Sally Gerard

As my novel, An Alliance of Stars, finds a second life in self-publication I’m reminded of the sweetness of the relationship Isa, my main character, has with horses. In her grief over the deaths of all those she loves, in the midst of abuse no young teen should have to face, she finds acceptance and perked ears willing to listen to all her woes, all her hopes, all her plans for escape and they demand nothing back. They love her soft touch, her attention when she rides, her low voice, and the absolute trust they’ve built with her.

Even when she must sell them off and run for her life, she turns to horses in her new life and across many planets. They mean home to her.

It is the same for me. In this world, filled with hate, filled with no regard for anyone who doesn’t share your view, filled with name-calling and sticking people in categories, this face brings that gentle and loving spirit back to life for me. When I let others make me feel like I don’t count, like I’m invisible, like the only purpose I serve is to meet their needs, I run a soft brush over warm skin, saddle and ride or stand and speak my own woes, and find my home, my safe place to fall.

Recently, like two days ago, my first novel was republished with a new title on Amazon. The paperback version is out now too. While it was published briefly in 2013, the small publisher went out of business, and so Windows in the Loft sat idle and unavailable. Once I got the publishing rights back, I needed to figure out the best plan to get it back out there.

Publishers don’t really want work that’s been previously published, no matter how short the time. My second novel, Worthy of Love, suffered the same fate in an even shorter time-weeks.

I needed to do something but wasn’t sure what to do or how to do it. Enter COVID. My son was laid off part way through the shutdown and has digital marketing skills and time. While he searches for a job, I hired him to work for me. Win-win.

We brainstormed a title that better fits the story of Isa and her escape from an abusive guardian to becoming a part of the Space Alliance: An Alliance of Stars. She has to leave the land and horses she grew up with and loves. Finding the courage to do just that, she steals aboard an outbound starship and finds her way to a new future. Give it a try and leave me a review. It’s out in paperback now as well. http://bit.ly/Allianceofstars

Our next venture will be a reboot of Worthy of Love with a new title and cover.

An ideal space for my little sister, Cathy, would have to include sage, a little forest of aspens by a mountain lake, or a warm beach by the ocean, and quiet space to meditate, think, and breathe. She’d often take off and head up to Rocky Mountain National Park to Sprague Lake or some other spot just to get away from the pressures of her life and find some peace.

Once she came to the point where she could no longer drive, after suffering strokes, I know she missed those places very much. When some friends from the church in Omaha picked her up from our house in Mead to take her with them on a short trip through Wyoming, she wept. To lose her autonomy, her independence, and to have to live with her sister’s very active family, well, it cut deep into her spirit.

I could not understand. You couldn’t either. I had compassion and love, but I couldn’t know the loss she felt.

So, I planted this little aspen and have fought the heat and drought to keep it going. A good friend gave me this memorial stone after Cathy was killed and I plan to set it close by this tree. I want to build a little place here where she might have stood, burned some sage, said a prayer, and found some peace.

Pixabay.com

We had fall launch on Monday, well, I did. Out of my element with a boatload of lower elementary students, I’ve been up to my eyeballs in parent/grandparent email pleas for help. Supplies are all on back order due to the enormous number of families choosing to do online school with my company. It is all about listening and encouraging and finding links to stories online and reminding those learning coaches (parent/grandparent) that while they wait for the colored math manipulatives to arrive, pennies will work just as well, or marbles, or candies for that matter. And who doesn’t want math you can eat?

I’ve had some pretty angry emails and have learned again that people just want to be heard, want to know someone cares, want to believe this will all be fine once they get used to it.

But I have one wonderful grandmother, trying her best to help her little granddaughter. But Grandma does not speak computer. At all. And she cannot have someone come to her home to show her because she is high risk for COVID complications. Today she told me this: “I’m a retired entertainer.  Song and dance.  Computers were not in my field.  Stage work.”

And I replied: “Why not use your own talents to teach your granddaughter? Pick a favorite show and perform some of it and then have a conversation about characters and settings, plot and conflict.

Talk about the stage and show her the “math” of it: dimensions, entrances, exits, sound. Take her on a “history” tour of a stage or a particular show.

Talk about costuming and the “science” of make-up. I’d say that should cover the basics for a few days.”

We have to be flexible, teachers. We have to be.

The start of school can be just like a writer starting on a new draft. It is chaotic, high-anxiety, not sure what is going on, wanting to be and do your best for some “other” be it student or reader, and then, finally, diving in and hoping you remember how to swim.

On the teaching front, I have charge of 100 1^st to 5^th graders, for a period of time to be determined based on hiring and training new teachers for the influx of new online students. I have to rely on the wisdom and knowledge of those who have experience with these “littles,” as I am used to middle and high school students. Texts to Arizona are plentiful. I worked on this “virtual locker” as an introduction and can’t wait to see theirs.

On the writing front, I’m working on a draft of a middle grade novel. I have the barest beginning, but it has a lot of potential. Giving myself the time to work on it is the biggest issue. I’m working on it. I’m looking to some experts and will be sending off the first 1200 words for an expert opinion from a publisher. Scary. Exciting. And like those “littles,” one-day-at-a-time.

Right now, I liken both experiences to the Manitou Incline (Google it), which we hiked a few summers ago. The view from the top was a site for sore muscles, or maybe it was just the top itself.

View from the “Treehouse”

From the first hike on May 27th, to the last on August 5th, they’ve all been a glorious adventure in the woods on the mountains of Colorado. Starting with an old favorite, Mule Deer Trail, we saw moose and came back again so we could enjoy our PBJs in what I like to call the Treehouse.

Alpine lakes are a favorite hike destination, we hit at least nine different lakes at various altitudes and all absolutely gorgeous. We hiked to several spots we’d never been before, familiar spots we love, and tackled one of our over 13,000 foot peaks, James. I hiked the Bear Creek Trail eight different times and loved each and every one. On that hike, I watched twin fawns grow out of their spots and into a little mischief as they gained the confidence to stray from their mama’s side.

Like riding my horse, and pre-dawn runs, hiking fills a place in my soul and spirit, helping me sort through rough spots and reminding me that life is filled with tiny blessings that I only need to look around to notice. 213.4 miles later, I look forward to the next hiking season.

Do you have a vision for your life? How badly do you want it? If you don’t act on it or put any energy into it, is it really a vision? A goal? What action or effort will it take to get there?

Nothing happens overnight, but when we take small steps in the right direction, eventually we do get somewhere. It’s much, for me, like my everyday to-do list. If I write it down and can then cross out what I’ve accomplished, then I feel like I got something done. And I did.

But why is this so hard to do with bigger things? We often look at where we are in our lives and wish we were further down the road to that place we wanted to be or that place we wish we could be. I’m as guilty as the next person.

Sometimes it is because I’m not sure what the next step is, or my vision keeps getting blurry and I can’t quite grasp the focus I need to find my way. There are definite actions I know I need to take and something always seems to hold me back: procrastination, deciding I’m not ready or I’m not good enough, or some small task comes to mind and I let myself make it more important than my own work.

It is a day-to-day battle, but one that I keep doing my best to fight.

Advice is welcome.

Sharing the trail with other users is a good thing. It means lots of people can get out and enjoy the mountains in various different ways: hiking, running, cycling, or on horseback. However, the different ways people hit the trail are not always compatible. My gut sense tells me that it’s because some people have decided that the posted rules, common sense, and human curtesy do not apply to them.

How did I come to this wise and well-thought-out conclusion? It could be from the cyclers who come down hills so fast that I have literally jumped out their way to avoid death, well, or at least dismemberment. It could be from the large dog that bounded around a switch back and came at me, growling and teeth bared. When I calmly asked the owner, who I couldn’t see, to please call their dog. I got a yell in response, “Oh, he’s friendly.” And I love dogs, more than a lot of people I know, but put a leash on them already.

I’m on the trail, not to get the fastest time, not to see my dog run free in nature, not to scare the living daylights out of some unsuspecting wildlife or other trail user. I leave before dawn to enjoy the silence, see some deer or elk or moose, or even a chittering squirrel or two. I look around me at the flowers, the trees, or the mountains in the distance. I breathe in the smell of fresh rain from the night before, the chill of the morning air, the deep layers of earth and I am filled.

If you aren’t out there to take it all in, if all you want is to speed down hills or watch your dog run free, why not do it on a road or at a dog park? Or at the very least, use a leash, slow down a bit and let’s all enjoy the trail.

I think of my life in seasons more and more as time goes on. I sometimes feel this sense of invisibility as one leads into another. Hiking season is precious to me, providing lots of solace to a weary spirit. It stretches out before me toward the end of spring and then seems  be cut off abruptly when August demands its due and the start of school begins. But there is much to look back on, remember, and smile about. And we have yet another week to make one more climb into wild flowers, flowing creeks, and rugged beauty as far as can be seen.

I’m past ready for a break from the constant heat and too little moisture. I’m more than ready to check back in with my students, find out how their summers were, how their families are, and what adventures they may have had. I look forward to the “Mrs. G., I don’t get this,” or the “Great knock-knock joke, Mrs. G.”

My snow shoes are right where I can pull them out for a day trip somewhere close by. And we do have a fall hike day planned that isn’t so very far away. Take hold of what is here and now and the joy in the little blessings of every day. Be kind. Love well. Hike on, wherever the path leads.

We couldn’t figure out why the hike is called Hell’s Hole, but what a hike! It was steep for the first two miles or so and then had its steep spots, but we’ve hiked much worse as far as incline. On the way up, we saw two snowshoe hares, and met two wonderful people.

The gentleman from Mississippi was breathing hard, but with only one day to spare for fun on a business trip, he’d chosen to hike. The other, older gentleman, was from Parker and originally from the Slovak part of the world so I felt a connection.

We ended up together in the breathtaking meadow and settled in the grasses, sharing our snacks and each other’s lives for just a brief time. It was communion. It was fellowship. It was spirit-filling camaraderie.

The world stood still for just a little slice of time and touched all four us, mostly strangers and yet friends.