Okay, it’s just pictures of spring in my yard. And I took these photos 2 weeks ago. Just hanging on to every last drop.
Herb Garden first. Why do I have an herb garden? Because when we first moved to Three Rivers, I was desperately looking for anything the deer wouldn’t eat. Eventually I cobbled a series of fences together to protect this little area, but the soil is poor, and it gets zero sun in the winter while baking in the summer. So, herbs mostly work.
Now let’s return to the most beautiful part of the yard. Yeppers, you’ve seen this before, but more are open now and the light changes too.
I’ll pull myself together soon, think of something to write about, focus on the work ahead. Thanks for hanging with me.
Silly title, sacrificing sense for alliteration. My blog, my silliness.
This is the April page on my 2026 calendar. (all gone. . . whaddya expect in month #4?)
These sycamores are so picturesque. . . used to be so thick that the buildings beyond were a mystery. After I started drawing this, the trees got pruned, things got raked, and a few months later I attended a Celebration of Life at the barn hidden back there. Who knew??
Yeppers, it’s for sale. You can email me for details if you are interested.
I’ve never heard of sous vide style cooking. Read about it here: A Beginner’s Guide to Sous Vide Cooking on a site called “Spruce Eats”. Pronounced “soo-VEED”. Not planning on trying it. I made it through the Insta-Pot and Keurig crazes without buying anything and will continue to keep my life and possessions simple wherever possible. But it is fun to learn about what other people are doing. If you want more info, Serious Eats is a great website for all sorts of cooking info.
2. Do NOT let piles of paper accumulate! I finally went through the stack of birthday and Christmas cards and in that stack I found THREE Very Important Items: 1. a letter I thought I had mailed in October (ARE YOU KIDDING ME??) 2. a gift certificate to Luis Nursery (ARE YOU KIDDING ME??) 3. An email and phone number for a dear old friend (HI CAREEN!! WE ACTUALLY TEXTED AND I ALWAYS THINK OF THINGS TO TELL YOU BUT DON’T WANT TO BE A WEIRDO AND A PEST.)
3. “Faff” can be both a verb and a noun, considered British English. (Great word, thank you, Elisabeth from Canada!) NOUN: An unnecessary or over-complicated task, especially one perceived as a waste of time. VERB: To waste time on an unproductive activity.
4. “Cruft” is similar to “faff”. It means redundant, old, inferior, especially as it relates to code (computer stuff).
No faff or cruft here.
5. Brushing scam is an entirely new term to me. It is yet another scam, this one a “fraudulent tactic where sellers send unsolicited packages to individuals to create fake “verified” reviews under their names, boosting the seller’s credibility without the recipient’s consent. This can expose personal information and lead to identity theft or other scams.” So, beware if you receive something you did not order! Keep it, donate it, bury it in your garden, but do NOT review it online or respond to the wicked “geniuses” who sent it.
6.Lone Oak Cemetery, still there in spite of neglect, still with poppies and a lone oak, right there in the orange groves of Ivanhoe as it was 60 years ago.
7. There are tollways in California. I thought there were only freeways, but I was wrong. It is a real privilege to live in a place where we say “the freeway” and everyone knows what is meant.
8. My cousin was a voracious reader and a list-maker. How did I not know this about him? Despite all our differences, we really and truly were related!
9. I went to an awards dinner (as a guest of a winner friend) and this tiny oval-ish citrus fruit was part of the centerpieces. I took a couple home to try and they were Very Sweet. No idea what they were! I should have taken more. . .
Not taking things personally can be a form of generosity. You give people the space to say things imperfectly.”
Leaving something unsaid can be a form of generosity. You don’t always need the last word.
Being early can be a form of generosity. You wait, so they don’t have to.
Delivering your work on time can be a form of generosity. You make life easier for everyone downstream.
11. I learned how to make scrambled eggs that don’t stick to the pan. (But where did I learn this??) Put your fat in the pan and heat the pan hot enough that a drop of water dances, not sizzles. Then your eggs won’t stick! It actually works. ‘Bout time I figured this out.
And thus we conclude a month of many new pieces of information. I wonder how much I will retain.
Let’s just enjoy some photos. Or how about you enjoy them while I recover from the book project, Springville’s Hospital.
And then, I headed to church to work on Phase II of the landscaping project begun a couple of years ago.
Last yearThis year
Forty new plants, all native to this area, with little buckets to indicate where to put the drip irrigation! I had help choosing, help raking the wood chips, help planting, and help putting in the irrigation. Prolly won’t have much help weeding.
THE BOOK IS FINISHED! It was a ten-year project, with a giant distraction of a different book getting written and published first—Tales of TB: White Plague of the North, available through BookBaby. Here’s the link: Tales of TB
But that was last year.
This year, the book is Springville’s Hospital: Fighting TB in Tulare County.
Dr. William Winn, a (now retired) pulmonologist (that means lung doctor), hired me to illustrate a few things for this book that he’d been wanting to write. I asked if he had an editor, and after I explained the role, he hired me for that, in addition to three illustrations.
He clearly loves research, and the Springville book got pushed aside when we realized he was accidentally accumulating enough material for a different book about tuberculosis. After FINALLY finishing Tales of TB, I urged him to write about Springville’s TB hospital, a place that ignited my curiosity back when I first saw it in about 5th or 6th grade. (I’ve always loved old buildings, always always always. Am I being unclear?)
Bill encountered some serious health set-backs, and I finally accepted the fact that he would not be able to complete the book to his satisfaction. (Perfectionism can be a real obstacle to progress, but you can bet that he was a fabulous doctor.) I told him that he had enough chapters for a good book, not the one he had hoped for, but still a good and important book.
The Big Push
He gave me the go-ahead, so I gathered all those chapters (multiple versions of them, sigh) and arranged them into order, finally reading it as a book instead of little bits and pieces, dividing some into two chapters, turning some into appendices, rearranging paragraphs (yeppers, still editing), cobbling enough together for an afterword. Then re-editing and proofreading, gathering and scanning many photos, doing the Photoshop Junior thing, finding captions, and figuring out where each photo belonged in the book. After that came formatting, which I promise you don’t want to hear about. Then oops, what is the title? Bill hadn’t looked that far ahead, so I wrote a list, and he chose one in a phone conversation we had. Oh, oops, I needed to design the cover, and OH NO, he didn’t write a “blurb” for the back. Alrighty then, after some prayer and a night or two lying awake staring at the ceiling, I was able to complete that. I even learned how to turn an ISBN into a bar code, and the final step was to set it up to be sold through the Lulu bookstore.
Now, I am waiting for my copy.
Here is a link to a post I wrote about one of the illustrations back in 2017: Edythe
Was it mid-day? or mid-morning? Dunno. Nobody cares. Let’s have some photos.
Oops, these are from the early morning walk.
Look how much the tulip opened in the 1/2 hour we were on the walk!
This is Ray Hartman ceanothus, maybe the best one I’ve seen. There are several in the neighborhood.
I like this mural, but the Ivanhoe library mural remains my favorite.
Comb Rocks in the distance.
I shook this blooming tree branch to see if my inferior phone camera could catch the pollen blowing around. This is a Chinese pistache tree, the kind that self-sows and looks brilliant in the fall.
The rest of these photos were at home. It was so beautiful out that I lollygagged around, taking photos, procrastinating about diving into that indoor editing job.
My life is mellow, everything near home, just the way I like it. Except for that nagging book deadline. Self-imposed, but still urgent. Back to work!
UPDATE: The book is now finished. . . I wrote today’spost a week ago.
A dear friend had a birthday and expressed a desire to see my Ivanhoe library mural. I thought we’d just have a little tour, ending with lunch at Super Taco in Woodlake. We barely made the trip before all the green went away. This happens when it gets hot in March. Tryna not be greedy, because we have had several long cool springs in the last handful of years. But we do NOT like it when it is hot, there is no rain, and the grasses and flowers shrivel too soon.
Sorry. Didn’t mean to complain.
First we drove around the country roads, and I showed her the two places where I grew up, along with Twin Buttes, and a different angle of Venice Hills than she is accustomed to. The orange blossoms were divine.
Then we headed to Ivanhoe proper. Not much to see there except for the library. I felt doggone proud of this mural; it is currently my favorite. Am I allowed to say that? Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s my blog.
This is a map showing the way to the Lone Oak Cemetery. I visited it in first grade, because my best friend Kelly lived next to it. I tried to find it again when I was working on the mural, but felt weird driving down someone’s driveway. With my friend in her 2007 white Mustang convertible, I didn’t feel as weird about the sense of trespassing.
Kelly’s house is gone and there is a big one in its place, and we just headed down the driveway as if we had an invitation. Boom! It was exactly right there!
The sign is a lie. The cemetery isn’t maintained. It is in sorry shape.
Here is the lone oak. Must be a good source of underground water, because the oak is a Valley Oak, a quercus lobata, and there is also an enormous cottonwood tree (those leaves at the top of the photo.)
What is this bizarro stuff? Chiseled headstones without any words, and tangerine trees in the background with the nets to prevent cross-pollination.
The wall was weird. I wonder if it was made from the stuff from when Kelly’s house got torn down. See the wind machine in the distance?
The highlight for me was seeing the poppies in bloom. When Kelly and I were poking around in the first grade, I picked a few poppies and she told me I was going to jail because it is against the law to pick poppies (the state flower) in California.
I didn’t go to jail or even get in trouble by any grownups, and the poppies have survived for 60 years despite my accidental vandalism.
We also circled around the backside of Venice Hills, and had some fantastic tacos for lunch before heading back home. I had a lot of book work to do. Gonna get it done, yeppers, I am!
Currently I am doing a final edit, photo edit, and formatting a book that has been a long time coming (about the TB hospital in Springville, here in Tulare County). Things are a bit urgent, so here is a post about my road trip 10 days ago, because this is my blog and I can write whatever I want. Any questions? (Besides how to comment; I KNOW commenting is a pain of signing in, user names, passwords, etc. I HATE that stuff and feel grateful to anyone willing to navigate it all.)
The drive was beautiful. It was green with wildflowers. I left at 6:30 a.m. and seemed to encounter cars coming up the hill about every 1/2 mile or so before getting to Highway 65, which caused me to ask, “Why all the traffic?”
This is just hilarious in view of heading to Southern California. I live in a place where we simply say “The Freeway”; everyone I went to visit has to refer to the many freeways in their lives by the numbers. Do they say “Five” or do they say “The Five”? And if they say “The Five”, do they also say “The Walmart” and “The Facebook”? I forgot to notice.
The photos never do justice to reality. Additionally, I was holding up my phone while watching the road (OF COURSE I WAS WATCHING THE ROAD!) and hoping to get lucky. (No film was wasted, but many photos were deleted after I arrived.) There were wildflowers on the hillsides, wildflowers in patches on the shoulders of the freeways. The hills over The Grapevine* were green, the hills in Southern California were green—just wonderful, looking the way i think it always should look. (God didn’t ask for my opinion when he designed the seasons in California so I’ll just trust that all is as it should be despite my attitude.)
The freeway system has changed since I was a frequent traveler along that route. Confusing stuff. I used the talking lady, until she told me to leave The Two-Ten and head west. Can’t remember. I just pantsed my arrogant way along, sure I could figure it out. Then The Fifteen became a tollway, not a freeway. WHAT?? So I took The Sixty west, and asked the talking lady to get me to Escondido again.
I ended up on The Two Fifteen (Hunh? What”s that one?) and eventually it fed back into The Fifteen (without my spending a dime other than burning gas that cost $5.99/gallon in Three Rivers), and things became familiar again.
I love this bridge, which we called “Dad’s Favorite Bridge” for awhile (Was he unaware of the Oak Grove Bridge on the Mineral King Road? Nope. “De gustibus non es diputandem” as he used to say.**) It is a beautifully minimalistic bridge, spanning a huge freeway, as you can see. It is south of Fallbrook, in case you are curious.
Driving home, I decided I didn’t need the talking lady, but I asked her to take me to Fresno, just for curiosity’s sake. Yeppers, once again, she tried to force me off The Fifteen (or was it The Two Ten?) and once again I ignored her. I didn’t encounter any tollways nor did I see The Two Fifteen. Boy oh boy, do I ever need an updated map.
I was reminded that in order to stay on The Two Ten, one must continually exit and then merge onto another freeway, each interchange a total constipation of too many cars. I didn’t like it, being much more comfortable on a one-lane unpaved curvy road without stripes or guard rails.
However, Momscar with its 6 cylinder engine was mighty fine in several instances. People say they hate all the shifting in traffic; I never did, but often wished for more ponies under my hood back in the olden days of driving 5-speeds.
This is the first time in my life that I remember seeing so many wildflowers on the Grapevine. It was beautiful! I also had a good audio book, The Tao of Martha by Jen Lancaster (Memoir read by the author is my favorite, but why do people have to cuss so much? Sigh.)
I did finally see why a Tesla “truck” calls itself a truck—I could actually see it has a bed like a real pickup. But the ugly factor just slays me.
I was very eager to get home, and in the second passing lane around the lake, I blew around someone poking along. After getting past, I quickly came to a traffic jam. What?? I could see that cars went all the way across the Horse Creek bridge, coming downhill. What?? Eventually we crawled back into action, passing a slightly wrinkled car sitting on the bed of a tow truck.
Dorothy was right—There’s no place like home (not The Home).
*The Grapevine is what Freeway 5 (“The Five”?) is called where it crosses the Tehachapi Mountains because even until I was a little kid, it was a country road that was very twisty. Now it is multiple lanes, high speed until you catch up to someone (who should keep right) crawling uphill in one of the faster lanes. The summit is closer to Bakersfield than to Southern California—Tejon Pass, 4144’. After the summit, it feels as if we still climb, but who knows? Not me.
** Latin for “it’s useless to argue over matters of taste”.
