The last Hummingbird

The last hummingbird sat tiny and petite on a small branch near the feeder full of dark red liquid food and listened for the sound of the winged birds of his kind.  He saw birds of every breed, but no one as small as he was. He usually spent the morning chasing his kin in circles around the tree, trying to protect his own procured private feeding area, thus earning himself the nickname, “Little Hog”.

His prowess was renowned among the hummingbird population and great planning was instigated to distract him, sneak in and drink the tempting cherry colored nectar. He could only chase away one bird at a time and while thus involved, the others would reap the benefits and drink their fill. But Little Hog was relentless and untiring in his self-proclaimed duty. That was why he was the last to go.

He lifted his small head and tilted his curved beak into the wind, listening to a distant call from far away, before he jumped onto the feeder again and drank his fill.  The soft wind teased the leaves surrounding him and he glanced behind, forward and sideways before he jumped to the branch once again, hunching his shoulders slightly. He knew it was time to leave. His stomach was full, his body fat, his babies grown and gone already. He was sure no one else would come and steal his food because he was the only one left behind.

He looked at the window in the house and for some inexplicable reason, flew toward it, hovering a bare few inches from the glass pane, as if to find something important inside before he left. As he waited, he saw what he was looking for, the person on the other side, the person who kept the feeder full of delicious, nutritious food.  He dashed in a circle as if saying goodbye and thank you, and then, Little Hog flitted back to the tree, turning once more to see the window before he lifted, fast and high, into the summer blue sky and was gone.

© 2013 Linda Gatewood

Your Legacy – like it or not!

I ran across one of my old books from the multi-volume collection, “Our Pioneer Heritage” (distributed by the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers) and could not help but stop a moment to read some of the pioneer stories. The DUP published hundreds of original stories that were part of individual genealogies - the lives of brave and courageous people recorded on one or two pages, birth dates, incidents, travels, deaths, struggles and triumphs. Even though the most important details were recorded, we know that 99.9% of their lives were left out.

I was watching a news story a few days ago that projected what was in store for us in the future. Because of the digital revolution and the many devices and social media now available to record our lives, they now have in mind a hologram app for a smartphone and this is what it can do:  All of the pictures and videos we upload, all of the data we upload, all of the activities in our lives that we share or are recorded by others will one day be bunched in chronological order along with our identity, available to a device and projected around us in a room as a real-life hologram. We can go back and see what happened to us at a certain time and can actually see our lives surrounding us in real time. It’s compared to the imaginative time chamber on the Star Trek series where it was possible for a person to instruct a computer to take them to a certain time frame and suddenly they were there. It’s quite amazing that this could be possible, and yet, we upload pictures, videos, chronological events, etc., every day without a thought, to our social media accounts or cloud storage. All of that info could be construed into a history of your life. Your children could someday “watch” your life, your future spouse could take a look; anyone could see what you have been doing since you were born. Scary, huh?

Quote from Eric Schmidt, author of The New Digital Age: In the future, our identities in everyday life will come to be defined more and more by our virtual activities and associations. Our highly documented pasts will have an impact on our prospects, and our ability to influence and control how we are perceived by others will decrease dramatically. The potential for someone else to access, share or manipulate parts of our online identities will increase, particularly due to our reliance on cloud-based data storage.
The ancestors of our past, who left their lives recorded on a few pages, only wrote the best of their efforts and activities. They recorded the best deeds they accomplished, no matter how difficult. Now our lives are being recorded every single day, no matter what we do, whether we encourage it or not. (The fact is, we do support and participate whole-heartedly in many ways.) But what an amazing possible leap from the pages of a book to real-life participation in the past!

So which mode of legacy do I prefer? Lives are difficult and complicated. Living one life – my own, is enough for me. I like to be inspired and uplifted by stories of great people even though I know, deep inside, that they are a lot like me, struggling part of every day, meeting challenges, digesting defeat, celebrating victories, and enjoying blessings; leaving a heritage to loved ones and constantly moving forward to hopefully a good and satisfying ending to the story.

I prefer leaving the perception we have of ourselves as the best legacy, but, alas, it's probably not the most honest.
© 2013 Linda Gatewood

My Antiques Roadshow Experience

I have watched the Antiques Roadshow on TV for years and often wondered if there was anything in my attic that was a secret treasure. Recently, when I was lucky enough to be chosen in a drawing for tickets to an Antiques Roadshow exhibit in Boise, ID., I was thrilled. My son Jared volunteered to go with me and we were both allowed to bring two items to be appraised. After searching high and low for our treasures, we left with our booty in hand and eventually ended up at the Roadshow in a really long line.

The Line was interesting because every person carried a treasure and it was a unique experience to be enclosed on all sides by all that strange and unusual stuff. We were surrounded by helpful volunteers and associates of the Antiques Roadshow who guided and helped us in any way.  There was plenty of security too and in spite of the number of people, it felt safe and secure.

When we reached the end of that line, our tickets were stubbed and we were given item cards and directed to another big room with more lines. Our cell phones were turned off and no more pictures could be taken. The lines in this part were shorter and broken up into areas that addressed the specific items, so we went and stood in the Paintings line for a short while and when we reached the front, were allowed to enter the portion where the actual shoots were taking place for the series on TV.

This was exciting because I began to recognize the faces of some of the appraisers that I’d seen on the program (Yes, I watched one of the twins appraise a table).  And I could see the actual spot where they were filming a segment with an appraiser and attendee with a treasure. The objects being filmed were extremely nice items and it was done very professionally. I was surprised by the loud noise with all the people talking and all the appraisals going on at the same time. I wondered how they could film in there with the noise and pondered how the lucky owner being filmed could even hear their appraiser, finally concluding that they must have wonderful microphones that block out the sounds.

We weren’t asked to do a segment on TV but feel like we ALMOST were! Truly! One of our items was very unusual and our appraiser seemed to consider it for a moment. I believe they only film about 50-55 TV items per session and since it was late in the day the quota may have already been filled.  Anyway, that’s what we told ourselves, feeling fortunate to have possibly been considered!

All in all, we had four separate appraisers and I recognized each from the TV series. It was nice to meet them and chat a bit. They were so courteous and considerate in the midst of pandemonium and very thoughtful about our treasures. I could tell they were exhausted from the long and incredibly busy day but being professionals, they trooped forward and gave us the attention we wanted.

Our items were nicely appraised to our smug delight and we left very happy and very tired.  It was about a three hour experience and a wonderful opportunity for us to see and participate behind the scenes.  There is a possibility that I was on TV, wondering around in the background, looking lost and bewildered before a helper found me and directed me in the right direction. I was wearing a bright turquoise shirt and my hair looked really awful.  That was because I had a harrowing experience with Lulu (the skunk) – another story for another time!
© 2013 Linda Gatewood

Spring Promise comments from readers!

Even though it’s still early, I’m so excited to be hearing back from some of those who have finished reading Spring Promise, the sequel to Winter Secret. By the way, I’d love to hear from you and would appreciate your thoughts about Spring Promise and the series. You can post on my Facebook.com//Winter Secret.com page if you’d like or here on my blog.

"Reading it now - LOVE IT! You are so talented - you're a wonderful writer. Can't wait for your 3rd book!!" Violet

“OMG! I waited a long time for this and was not disappointed! Loved it!”  Susan

“What I like most about your books is that they are clean and yet very romantic, suspenseful and exciting.” KC

"Spring Promise was everything I hoped it would be.  Lots of intrigue and danger! I loved that more secrets were revealed about Derek's past.  Anxious for Summer Truth!  Great story11" Sandy

"Ready for book #3!  Spring Promise was wonderful...But now I am hanging! I loved it!" Brandy

“I’m almost done with Spring Promise. School has kept me busy, but I finally got to start it on Friday.  It is so good, I am having a hard time cleaning instead of just sitting down and reading it. I like this one even better than I like the first one! Awesome book!!!!  Stayed up until 1 am finishing it. I loved it! Now, looking forward to the third.”   Angela

"Great read!!"  Jenny

"I edited and proofread the book, and I can tell you, it lives up to its "promise!"  Jan

"I loved it! Better than the first one!" Rachel
© 2013 Linda Gatewood

Ancestors and Memorial Day

Memorial Day was an important holiday to my grandmother.  She and grandpa raised a large family during the roaring 20’s and the Great Depression in a small rural farming community originally settled by their ancestors and a few other families.  Their relatives built the first post office, first school and the first cemetery and ties were strong to the community, their families large and prolific. Many of the graves in the cemetery belonged to our family members.  As the town grew over the years, so did the graves of my ancestors.

My grandma would start making beautiful paper flowers weeks ahead in preparation for Memorial Day.  These were added to those already saved in the attic, to adorn the graves of our relatives. A great celebration was planned as members from far away traveled this one time each year to meet. It was an unofficial family reunion.

On the day before Memorial Day, all the flowers were loaded up and hauled to the cemetery and placed appropriately.  The next day, everyone visited the cemetery and, as an impressionable child, I was led around the grave sites and listened to the personal stories of each person belonging to our lineage.  Some had been pioneers and suffered great hardships; some died of terrible, swift diseases.  Some were buried with stillborn babes in their arms. A few had secrets that were whispered in passing, while others had accomplished great deeds during their lifetime and were spoken of reverently.  They came alive for me as time slipped away and we were all united together, both the living and departed.

After the ceremonies and eulogies were over, we returned to grandma’s house for a feast of delicious food prepared in celebration and appreciation.  After the meal, as twilight was close to descending, some visitors returned home, some stayed over-night.  My grandparents and a few helpers returned to the cemetery and gathered the artificial flowers and brought them home, carefully repacking and storing them in the attic to be used again next year.

After my grandparents were finally laid to rest in that same cemetery, the Memorial Day tradition began to fade for some and the times changed. Camping elsewhere on that weekend became popular along with the great appeal for family attractions and entertainment. The numbers who gathered at the cemetery lessened and fewer came with flowers.  When I moved back, closer to the little community founded by my ancestors, I found myself once again walking through the headstones, supporting my aging mother, while she told me the stories of each of our relatives, their secrets and achievements regaled and honored, their sacrifices shared, their tragedies touching my heart.

We placed flowers on their graves and felt at peace as they were, once again, gathered around us, united and bound together forever, their histories firmly planted in my mind, their presence solidified in my bones and the foundation strongly laid for my very purpose, position and requisite existence in this life.
© 2013 Linda Gatewood

The Magic of the Clouds

Have you ever been surprised by early morning fog? The clouds that silently lower themselves, white and soft and gentle, their stillness quiet as the mist crouches and sits without a stir of breath. The wind has allowed them to settle, its absence giving them power.

Pinpoints of moisture probe the earth and release a scent of richness beyond description that emanates from the surface and wafts into the whiteness, gliding slowly, climbing gently, and delighting all in its' path.  The cloud holds its breath, while this birth of sensations slowly erupts and sails across the landscape, hidden and blanketed in filmy white.

I hold my breath, too, and listen, my footfalls loud, my own breath hushed, while I heed the gravid silence.  I know the birds are listening, too, their collective songs quiet for the moment. And when I do take a breath, the delicious heavy scents surrounding me permeate my body and my mind, sending pleasure directly into my soul and lifting me into the magic of the cloud.

Then suddenly, a breeze touches my hair and before long, the mist has disappeared, its magic dissipated.  When I look up at the clouds as they sail in their kingdom above, I know the secrets they hold, the enchantment they hide and I remember well the moments I once shared with them.

©2013 Linda Gatewood

I thought I was alone, but…

I live out in the country and the first thing I hear in the morning when I wake up is the sound of birds singing. It’s a great way to start the day and I usually open my curtains and watch the tiny furry little body’s flit and fly around my yard. In the spring, I often hear the call of wild geese and watch the great v-shaped returning migrants fly overhead. When the fields are full of newly melted snow, creating little lakes, the white Snow Geese and white swans, black ducks and many more species, fly down and make themselves at home.

One such day happened last week and I felt especially blessed that a huge swirl of thousands of Snow Geese were settling down just across the road from me in a field full of newly melted snow and tasty winter wheat just barely showing its green tips. Their cacophony of honks could be heard for miles. Since I have no near neighbors, I was enjoying this rapturous display by myself, or so I assumed.

It was such a large group of birds, I was sure it covered almost the length of a mile when settled on the ground. Some floated on the water, others walked around in groups. When the birds settled down for the night and darkness hid them from view, I knew I would have to wait till tomorrow to see them again and I wondered if they would still be there. Sure enough, in the morning, most of them were gone. The sky was cloudy and new snow was falling. But there was one little group of about a hundred or more birds still nestled down, some with their heads lifted, others still wrapped into their warm bodies. A few were flapping their wings, as if testing the air for liftoff.

I wondered why they never flew away with the others and as I observed them, I saw a person stand up right in the middle of the flock. He was talking to someone and soon another person stood up, this one holding a gun.  These hunters were very determined with their decoy birds, camouflaged tent of birds and their patience to wait for the flock to return. 

And I learned that I wasn’t really alone when the Snow Geese landed.

©2013 Linda Gatewood

What the 4-book Winter Secret Series is all about!

Winter Secret, the first novel of the series, is an enthralling story of love, suspense, peril and secrets. It weaves its beguiling imagery and prose around your mind, as captivating as the stanza in a song, never letting go until the end is reached.  And even then, there are more questions than answers revealed.

Spring Promise continues the engrossing story, the twists and turns of suspense constantly pulling in numerous directions, but promising answers.  Even though the past threatens, there is a more potentially lethal menace from the indefinite future.

Summer Truth follows quickly on the footsteps of promises. But the past finally reaches out and grabs Derek and Cynthia, forcing them to deal with the truth of the past that could destroy them both and the disclosure of secrets that could separate them.

Autumn Trust occurs in the present but is a book where the past and present and future collide, culminating in the surprising answers and resolutions needed to continue forward.  The amazing story behind the story is finally revealed.

© 2013 Linda Gatewood

A Love Story for Valentine's Day

If you want to read a great love story for Valentine’s Day, read Winter Secret.  You will thrill at the compelling story and plot twists that test the strength, love, and courage of a type of love that is pure devotion and selflessness. It is the story of the tender beginnings of true love between Derek and Cynthia that is threatened by innumerable forces determined to destroy them . Their love is something that we see only once in a while.

Quoting from a review: “The difficulties they go through is something that will surely put to test their bravery and character. This is a great exciting story of love and revenge and gives ample time to feel the romance in the book while interspersing it with enough action scenes to keep you on your toes. The romantic lines are truly those that will give you goose bumps and make your heart skip a beat while, at the same time, the protagonists are thrown into one conflict after another that helps to shape their characters well.”                                                                                                     K. C.

This book is soon to be followed with the next in the series called Spring Promise and will continue to answer the questions, solve the mysteries and explore the promising love and commitment between Derek and Cynthia.

©2013 Linda Gatewood

January - the month of dreams and plans

In Idaho, time stands still in January and gives us a moment to pause and wish.  We pause to rest from the holidays past.  The Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years that rushed by and pushed us ever forward towards the next activity, the next gathering, the next party, until it all stopped on January first.  The snow began to fall faster, the cold locked its doors, the silence of white-blanketed fields and hillsides covered us in peace. And we paused…

January crawls by slowly, forcing us to slow down and remember what life is really about; brief moments for the quiet visit, the empty rooms, the constant of our own company within the quiet of our minds; a time to reminisce, to remember what is past and make peace before moving on.  It is a time to renew and regroup for the year ahead with new strength and determination. The time to enjoy the beauty winter brings when boughs are covered in white fluff, weighed down with brilliant ice and the abundant fields are untrammeled, tempting us to play.  It is a time to long for spring and, most of all, a time for wishing…

We wish for the spent summer, when trees were green and winds were warm, when roads were clear of snow and ice, when the sun shown every day and kissed our body with its joy. We long for the freedom of the soft breeze and the delicious scent of roses. And in our longing, we rejoice with appreciation for what is past and anticipate what looms ahead because we know what is coming, what will be here shortly.   January becomes the month of dreams and plans for the future, the most important month of the year.

©2013 Linda Gatewood

Teaser for Spring Promise, sequel to Winter Secret

The love between Derek and Cynthia was tested to the limit in the exciting first book, Winter Secret, but will it be strong enough to withstand the continuing forces that strive to separate them?  Once again, a new season brings new adventures and terror to the couple who ask for nothing except to be together. 

A mysterious relic in the form of an ancient map and key that represent a legend of early American source, surfaces and ends up in the hands of Cynthia and Derek, who once again, must discover its secrets.  The pursuit of ancient hidden gold and treasure is a lure that draws greedy men into dangerous situations and ultimately interfaces the lives of Derek and Cynthia.  Not only is Derek labeled a terrorist who must clear his name but they are both drawn into the mysterious and threatening world of ancient legends and myths of the earliest Americans.  Derek continues to struggle with the pursuit of the man who murdered his parents and his obsessive need for revenge which draws danger into their lives, while Cynthia faces a new, personal and unexpected threat to their continued union. Will the danger and threats separate and destroy their love or will this new season of opportunity bring them closer together? 

Will they be able to stay together and keep the promises they made to each other or will the forces against them destroy the hopes of their Spring Promise?

©2013 Linda Gatewood

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