Winter Gardening by the Fire

 Winter Gardening may seem an oxymoron. But I consider it to be just as pleasurable as handling the summer soil. After pruning trees, planting bulbs, and cleaning up yard debris, essentially putting my garden to bed for the winter, I do my winter gardening while I delve through landscaping books and seed catalogs. I examine my memories, contemplate last year's results, and anticipate next year's plans. I realize the mistakes, and dream of new possibilities. Winter gardening is a lot like having good dreams. This year is strikingly different because of the wildfires we‘ve had this year. My family members, living in Southern California were threatened by the fires right down to evacuating. Fortunately none lost homes. I had ash on car, windows and plants. I could look in any direction and see large billows of smoke, like storm clouds angrily climbing the nearby mountains. I had to increase my asthma medicine four-fold and keep myself locked in the house, or leave town.

 So in the winter, snuggled warmly on my chaise, listening to the cacophony of rain pouncing on the roof and crickly flames safely dancing in the fire place, I envision the spring garden, and ponder. Will the effects of the fires cause permanent damage to local landscapes? I remember the air clogged with smoke. If it made my own breathing difficult, what was the effect upon the green environment? Did the ash that fell like snow carpeting the earth, seep strange chemicals into the soil of my gardens making it too acid or alkaline? Or poison?

What about the landscape of the wild lands? Without roots to hold the soil, erosion results, which equals mudslides or uncontrolled flooding when it rains. Most of the winter here the weather is rainy. What about the fire retardants released from airplanes to smother the fires? What kind of toxic soup is brewing in the rushing rivulets flushing mud down to the shores? I want to tell myself, it can't be that bad, at least not here. Southern California had it worse I tell myself. Why am I brooding?

In Memory of My Friend, Linda Duran Watkins 1949 - 1982

My best friend,  Linda Watkins, would have celebrated her 60th birthday this month. I believe on the 24th. But, she died of cancer close to her birthday in 1982 about the age 33. When we first met in 1974, I had just moved into a small house in El Monte, California. We hit it off right away. She was my neighbor. She had a darling little baby girl, named Andrea, who must be in her thirties now. Linda’s mother Millie/Tillie called on the phone every day, and asked, “how’s my baby?”. She didn’t mean Linda. She meant Andrea. It was funny at first, but then one day Linda, feeling a little possessive, responded with, “She’s not YOUR baby, she’s mine! I am your baby, and I am doing fine!”  The reason I refer to Mrs. Duran as Millie/Tillie is because her name was Mildred and went by Millie at one time in her life. But, before Linda introduced us, she insisted that I call her Tillie. I never learned why.

Linda was approximately my height, 5‘ 2“. When we first met, we were the same weight, but from that point on she lost weight and I gained. Sometimes it was the other way around, a running joke with us. Still both of us were more plump than we thought we should be.

I look back and see we wasted a lot of time worrying about our figures.  She was of Mexican-American ancestry, though if anyone ever asked if she was Mexican, she firmly replied, “I’m American!”  With the Watkins last name, and no accent, no one dared to ask further.

Linda had sparkling brown eyes that showed her inner attitude that life was fun. She had naturally tan skin, but every summer we laid out under the sun to get more tan. I always ended up with sunburn. Her complexion was clear and perfectly arched eyebrows. She had a lovely face with what most women would envy. She had what my mother called, “beauty marks”.  Linda called them moles. But, they were not moles in my opinion. They were flat. They were beauty marks. Linda had naturally curly thick black hair. She always made an effort with her appearance. Where I would toss on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. She might do the same, but she accessorized. She took the time and trouble to put on her makeup and wear nice shoes. She carried herself better than I do. I’m somewhat of a slouch. Even when she was casual, she still appeared neat and fashionable.

Linda had a very great sense of humor. She always found something funny to joke about, even at the most serious times. (Bob and her arguing, then switching to laughing.. "Butter, bitter, butter")

She had a cheerful disposition and never allowed herself to be depressed or miserable for any length of time. Though, through the years, I understood, she just didn’t show it much. Linda was also a very strong minded individual, and never let anyone push her around. She had a very firm belief system and some of her values were immovable.

If ever too opposites attracted it was my friend, Linda, and I

I have never had such a good close friend since then.