August and Autumn

The moment August comes, I feel relief. 

Not because summer is over; it really isn't. We have a whole seven weeks more. But in a way, I feel it's one of the best times of year: Autumn still isn't here yet, but the days are just a bit shorter, and the mornings a bit cooler. My favorite season (fall) hasn't passed yet, and awaits expectantly on the horizon. As they say, sometimes wanting a thing is better than receiving the thing. That's where I'm at right now.

I have two great friends who could not be more opposite in their love for their favorite seasons. Both of them live away from me now. My Florida friend likes fall, but has a huge aversion to bringing in fall too soon. She loves what summer holds; she loves the sunshine and warmth, and though she likes fall, particularly because it was her mother's favorite month as well, she is annoyed when we who love fall (like myself) become enraptured with it the day it turns August 1st. This cracks me up. She's annoyed at me!

My Idaho friend has a love for fall that rivals any Pumpkin Spice Latte lover out there. She and I are boot-loving, sweater-wearing gals who love autumnal smells and sights, and because we love it so much, want to celebrate it for as long as we can. Frustrated with the incessant heat of summer, this means fall, for us, starts August 1st. No matter what.

Regardless of what you prefer, the best thing about talking about the seasons is that we're talking about the seasons! If you love summer, think about why you love it so much, and make sure you embrace it fully before autumn comes. Take those bike rides, walk the trails, swim in the lakes and ocean, travel to the mountains before the snow comes. It's these slow-living things that truly make the season come alive and memorable.

If you love fall, then, like me, you tolerate the heat for the next seven weeks, but mentally prepare for the upcoming season. How many new recipes do I want to try? Pumpkin bread or cinnamon rolls? Both? What about the soups and stew recipes I can research to try for the season? Do I need to prep my fall wardrobe and make sure my sweaters and boots are ready to wear? What about cleaning out gutters and getting the yard ready for the change of weather?

Both of my friends' ways of treating the seasons are right. There is no wrong way. But being fully involved with the transition from one season to the next is how we can fully love where we're at, yet appreciate where we are going. I truly despise the heat of summer, and yet, I love what it does for my citrus trees, and to be honest, the heat makes me feel alive.

I have beautiful plants in my side yard that only bloom before fall called Big Blue Lilyturf (Liriope muscari).  Every August, their beautiful lavender buds open, ushering in the fall that will arrive a month from now. 

Even the turkeys that roam the neighborhood remind me that fall is coming due to their seasonal molting; beautiful feathers pop up on lawns and sidewalks randomly. It's a sign of change that makes me excited with anticipation of the season!

Take a moment to appreciate the end of summer. That's what I'm doing. Take that summer swim, or enjoy that ice cream you've been wanting. Immerse yourself in it. Once it's gone, it's gone. And if you're like me, you'll be sick of the cold and ready for summer in the middle of winter! 

So, I'm taking my advice and slowing down to let summer finish its expression by appreciating my air conditioning. Then, I'll be ready when fall arrives and happy to accommodate the season in the myriad ways it shows up. And you can be sure that will mean warmer clothing, blankets on the bed, and hot drinks throughout the day and night.

Happy end of summer, everyone.

Making Sense of Change

A few years back (I say a few, but it is closer to 10 years ago), I wrote a post about picking up change. As in pennies, nickels, dimes, because every penny is a gift to me. It still is. Picking up this spare change is profound.

Why? Because it is about appreciating the smallest things in life and reminding myself to look for value in what I commonly perceive as worthless. I wrote another post about it a year later here.

Today, I'm writing a third post. Because, as you can tell, the penny matters to me. 

I still pick coins up when I see them. But these days, they're becoming much rarer. In case you hadn't heard, they (the government) stopped production of the penny in 2025 because it costs more to make than it's worth. Something like four cents for every one cent produced.

While I appreciate this (very small) governmental money-saving endeavor, it's the beginning of the end of the way I - and many - have known and understood money. We're already digital in most of the ways we spend these days. I know I am. We don't write checks; we remit payments digitally, and going to the grocery store is an easy Apple Pay tap on my phone.

The thing about coins and dollar bills is that they make our chosen exchanges tangible. It was a part of our past; currency was something to make us human, if you will. One person exchanges money for an object or food. It was a continuation of the slow living lifestyle where we go to a store, look for what we want, then pay with actual materials. For me, using these materials less only creates an increasingly digital, lonely world.

The penny has disappeared, and so has slow living. I'm pretty sure it's all related.

I grew up hearing the change in my grandfather's and father's pockets, and the change in my grandmother's and mother's coin purses or wallets. My dad had huge tubs of accumulated coins. But my husband and adult sons don't carry change, and I rarely have change in my wallet. We're a cashless and, especially, coinless society.

Here's my concern and sadness about the penny: now that the penny is gone, this means the nickel, dime, and quarter are next on the chopping block. Prices in stores will change to the nearest dollar rather than cent (Goodwill stores already do this - they round up or down to the nearest nickel), and then, the dollar is gone too. No more paper money. Or people. We already don't need checkers at the grocery store anymore. We bag our own groceries and pay digitally. AI is taking over, and there is very little to stop it.

While this post isn't to talk about the one-world currency, or AI, or the good old days and the bad modern days, I want you to appreciate the coins out there right now, as this is written. To notice that penny at your feet when you step out of the car, or the random dime on the ground at the checkout line. Because a day will come when all the pennies have been picked up with no more to drop. All the dimes are gone. The nickels are melted down. And quarters? Well, as my future grandchildren might ask, "What's a quarter?"

The good news is that pennies are still out there, even if not produced by our mint, and are considered worthless. I picked one up yesterday, and after weeks of not coming across one, it was a welcome sight. I was relieved. People still carry change!

If you walk by a quarter, pick it up. A dime or a nickel, pick those up too. If you pass a penny, smile and say "Holy Moly," and pick it up because it's no longer made. And, it's a reminder of the way we used to buy things. Pick that penny up and save it so you can show your great-grandchildren what "change" looked like. 

While our digital world is easier and faster, it's taken away the value of the person and the exchange of our physical products. We've been replaced by machines - machines to take our digital money, and machines in our hands (phones) to pay for things.

But things change, and change changes. Literally.

The penny is a little bit like stepping back in time, and with a slow living lifestyle, we get to appreciate these little (yet very big) things in life. If there ever was anything little and insignificant, it's the penny. But now more than ever is the time to appreciate it.

An Article in Edible Sacramento Summer 2026

A couple of days ago, I wrote here (at my own blog that I've had for about seventeen years) about the latest edition, Summer 2026, of a local magazine called Edible Sacramento, and how I have an article in it. (Yay!)

I'm insanely happy about it. This article is a part of me that needed to be seen, and when I came upon this outlet, it seemed like the perfect fit.

But for reasons I can't explain, that post never made it to anyone's email inbox. That part, I'm not insanely happy about. This has never happened to me, so I'm perplexed.

To remediate this problem, I'm posting a small blog here about it (again), hoping you see it this time and that the internet agrees to work with me. After all, glitches do happen. 

Here's the previous post ◄that the World Wide Web decided wasn't going to happen. Click the highlighted words to get to my first post about my grandparents. And once there, feel free to click on the pictures to enlarge and read them.

And now here I am, ► happy to have a little article about my grandparents and their organic gardening lifestyle when they moved to the Sacramento Valley decades ago. Living a slow living lifestyle because that was all they knew, and all that mattered.

I'm honored that Edible Sacramento took my little story. Thank you, my readers, for taking the time to read it. This article truly consists of a little part of my heart and soul.

-Heather

Little Miracles are Big Miracles

A few years ago, I was blessed to become part of the Guideposts staff of devotion writers. It was always something I wanted to attain, especially after being rejected by them a year earlier. And now that it's happened, I feel like I'm living my mission. Finally.

Well, I still am living my mission. Because as a writer of devotions for them, I also am a part of their staff as a writer for their other wonderful books they release yearly, dozens of them. One such series of books they produce is all about miracles. And the series is titled Too Amazing for Coincidence.

I submitted a story about my obsession with lip balm and the lack of having it when I really needed it, more specifically, Lip Smackers, several years ago. Let me explain. I've literally had a lip smacker in my pocket for the last, oh, forty years. It's been a lifelong addiction, and I know what you're thinking. Really? A miracle story about lip balm? Yep. God provided me with some I needed when I didn't have that precious balm in my pocket, needed it, and had no way of getting some.

It was a miracle for me. A small one, but a very needed one. And it came unexpectedly in a way that only God could've done; miraculously. Little miracles, particularly when we need that answer to our prayers, are big miracles. There is no such thing as a small miracle. They're all huge and wonderful.

And these books, filled with stories just like mine, are all about the miracles everyday people need in everyday circumstances. 

If you're looking for some goosebump-inducing encouragement, the latest release, book eight in Too Amazing for Coincidence, is available today, June 23rd. Click here to get the book and get a 15% discount! Use code AUTHOR15 at checkout. This is the hardback.

You can also get it via Amazon if that's your preferred outlet, but this is the paperback edition. You can order it here.◄

If you're like me, we all need a little encouragement. And when that encouragement is a little miracle, well, that's a big deal. And in my writing world, it's a miracle that everyone needs to know about.

-Heather

My Grandparents: Their Story Became My Story with their Organic Gardening

The summer edition of my local Edible Magazine, Edible Sacramento, is now out. And I'm happy to report that I have an article in it.

Over a year ago, I had an idea to write about my grandparents and their way of organic gardening in the Sacramento Valley in the early '80s. I miss them and think of them all the time, and when I realized my paltry little garden in the same Sacramento Valley would never measure up to theirs, even though I wanted it to, I knew there was an article in there. 

It helped that I had photo albums full of photos of them and their gardening lifestyle. My grandfather had even been the president of his local Organic Gardening Club.

I was also privy to our local version of Edible Magazine and thought maybe the twain should meet? So I found some photos, wrote up an article, and voila: they decided they could use it. After over a year of thinking about it, writing it, and submitting it, it's finally printed.

Am I a master gardener like my grandfather? No. 

Can I cook every vegetable as good as my grandmother? No.

Will my body even allow me to eat the same vegetables as them because of my dumb autoimmune disease? Again, no. Which is why I have a humble herb garden these days.

But their love for the garden, their ability to create an awesome Garden of Eden out of nothing and into something so divine that I dream about their garden still, is what inspired me to write the article.

I realize only local Sacramentans will be able to find this around town for the next few months (starting June 26th), so here are some photos of the inside spread.  (If you click on the photos and zoom in, I think you can read the article!) I'm honored and humbled, and hope my grandparents know how much of an influence they were on me and my family. 

They're still missed, but in a way, having my own garden keeps me close to them. It's as if they're still here.♥

-Heather  

Mini Book Review of Theo of Golden

I don't do a lot of book reviews, but when I read one that's better than normal, if not superior, I want to tell others about it. It's good news that needs to be shared.

A friend of mine gifted me the book called Theo of Golden.  While I won't give the book's thematic elements away, because you really do need to read this and be so immersed in it that you don't come up for air for a day or two, I will give you a couple of highlights as to why you should read it.

It's heart-warming. -  I read a lot. I think I read almost a hundred books last year. So when I say a book is heart-warming, you're getting a book that doesn't fit the usual mold. Books can be cute, quirky, mysterious, and adventurous, but heart-warming? That's a hard one. And this book is that. I walked away from it questioning my everyday choices.

It's well-written. - I suppose it sounds ridiculous, if not redundant, to say that the book is well-written. After all, if the book is published, it has to have been written (and edited) well, right? Yeah, actually that would be one of the biggest misconceptions in the book world. Just because it's published doesn't mean it's well-written. I just read a cozy mystery that was cute and very Murder, She Wrote, but some of the author's writing elements made me roll my eyes and groan in pain. Writing is hard. And getting your readers to like your story is harder. I didn't roll my eyes or groan in pain with Theo. I devoured the book and wanted more.

The main character is unique. - The protagonist of the book, Theo, is an older man who gifts portrait photographs (from a photographer, whom we meet in the story), to the very people in the photographs. Why he does this, what his past is, and who the people he chooses to give the photos to are. That's what we don't understand, and that's all uncovered, chapter by chapter, forcing you to read. It's not your typical protagonist, and the narrator only gives us enough information to go on to squeak on to the next chapter, leaving us constantly wondering, why is he doing this? For whom? What? How? He's not this young, attractive character, flying through the story with his youth and good looks. Instead, he is an older - but very charismatic - gentleman who cares about people, and happens to be extremely secretive - which is the crux of the whole story. 

And that's all I'm going to say.

Read it, and you won't be disappointed. You might feel just a little bit like I do: that this is one of the best books you've ever read. If you only read one book this year, make it this one, Theo of Golden. And Author Allen Levi? Thank you for writing it.

Death, Taxes, and the AARP

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I’m having a milestone birthday soon. You know, the one that rhymes with shifty. (It also rhymes with nifty, but shifty is just a touch more appropriate.)

And while I’m ready for it, even if I don’t want to admit that this is even more “over the hill” than what I was ten years ago, what I’m not so happy with is that even if I try to ignore the looming birthday, there are those who never forget.

Death and taxes, they say, are the constants of our lives. 

But really, those two words uttered together should be amended, if we're being honest. We really need to add AARP to that little dynamic duo because two weeks from my birthday, I received a nice little notice in the mail - with my maiden name, of course, because that’s when they found me, as a child happily oblivious to death and taxes heading my way - that congratulated me on my joyous arrival.

"You're eligible for AARP! Won't you join us?"

I stood there when I got the mail, just looking at the envelope, unable to fully grasp that they found me. Two things occurred to me: One: they have known about me for decades. This, in and of itself, is remarkable and scary, and I firmly believe that the government and AARP are working together. (This is not a political statement, but it could be...) 

And two, they used actual mail to get hold of me, because they knew full well I'd delete an email (and I do) that looks like that. And in a small way, maybe I'm just a touch flattered? After all, they took the time to add me to their list! By golly, I'm eligible. I'm so honored.

Even worse, instead of just throwing the mail away, I opened it. I did! I looked at how much money they wanted per year, and then I looked at the handy dandy plastic card I'd get if I accepted to partner with them while my hair grows grayer and my bones just a little more frailer.

Then, I did what a lot of people do: I threw it away in the recycling bin so it would be recycled into more paper for future card-carrying AARP members.

While I gest, the truth is, aging isn't a bad thing. It's what we're all doing. I just wish it wasn't thrown in my face like confetti. I just wish we got some certificate for making it to fifty - or a gift card or something (and not have to pay to be in AARP). Because life truly is a gift! I noted several high-profile people who passed away last week, all under 50. And it happens all the time. I'm blessed to get this far. 

So if you're like me and approaching this decade, or perhaps another significant decade, just remember: the government hasn't forgotten you. Nope, death and taxes are a constant, and they know where you are. (The grim reaper and the government). But, never fear... so does AARP.

And maybe that brings a smile to your face, just like it did to mine.