See my Whale Tails & Quail Trails blog for some photos from a recent trip to the Crescent Beach / Salt Creek area (Olympic Peninsula, Washington State). Low tide, great weather, and cute grandkids made it a perfect day

Here’s a sneak preview:

Hello everyone -

I have had trouble lately writing about my mother’s struggle with Alzheimer’s and our journey together in dealing with that gut-wrenching disease. It is hard to believe it has been nearly 5 months since her passing. I still think of her every day and in so many ways. I talk with her all the time. I play her music. I ask her to help me with problems. Is this normal? I don’t know. I do know that the garden is often a place of healing for me. Something about feeling the cold earth, something so very basic and so connecting. Pulling weeds with an absurd sense of order and control, I nurture my favored plants with loving attention, envisioning something of beauty in the coming months. My mother used to love to garden, too, and she left many behind - her small way of making the world a more beautiful place. She also loved birds, whether they were shorebirds, the backyard variety, or majestic raptors - but most particularly, she loved the little hummers. She had hummingbird calendars, blown glass hummingbirds hanging by the window, hummingbird magnets on her fridge, painted pictures of hummers on the walls, and of course, hummingbird feeders.

And so last week when Mother Nature must have been laughing as we dug ourselves out from an unexpected snow here in the Pacific Northwest - something we hardly see throughout the winter - I found myself talking to my mother, and we were worried about the little birds in this unexpected cold snap. I have several bird feeders around the yard, and I made sure everyone had plenty of seed. The quail were especially industrious at scratching around and were there morning and night, on schedule. As soon as the winds died down and the clouds parted, I hung up a hummingbird feeder. I wondered if I was too early, but within minutes, they were coming around. One even came right up and buzzed me as I refilled it. I looked at it closely. I could almost feel my mother’s presence in the vibration of its wings, saying, “Thank you for helping me.”

I posted more pictures of the snow, the garden, and sure signs of spring: the hummingbird, a frog, and cherry blossoms, on my Barbolian Fields blog. Hope you enjoy.

A quiet paddle today in Dungeness Bay.

This unusual piece of driftwood made a perfect frame of the outgoing tide.

You can read the full entry on the Whale Tails & Quail Trails site.

Do you get a lot of e-mails from well-meaning friends and relatives who want to enlighten your life with poetry, inspiring photos, motivational speeches, or even just tasteless humor? I admit, there are times I am moved to openly weep,

If moles are a problem in your yard, I just might have the answer for you. See my latest entry in Barbolian Fields. Good luck!

Two most certain and dreadful events: the death of my mother at the end of last November and the due date for tax returns, rapidly approaching. I will have to continue her story after I complete the latter. Thank you for hanging in there with me.

I can better relate to this variation on that line attributed to Ben Franklin and others:

“Death, taxes and childbirth! There’s never any convenient time for any of them.” –Margaret Mitchell, in Gone with the Wind

New pics on the Whaletails site: Roosevelt elk, trumpeter swans, and an old barn and field that seemed to bask in a natural sepia light. Hope you enjoy!

Did you catch it? In the Northwest, nothing short of spectacular! Set my tripod up, put it on time release, set a long exposure…not quite what I expected. You can see it on my Whaletails blog.

Mom busied herself with unpacking boxes. In truth, she had wanted something much larger; her buffet, table, couch, and chairs barely fit into this thing, even though it was slightly wider than most units of its kind. Although for years she had stood in line for commodities to make ends meet, she had fancied herself living grandly in at least a double wide. The days of not worrying about money had moved out with husband #2, but perhaps she should have gotten the Grecian tub option.  At least the place was clean and had that brand-new smell. Mom had always been an obsessive cleaner. Her mantra had been “There’s a place for everything and everything has its place.” Her new house was as neat as a pin, however neat that is. Everything was exactly where it should be. There was a certain comfort with order and control.

I decided to organize entries on my latest garlic growing endeavors in their own blog, titled Barbolian Fields. If you are interested in growing garlic, herbs, dye plants, your own fruits & veggies - or how gardening keeps us grounded - please visit and share your thoughts! Hope to see you there! Thanks!