Burned one too many times…

When the hurt becomes too much to bear, what then?

after the fire
After the Fire – by Shawn Mitchell

There are times in life when you’ve just been hurt too much. You need to love, but the pain of loving is just too much to bear. What then?

Standing on the precipice looking out over the valley, the need to know how it feels to fly is bigger than the need to stay grounded. Flight is love. The greater existence of self in a world of many may suffice on some level, but the time to know yourself and one other has passed. You must fly.


The glory of one more sunrise alone may not be your dream, but it is your reality. When you’ve been burned one time too many…

The amazing brilliance of sunsets too big to absorb alone may overwhelm you, yet there’s no one to share. Absolutely none can see the magnificence with you, because you’re standing alone.

Those who have impacted your life can’t feel you now.

The reality of that solo flight isn’t loneliness. The reality is the gift you’re given, the appeal of living outside the ring of secure numbers, your ability to strike out alone and survive. Sustenance isn’t always a result of many, but on those rare occasions when you’re able to ‘go it alone’ it is the value of one.

The take off may be rough, the muck and the waters of life will pull you down. But once you’re airborne, you’ll soar to new heights, never before seen from land and never seen by anyone but you. The thrill of the flight will not be the sharing of the heights at which you soar, but rather the knowledge that you’re the only one who has experienced this view.

When you’ve been burned one too many times…

Take time to know yourself.

Take time to fly solo, enjoy the view and love the life you’ve been given.

Take time to heal. Time to awaken the life within you. Time to be alone.

The realization that you can BE alone and not be lonely comes only after you’ve experienced the joy of flying solo long enough to find the view best suited to you.

Once you’ve found it… you’ll have more to share.



Gold Market UP – Love them sunrises…

Some days greet you with miracles. This morning was one of those mornings. Sunlight filtered through the lace in my living room where golden glow-rays cast dancing shadows on the walls.

I’ve always been particularly fond of sunrises and sunsets, often even write shorts about them, sharing my thoughts and prose with the world. So, what made this one different or special, you might ask.

Well, I’ll tell ya!

Sunrise Gold
Sunrise Gold

A few nights back, I visited my friend Danielle who prepared dinner and interviewed me about an upcoming release and on the way there, I watched the sunset over the prairie. Clear blue skies with a few drifting clouds along the horizon sparked with silver linings were lit up by the gold orb of sun slipping low below the plains. When we awakened the next day, there were gray clouds hovering over and the day never brightened, but this morning that gold orb found its way to the eastern horizon. Scattered silver lined clouds welcomed the sunlight with a display of color fingering its way across a sky of assure blue.

I watched the reflection of this magnificent sunrise this morning while working on Oris George’s Business Cards. The Gold Market is up, my spirit of creativity is working well, and life is good. I’m excited about all the good GOLD marketing available to writers these days. Run by the Coffee Clatter and see what kind of Gold Standard writers expect to see….

If you’re looking for inspiration, go to ACE Writers and see what kinds of inspiration you can come up with.

Snow on the pines…

The first snow of winter fell on November 14th in Denver, Colorado. Those who know me, know how much I love snow and rain, weather of most any kind, except for  the kinds that become treacherous with wind and damage. My favorite thing is to wake up to snow covered trees and lawn with a heavy fog outside. There’s just something incredibly wonderful about heavy fog and snow.

Outside the pines are dripping with snow and ice. The weather looks fine! I’ve got a big pot of stew cooking on the stove, pies ready to bake in the oven, and company coming. I can’t imagine a better day for winter to arrive. Life is sweet in the fall.

Have you ever noticed the apples ripen just in time for first frost? We pulled the last apples off the tree about a week ago, I prepared apple pie for the freezer and canned 20 jars of apple butter for the pantry. Life is good in Colorado.

Single Mom – The Theme of This Month

I’ve decided it’s only because this is the month I turn 49. It’s that hazy day-breaking revelation that life continues no matter what the source.

As a single mom, my life is pretty busy and most of the time, dating isn’t an option. There’s just too much going on. But, then there are times when I have an opportunity to date – and take it. I’ve had some really incredibly good dates. A few of them repeatable and something I’d like to repeat. Others, I rarely talk about and try not to remember.

This past week had three specific dates. One very memorable and delightful evening with a friend. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, although I don’t consider “him” as a date. He’s a nice guy, a gentleman, and probably eventually a good friend. But a date, nah – not a serious contender.

The second event was supposed to be a date. My date arrived late – no big deal, he drove a ways to get here. I didn’t get too excited. We went casual, jeans and sweaters and had a nice time. I actually gave him a hug at the end of the night and sent him on his way peacefully. Nice guy – but no dice. He just didn’t keep me interested, not even a little.

Date number three offered something to write home about. In fact, I seriously considered calling my daughter and telling her what a great time I had. Until he dropped me off at the front door. Let’s just say a pleasant evening went south from the exit.

None of these were exactly planned dates. The first one was a last minute invitation to go with a friend before a meeting. The second was a blind ‘get together’ prelude to the supposed first date, scheduled for next week. (I’ve already made other plans.) The third was an event and we were simply going together.

There are a few ‘standbys’ who are good friends with a plan… I’ve never been certain what their plan was, but whenever I need a date for an event, or my friends need a date for an event, we end up on each other’s phone. But nothing serious.

After getting together with ‘friends’ and the few dates I’ve experienced this month, I’ve about decided it’s time for a Mom and Kids only Month. No competition, no drama, just mom and the kids for fun and a good healthy dose of laughter.

Giving with an Open Hand

“Life has been generous, and I’ve received the benefit and generousity of others, so it’s time to give back.” These words came from the mouth of a man whom I call friend. I watched as his generousity was received by many, the knowing and understanding grasp he has on giving didn’t surprise me. I’ve known most of my life that people who give benefit greatly from the gifts they give.

How can I give generously? The thought came about out of sheer consideration of the understanding of the source of provision. All things come from God, and in Him, all things are plentiful and good. Blessings are poured out on those who give.

A gift no matter how small, offers the giver an opportunity to bless and be blessed. Can you imagine a greater benefit?

Standing on the rainy side of the grandstands, I watched as a small child reached up to hold her father’s hand. She could barely reach his weathered, work worn hand with her own tiny fingers, but she stretched high and he reached down just a bit and her hand grasped his finger. The look of appreciation on her tiny face sent magical sparkles into the air.  Two teeth shimmered between her lips when she smiled.

I watched from the covered booth where I waited for others to stop and catch a glimpse of history or some conversation under the cover. The drizzle continued for hours. Only a few people stopped by during that time, but that little girl and her daddy stopped in every booth for a moment. She held onto his finger and walked slowly beside him every step of the way.

At the end of our row of booths, a puddle wider than the sidewalk and about six inches deep in the middle loomed. Her eyes grew bigger as they neared the puddle. Before they got to the puddle, her father reached down and swept her up in both arms to carry her across. She laughed with delight as she wrapped tiny arms around his neck and snuggled in for a comfortable ride.

The gift of love.

Such a tender moment, and so freely given. The child’s trust and love came sparkling through. Generousity comes with more than benefits to the receiver. The giver is grandly acknowledged and recognized too.

Sand and Sage Fair

Big Timbers Museum offered a booth at the local county fair this week and there was much to-do about not a lot of anything. Although all the usual folks were there for 4-H and politicians made a big show of appearing in person at the event, including a registration booth for new voters, and a means of turning your registration into a vote by mail option, there really wasn’t a lot going on.

Is it the economy? Was the big question of the day.

No, it wasn’t the economy. In sunny Colorado where the weather in august often reaches a balmy 105 degrees, it was 64 degrees. It wasn’t the weather friends, it was the rain. Nobody wanted to leave their nice cosy homes where they were getting a blessed afternoon to read a book and enjoy life to mosy around the local county fair and look at political booths. And there was precious little else to offer.

A fine lunch put on by the 4-H’ers in Elmer’s Garden offered a fine Saturday noon meal without spending hours in the kitchen. You could have your choice of cookies, cakes, pies or delicious cream puff deserts to top it all off. An afternoon spent bidding on cattle at the auction in the newly completed Pavilion offers a dream come true on a rainy summer afternoon. Bright lights, friends, room to roam around and the galant ring of the auctioneer’s voice bring memories rushing back. Nothing is better.

But there’s still not enough people.

The only commercial booths sold for the event were makeup, jewelry, and candles, under the grand stands and the Big Timbers Museum booth where A.C.E. Writers representative, Jan Verhoeff, offered an ACE Writers drawing for the coming Conference on August 23rd.

When people complain about there not being enough going on in town to keep the kids busy, I always have to wonder where they spend their summers. This year in particular, the Fair was unattended and left wanting on many accounts. I’d like to know where the people went.

Rain – Glorious Rain, falling in…

You probably can’t tell that I love rain. But, I’m going to tell you that I love rain. I could probably stop there and you’d understand that this morning’s post is about RAIN in Colorado. We don’t get nearly enough of it here on the plains. And yet, coming home from La Junta last night, we saw miles and miles of rain flooded fields. (Okay, no flood, just rain puddles sitting in the fields.) We do LOVE rain.

I was slightly agrivated. They get rain all the time in La Junta and in Granada, on both sides of us, but here we sit in the middle with NO RAIN.

It’s not that we deserve rain more than they do, or even that we deserve rain at all, but it’s nice to have. That’s my point! So, knowing that, I’m amazed that we don’t get rain. I like green growing things, flowers, trees, moss on the north side of the house. Without rain, or at least morning dew to bring moisture to the ground, we don’t have green growing things… At least, not the ones I want.

So, yes, I’m being selfish here, when I say – I love rain! I actually love having rain in my yard, because it means I have a green growing yard, and the kids have to mow! YEA!

Most days I try to do something other than ramble, but today – ramble is the name of the game.

If you took a moment to read this, I promise something of greater value later today.

Hump Day Greetings!

It’s Wednesday! The sun came up, as per the course of events scheduled for this gorgeous day. There’s the smell of sweet processed feed on a gentle breeze. The birds are making a delightful noise atop the pole this lovely (ly word for Oris – in case he didn’t notice) morning. The children are resting peacefully in their beds, and life is good.  

My neighbor to the north disrupted the day with the sound of prairie thunder idling in his driveway, at the break of dawn, announcing to the world that he has the day off and is going riding on his Harley! His wife must have wanted to go along, because as I heard it ascending on the world, I heard her call to him, “Wait!” The sound faded. He didn’t come back… Therefore, she must have been left alone… But, yah though she would be alone for long – a Mexican Doorbell rang through the neighborhood, twice from the front of her driveway. Her sister awaits in a blue PT Cruiser to carry her off to breakfast – or whereever it is they go on Wednesday mornings…

 And the light begins to dawn, the sun has risen and all must go forth to greet the day.

 Long live the starling!

Write “The Rain Drops Splatter”

Crisp clear mornings washed bright by rain don’t happen often in Colorado. The dawn of a new day after a rain here often means dirt will blow, or some other gray phenomenon will be coming our way before the day’s end. Not pessimism, just simply the way the rain works in Colorado. There aren’t many rainy days.

As a teenager, we spent many summers in the midwest where rain was more common and I learned that I really enjoyed a good rain storm. Many of my journals those summer days began with “the rain drizzled down the window” and talked about weather systems I longed for back home. “Thunder rumbled and rolled across Michigan, ripping through the forested land like a new plow, laboring under rain laden gray clouds.” Could provide for hours of writing a description of storms rolling slowly overhead as I curled on the top bunk of our family motorhome with my paper and pen a handy friend.

Continue reading Write “The Rain Drops Splatter”

Inspired to Write – The Day’s Beginning

“You may have experienced a glistening morning with dew dripping from the tree leaves, sparkling on the grass, and sunlight glinting off each precious drop, but until you’ve witnessed a morning in southeastern Colorado, you’ve never been inspired.” I remembered the discussion and the quote as I arose shortly before the first lights of dawn fingered their way across a clear sky this morning.

My grandmother was telling about their arrival in Colorado on the first day of April, 1916. With the wagon parked outside the dug out grandpa had helped build the summer before, they’d arrived after dark the night before. There was no lush green grass to greet them, it was early spring, the prairie was still gray from winter and the nights were still cold.

Inside the dugout grandpa had built a fire in the stove and invited the family in from the covered wagon, only to be met by my great grandmother’s refusal to go ‘down in that hole in the ground’. She wasn’t impressed by the half dug out that proposed to be their home, five steps down below the prairie floor. Nor was she impressed a few hours later by the wolves howling around the wagon where she slept alone, grandpa waiting at the entrance to the dug out where he and the kids were safe.

Even today, I can imagine the conversation as it might have been.

“George Walter? Do you hear those wolves? You brought me here to the middle of nowhere and we’ll be eaten by wolves before the morning.” Effie might have said, straining to see in the darkness.

“I’m here, Effie.” George Walter Venn might have answered, raising his gun to the air to shoot, intending to scare the wolves back from the wagon. “I’ll send them away, stay low.”

The riffle would fire into the night and the wolves would leave. Effie, with the help of her loving, attentive husband would step over the railing, come down the wheel from the wagon, and safely walk into the home he’d provided. With the wooden door closed against the beasts of the night, Effie probably curled beside him on the feather tic to sleep the rest of the night away.

“It’s a magnificent morning!” I can hear grandpa opening the door to the early morning dawn. “There’s snow on the prairie and deer in the front yard. This is a lovely place to live.” His announcement probably brought most of the eleven children from their beds to see snow on the prairie. “April Fools!” His announcement rang for nearly sixty years, every April First grandma remembered.

While I may not even agree with grandpa’s proclaimation about mornings on the prairie, there’s one thing I do agree with, ever day of my life…

“It’s a magnificent morning!”