Pomegranates in Colorado?

 As soon as we got back from Italy, I started researching growing pomegranates. I quickly realized that they don't grow in Colorado. But ... there is a video of someone in the Denver area who had successfully grown a pomegranate bush in his greenhouse. If he could do it, so could I!

Never mind that I have essentially a black thumb. Where there's a will, there's a way. I'd discussed building a greenhouse with Mom and Beel, and they were enthusiastically on-board. Sadly, their accident happened just a couple of months after we returned from Italy, and the idea sat on the back burner for a few months. As Mom healed up, I dusted off the idea again and floated it by her. She agreed it would be a good, healing project, so I started looking up where I would even buy them. LE had received a live plant as a gift through the mail that winter. It never occurred to me that plants could be shipped through the mail! I've lived a non-existent, sheltered gardening life, apparently.

I found a nursery in Georgia that had Russian 26 cold hardy pomegranates in stock and would ship to Colorado. Poms don't necessarily need a second plant to produce fruit, but I felt better ordering two plants. I figured I had a better chance of keeping at least one alive if I ordered two. It's black thumb math.

I was so excited to get this box!

Once I received my plants, I decided they needed names. I settled on Marvel's Black Widows, Natasha and Yelena, because these Russian girls were going to have to be complete badasses to live with me.

Natasha arrived with a little bloom.

Since it was still April, and cold, our mudroom wasn't exactly the right place for the girls right off the bat. The instructions said I could keep them in a cool, dark place until ready to plant. I enlisted LE's help, and the girls went to her basement for a couple of weeks.

They did really well in her basement, but I was anxious to get them into 5 gallon buckets and start hardening them off. Once the overnight temperatures evened out, I planted them in their respective buckets and moved them into the mudroom. During the day, they lived outside, and at night I brought them in.

By May, they were showing new growth.

The pinecones are to discourage the cats from digging.

As soon as the greenhouse was complete enough, the girls moved into their forever homes. We'd just have to continue work on the greenhouse around them. It made for a big ole pain in the ass sometimes, but my babies need to go home.

If you look closely, you can see Yelena in her white bucket.

Throughout the summer, work continued on the greenhouse and the Russian girls thrived.

Pomegranate plants are actually bushes, but can be trimmed to be trees. I was determined to have pomegranate trees, so once they started growing enough to need a cage, I braided their main branches together to train them into a trunk. What I could not bring myself to do was snip off any suckers or buds along the "trunk", so eventually Yelena ended up with a random arm.

The girls had been growing steadily all spring and summer, but when August hit, they exploded! It seemed like they grew inches every day from mid-August through September.

If you look toward the base of her trunk, you'll see a branch sticking out.

As it began to cool off, growth slowed, and they began dropping their leaves for hibernation. I was elated that I'd kept them alive through the summer and that they thrived! The next big step was to keep them alive through hibernation. I tucked them in with plenty of mulch, insulated the pallet walls with bubble wrap and black trash bags to gather the heat, and hung heavy plastic over the windows and open screens to hold as much heat as possible and prayed. 

I was confident enough to ask Mrs. Deejo to put her craft skills to work, though, and make name stickers for each of the girls' windows.

Throughout the winter, I kept an eye on the temp in the greenhouse. I had a remote sensor that I put Yelena's tire, sitting on her soil, so I could watch to make sure it didn't drop below 10*F. I even bought a heat lamp and gas-powered generator for the inevitable below zero cold snap.

I'd done all I could, now we just had to wait for spring.

The Greenhouse

Holy cow, it's been a LONG time! I started this post in September of '23 and am just now getting back to it. Frankly, my posting had been pathetic prior to my parents' accident, and basically non-existent after that. I'm feeling the itch to write again, so here I am! Friends, we have so much to get caught up on!

Jay and I took an amazing trip to Germany and Italy in September of  '22. One of the things I was surprised to learn was how pomegranates were grown. They're one of my favorite fruits in the whole world, but I never gave a thought about where they came from, or how they're grown. 

This was taken at our agriturismo in Tuscany

I became obsessed with the thought of growing pomegranates for myself, and started researching them. They don't really grow in Colorado, but there is one variety, the Russian 26, that is fairly cold tolerant, down to 10*F. I found one instance of someone growing a pomegranate in the Denver area, in his greenhouse, and I became determined to do the same.

I knew the pomegranates would need protection from the cold in the winter, so I had the grand idea of building a greenhouse out of old windows. I'd seen pictures on social media and became obsessed with the idea.

I mean, who *wouldn't* want something like this?

Before Mom and Bill's accident, I even talked it over with them, because I knew that Bill had purchased some big windows for the lodge after their picture window had been vandalized. I wanted to buy the extra windows from them for the greenhouse.

After the accident, once things were sort of normal, I decided to go ahead with the greenhouse. I had some amazing pallets that Deejo had given us years before. They'd been acting as  training bridges for the horses, but they were perfect for the walls of the greenhouse! Mom agreed to let me have the "spare" windows from the Lodge. It was a start.

Skeeter training over what would become the greenhouse walls.

In May of '23, Mom and I started our summer mother-daughter project: to build a greenhouse for the pomegranate trees I'd ordered. 

Did either of us know what we were doing? Nope! 

Did it stop us? Also nope! 

I mean, have you met us? When the GunDiva and the Bionic Cowgirl put their minds to something, the universe just better get the hell out of the way and let us do our thing.

That's not to say we didn't have a plan, we did. I put a lot of thought into how to keep the roots of the plants warm throughout the coldest days of the winter. We typically have around ten days of sub-zero temps each winter, in January or February, so I knew I had to keep those roots warm and happy. To do so, I decided that I'd plant them in tires, so the black of the tire would act as a heat sink. I also decided that I'd put black weed barrier down as the floor to attract more heat, insulate the walls with bubble wrap, and cover them with black trash bags, all in hopes of drawing as much heat as possible.

I wanted to use as many reclaimed and recycled things as possible, partly to keep my inner hippie happy, partly to keep the cost down. LE offered up her basement scraps, which I came to refer to as shopping at LE Depot. Her "scraps" were amazing! When she remodeled her house many years ago, a friend had forbidden her from throwing them away. I am forever thankful, because we found a lot of useable lumber that saved us hundreds of dollars.

Mom drew out some plans on graph paper, then on May 7, 2023, we broke ground. We spent most weekends throughout the summer working on the greenhouse. It quickly became known as the "treehouse" because it was built specifically to house my pomegranate trees. 

We chose a sunny area near to LE's garden.

Just laying out the pallets made it feel more real

Setting the posts.

Installing the "walls".

Pomegranates can grow to between 10' - 12', so we made the front just over 10'. The rear is 6'.

This beam is not even close to straight, but it came from Mom and Beel's old horse shed, so it had to be used.

We had to call in some additional help to get the beams in.

Starting to take shape.

Rafters going up.

Bionic Cowgirl channeling her inner monkey.

I had to take a selfie to prove that Mom wasn't the only one working on the greenhouse.

Once the rafters were up, we called on the boys to help get the roof on, and to cap the pallets in preparation for the windows.

Roof's on (and one window set).

The Next Day

When Nebalee had called Deejo and Mrs. Deejo to let them know what happened they insisted on driving up from Phoenix to join us. Junior wanted to come out to Grand Junction, too, but Mom was adamant about him NOT coming. He'd just started a new job and she didn't want to put it in jeopardy. I know that was super hard on Junior; the four of us sibs have always drawn strength from each other and being purposely left out had to sting.

The work started the morning after the accident. Deejo and Mrs. Deejo had arrived a couple of hours after Nebalee and I called it a night. Bill was in Salt Lake City at the Medical Examiner's office, Reba was in Monticello, Utah, and Mom was in Grand Junction, Colorado. Lots of coordinating began very early. Nebalee and I peeked in on Mom, then handed her off to Deejo and Mrs. Deejo so we could head down to Monticello to get what we could out of the car.

Sgt. Taylor had arranged a ride for Reba to see their K-9 vet in Moab, which was incredibly kind of him. During the drive from Grand Junction to Monticello, Nebalee and I took on the onerous task of calling people to notify them of the accident. While Nebalee drove, I dug through our phones to find family members' numbers; those who we didn't have a direct phone number for, we sent FB messages asking them to call us ASAP. The almost three hour drive was perhaps one of the most difficult times of our lives. We hadn't even had time to process our own loss, but still had to make a ton of phone calls and ended up feeling like we were consoling everyone else.

We learned from when a friend of our died a few years ago, that we had to explicitly tell people not to post to social media until we had a chance to notify everyone and publish an official statement from the Lodge. We weren't trying to hide anything, but there were people we needed to speak to prior to it getting out to the general public.

I got a second call from Sgt. Taylor to let us know that Reba's ride had fallen through, and that we'd have to take her to the vet ourselves. Luckily, Moab is right between Monticello and Grand Junction, so it would work out just fine.

We managed to get everyone notified on our way to Monticello, and it was a huge weight off our shoulders to have that task done. Now we could focus on other things. Mom had asked us to get some specific things from their car, and Sgt. Taylor agreed to give us access to the car. Prior to taking us to the impound lot, he sat us down and told us what to expect and that it could be very traumatic. I believe he even offered to have another trooper get everything out so we wouldn't have to see the car. Both of us felt we needed to see the car and try to follow Mom's wishes.

The car was in pretty bad shape, but one glance inside at the driver's seat made me feel much better. I've been on my share of accident scenes and my imagination had gone wild. I've seen some really horrific ways for people to die in car accidents and had steeled myself for the worst. The two or three drops of blood I saw on Bill's airbag were a relief - it meant that he'd been killed instantly. He hadn't suffered for any period of time. Sure enough, the Medical Examiner's report that we received a few weeks later, confirmed that he'd died of an atlanto-occipital dislocation (often called an internal decapitation). My heart immediately broke for the bystanders who had performed CPR on him until the ambulance arrived - they didn't stand a chance.

This looks worse than it was, because all of the scattered pieces of the car were just shoved in it to load on the tow truck.

The entire back seat and everything in the rear of the vehicle ended up pressed up against the front passenger compartment. If Reba had been seat belted in, or had been in a kennel, she would have been killed; instead, she was thrown free. 

Though I was disappointed when Reba's ride to the vet fell through, it turned out for the best. Nebalee and I were able to see her with our own eyes to take a report back to Mom. I think it was also good for Reba to see people who were familiar to her. 

Rebs was definitely struggling a bit. Any of you who have met her at the Lodge know she's a sweet, loving dog, so when Sgt. Taylor asked if my parents' dog liked us, I was surprised. Apparently, she did not like the morning trooper and snapped at him. I didn't know Rebs was capable of snapping at a human. It must have been a bit more than just a simple snap, because the looks on everyone's faces when we opened the kennel and urged her out was incredulous. I just picked her up and carried her to the car with her face next to mine. 

It didn't take an x-ray to see that she had definitely broken her "wrist".

On the way from Monticello to Moab, I consciously watched the road near where the accident occurred to see if I could piece together any more information from the accident. Here's what I saw: there were zero skid marks from the car that hit them, meaning they never hit their brakes. There were marks from when they hit and launched Mom and Bill into the air, and marks from when they landed, before rolling on the diagonal. Thomas figures that if Mom and Bill were traveling at 70 mph, the car that hit them had to have been doing over 100 mph for that kind of impact. Of course, we still don't have the official accident report, over a year later. <angry face>

I don't know how we managed to find "her" blanket, but she was thankful to have it.

After splinting.

The vet in Moab was nice enough to keep her overnight for us, until we could figure out how to get her home. She suggested that we amputate Reba's leg, as the break was bad enough she wasn't sure it would ever heal. We were in no place to make that decision on Mom's behalf, so the vet agreed to just splint the leg so we could get her to her own vet.

So much was going on that day, that some events are crystal clear and some are jumbled. I clearly remember the trip to Monticello and back, but couldn't tell you a thing about what happened after we got back to Grand Junction. I believe Mom was moved out of ICU and into med/surg within 48 hours of being admitted. Her list of injuries miraculously shortened, enough that I began to wonder if they switched her imaging with someone else. The mandibular fracture they told us about didn't show up on subsequent x-rays. The brain bleed turned out to not be as big a deal as they originally thought. The flail chest (two or more ribs broken in two or more places) still existed, but the pain from that was mostly eclipsed by the pain in the rest of her body.

Mom kept telling people that they "re-inflated" her lung in the field, but I think we sibs were the only ones who truly understood that it was done by bystanders, not by the flight medics. It wasn't until she talked to the respiratory therapist on the day of her release that someone showed an interest in it and asked to see the puncture wound. I got the distinct feeling that the medical staff thought her memories were jumbled.

People really rallied around us, offering to help in any way possible: 

• A friend of mine with contacts with the Utah Highway Patrol got me in touch with one of Mom's human "angels".
• We had many kind offers from friends to help care for/transport Reba home.
• Mom's friends took on the job of calling and cancelling any upcoming reservations for the Lodge.
• Nebalee's best friend's family took care of us from afar, sending food straight to the hospital room to make sure we were eating.
• One of my blog buddies helped us find a Utah attorney with whom he'd worked on other claims.
• Every. Single. Person we were in contact with throughout the entire ordeal was amazingly kind and generous, not just the hospital staff, but also the hotel staff and waiters at restaurants. Through this horrible period of time, we were surrounded by kindness. (Except for Mom's car insurance - dealing with them became Deejo's job and he did not hesitate to tell them that he most definitely did not feel like he was in "good hands".)

As anyone would, I really struggled with the "why" of Bill's death. Mom confided in us that Bill was convinced he had cancer and had scheduled an appointment with our family NP to follow up just a couple of days after their return from Arizona. I had my "why" answered and felt immediate peace with Bill's death. That's not to say I was okay with losing him, after all, we all expected to have him around for at least another ten years. But after hearing about his cancer fears, it explained why he'd been slowly withdrawing from us for the months prior to the accident. I thought it was just me, but Nebalee mentioned feeling the same way.

365 Days

365 days ago I had gotten home from work and was in the midst of cutting pomegranates to remove the seeds when the phone rang. I glanced at it, but my hands were covered in sticky, red pomegranate juice. It was a number from Grand Junction, but not one I recognized. I decided that if it was important, they'd leave a message and went back to working on seeding my pomegranates. A voicemail popped up, and so I decided to quickly finish what I was doing and listen to the voicemail.

I don't remember the person's name who left the message, but she did mention that she had my mother in the emergency room at the hospital. I ruefully shook my head and wondered what Mom did this time. As far as I knew, she wasn't near any horses for another bionic-installation. I called back, ready to talk to Mom and laugh about whatever catastrophe had befallen her. It never occurred to me to wonder why Bill hadn't been the one to call - he's usually the one to keep us up-to-date on Mom's shenanigans.

I knew that Mom and Bill were on their way back from visiting Deejo in Phoenix, and expected them home that day, but didn't think much about it. They're experienced road trippers and had made the trip multiple times.

When I reached the nurse, she was very nice when she told me that my parents had been in a car accident and that she had Mom with her. Car accident? They happened all the time, surely it was just a fender bender and Mom was just letting me know that their trip home would be delayed. As the nurse continued talking, I realized that this wasn't a simple fender bender. This was a real-deal bad accident. She listed Mom's injuries: brain bleed, collapsed lung, flail chest, fractured mandible . . . the list went on and on. I don't panic, but I was definitely concerned and getting more so as she listed Mom's injuries. I figured when she was done, she'd move on to Bill's injuries. Instead, she said that Mom wanted to talk to me. I sighed a breath of relief - Mom's list of injuries was significant, but she was still with it enough to want to talk.

I tried to lighten the mood a bit when she handed over the phone, I don't remember what kind of joke I cracked, probably something about Mom being bionic enough, that she didn't need more. Her first words were, "Honey, we lost Bill."

I couldn't breathe. I must have made some sort of noise, because Jay looked up from his place on the couch and asked what was wrong.

Mom continued, "we were outside of Moab and a car ran right through us and threw us into the ditch. We rolled a couple of times. I must have lost consciousness because I came to when some bystanders were trying to pull me out of the car."

I mouthed to Jay that Bill had been killed in a car accident, and my mind immediately went into problem-solving mode. Mom said some more things, but my brain was stuck on 'we lost Bill'. I asked her if she wanted me to tell my sibs, and told her I was going to throw some clothes in a bag, grab Nebalee, and be there as fast as we could.

I completely forgot that I was supposed to be taking care of L.E.'s critters while she was on vacation to see her kids. I completely forgot that I was supposed to be at work the next morning. The only thing that mattered was getting to Mom as fast as I could. I called Nebalee, told her what happened and let her know I'd be there shortly to pick her up. There was never a question as to whether or not she was going with me.

Luckily, Jay said he'd take over critter duty, and I stopped long enough to text my supervisor that I'd be gone the rest of the week. Nebalee made the calls to the boys (Deejo and Junior) and let her kids know while I drove to her house. After I got there, she drove while I notified my kids. All I could think of was that when our Grandpa Ed died, Mom and Bill had the decency to come pick us up from school and tell us in person, while I was shirking that duty. I had to break my kids' hearts over the phone and couldn't be with them, but I needed to get to Mom.

I have amazing kids who completely understood, even though it sucked all around that we couldn't be together.

As we were traveling along I-70 to Grand Junction, I got a call from Sgt. Charlie Taylor from the Utah Highway Patrol. He'd been the responding trooper and was calling to offer his condolences. He wanted to make sure we knew that Reba had been found and that she was okay other than a broken leg. Honestly, I'd just assumed an accident bad enough to kill Bill had also killed Reba, and hadn't wanted to ask Mom about her. He said that he had Reba with him at the office and that she could stay overnight until we had a chance to see Mom. 

By the time we arrived at the hospital, Mom had been moved to ICU. It was a shock to see her lying in a bed, with a too-big cervical collar on. But if you've ever met our Mom, you know she's a force of nature. She might have had a list of injuries as long as my arm, and was black and blue, but she still looked like the force of nature she is. I could breathe when I saw her - I knew we weren't going to lose her too.

She was able to tell us what happened, and in the midst of this tragedy, there were a lot of "God things" happening. They were driving on Highway 191 just north of Wilson's Arch outside of Moab in the middle of a bright, sunny day. There weren't any other cars on the road, and Bill was doing about 70. I think Mom was reading, but she heard Bill say, "oh shit", and saw a black blur out of the corner of her eye, then they were hit on the driver's side rear fender. Their car was literally launched into the air, and when they landed, a tire caught on the soft shoulder and they flipped on the diagonal a couple of times.

The aftermath

Mom said she must have lost consciousness, because she came to as people were dragging her from the car. She knew she was hurt badly and thought she'd collapsed a lung. She consciously worked to control her breathing and fight away the panic. Lucky for her, two paramedics had been the ones to stop to help. One had recently retired from another state, and the other was off-duty. The recently retired paramedic managed to find cell service (it's notoriously bad in that area) and request a helicopter for Mom.

Mom being worked on by the paramedics,
after being saved by her human angels.

At this point, she knew Bill was gone. I'm certain she knew the exact moment he died. No one told her, but she did see bystanders pull him out of the car and begin CPR. Her breathing was getting harder, and the paramedics consulted between them. The off-duty one had the equipment and knowledge to perform a needle decompression right there in the field. I credit the two of them with saving Mom's life. The helicopter was twenty minutes out, and I can't imagine the horror of slowly losing the ability to breathe over that time frame.

When the helicopter landed, they immediately loaded her and off she went, without the chance to tell Bill goodbye. At that point, she also didn't know what happened to Reba, so she told her human "angels" to look for her. The recently retired paramedic stayed at the accident site with several other bystanders looking for Reba. After the helicopter took off, Reba poked her head out from between two cars and allowed herself to be caught. Since Reba can't talk, we can only assume that she was thrown out a window, and clear of the accident, from the impact.

By the time we arrived at the hospital and assured ourselves that Mom was going to be okay, it was very early in the morning, so we left Mom in the ICU staff's capable hands and headed to a hotel to catch some sleep.

The days after the accident are both a blur and crystal clear. I'll get to them within the next few days.

~~~

These past 365 days have been HARD. There are far more good days than bad (for me at least), but that doesn't make it any less hard. Perhaps the worst thing, even worse than losing the man who raised me, has been watching Mom go through such unimaginable heartbreak so bravely. She and Bill were inseparable, so not only is she having to heal physically, but she's having to do it without her other half.