm going to the mountains today. I am going to a festival where I will spread love like sunshine. And, together, we will change the world with peace and love and understanding and compassion. Together, we have hope.

✌️❤️?

“Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance.”
Jude 1:2 NIV

Memories

Tue, 07 Jun 2016 01:30:54 -0600

You know how Facebook sends memories? The photo on the left was me three months after I'd lost Mr. Virgo. I was in the wilderness of Colorado, sitting beside a mountain lake. The one on the right was last week. It's amazing the difference in three years. There is such sadness behind that smile on the left. What a journey. ❤️

Lest We Forget

Mon, 30 May 2016 01:30:00 -0600

He was just 25. A small-town country boy from West Virginia. Brilliant. Handsome. Full of promise...full of hope. He had attended WVU and wanted to fly jets. He enlisted as an officer in the Air Force and went to Arizona for flight school. Everyone loved him and were so proud of Sonny.

My grandparents, my great-grandparents and an aunt drove to Arizona to see my uncle get his wings. My aunt had worked in San Diego, but the others had never been so far from home. It was the trip of a lifetime for them. Grandma kept scratchy black and white photos in scrapbooks along with postcards, napkins and matchbooks from restaurants, and the program from the ceremony. This was truly the story of a country boy done good.

After the required training, Uncle Sonny was shipped to Germany to Landstuhl AFB. He had quick assignments in Africa and surrounding countries, but it was peace time in 1955 and his work was routine. The pilots had a daily flight schedule for continuing education and keeping their skills sharp. They had to put in a certain number of flight hours.

May 5, 1955 dawned with a cold, thick fog. Sonny arrived on the flight deck as scheduled but the plane he was supposed to fly was grounded. There was another plane available. It was older and was actually en route to become a static display. It had had three engines replaced in as many days, but someone made the decision to send the young pilot up for his required flight time.

The preflight check was accomplished and the airman was aloft when he noticed the plane seemed sluggish. He wasn't gaining altitude as expected. He circled the airfield but the groaning engines just would not lift him higher. He knew he was going to have to set it down, but he was rapidly approaching the barracks and administration buildings filled with staff. It was against his nature to eject and let the plane crash, especially if it risked injuring innocent people. He noticed to his right, a freshly plowed field and headed there. He nearly made it, when his right wing clipped a tree and caused the plane to cartwheel out of control. My sweet Uncle Sonny...the man who carried me high over his head when he rejoiced my birth...was found still strapped in his ejection seat in the mud of a German potato field, mortally wounded.

The news came in a telegram. "We regret to inform you..." The family collectively died that day. It was a couple of weeks before he came home in a flag-draped coffin. Grandma kept smelling his wallet, relieved there was no smell of smoke. It was a time of brokenness that was far reaching. It affected everyone, including us littles as we were being raised in the shadow of profound grief.

When Mr. Virgo died, I was handed the folded flag from his coffin, just as he received the one from his father and I from mine. We live these free lives of ours on the backs of such great men as George Chadock, Daniel McKinney II, Daniel McKinney III, and Olin Roush. May they forever be remembered for their sacrifices. May they forever rest in peace in the arms of their Father.

❤

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
John 15:13 NIV

Chapters

Sun, 22 May 2016 01:30:38 -0600

I had a couple chapters of my life close this week. First, my step-mother passed away on 5/13. No one from her family contacted me to tell me. Then, when my cousin's wife heard a week later, she called to let me know. I was not terribly close to her although I made several trips down to see her in the nursing home the last two years. I did not attend the memorial yesterday. My brother and I were not mentioned in the obituary. That's ok, I had only met her cousin a time or two and she's the one who did the obit. I hope my stepmother rests in peace.

The second thing is, my ex-husband and his wife have moved and the house he and I bought in 1990 is on the market. Now, I haven't lived in that house for 16 years so it doesn't hold the meaning for me that it once did. But, I was compelled to look it up on the real estate site. They always have such lovely photographs of the interiors of homes. They had done quite a bit of face-lifting since I lived there but the bones are the same. I loved looking through the photos and remembering where my baby's crib was. There was his parent's bed. The board and bead paneling I put in the master bedroom was still there. It was a lovely little stroll into my past.

These are two chapters that are finished for me. I have no more parents, or quasi parents. And I'll not see the original Fred Haberlein mural on the soffits in the kitchen of a house I loved. Nor will I see the doorframe where I measured our little one's growth. The end is the beginning. Somewhere, in some way there is something beginning because this chapter is done. The flow of life goes ever forward.

❤️

“Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”
Ephesians 4:31-32 NIV

A Grandmother's Hands

Sat, 16 Apr 2016 01:30:00 -0600

Grandma's hands were a particular fixation of mine. I would hold her wise and wonderful hands in mine and I can remember watching them become more and more similar as I myself aged. Hers were remarkably soft considering all the hard work she did with them. From digging potatoes to scrubbing on a washboard, I never recall her using creams and lotions save for the occasional swipe of Bag Balm before quilting.

I remember the quick dip of her index finger into whatever she was mixing up, gauging by taste alone whether the cake would rise or fall. I remember the beat up lid of an oval roaster she turned over in her lap to hold the beans she snapped or the potatoes she peeled for our supper. I remember her dipping her hand in a bag of lime or Sevin to dust her garden as I worried for her safety. She held babies and wiped away tears. She made jelly bread for me every time I walked in the door. She folded them in prayer every day and tied a shiny dime in the corner of our hanky every Sunday for the offering plate. She held the hand of her greatest love and life partner as they watched the news together every evening. She worked the pages of her Bible as she sat vigil beside his coffin in the living room of the old farmhouse after he passed, wiping her own tears when she thought no one was looking.

I remember the last fold over apple pie she baked for me, expertly rolling out her pie dough she always claimed wasn't fit to eat but I would die for to this day. But I think my fondest memory of Grandma's hands were the summer I was five. She carefully took the stitches out of some feed sacks and made us matching aprons. I was SO proud as I stood on the red enamel kitchen stool and she tied mine in the back. I couldn't see her hands, but I felt them as they brushed my back making quick work of the task. She turned me to face her, cupped my face in those wise and wonderful hands, and kissed me on both cheeks and my world was complete. The person I loved most in this world loved me like I was the only one.

I miss those hands. Someday they'll brush my face again. Someday.

❤️

““But watch out! Be careful never to forget what you yourself have seen. Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live! And be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren.”
Deuteronomy 4:9 NLT

Photo Credit: Unknown...it's a gem from Facebook I borrowed, but if you know who took it, please tell me so I can give credit where credit is due.

Direction

Sun, 03 Apr 2016 01:30:00 -0600

It doesn't matter what you call it...fate, kismet, destiny, serendipity, divine intervention...it's real. It's when something happens at exactly the right time in exactly the right way it needed to in order for the outcome to occur. It happens to everyone, all the time. You just may not be in tune with it.

My lifestyle is such that I have the freedom currently to do pretty much whatever I want, when I want. I have few deadlines. I have no real schedule to speak of. On a typical day, I wake up and meditate and converse with God. Then I check in here and my personal FB page. I check the news and weather. I glance at emails. I read. I allow two hours for this nebulous journey then I get up, put on my coffee. After that...it's anybody's guess where I'll end up. I train, have lunch, run errands, do chores, write, research, prep meals, and have dinner...with friends or alone. It's a simple life and allows much more clarity than I have ever experienced in my life. It's like living in a foreign land where everything is beautifully outlined in light. I notice things more. I feel and sense more. And God absolutely drops everything I need in my lap. He's been pretty generous with the things I want as well.

Yesterday, I was walking through the Kroger store. I walked past the meat aisle and laughed at a memory. John Shepherd was the general manager of the Kroger my mom always shopped in. My boyfriend (who later became my first husband) also worked there. I remembered a story about John eating a steak on Good Friday and saying "You're a fish! You're a fish!" as he cut it up. This led me to try to remember the others who worked there at the time, one of whom was Jim Wilson. I loved Jim. He was a Pastor and worked at the store, in produce, I believe. My boyfriend and I attended his church a couple of times. I knew John died many years ago, but I hadn't heard a thing about Jim since 1973.

I turned away from my reverie and finished gathering my groceries. The lines were long and I chose one. After waiting several minutes, I remembered something I needed and went off in search of it. When I came back, all the lines were long except one. I piled my items on the belt as the clerk assisted the couple in front of me. When it was my turn, I stepped up and started rummaging around in my purse for my wallet. The clerk asked how my day was going and I replied, still looking in my purse. "It was busy...but great!" I found my wallet and looked up at the clerk for the first time.

It was Jim!

My knees actually wobbled. My jaw dropped. I knew it was him...but I didn't want to come across all creepy so I asked,

"Aren't you Jim?"

"Yes."

"You were a Pastor?"

"Still am!"

I introduced myself and after a while, I had to apologize profusely to the people in line behind me for keeping them waiting. Jim and I quickly exchanged info so we wouldn't lose track again. Later in the evening, we had an hour long conversation.

God is the perfect orchestrator of all things. I never question anymore. There's a reason we were brought back in contact. I think it was for something Jim was about to discuss with me. We were talking about my writing and how it has developed a following over the last few years. I told him how I pray over my keyboard for the right words and for the people who need to hear them. Then, I half apologetically told him I ask God to provide for me financially through my writing. Jim went on to talk about Matthew 7:7 "Ask and it will be given..." He pointed out there are two other parts to that. "Seek..." and "Knock..." All action words. We aren't told to ask and then sit back and wait for the silver platter. So, I ask God...then I seek God...then I knock on the door of His heart. And He blesses me.

What a beautiful life this is!

❤️

““Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”
Matthew 7:7-8 NIV

Retro

Mon, 28 Mar 2016 01:30:33 -0600

This picture crossed my FB page not too long ago and it threw me back in time. My parents bought their first, and only home in December 1960. My Grandmother bought me a bedroom set when we moved in. She made curtains with a poodle border. We had an old console cabinet around from a TV and Grandmother used the leftover fabric and covered that cabinet to create a vanity for me. I can see it in my mind. When it was done, mom took me to the Plaid Stamp Store and we got this same trash can by trading in books of stamps. I still remember where that stamp store was.

I was so proud of my room. It was the nicest thing I ever had my entire childhood. One summer night, my dad tapped on the door of my room and stuck his head in.

"Sis, you got any trash? I'm burnin'."

I dutifully handed him my beautiful trash can. That's the last time I saw that perky poodle. Dad came in a couple hours later, looking sheepish as he handed me this gunship gray trash can. Seems he had dropped it in the fire and it burned the paint right off it. I was so sad.

Grandmother was a talented seamstress. She made quilts. She also made round pillows out of narrow wale corduroy. The edges were smocked and there was a large fabric covered button the the center of both sides covering where the fabric was gathered. I think she used to sell them to folks.

She rented the bottom level of a great big old house. It was always dark and cool in there and smelled of incense and mothballs. She had a small ladies sewing rocker. There was a rollaway bed in the spare closet for my sleepovers. She used to make Easter Bunny cakes every year. She worked as a cake decorator at the local bakery. She hid a bottle of whiskey behind the vacuum cleaner. She used Parkay in sticks. She made me drink sage tea as a "tonic". I thought she was trying to kill me. She didn't drive, but she was thrilled when mom got her driver's license when I turned six and started to school. She went with us to our first drive-in movie. Gunfight at the OK Corral. She made the very best chicken and dumplings....EVER!

Isn't it funny how one little thing can fill you with memories? I never felt particularly close to her. But sweet memories can make sour ones fade to insignificance. I was talking with a friend Saturday night about sending love and light when we remember past hurts. This allows the good memories (when there are any) to well up in their place. I am grateful for that tool. It helps you rewrite history.

❤️

“Take ye the spoil of silver, take the spoil of gold: for there is none end of the store and glory out of all the pleasant furniture.”
Nahum 2:9 KJV

Cabin Fever

Thu, 11 Feb 2016 02:30:51 -0600

Life was never, ever boring when Mr. Virgo was around. He had the most amazing stories and we always had something to talk about. He'd start off a story and ask if he'd told me that one or not. I always answered, "I don't know, babe. But tell it to me again!" I could listen to his stories over and over and over.

As I was gazing out at the falling snow the last couple of days, I was feeling cooped up. Cabin fever is setting in...big time! I did go out last night to visit a friend. We cooked my famous spaghetti sauce and then watched American Idol. I got home around midnight after creeping along the icy roads. School is closed again today. It gives me time to think about Mr. Virgo's stories.

He worked at Disney for a few years. He worked in Five Star Hotels all around the world. He served dignitaries and celebrities. He served in Vietnam. His stories were funny and poignant and sometimes terrifying. I'm so grateful he shared all his stories with me. They comfort me when I have cabin fever. And they bring him closer to my heart. I look to God for comfort in the lonely times.

❤️

“I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. I spread out my hands to you; I thirst for you like a parched land.”
Psalm 143:5-6 NIV

"Joy" - the Movie

Wed, 13 Jan 2016 02:30:11 -0600

We went out to the movies last night to see "Joy", the biopic loosely based on the life and career of Joy Mangano, creator of the Magic Mop as well as 100 other patented items sold on QVC and HSN. As I watched the movie unfold, it reminded me of my foray in the invention arena.

I was a single mother in the late '70s, supporting myself and my firstborn working as an X-Ray Tech at Spaulding Rehab Hospital. I was faced with x-raying disabled patients and, as the only person in my department, I had to enlist the aid of an orderly or family member to lift the patient up on the table for filming. This was risky on many levels....injury to the patient, radiation exposure to the person holding the film, and general discomfort. I came up with a device to enable me to x-ray patients while seated in a wheelchair which was safer and more cost effective.

I submitted the design for a statewide competition for advances in radiology and won the Lewis Mechanical Award in 1979. I had prototypes made, found some venture capital, and set out to get a patent. The first patent search came back with two or three designs that were similar in parts but not in application. Still, similar enough to not be able to get approval. We prosecuted the patent, but it was rejected a second time. In the meantime, my investors sent me to Picker X-Ray Corporation in Cleveland to meet with the purchaser to carry the "Hemi-daptor" in their accessory catalogue. They loved the idea and wanted to sell it, but I chickened out. I was afraid of being sued if I didn't have a patent. It was really interesting going through that process and I've often wondered how different my live might have been had it been successful.

It also reminds me of the process I'm going through now....the growth and development of Marshmallow Ranch and writing and publishing my books. This is shaping up to be an exciting year and I'm really looking forward to seeing the fruits of my labor.

❤

PS...don't forget, if you are in the Cincinnati area, I'm co-hosting a Salon this Sunday, 2-4pm. See the event on this page for details.

❤️

“and he has filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills— to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood and to engage in all kinds of artistic crafts.”
Exodus 35:31-33 NIV

Fly Fishing

Sun, 10 Jan 2016 02:30:52 -0600

My father was an avid fisherman. He mostly fished with lures and bait in the local rivers and lakes. But once a year we would go to the mountains and stay with my cousins and he would fly fish. We had very little money so we usually stayed with family but I remember one summer we stayed in a cabin. It was the coolest vacation ever!

My dad tied his own flies. He showed me how and I was fascinated. I would sit along the shallows and watch him cast over and over, occasionally landing a small brown or brookie....maybe a rainbow. I was never allowed to fly fish. The equipment came at a dear price and I couldn't swim. It wasn't even a consideration.

When I joined the Sisters on the Fly, I bought fly fishing equipment. I went to a large Sisters gathering and signed up with a guide for a group lesson. I don't know if it was the guide, or the number in the group, or the equipment, but...I hated it. Hated it!!! I was SO disappointed. I almost got rid of my gear when I downsized, but I decided to hang onto it and try again.
I met a really neat lady yesterday at the Fly Fishing Show. Paula Fothergill was married to the late Chuck Fothergill, the fly fishing guru from Aspen. She now works for Casting for Recovery, an organization that teaches women with breast cancer and breast cancer survivors how to fly fish. It is the main charity Sisters on the Fly members contribute to. In talking with Paula, we discovered we lived in the same small town in Colorado. She asked if I fly fish and I related my experience. She said, "Come with me!" and she took me to meet the general manager of Telluride Outside...John Duncan. I quickly discovered how well respected Chuck Fothergill was, as Paula handed me over to John's capable tutelage. He selected an 8.5' 5 pound Scott rod, a medium weight that is well balanced and excellent for the novice fly fisher.

There is a pond set up inside at the show to practice casting. We took our turn and in 5 minutes, I was hooked, so to speak. I was so excited! All it took was a knowledgeable, patient instructor and good gear to make all the difference in the world. Now I can't wait to get out on the river and catch my first trout on a fly!

❤️

Photo Credit: Sisters on the Fly

“Swarms of living creatures will live wherever the river flows. There will be large numbers of fish, because this water flows there and makes the salt water fresh; so where the river flows everything will live. Fishermen will stand along the shore; from En Gedi to En Eglaim there will be places for spreading nets. The fish will be of many kinds—like the fish of the Mediterranean Sea.”
Ezekiel 47:9-10 NIV

A Poem to Mr. Virgo

Thu, 24 Dec 2015 02:30:52 -0600

I wrote this poem the first Christmas after losing Mr. Virgo. It had been just a little over nine months since his sudden death. I was broken in a million pieces. I asked my daughter the other day where I spent that Christmas and she said it was with her. I have no memory of that. I remember sitting with Santa in early December and asking him for a new heart. I remember I put up my tree and it took every bit of strength I had. I remember mattress surfing for a couple of days afterward. That's about it.

I found the poem while editing the book and decided to share it again for Christmas Eve. Even though I'm not as lost as I was when I wrote it, I wouldn't change one word. If you are in the throes of grief, or even if you're down the road a ways but still struggling with the holidays, my prayer is that my writing affords you some comfort. I had a scare yesterday when a friend texted me that she wasn't sure but it sounded like one of our mutual friends and classmates had passed away. It turned out it was her mother, which is sad of course. It just brings home the point that we are never, ever prepared for loss. Loss is loss, no matter how long you've known it was coming. While I am saddened for her loss, I was greatly relieved it was not my friend.

Blessings to you this Christmas Eve. May you remember the Reason for the Season and give the reins over so you don't have to carry all this by yourself. You are never, ever alone when you have God in your life.

It's Christmas Time in Heaven
by Ginny McKinney

If only I'd have known
Your days on Earth were few,
I'd have spent each waking moment
Of my life with you.

I would have taken pictures
To mark each passing day
Then I could see you when I want
Since you have gone away.

I know you're up in Heaven. 
I know you're there with God.
I know you're there with Mom and Dad,
But oh, this time is hard.

It's Christmas time, my darling.
Times past were filled with glee.
But this year all I think about is
You're not here with me.

No sneaky shaking presents.
There is no hug or kiss.
My heart just feels so empty.
It's you I really miss.

It's Christmas time in Heaven.
I know this must be true.
For every day was Christmas Day 
When it was spent with you! 

❤

“I thought about the former days, the years of long ago; I remembered my songs in the night. My heart meditated...”
Psalm 77:5-6 NIV

Memories

Wed, 23 Dec 2015 02:30:11 -0600

Mr. Virgo was from South Philly. We never got the chance to go there together so he could show me his old stomping ground, but he had plenty of great stories about the places of his youth. He was raised in an era when kids were out on the streets from sun up to sun down and all the moms looked out for all the kids. There was always a mom within butt-swatting range. I wasn't allowed to go across Grand Central Avenue...a two lane boulevard with a wide, tree-lined median that my mother somehow likened to a major super highway. Mr. Virgo's mom handed him train fare and sent him into New York City by himself for doctor's appointments when he was 12! Big difference in parenting there.

Mr. Virgo and his buddies would hop on the trolley and go downtown to the department stores and movie theaters. They would walk the streets and listen to the doowop groups singing on the street corners, hoping to be discovered. When they were teenagers, they got in to American Bandstand and even got a chance to dance on camera. He once was asked by Dick Clark to rate the song. I think he gave it a 10 because it had a great beat and was easy to dance to.

He started smoking at ten when his mom would send him down to the corner store for cigarettes. There were Mafiosi-types in the neighborhood that would make sure bags were carried for little old ladies and that children had shoes. They kept the neighborhoods safe, reputation notwithstanding. Mr. Virgo was never, ever scared as a child. His parents were together forever and his was an idyllic childhood. I was envious of growing up with that kind of security and it made him the strong, steady, independent man I needed in my life.

One of his first jobs was at Pat's Steakhouse in South Philly. Mr. Virgo was a cheesesteak purist. It wasn't a real cheesesteak unless it was served on an Amoroso roll with Cheese Whiz (Whiz for short). When we lived in the Denver area for a couple of years, we found South Philly Cheesesteaks, a neighborhood restaurant that delivered the closest thing to a Pat's cheesesteak that Mr. Virgo had ever found west of the Pennsylvania state line. We ordered them just about every Thursday night. OMGosh! They are SO awesome!

Last night, I was out browsing for some last minute gifts and drove past our old neighborhood. It was dinner time so I decided to stop in and have a cheesesteak and visit with some memories for awhile. I can still see his face every time he took that first bite. He'd close his eyes, smile slightly, and breathe a sigh of absolute contentment. I would move heaven and earth to get to see that joy on his face. I sat in the restaurant, enjoyed my sandwich, and smiled remembering that it really wasn't all that long ago that this was a shared experience. I felt him in the booth sitting across from me, that same contented sigh breathing through my heart. I can do this now with only the slightest catch in my chest. This is a huge, huge relief to me.

❤️

“I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. I spread out my hands to you; I thirst for you like a parched land.”
Psalm 143:5-6 NIV

A Gift from Beyond

Sat, 19 Dec 2015 02:30:49 -0600

Mr. Virgo loved Christmas. He listened all year and actually made notes about things he saw that I liked or was interested in. He bought and carefully hid gifts for weeks before Christmas. He wanted every Christmas to be special.

As you know, I've downsized tremendously and I don't need anything, really. I'd rather have experiences than things at this point. But still, wandering around the mall yesterday, listening to the carols, watching the hustle and bustle of the shoppers...made me nostalgic for my man. I wandered around for a couple of hours feeling material, smelling perfumes, looking at sparkly things. As I turned to make my way back through the mall to head home, I passed Chico's. I love that store.

There's only one thing I would love to have if I found it. And that is a beautiful robin's egg blue coat I saw on Pinterest a few weeks ago. I had one similar 40 years ago and loved it. I Googled the brand and they don't make that coat anymore. I checked e-bay. Nothing. As I wandered through Chico's, I went to the sale rack and there was a coat-like sweater with a matching mock turtleneck shell. The same color and the same cut as the coat I was looking for. And...it was 50% off the lowest markdown price. I love a deal!

Every year, I buy myself a Christmas present from Mr. Virgo. This year he's giving me a beautiful blue sweater set. As soon as I walked out of the store with my gold and white bag with the tissue-wrapped prize inside, I felt like it was really the holidays. Our beauty does not come from outward accoutrements....it comes from within. But it's ok to appreciate a beautiful gift. It's ok to adapt your traditions to fit your new circumstances.

❤️

“Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.”
1 Peter 3:3-4 NIV

A Different Kind of Christmas

Fri, 11 Dec 2015 02:30:23 -0600

Warning: Kleenex Moment

https://www.facebook.com/markschultz/videos/10153764558437603/

I've always been the kind to cry during Kodak commercials. I should have been an official tester for sappy Hallmark cards. Things move me. Beauty breaks my heart open. Babies, puppies, soldiers coming home to their mamas....puddle. My mom always said I wore my heart on my sleeve and I do. That's not a bad thing. It may not always be comfortable for people but it's rarely inappropriate to shed a tear in public. It's what makes us human. And we need a whole big dose of humanity and love in our world right now. So, on that note, I'm sharing this beautiful song. Music is the universal language of love and light. Let's spread some around and get this weekend off to a loving start, shall we?

❤️

Holding Christmas in my Heart

Sun, 29 Nov 2015 02:30:43 -0600

Even though I had many things I could have done yesterday, I chose to visit some of my favorite shops in the area and get into the holiday spirit. There's a little antique shop in Williamstown that I absolutely love called The Painted Cupboard. While they used to also house The Woolen Willow, a quilt and rug hooking shop, they still carry some lovely hand died wools. I bought a homespun dish towel to cut into strips to use as ribbons for the hand painted Christmas ornaments that I'm making. I'll post pictures of them in a couple of days.

I think Christmas is when I miss Mr. Virgo the very most. He was a fool for Christmas. We often put the tree up the week before Thanksgiving because he was so busy during the holidays. Once ski season started, and we got into the holidays, we often wouldn't get a day off together till spring. So we made putting up the tree together into a HUGE extravaganza!

The first thing we did was turn on Christmas carols. There was a particular pine scented candle Mr. Virgo loved that we stored away every year when we put away the decorations. That was the first thing out of the box.
Once the tree was up, we tag teamed the lights going round and round. Then came the red organza ribbon we used as garland with the big puffy bows to tie it to the branches. The curve of each drape down had to be eyeballed from across the room with the bows spaced just right. Then the ornaments were placed with the same care. Ahhhh...my Virgo man. Next came the candy canes and finally the angel topper. I SO loved that day...and if it weren't for the fact I had the promise of doing it again the next year, I swear we would have left the tree up year round.

We had some other special decorations. There was a woodsy Santa that we put on one of the end tables. My mom's mechanical Santa sat on the floor near a chair. Our stockings were hung on the entertainment center on either side of the TV. Mom's ceramic carolers went on the entry table. Mr. Virgo hung all white icicle lights on the front porch. We put a wreath on the door and hung an old pair of ice skates with ribbons and greenery on the antique sled in the corner.

We bought a new Christmas ornament every trip we took together. We always bought a special one by Né Qua. They are glass and reverse painted from the inside. Very, very special. I have several of them. The first Christmas after he died, I bought one and sobbed through the entire selection and purchase. Last year, I bought a smaller one, and still cried. Yesterday, I walked into a shop...and there they were. A whole beautiful display of every shape and size of those precious mementos. I felt that familiar catch around my heart. The tears were somewhere lurking in the vicinity behind my eyes. I picked one up and ran my fingers over the curve. Peace on Earth, with a dove. Nice. "Silent Night" played softly in the background. Children chased each other and giggled while mama softly scolded. The world stood still for a moment as I was transported back to 2012...Mr. Virgo's last Christmas. Our first Christmas off together. His first Christmas off in 40 years. It was my most special Christmas with him. A warm glow started deep in my heart and spread through me. I stood for the longest time holding onto my memories with both hands. Then...I smiled as I carefully placed the ornament back and went on in search of a new journal. I'm on the last page of the current one. It's time to start new traditions now....a new page in this journey of hope and love.

❤️

“Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”
Psalm 42:5 NIV

And So, it Begins...

Fri, 27 Nov 2015 02:30:24 -0600

The turkey has barely chilled in the fridge and the onslaught of Christmas is upon us. Well...ok, retailers have been working on us since before Halloween. But I keep my blinders on till Turkey Day is behind us, at least.

Holidays....the minefield of grief. This is my third Christmas since Mr. Virgo died. I was still really numb on the first one. I remember thinking I couldn't wait for the ball to drop on New Year's Eve because that meant I could say "he died last year". As if that made the whole mess any better. It was just a line in the sand I couldn't wait to cross.

Last year wasn't much better. My aunt and I had a parting of the ways last year on Christmas Day that sent me in a whole new direction. While it has worked out for the best all the way around, it was quite painful to go through at the time. This year I'm going to spend Christmas in Colorado so it's going to be SO much better. I'm focusing on family fun!

Thanksgiving was easier this year as well. I told a couple great Mr. Virgo stories. They made me smile. I had my moment later on when I was preparing for bed. I just flat out miss him and not having him here has changed me, and my life, and the way I see the world, and the way I relate to other people. At the same time, life is so beautiful and delicious. It's all about the journey...the good and the not so good. This is my story. This is my life. Every day is a new page in my book, quite literally.

Today is Black Friday. This year I'm doing something different. There is a movement being promoted by REI to opt out of the Black Friday shopping madness (something I never do anyway) to spend time in the great outdoors. Since I have become affiliated with the Girl Camper podcasts as their correspondent, and...since Girl Camper is produced by RV Family Travel Atlas, I'm going to post my outdoor pictures tomorrow tagged with #rvftaOptOutside.

I don't mind skipping Black Friday at the big box stores. But I am ever faithful to Small Business Saturday. Small businesses often depend on their holiday sales to carry them through the early months of the year in order to survive. Having been a small business owner myself, I encourage everyone to support the little independent businesses in your neighborhoods.

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving. I spent it with my cousin's family up on North Mountain and I'm telling you what...these people are entertaining, to say the least. There were toddlers up to a great-grandma. I told stories about Mr. Virgo and I felt the love of family. It was a good day.

I'm hitting the open road today. If you are traveling, do drive safely. We need you here!

❤️

“So Abram went to live near the great trees of Mamre at Hebron, where he pitched his tents. There he built an altar to the Lord.”
Genesis 13:18 NIV

Mr. Virgo

Sat, 31 Oct 2015 01:30:12 -0600

Ten years ago today, this handsome man walked into my little needlework shop to meet me and changed my life forever. Mr. Virgo rocked my world...and still does from afar. Tragic that he left so soon, but he will always and forever be 62 and look just like this. What a handsome man! What a blessing God gave us when He crossed our paths. I'll love you for always, handsome man! ❤️

Ain't It Good...

Mon, 19 Oct 2015 01:30:31 -0600

To be back home again? Good gracious...it was 27 degrees yesterday when I went out to hook up TOW-Wanda! Wowza! It was a beautiful sunny day for a drive. The colors aren't as fabulous as I had hoped because there have been a few frosts this week but it was still quite lovely.

I originally posted there was a death at Saturday's Bridge Day when a B.A.S.E. jumper's chute failed to open. Thank God that was in error. I made the mistake that is actually one of my own pet peeves and reported on something I saw posted without checking the date. It happened in 2006. Still, it is a thrilling sport with inherent dangers.

It will take some adjusting to the more seasonal temperatures here. We got absolutely spoiled at the beach the last ten days. I looked at my travel buddy when we pulled in and said, "We can turn around and go back right now, you know!" Ah, well....it will give me something to look forward to in the future. Right now I need to focus on writing and that will get done far more easily if I'm snowed in than it will at the beach...trust me!

❤️

“The sun rises and the sun sets, and hurries back to where it rises. The wind blows to the south and turns to the north; round and round it goes, ever returning on its course. All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again. All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”
Ecclesiastes 1:5-9

Peace

Wed, 09 Sep 2015 01:30:33 -0600

I had an interesting thing happen. When I was in Deadwood, I got to see and visit with a Sister/friend from Mississippi. Sue is an author who pens romantic mysteries and books about the supernatural. I first met her in Estes Park two years ago at a Sisters on the Fly event. She took us on a ghost tour/investigation of the Historic Stanley Hotel which was really cool. Sue is a hoot and a half and I was thrilled when she took a couple days away from her writing (even though she is pushing a deadline) to join us.

I was telling Sue about having my cards read in May and that the gal finally put them down and said there was a gray haired man there with me. She told me he is always with me, over my left shoulder. She leaned her head on her fist and said, "He looks at you like this. He adores you!" And that made me teary eyed because that's what he always told me. Sue got really excited and said she wanted to contact a woman she knows on my behalf who sometimes receives messages from those who have passed.

Yesterday she sent me a note from the gal. She said she saw a picture of Sue and me on FB and a gray haired man came forward with a message for me. She wrote my name as Jennie, not Ginny, even though Sue had not identified me. She said the man wanted me to know he's ok. Sue called her for more details of the vision she had seen. She said the gray haired man showed her a deck or patio and we were drinking something out of mugs. He told her his happiest times were with me outside. And we did sit out on the porch often, drinking our coffee. I loved those mornings.

I know. It's an easy assumption for her to make. Most couples sit outside and drink coffee when they can. But Sue asked her if he had a beard or mustache. The lady said no, he was clean shaven. That's what the card reader said as well. Mr. Virgo didn't have his beard when he died. Who knows? Maybe it's hooey. But it's comforting to me to receive the same message, with the same description from two different people. It gives me peace.

❤️

"For God does speak—now one way, now another— though no one perceives it."
Job 33:14

Adversity

Tue, 11 Aug 2015 01:30:42 -0600

The little in pink is my youngest when she was about 5 or 6. The little on the left is her best friend, Kiersten. She moved away at the end of the 3rd grade and we didn't find each other again till last year on FB. We reconnected when I received the news that Kiersten had been in a terrible car accident up in the mountains. She broke her neck and was paralyzed from the neck down. Her mom, Patty, came from Maine to be with her.

After a week in the hospital, Kiersten was moved to Craig Rehabilitation Hospital in Denver and the grueling work began. She had 7 or 8 different types of therapy daily. Her injury turned out to be Brown-Sequard Syndrome where the spinal cord was stretched, bruised, and damaged...but not severed. Her paralysis slowly improved and she worked hard to get better. The weight training area was in the cafeteria. While others were sitting around talking after dinner, Kiersten would be over there lifting weights and working out. She was determined she would get better. And she did. She walks. She still writes with her right hand but has learned to do everything else with her left hand. Her right side gets tired more easily. But she is a walking miracle. We all learn from adversity that we are much stronger than we ever thought we were.

I remember this beautiful young woman when she was just a little girl having sleepovers at our house. I read to her and told her grand bedtime stories that I made up. And last night I got to have dinner with her and her mom. On my way home, Patty texted me to say Kiersten told her after I left how much she loved me when she was little. And how she remembered those stories. Strong women from loved little girls grow. Invest in our future. Treat every child as you would treat your own. I was so touched that she remembered.

❤️

"I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh."
Ezekiel 11:19

Icing on the Cake

Fri, 07 Aug 2015 01:30:31 -0600

I hit Denver yesterday with literally just enough time to unhook my trailer and wash my face before I had to hop back in the truck with two very tired children to get to the Kelly Clarkson concert in time. You know how sometimes you have a picture in your mind of how a really great surprise is going to go down and then reality hits and it's nothing at all as you imagined? Yeah, well...I pictured the announcement. "Guess what kids? We have one more big surprise for you to polish off your FUN week with Nana. We're going to the Kelly Clarkson concert!!! Isn't that great???" I was met with a very perturbed preteen. And it's my own fault. See, her mama said not to tell the girls about the concert. But we always go to live music at the mall on Thursdays so I told the girls we were going there. Guess what? That turned out to be a lie.

I lied to my grandchild and she called me on it. And I felt terrible because I have never lied to her. I looked at it as keeping a surprise but that's not how a sensitive, overly tired prepubescent girl saw it. Granted, once we got there, she was fine. She just doesn't like surprises...she isn't flexible that way. I'll know to handle it differently next time. The concert was really fun though and I sang along to every song I knew, and that was most of them. Pentatonix was one of the opening acts and they were amazing!

Now I'm heading into the home stretch here. I have to go through the things that I brought with me from WV. I just have way too much stuff so I have to get rid of more. It truly feels like a never ending project. I actually use so little of what I carry around with me and it's ridiculous to pull that extra weight. So, I'll get things ship shape and before I know it, I'll be heading off to Deadwood, SD with the Sisters on the Fly. What a whirlwind summer this has been!

The kids and I baked cinnamon rolls for breakfast yesterday before we broke camp. We decided we will never forget this trip as long as we live.

Awwwww...feels!!!

❤

"If he has done you any wrong or owes you anything, charge it to me."
Philemon 1:18

Seriously?

Thu, 09 Jul 2015 01:30:00 -0600

This is the weirdest weather year just about everywhere. I wish I had my electric blanket on my bed…and I'm not in the mountains. I'm sure glad it wasn't this cold last week when I was camping in the tent at 9,000 feet!

I'm always reminded of the difference in perspective. In the spring…after a long, cold winter…when the temperature hits 58, we're out in shirtsleeves and shorts playing frisbee in the park. But you give us 58 in the middle of July and it feels like October! We're pulling out the sweatshirts and wool socks. I used to always complain about how cold I was and Mr. Virgo said it was all in my head and if I just imagined myself warm, I would be. Then he bought me a fur coat so go figure! lol

I'm heading into a stretch where I'll have my grandkids a lot while my daughter does some work towards her Masters Degree. They just got back from their vacation so the kids were full of stories at dinner tonight. New York City was a bit intimidating for them, I think…but they'll have wonderful memories and pictures to share with their friends when they go back to school. I firmly believe the more experiences you can give kids, the easier they can get along with a variety of people with common experiences when they get older. I'm very proud of my daughter for taking the girls on a cross country road trip by herself. She's got moxie!

❤

"You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,".
Psalm 91:5

Oy! Mein Gott in Himmel!

Wed, 08 Jul 2015 01:30:01 -0600

That's Yiddish/German for "OMG!" I went to Zaidy's yesterday…a Jewish deli. (Zaidy is Yiddish for Grandpa.) I lived 27 years of my life as a Jewish mother. When Hubby #2 joined a practice in a small town in the mountains in Colorado, we started organizing dinners, parties, and holidays for the Jews (and lapsed Jews and latent Jews) in our little community. I love the holidays and traditions and most of all…the food! My picture was often in the newspaper cooking some delicacy or other…or lighting the Menorah with my younger daughter to celebrate Chanukah. My favorite meal to prepare was the Passover Seder. Matzoh ball soup, gefilte fish, chopped liver, brisket, potato kugel. Oh…enough to make you swoon! We started out with about 10 guests the first year. I finally had to move the Seder to a bigger venue after serving a sit down dinner for 45 people in our basement. After that, it was held in the basement of the Presbyterian Church and the last one I organized and cooked for sat 75. That's one thing a Jewish mother does best….feed a ton of people! I got great satisfaction from it.

I was down in Cherry Creek yesterday and decided to pop into Zaidy's for a late lunch. I ordered the lox and bagel with everything and a couple of pletzels (yes, that is spelled correctly)…an oniony flat bread. Oy! SO good! And such warm memories.

❤

"Let me get you something to eat, so you can be refreshed and then go on your way—now that you have come to your servant.” “Very well,” they answered, “do as you say."
Genesis 18:5

Visiting Mr. Virgo's Turf

Sat, 27 Jun 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Mr. Virgo managed the restaurant at the Ritz Carlton in Aspen when he died. He was a beloved employee and when the ground thawed, they planted a Colorado Blue Spruce just off the restaurant patio in his memory. They had a barbecue for all the employees and had his favorite guitarist come and play "Annie's Song". People told stories. I got up to speak. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. As a matter of fact, when I visited today, one of Mr. Virgo's coworkers was there and she cried when we talked about him. It warms my heart to see how well thought of he was. I felt closer to him today as I walked the halls of his restaurant. What a beautiful day!

❤

Summer Fun!!!

Thu, 18 Jun 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Last night was the first s'mores of the season for me! Such sticky goodness is reserved for hot summer nights when the kids gather around the campfire. Ok…in this case, the trusty gas grill. But the results are the same and certainly not on anyone's diet. But oh…SO good! AND…they're MARSHMALLOW RANCH marshmallows! Well, not really…they're Stay Puft, but that's kinda the same thing.

One of our fellow "Ranchers" sent me a private message yesterday. She lives in the Denver Metro Area and wondered if we might meet somewhere for coffee sometime while I'm here. Our conversation got to the point where we wondered if there are other "Ranchers" in the area. Wouldn't it be fun to meet? So, let's take a roll call and see if there are any other Marshmallow Ranch readers who might like to get together. Where y'all from???

❤

"“So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened."
Luke 11:9-10

Going Inside

Fri, 12 Jun 2015 01:30:00 -0600

The weather has been pretty dreary in Colorado. It has been grey and stormy just about every day since I left Missouri last week. It has left me in a dark mood that matches the skies above me. And when I go to that room inside, my thoughts follow and pretty soon there's a conference going on that I have no business attending. My sparkle dims and I hate that. I know, intellectually, that there was absolutely nothing different when I wrote this. Every circumstance was exactly as it was a few hours before. The only thing different was my thoughts.

I was thinking about Mr. Virgo. I don't usually let myself go there. It doesn't serve much of a purpose other than to upset me. It's not that he doesn't enter my mind…he does. Several times a day. But I can usually let it go and get on with the matter at hand. It isn't that easy when my heart is the color of the rain clouds…bruised and blue, heavy with rain in the form of tears. I think it's because of my birthday coming up. Mr. Virgo always made my birthday a huge deal. And it's just not the same without him.

The waves of grief still come when I least expect them. I just lean in and let them go past. It will be better soon.

❤

"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will."
Romans 12:2

Memorial Day!

Mon, 25 May 2015 01:30:00 -0600

It's not National BBQ day.

Remember the meaning of the day.

Teach children.

Honor the fallen.

Have a moment of silence before you have your burgers and dogs.

Count your lucky stars.

Thank God.

❤

From My Mother's Hands

Sat, 23 May 2015 01:30:00 -0600

My mother was quite handy with a needle. She was a perfectionist. Her embroidery was tiny, intricate, and perfect. She used to drive me crazy when she sewed clothes. She basted every seam and ripped stitches out for the smallest mistakes that only her eyes could see.

When Mom was expecting my older brother, she embroidered some quilt squares with the state birds and flowers. She only did 45 or 46 of them. Then life got busy with babies and a sad, disappointing marriage and the squares got wrapped in tissue and tucked into the cedar chest. I found them 35 years later on a trip home and asked if I could have them to make a quilt. I knew nothing about quilting but I read Mother Earth News and fancied myself as some sort of earth mother. I gardened, baked my own bread, made yogurt and tofu by hand, and rode horses every afternoon in the summer and skied in the winter. I rocked in front of the fire in my log house in the Rockies and pieced my first quilt. By the time I got about a third done quilting it, I had a baby and in typical Gemini fashion, never went back to it.

At the beginning of this year when my living situation changed, my high school friend Ginny called me up and offered her home to me while she was away in Wyoming with her kids. Her apartment is located over her quilt shop in a two story brick Victorian. Ginny does long-arm quilting so I saw my opportunity to get this quilt finished. She carefully took out all my terribly uneven stitches, replacing the horrible puffy polyester batting, and came up with the perfect floral fabric for the backing. I went over yesterday and picked it up. And here it is…Mama's Quilt.

Sixty-four years in the making. Stitched in West Virginia, toted to Colorado to be lovingly pieced together, dragged to different houses, stuffed in various closets, and…finally, toted BACK across the country only to be finished in Ohio by my high school friend. Around, around, around…a quilt is born.

And Mama smiles.

❤

"a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,".
Ecclesiastes 3:7

Sisters #1 and #2

Mon, 27 Apr 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Well, this was a really fun week and hard to believe we're heading out on the road already. We'll stay in Kentucky tonight then on home tomorrow.

We got to spend time with Maurrie and Becky…the original Sisters, of Sisters on the Fly. They are the greatest girls and I'm proud to be their Sister.

I was interviewed yesterday for a story about brave girl campers. What an honor! I'll share it with you when it's been published. There may be an opportunity coming up that I'll let you in on once the details are worked out. Not to be cryptic, but I don't want to jinx anything. ;-)

A good time was had by all! I'll post more photos of the fair when I get home!

❤ y'all!

"We were not looking for praise from people, not from you or anyone else, even though as apostles of Christ we could have asserted our authority."
1 Thessalonians 2:6

To Date or Not to Date?

Sat, 18 Apr 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Who can possibly fill these shoes? This is a topic I've tap danced around some. I've dallied a little in the dating department. I've met a couple of wonderful men…men that I love dearly and consider to be close friends. I can call them day or night for company or conversation. So why don't I find myself feeling the kind of love for someone that would sustain a long term, exclusive, "can't live without you" relationship? I felt that love in the instant Mr. Virgo and I made eye contact. My old instincts would ask "What's wrong with you? These are perfectly good men, kind hearted, gentle, loving, fun, funny. What are you waiting for?" Well, it's interesting. It's like going out to photograph wildlife with poor vision. You can see the animal in your view finder, you can tell it's an animal and quite possibly that rare breed you're looking for, so you creep in closer. You step gently, stealing in quietly for a closer look. Hmmm…looks familiar, sounds familiar, acts a little like the one you're looking for. But then you get close enough to see and it's not the right one at all. The call is totally different. The coat similar but just not the same. Where did your animal go? Will you ever find another one or should you just be happy you saw one once and got a great picture of it?

This is what dating has been like. Sort of like an interview for a job I'm not at all sure I really want. And at the same time I yearn for companionship. I miss hugs and holding hands and all that comes with having a significant other. I'm in Neverland. Never so sad as I was when I first lost him…never so happy as I was when I had him.

I'm finding an entirely different set of circumstances to consider this go 'round. I've already had three marriages and a couple of significant relationships in my life. Do I really want another one? Finances are a huge consideration now. Much bigger than when I was in my twenties. There are no guarantees in marriage. If I were to marry, I'd lose my ability to collect widow's benefits. One must be married for ten years to collect from your spouse's Social Security. If the marriage falls apart before that, and you were a stay-at-home mom who didn't contribute a lot to your SS account like I was, you're screwed, to put it bluntly. It's a dilemma many of us Boomer widows are facing. It leaves you with choices many would find unconscionable…like cohabitation. Or resignation to being alone for the rest of your life. Right now, I see merits in both scenarios. I have friends who have been widowed much longer than me and they tell me they went through the same thing but they got over it and can't imagine being in a significant relationship again.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just an incurable romantic. I love falling in love. I love a man's company…the security of his love and affection. Maybe there's a part of me that still feels I "need" a man in my life to be happy. Maybe I'm a little lonely. Maybe I'm a bit bored. Maybe I'm a tad frightened. Maybe it's only been two years since I lost Mr. Virgo and I just miss him. I'll always miss him. But I'm a pragmatist. He's not coming back. And even though those men out there don't look exactly like him when I get up close, they are worthy in their own right. I'm not ready to give up on love and companionship entirely. I just want it on my terms. So, I'll keep my options open, and keep my camera handy. You never know when the right specimen may show up in your sights. I just won't base my happiness on it. <3

"In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety." Psalm 4:8

Trivia for Throwback Thursday

Thu, 26 Mar 2015 01:30:00 -0600

We all have some obscure factoid that others don't necessarily know about us. I'm not talking about a skeleton in your closet. I'm talking about some experience, honor, or event you have participated in that maybe no one knows. So, let's have some fun with this and learn more about each other.

I'll start…in 1988, I was living in the mountains of Colorado. My next door neighbor was a liaison between the town and movie studios wanting to film in the area. They were preparing to film a Charles Bronson movie…Messenger of Death. (An absolutely horrible film, by the way. Gruesome!) They were looking for extras but the slots filled up quickly and I didn't get signed up. She told me she could get me in to at least watch the filming. I walked into the train station that morning and she met me with a frantic "Did you bring your Jeep?!?!" Yes, I did. "Well, go get it and I'll meet you out front." When I got there with the car, she had me speak with the associate director. He told me he wanted me to drive down the street in front of the train station and make the right turn without stopping at the stop sign. Do you think I could drive around the corner without stopping at a stop sign I had stopped at regularly for two years? Nooooooo! On the third take the frustrated director jumped in the car with me and all the way down the street and around the corner he's yelling "Drive! Drive! Drive!" Geeeesh! Alright already. Don't get your panties in a twist!

After that scene, I went to park the Jeep and went back to the train station. I walked in and the same guy came up to me and asked if I had been in a close up yet. I told him no and he said to follow him. He took me out on the platform and wardrobe came over and gave me a camel hair coat, black wool hat, and a suitcase. It was 100 degrees in the shade in mid July but we were supposed to look like it was winter for some reason. Someone stuck a train ticket in my hand and stood me beside the husband of a friend of mine. They instructed us to keep our backs to the camera, and above all else, NEVER break the fourth dimension and look directly at the camera because we only got one shot at this. Amtrak wasn't going to back the train up so we could to it over. The director went on to talk with others and Bob and I were left to marvel at the whole process. He had been in several community theater productions and I was a wannabe. Bob turned to me and said, "I don't know about you, but if I get the opportunity to be in a movie, I'll be darned if they're filming my backside! So, why don't we slowly start turning toward each other and we can get filmed in profile?" It sounded good to me so we managed to get turned enough before the train came and sure enough, there we were, fully recognizable in two scenes! A few years later, Bob died after a brief struggle with cancer. I stood at his funeral and told that story. He will forever be my traveling companion on the Silver Screen.

Being in this movie ruined cinema for me for a long, long time. It took the magic out of movies because I knew how they filmed this or that scene. I have shown the grandkids just the scenes I am in and they think their Nana is pretty cool!

So, what is something you've done that you don't mind sharing? We all have something we can brag about and if we don't toot our own horns, who will?

❤️

"While they were in high spirits, they shouted, “Bring out Samson to entertain us.” So they called Samson out of the prison, and he performed for them…"
Judges 16:25