My Hope for Tomorrow

My hope for tomorrow is more bright sunshine and sweeping clouds drifting across a clear sky, as birds wing its’ breadth and awe, amidst the constant we know as time.  When the sun tires and reflects against the east, the storm clouds, crouching in the distance, move forward and as the storm arrives, it brings nourishing rain and cleansing winds, even as it sweeps away things we may cherish, it renews what is left behind with new life and sustenance.

My hope for tomorrow is a gentler spirit among men, a more loving heart and tender mercies, showing forgiveness to the unforgivable. Finding gratefulness in all things necessary or not, and a mindfulness of the consequences of all our actions and words.

My hope for tomorrow is a broadening spirit, reaching out to all men with open arms embracing kindness, thoughtfulness and love, with an understanding of broken hearts and dispirited lives; painful regrets and unrequited service.

My hope for tomorrow, as I lay my head down tonight, is to wake on the morrow to a world healed of its wounds, cleansed of its anger, thankful for its blessings, and renewed by the overpowering love each of us has to give – freely.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Writing a Novel

I’m working on the third book in my Winter Secret Series (Originally called Four Seasons to Choose, series).  The first book, Winter Secret was released in May, 2012 and the second, Spring Promise, is in production and due to be released this spring.  The third in the series is called Summer Truth and, as any reader knows, in a series, there are always issues that need to be resolved and loose-ends that need to be tied up by the finish of the series. Summer Truth is the book that begins to answer some questions left previously unanswered and so, in writing it, I find myself returning to the first two novels to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. I only want to tell part of the truth in this third book – not all of it, because the final book, currently only partially written, will be like the fireworks finale on the fourth of July!

When looking back, I realize how many hours I have been writing; years in fact.  I’ve found that it takes about a year for me to finish writing a novel.  I think I must “chew” on it a lot. Recently, I was looking for a particular chapter I wrote for Winter Secret and when I couldn’t find it in the book, I remembered that I threw it out during the final edit because it just didn’t seem to relate to the section of the story at that time.  That happens a lot when writing.

I still haven’t chosen a title for the last book.  I haven’t found the right word yet:  Autumn…something?  Fall…something?  It must be a singular verb, for instance, Secret…not Secrets. And it must epitomize the culmination of all the books in the series.

Guess I’ll chew on that for a while!

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Feeling Appreciation

How do you describe the feeling of appreciation? The tingling sensation that dances across your arms, around your throat and descends into your heart, where thrilling and deeply touching warmth begins to glow until it spreads throughout your body and soul until your eyes begin to sting with tears of gratitude. Gratitude physically felt, bringing joy, thankfulness and appreciation that covers you with a blanket of happiness that wraps around with a great big hug.

Don’t deny yourself the opportunity to experience this awareness of bliss that awaits when you count your blessings. Begin with one and keep going until you reach the end, which is usually impossible to reach. Blessings are endless and have unlimited repercussions in life, but to try to count them will cleanse and lift your heart and bring happiness into the hardest of times, the darkest of souls, and the emptiest of lives. This is the beginning of true beauty inside you, the love that grows like a flower until its color and scent reaches out to touch others and not only enriches their lives, but changes yours forever.

Begin with: I appreciate the gift of life….

©2012 Linda Gatewood

My spooky yard

As everyone in my family knows, I have a spooky yard, especially around Halloween.  Creepy crawlies climb up your spine, cold shivers tingle every nerve and a scream is only a short breath away. So I’ll try to explain what happens in the yard when that special time of year draws near.

The yard transforms from endless green grasses, bright red dancing Geraniums and golden Marigolds - whose blossoms shelter seeds from the ravages of winter - to the creeping cold death that must end the life of soft ruffled leaves and gentle pansies.  The Morning Glories close their blooms for good, the green vines becoming stiff and brown, their clinging tendrils swinging in the breeze to grasp at whatever passes. Great swaying trees are bare when their leaves perish and fall, the branches raw and exposed. The friendly chirping birds take flight and leave in their stead, flocks of Ravens, ravenous for food or treasure.  The sky, as far as you can see, is black, with only tiny shining eyes that wink in fear.  It sets the stage for Halloween in my yard.

When the silver moon shines its magic metallic light upon the black bare branches of leafless trees, the ghostly spirits appear and begin their dance. Their feet crunch against the dried, boneless foliage lying prone across the spiky shoots of frozen grasses, while their voices croon among the abundant, abandoned nests of hornets, whose white corpses rest deep inside their self-built coffins. Wispy strings of fog tangle themselves together to kiss the ghosts and caress their translucent faces hidden in shadow, as they twirl across the endless black sage covering the ice cold ground. If you ask, “Who goes there?” you will hear the whisper of names reaching out from all directions, their need to speak, to be heard, to touch you, insatiable, unrequited and forlorn.  Best to turn around, run as fast as you can, or risk being bumped by a bony hand, or rattled by a skeletal frame, until you are lost and all alone in the forest of the forsaken.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Be Good to Yourself!

One of the cruelest things we do to ourselves is to beat up our morale with regret, remorse and procrastination.  We take the stick of regret and pound away, and then we grab the whip of remorse and cut deeply. On top of all that, every day we take the needles of procrastination and stab ourselves repeatedly all day long.  Why do we do this?  Are we sadists?

Since Autumn arrived, I’ve been thinking about all the things I meant to do this summer, but didn’t.  For instance, I managed to clean up the garage, somewhat, but never got to the large attached storage room which is definitely a warm-weather job. (I picked up the stick of regret and began to pound.) Why, oh why, did I let the time go by and not do it because now it was too late. (I grabbed the whip of remorse.) Another year will go by and who knows what critters will take up abode in that room!  Then, I moved on to the next thing I never got done. 

Thinking these thoughts did a strange thing to me.  I began to feel overwhelmed and helpless; unable to move forward and achieve anything at all.  The days crawled by while I made lists in my head of all my many failures in life.

Then one day I woke up and said, “STOP IT!” This must stop right now! You must be good to yourself! And how would I be good to myself?  Well, I would start by doing what I could to make my life a little more comfortable between me and my conscience.  I hadn’t vacuumed my bedroom floor all week because I was so busy wielding the stick of regret and whip of remorse.  I hadn’t fixed the newly bent curtain rod in the guest bedroom or hemmed the new curtains for the dining room because I was wallowing in procrastination.  I hadn’t called a good friend for a chat because I felt I never had anything cheerful to say.

I wasn’t seeing the beautiful sunsets or hearing the leaves fall gently against each other.  I was missing the scents of dried herbs rubbed together in the spent garden and the silence of insects that no longer buzzed in the air. The rush of hot and cold air, all in one day, against skin tired of being assaulted by the constant burning summer sun; the settled and sleepy landscape, exhausted after producing, once again, for another season.

No more wasting my time using the stick of regret and whip of remorse!  I plan to make myself happy by indulging in freeing my conscious and moving forward, doing the little things that are important, listening to the sounds of Fall, tasting the harvest, keeping hearts and hands busy, looking forward to tomorrow and all the joy it holds.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Happy

A good reason to be happy today… is my first thought when I wake up in the morning.  First reason: the wind has softened; the sky is so blue and I can smell fall in the fresh air from my open window.  I slept well and feel refreshed and healthy.  I’m uplifted for a moment before the other thoughts begin to crowd into my mind and I gradually pick up the worries that clung to me as I fell asleep last night.  Did I over spend yesterday when I shopped? Did I remember to put gas in the car? Did I forget my son’s birthday? (what day is it anyway?)  Did the dreadful storm hit the east coast as predicted?

It takes a few moments before I reign in my thoughts, pulling them back to where they belong:  In the present; back to the soft wind and blue sky and sweet smells; back to this moment and my very own reality and my surroundings.  I ask myself why I’ve become such a worrier about things I can’t control or stuff that doesn’t really matter.  Because the most important part of life is happening right now, right here, right next to me.

The sun rises slowly behind the mountains, sending sunbeams cascading across the fields, the shadowy trees transform into green puffs, the tiny birds, hidden in branches, sing their morning songs. If I listen, I can hear life happening in every direction and I can almost see its progress since yesterday.  A few more colored leaves on the bushes, a golden hue cast around the crops next door and tiny dry seeds appearing on spent flowers.  When I begin to number the wonderful reasons to be happy, the count just goes up.

Yes, there is a lot to be happy about today and I’m going to do my best to concentrate on what really matters.  And so should you!

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Turn up the heat (Just kidding!)

Summer heat is on across the nation and it’s HOT!  Luckily, we have a small, sometimes insignificant advantage, in our corner of the world, located in Idaho, sheltered by tall mountain pines and brushed desert sage dampened by morning dew.   We have the soothing, calming, cool summer nights descend when the temperature drops by fifteen, twenty and sometimes thirty or more degrees as the golden sun sets in the west and the shy rising moon sends out its silver moonbeams.  The evening breeze scented with wild rose and juniper is fresh as it crosses our brow and softly washes through our hair, lifting the heat from our bodies, making endless summertime tolerable, refreshing and, occasionally, addictive. These twilight moments are as priceless as a rare radiant sunset or sunrise can be, or as memorable as the robust breaking waves following the tides on the Isles of oceans.

Sitting outside on a cool summer night with the stars twinkling high above is soothing to the soul and brings relief from the relentless heat of summer daytime sunshine. Did I say addictive?

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Love Stories

     Some of the greatest love stories can be found in your own family history.  My family must have been great writers because they all left wonderful stories of their lives, some dating back to the early 1800's. It seems to be traditional in our family for everyone to add a page before they leave this earthly life. If it is possible to find all the stories and bind them together, it makes for very interesting reading.
     The greatest love of my ancestors seems to be their love for the Lord and his teachings. They made tremendous sacrifices for their beliefs and their hardships were combersome and heavy, but they left wonderful legacies and splendid examples for those who followed. It's easy to feel ashamed in our spoiled lives when we forget what went before, especially when we are feeling as if we should have more. We have already been given priceless treasures by our ancestors because we have everything we need now, due to their sacrifices.  And I'm not just talking about material needs; I mean spiritual, strength-building, bone-deep, gut-wrenching and tough moral fiber. You inherited that too. Just read your family histories.
     Their love reaches out to touch our lives even now when we read about the baby that fell out the back of the wagon traveling along a bumpy road in the mid-west. How two little girls who fell behind the company picking wild flowers, came upon the child, wrapped tightly in a blanket, still asleep, lying in the middle of the road, while the wagon train had moved on down the trail. And we are told that the baby was our great-great-great grandfather.
      I hope everyone will write their "Love" story for their progenitors and bind it with all the others for many to read. These stories will give strength and meaning and purpose to the readers.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

The Front Porch

I was sleeping as sound as a baby when suddenly, at about three o’clock in the morning, I was awaken by a barking dog.  My big dog, Buttons, lives in the back yard and has a very distinguished and deep “Woof” that will sound different at times, depending on what he is barking at.  When a stranger comes, he barks a loud and distinctive, “WOOOF…WOOF…WOF.” But when friends come to visit, he barks a happy, “WO…WO…WO…WO.”  When the local skunk visits and eats the dog food, Buttons sits nearby (while the skunk ignores him) and his woof is high-pitched, as if he was crying as a child would, “He’s eating my foot!!  Stop him!!!  Get away, you pig!!!”

But the dog I heard in the night was different.  It sounded just like a little Yorkie dog was sitting on my front porch barking to come in!  Such a tiny little sound coming from a tiny dog!  Way out here where I live so far from everyone, how could a little dog end up on my front porch?  So I got up, went to the front door and flipped on the porch light. 

I saw my big cat, Alex, sitting next to his food bowl (full of crunchy tidbits) with his nose nearly touching the long pointed nose of a full grown fox.  The porch light never bothered either one of the adversaries.  Next to the fox, on the cushion of a lawn chair, lay three more of my cats, languidly lifting their heads to discover why the light was turned on.  Meanwhile, the fox continued to yip-yip-yip!  The cats lazily surveyed the area, and then closed their eyes again, stretching a bit to be more comfy. 

Alex glanced around and yawned widely, before he turned back to the sharp nose of the fox.  Meanwhile there was only one thing on that little fox’s mind – the food bowl!  He continued to bark his little Yorkie bark while Alex ignored him and never budged from his spot.  

I made a noise at the window and, with one look at me, the fox disappeared.  Alex yawned again and walked away from the bowl, before laying down for a nap.

As I continued to survey my front porch, I decided that the fox wasn’t a new visitor to the food bowl, because my cats seemed to completely accept him as a family member.  It reminded me of their reaction to the skunks, who not only visited the back yard dog bowl, but made a regular sojourn to the front porch food bowl as well, with the cats cautiously moving away from the pointy little tails.

I’ve been told that foxes and coyotes kill cats and small dogs.  Since I live so far out in the country, I’ve seen many wild animals and wondered if that accounted for a few of my missing cats. But I had to see, to believe, a big tom cat bully a big fox!

Wild animals are simply hungry and since my food bowls sit on their territory, they believe I put it there for them.  So we must share.  I don’t begrudge their presence around my home and delight whenever I catch a glimpse of one of the beautiful creatures.  If only some of my distant neighbors and other ignorant people felt the same way. When they see a wild animal, they almost salivate to get their hands on a gun to kill it.

All my baby skunks (who grew big on dog food) have disappeared and the calls of the coyotes are more distant as traps for their furs push them away (believe it or not!  Who wears coyote furs?).  One of the saddest things I ever saw was on a bitter, cold winter day, early one morning, a coyote was crossing the field behind my house.  He had traveled far for a drink of water and was returning, limping along as best he could on three legs, having lost a leg to a trap.

I missed some sleep last night but I’m grateful for the creatures, wild and tame, who surround my home and make my life richer for having crossed their paths with mine.  I pray they are safe and sound wherever they abide.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Favorite Authors

One of my favorite authors is a man named James A. Michener.  He wrote an amazing number of wonderful books before his death.  Some were made into movies and enjoyed by millions.  I especially loved his concept of a story and his ability to make history so fascinating.  His method was to pick a spot on Earth and begin at the literal beginning for that area and write the story of the inhabitants until modern times.  One of the most interesting of his novels was one that took place in Colorado (Centennial).  He began with a family of dinosaurs who lived in that spot and moved through time until the present; the Native American Indians who lived there, the pioneer settlers, the modern cities.  Each time period was filled with a family, an individual, or a dynasty and their story was told.  Incredible story-telling!  Well worth your time and unmatched by any other.  Try reading Texas, Mexico, The Source (a favorite), Iberia, Centennial and all the rest that he wrote.  You will have trouble picking out your number one.  It is a good read in January when the days are long and you are inside more.

An author I have loved for many years is Mary Stewart.  My favorite of her books is Thornyhold.  Great escapism and enjoyable story telling! 

Another favorite is The Count of Monte Cristo; good revenge, moral awakening and satisfying story.

Something I found by accident and no longer in print (order from used bookstore) is a book by Mary Luke called The Nonsuch Lure.  I re-read it at least once every few years.  So fun to participate in that fascinating story!

I have many favorites and this is only a short list of books that are like old friends to me, sharing many moments of my life and helping me to sort out the many mysteries of reality.  There is nothing like a really good story written in a book!

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Ghost Towns; one of my favorites!

Bannack, Montana

            On July 28^th 1862, John White and William Eades were the first to discover gold along the banks of Grasshopper Creek, originally named Willard’s Creek by Lewis and Clark.  Thus began the gold strike that established the town of Bannock in western Montana.

            Bannock grew into a large city and actually vied for the title of State Capital of Montana.  The most interesting aspect of this town is its survival.  Although completely uninhabited, it still stands in all its glory, many buildings partially restored or repaired.  Because it is owned and operated and protected by the state, there are no commercial entities allowed.  For a truly ‘ghost town’ experience, this one has all the stars.

            We have visited this town each year and never tire of the pioneer atmosphere or legends associated with each building.  In a booklet provided at the visitor center, there are stories taken from old letters and diaries that are written by actual residents who helped to establish from bare roots the wonder and enchantment of this famous old ghost town.  As you move from building to building, you are able to understand and experience the history and incidentals associated with each.  In July, the town fills up with actors, vendors, and musicians for their Bannock Days Celebration; very much worth your time!

            If you are looking for a new experience close to home, I would recommend a trip to Bannock.  You can pan for gold (and keep what you find!), join a tour with an interpreter, or just wander alone, absorbing the haunted atmosphere of past lives.  And when you leave, you may just see a crowd of people dressed in long gowns and cowboy gear, waving good-by.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Reunions

    

July is the month of family reunions.  Who, out there, isn’t involved in some form of get-together, whether it’s a giant gathering of all clan members or just a visit from those far away?  Many have looked forward to this for months and others have probably dreaded it a bit; lots of extra work, always eating too much and, of course, the expected and uninvited thread of tension that weaves its way around and through the mingling crowd: the members of the group who have never gotten along very well and only meet this one time each year.  We may pretend that it isn’t there, but it is - snaking its way through the gathering.

     This is the test of our roots – these moments of confrontations and how we handle them.  This is when the instincts and knowledge of our ancestors and their histories is most important. 

     Remember how great-great-great grandmother handled that burglar who invaded their campsite when they were pioneers?  She pulled out the gun given to her by a gambler passing through – payment for a meal – and aimed it at the thieves ordering them to leave.  She had never handled or owned a gun before and was a very gentle soul, but her children were there, her husband was away and she did what she had to in order to protect them.

     And how great-great grandmother hid the children in the large flour bin when the Indians came to her home, then cooked a meal for the natives before they left because they were so hungry.

     And during the depression, when great-grandpa took in a large family who were homeless, he quietly went into the field and began to plow an extra acre to plant more food.

     Strength, charity, tolerance, forbearance – some of the qualities passed down through the generations to you and me.

     So, this month, remember who you are and draw from those memories to bind the members of your family closer and cherish what you are; a person molded from the challenges and choices of those who lived before you – your ancestors.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Summer Camping

High summer seems to finally be here.  After waiting longer than usual, we have at last reached the lazy-hazy-crazy-dayz of summer. 

When I was a child my dad had a nice boat and so every weekend we were on a lake somewhere.  We traveled far and wide to enjoy every boating experience we could, once even going as far as Glacier National Park. 

I remember the hot sun, cooling breezes and the never ending nuisance of lots of bugs; also the smell of fresh air skimming across crisp clean mountain water; (sometimes not so pleasant if rotting fish dotted the shore).

As children, my sisters and I searched for shells, rocks, twisted driftwood and anything interesting we could find.  When our bodies had saturated the sun and wind and we felt as if we were part of the forest, we eventually rested beside the cool shade of pine trees or inside our tent if the bugs were too bothersome.  When we became dusty from hiking or exploring, we would jump into the nearest water hole to refresh and then explore the natural inhabitants – water beetles and sometimes, leaches.

My dad fished a lot and mom kept our camp clean and also cooked delicious meals, usually centered on the fish my dad caught.  We had no TV, radio, mp3, phones, PC games of any kind.  The only sounds to reach our ears were the chirping birds, buzzing bugs and the wind singing through the branches of the leaf covered trees. Occasionally we heard chipmunks chatter, woodpeckers rattle while they hammered the trees and the distant call of Eagles souring high above. Sometimes we heard the bellow of moose and once, in a remote mountain lake near Butte, Montana, we watched black bears walk the shoreline across the lake from our camp, making growling sounds as they moved.

And so, in the silence of the woods, we talked to each other…a lot!  We talked about everything…what we thought about…our various opinions of everything; sometimes we sang songs together.  We read books and played silly games with flashlights.  And we laughed a lot about everything until we wore ourselves out. 

After that, I knew what my sisters liked and disliked – I really knew them.  I knew their expressions and thoughts about everything.  And when we went home (so glad to take a bath and wash our hair!) I felt a strong tie with my family that was forever binding. We didn’t just exist together as relatives – we shared the task to help each other for as long as we lived because we knew how much we needed each other; a friend in the dark, a voice in the silence, a pal to navigate through the twisted paths of life.

The summer camping trips renewed us, reunited us, and brought us back together again.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Linda’s thoughts during a power outage:

     Sometimes we forget how black the night sky really is without the usual man made brilliant lights forever reflecting heavenward. 

     A flash of lightning during a fierce storm can easily take out the power and when dark clouds obscure the stars and moonlight, the inky blackness can overwhelm, especially if the matches usually left above the fireplace on the mantle are not to be found. And the flashlight that the grandkids played with was never returned to its designated place. 

     Not only is it dark but also quiet. The steady hum of electrical appliances is silenced and only the occasional sound of the storm can be heard (a possibly terrifying experience).

     At these times I comfort myself by remembering that humans existed without power for thousands of years and darkness at night was common for them.  (Of course, I’m sure they could see in the dark much better than I; primitive night vision or some such phenomenon.)

     With my cell phone in hand lighting my way, I finally find matches and a small candle, and become my kind of human once again, watching the comforting little flame spring to life.  And after a few hours when the power is restored and various illuminations throughout my house begin to glow - the refrigerator is humming while the water heater gently hisses - it feels almost like a miracle!  My gratitude knows no bounds!

     One thing is certain: in our advanced world: we have succeeded in keeping the darkness at bay, but only increased our fear of the unknown should we ever have to face it – without the light!

©2012 Linda Gatewood

A writers' beginning...

I have a grandson who is only 5 years old, but he loves to tell stories.  His stories are long, long and longer!  And he loves an audience who will listen intently.  It is my opinion that he is a future writer!  Is this how writers begin?  I know that in my case, I've always wanted to express feelings and opinions by writing.  And stories flow through my mind constantly, so it is natural to put the two together and write a story. That is the beginning of a wonderful endeavor that will bring gratitude into your heart forever.

©2012 Linda Gatewood