Full.

September 5, 2014September 6, 2014 / Gin Getz / 3 Comments

The high country fades first.

The grasses on Pole Mountain turn to yellows, reds and browns.

Now the cold, wet autumn approaches.

Wool sweaters and down jackets and I even pulled out the long johns one day last week. My fingers don’t work as well in the damp afternoons and I remain huddled longer and closer cooking over the old wood cook stove.

The aspen leaves tilt and some turn. It’s happening. I’m ready. Though all I have wanted to accomplish this season remains pending. Time enough. To rush, push, get it done, and yet I know what this season does to me. Sets me stirring. Like leaves in the wind or cold silver waters after a fresh rain. To be out there, breathing, feeling, sharp sensed, wild like a deer, uncontained… Running in the woods and riding the high country when staying home, remaining focused, keep grounded, containment becomes closer to impossible… most years. Maybe not this one.

For now I want to be right here, where I am, doing what I’m doing. Today. Tomorrow is something else.

Maybe tomorrow, for today my hands are full.

Simple living isn’t simply living. There’s work to be done. Beyond hauling water and splitting wood, though those things must be done too. Days are full. Between building, books and guest ranch business. Cooking, cleaning, lighting candles, heating water in which to wash. Writing words, peeling logs, gathering eggs, shoeing horses, hanging laundry on the line in between storms, figuring out what to feed the boys, and chasing the goose out of the road as another visitor drives away. Would I want it any other way? Well, sometimes, yes. Indoor plumbing would top my list right about now.

Building. Two more months until snowfly will more than likely shut us down for the season. Not to say there won’t be snow before then. Next week may bring the first of it. I envision us shoveling off the work site, sweeping off our logs, working in heavy boots and thick gloves, watching our breath rise with the rising walls. Soon.

As the mountain releases, so do I. The slow, certain exhale to dormancy. The big sigh of relief. For years I attributed this to making it through another season without losing a client. I mean really losing. As in, loss of life. Injuries, well, that was part of it. You’re in the mountains now. But the pending fear of the big loss was ever present. I lost sleep over it, but never a client. Yes, that was a serious fear for me and a serious consideration in the outfitting business, while my clients would come in complete trust and often ignorance for which I would assume responsibility and risk. Many folks treated a horseback ride in the high country as a walk in the park. For me, it was their life on the back of my horse, which in turn meant their life on my back. I took it seriously. No, I have no intention of ever sharing the crazy stories I could tell of what my clients did, or what we did to them… suffice to say, I took my outfitters oath almost as seriously as a doctor does to her clients. Truth is, I learned from all of them, and loved the opportunity to share my world, my time, my horses, my mountain. And at the end of it, every time, I was glad I was done. Hopefully with great memories, better riders, and a mountain that remained unaffected for all the hours and foot prints, both horse and human, we laid upon her.

Breaking water in the oil change pan outside the cabin that serves as the goose’s pond. Ice most mornings now. I await the honking of the flocks coming down river, congregating on the flats of the reservoir below Ute Creek, hoping some primordial longing to belong will call Rikki. Friends tell me otherwise. Get used to it, they say, you’re stuck with a goose. I still hold hope that nature will prevail. He will want to fly off. I’ll let you know. Yesterday morning was the first time a flock flew over head. He ran to me instead.

Tonight after a dinner at the guest cabins he walks home with me and the wildly barking dog in the light of the moon.

This morning he remains on vigil, looking down at the river. Something in him knows, stirs. The river calls him. Will he follow the primal voice and fly back to where he belongs?

Lessons learned from looking between the horses ears. Because sometimes I see more clearly from there than from between my ears alone.

What next? What today? What lesson do I need to learn? Between my legs or out my kitchen window.

I used to run ‘em in. Made sense when I had twenty, even forty head to get in each day, brush out, pick hooves, saddle and get out on the trail. Now I have seven. Now I can take the time. I am their leader, not their menace.

Sometimes what we’ve been looking for is right there before us. Open your eyes, they remind me.

Between the horses’ ears.

Now back to work.

For those who received a complimentary copy (hard copy or pdf file) of The Last of the Living Blue,… please take a few minutes to write, post and share your review. If you need help learning how and where to post and share, please write me directly at gingetz@gmail.com. And for those who have already shared and posted reviews, and those who have written me personally to tell me your thoughts, thank you. Most sincerely.

As for the kind words some of you have shared, I can’t say I don’t need to read those things. I am finding myself horribly insecure with such matters right now. The first book was more personal than I would have liked (thanks to the poking and prodding of my initial editor), and the second came out too soon for me to be able to start selling myself all over again. I am a bit burned out on the whole process. Though not on writing. I am a writer. I am not a salesman.

Now I find myself turning pages back to and through already written words, back to Ginny’s world, the world we shared and lives that tangled and intertwined in the Patagonia winds. This book too shall come. It begins, the time has come. A new birthing. It stirs, awakens, as it was meant to do.

Time for letting the grapes ripen, the wine sweeten, seasons come and go, everything in its time, no matter that I’m as bad as any one for wanting it all yesterday…

Much appreciation and gratitude to Carrie Browne for posting a lovely review of my books on her blog, The Shady Tree. I also enjoy noting the progress Carrie has made on her poetry, photography and blog layout and design. Her blog is a wonderful place to visit. Enjoy!

A return to the approaching autumn.

This morning, the first elk call of the season heard across the mountain above the crazy calls of returning coyote. Tonight, hard rain on the metal roof. And already I wonder when it will turn to the silence of snow.

Movin’ on up.

July 31, 2014July 31, 2014 / Gin Getz / 4 Comments

In terms of construction, it’s slow but steady. Stacking big hefty logs, each one peeled and grinded, worm holes revealed, larva and young beetles removed, life and death skinned back with each pull of the blade of my drawknife, sawed and sculpted by Bob’s chainsaw, and lifted with ease by Forrest and the crane. This defines the first floor, with plenty of room for windows exposing an odd view of the changing hillside, now a silent, still wave of red trees.

Each log with a story to share, seemingly old as time, though even in the widest trunk we count back only three hundred years. Before the miners. Before the homesteaders. Before the dam, the fishermen, tourists and so-called old timers. You put it all into perspective. Counting the rings in the base of a tree now used to fashion the rising walls. It’s as if we’re creating a living museum for the trees. The big old ones. The kind my grandchildren and their children may never see live and green in these mountains.

Were they really once this big, perhaps they will ask me?

Oh yes, and bigger still.

That one we called Grandfather Tree.

Forever preserved in my home. I touch the smooth warm skin of wood and wonder. With these changing times, we learn to question: is anything really forever?

Rikki is air born!

So, this morning I’m sitting in the outhouse, door open as usual, looking down at the Rio flowing big and brown from all the wild rains we’ve been having, when suddenly… this goose flies by. Yes, my goose. Up river. Then down river. I don’t see where he lands but run down to the work site and start looking along the cliffs and calling and worrying and then… there he is, popping back up the hill side behind me.

Well, I guess he figured out how those wings work.

He looked so beautiful! Said by the adoptive mother of a Canadian Goose. Me, with my fear of heights.

Nature happens. I didn’t teach him to fly any more than I taught him to swim. I don’t do either one much, so how could I? A little boy staying in one of our guest cabins sees the goose and thinks it’s a duck, and what can I say as I thought he was a duck too when we first found the little fluff ball out on the cliff all alone? He tells me he hears they can swim. He says this with great admiration. I suppose where he comes from in Texas, and likewise for us here in the high mountains, swimming is not something you really do. Yes, I tell the little boy, he swims beautifully. And, I continue, he is learning to fly. The little boy’s eyes get wide and his mouth drops open. Really? He looks down at Rikki with tremendous awe. Flies?! He says. Part question, part astonishment. Wow, this is one impressive being… Watch, I say, and I run down the hill in front of the cabin and the goose gets air born, only a foot or so off the ground for a few paces then resumes to running (because that is what his mama has taught him to do, if one learns by example…). Just enough to leave the little boy basking in the wonderment…

Summer encroaching. Caging me in, the wild beast paces… Ready to bust free and soar…

At times it feels the more I give of me the less I have, rather than being fed by the giving and feeling more whole. There are empty places within me. Do you feel the same sometimes?

In front of me a hillside of dead standing trees. Close enough to be intimate. They are fading, their sprit song paling. There is silence where there once were stories of life, growth and timely death and a natural progression which is not what I see before me now.

The silencing of our collective soul.

Now standing before us stripped, bare, and lifeless.

An emptiness I need to fill.

I don’t get out much. Not down river. Not on the road, towards town, towards what one might call “civilization.” But yesterday found me in the truck, driving down our mountain, through the burn, and back up another rural road to another destination between a couple of tourist towns.

Each car or truck that passes by the other way, I lift my hand and wave. I should. That’s only polite. I might know these people. Or I might not. Which seems to be more the case this time of year when the vast majority of vehicles out there have out of state plates and no, I don’t know them, and probably never will. But is that any excuse to not mind my manners? Pretend I didn’t notice? Sorry, no can do.

I’m losing heart. After a dozen or so waves without a response, I wonder why I’m still lifting my hand?

The warmest mornings we had this year were 45 above. And now the heat is over. The sweltering days, all ten of them, are behind. Today, cooler air. Promise of fall. Longer shadows, shorter days. Already, I swear. Maybe I’m looking for it. Eager anticipation.

Until I look back at the log cabin we’re building and see how much we still have to do before snow fly.

Time flies, the goose flies, snow will fly. And what can I do but all I can do, or nothing at all, and wonder what drives us ever onward?

Cultivate your dreams like seeds thrown into the wind. It is your work to be certain what lays down wind is fertile ground, not hard stone, permafrost, or pavement.

Marketing Madness

July 17, 2014July 17, 2014 / Gin Getz / 16 Comments

Truth is, I’ve had little time for marketing since the release of my second book, The Last of the Living Blue. Probably all for the better. For my sanity, if not for sales.

“The books will sell themselves,” some say. I’m not so certain. I’ve always been a big believer in the direct correlation between hard work and success. But I’m also learning this. I’m not a salesman, don’t make a good one, and don’t care to be one. I’m a writer, and a rather quiet, solitary sort. I’m a writer because I love to write – not because of some calling to sell myself and my work. However, I do write for others to read… Thus, the dilemma.

So, if sales are up to me (and it appears they are) well, looks like I’m not going to be retiring from my day job any time soon. I never thought cleaning cabins or digging ditch would be my calling either, but by now I know I’m damn good at both, so might as well…

Food for thought.

Live a life worth writing about.

Find your inspiration in your world.

There is always a story around me to share.

Take the time to listen. To see and feel… and write.

The one rule I’ve always believed in for writing: write regularly, and write well.

So, life goes on.

House building, the summer social scene (yes, would you believe, even way the heck up here – this time of year, at least?), back to work on Ginny’s book, and waiting out the monsoon storms before placing another log on the wall of the new cabin. Horse work is on the back burner this year, and ditch work put off until the monsoons settle down. And still there’s no shortage of work. Only a shortage of daylight and personal energy.

Simple living. I once read a quote by Dave Ramsey that went something like this: “Live like no one else now so you can live like no one else later.” I think it’s safe to say I know no one else who lives like us. Not in this country at least. Years ago, we decided it made more sense to move out and camp for the summer, rent out our big house. Then we sold that, and moved out for good. Now, we’re down at the Little Cabin. If you stop by, it might look romantic. A tiny one room log cabin over the Rio Grande. Candle light, cozy, a cute outhouse nearby complete with crescent moon cut out on the door we leave open only when we’re in there. The view down river is too good to miss.

Then there’s the reality of sponge baths and doing dishes in a bucket on the picnic table. Three of us in a whole house smaller than most of your bedrooms and some of your bathrooms. Peeing out in the rain. Digging through a box under the bed for a change of clothes (it’s easier to just wear the same old thing – heck, clean clothes are going to get dirty sooner or later). Hauling water. An abundance of dirt and bugs. A step above camping. At least we have solid walls. Not quite a solid foundation. The northeast corner is taking a dive and the over easy eggs in the cast iron pan on the wood cook stove I fry up in the morning always make a left hand turn.

Yes, we’re building bigger. (There’s a lot to be said for a toilet and kitchen sink…) And we’re building it ourselves. And that, my friend, might be yet another book!

That said, I thought I’d share this on my blog for all fellow writers and anyone else who’s interested. This stems from a conversation with a friend/fellow author who asked me to share my secrets for selling books. I had to laugh. I have no secrets, and don’t sell a lot of books! However… I have made a few observations, and for him and anyone else interested, here is what I’ve learned in these past six months in which I’ve had two books published. (Seriously, has it just been six months? Okay, Gin, you can take a deep breath, and relax… before you get back to work!)

I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and have only touched the tip of the iceberg of this topic. Still, it’s a lot to take in, so please take your time. Skim it over now, maybe come back and read in depth when you have the time. Then please, share with me (and other readers/writers) your thoughts on this after you’ve had time to read and think it over.

Marketing Madness

Reading, writing, publishing, marketing. The wide world of books. It’s all a changing game. What worked once is no longer certain. What worked yesterday may not work today, and if it works today, please don’t count on it to tomorrow. And no one has the answers.

So, what do we do? Follow each passing fancy? Or stick with what you believe in. Be true to yourself. Honor your work. And keep on writing.

I use the term “Marketing Madness” because I swear it is enough to drive you mad – or make you mad – if you let it. Or you can turn your back and walk away, but that’s probably not the best answer either. Because the bottom line is this: you wrote a good book, and people will want to read it. So, marketing, in its simplest sense, is letting people know about your book (or whatever product you are trying to market). It’s reaching people, which really is what writing is all about anyway. Only different…

The Rules.

In this changing day and age of publishing, we writers by default must learn about marketing, yet the marketing stage is hardly set. There’s no clear road to follow. We are all forming it as we go along. There are no set rules, and we’re forging new ways all the time. Learning from others – sharing what has worked, what has not – helps tremendously. If nothing else than by opening up ideas we may have not yet considered. And giving each other the well needed pat on the back, simple encouragement to keep on going. Just the same, remembering that what worked for one may not work for another, and/or the game may have changed yet again by the time you try it.

I personally find this marketing thing difficult and frustrating. I feel I am selling myself when all I want to do is write. Yes, I know, terribly idealistic. So, we learn, we grow, we try, and we know there is no fairy godmother that’s going to wave her magic wand and suddenly we’ll have everything we ever dreamed of, sales like Steven King, be all we want to be, find ourselves as an overnight success and talking about our latest book with Oprah on TV.

The Big Secret?

I hate to break the news. So far, I found there isn’t one. It’s about hard work, like it or not. And it’s up to each of us. No one will do it for you. Someone may point you in the right direction, but chances are, they won’t even hold your hand or carry you there. If you’re lucky (and you know I think luck is made up of hard work… and a good dose of, ah, guts) they’ll give you a helping hand if you’ve fallen down.

It’s up to each of us to get our name out there, our books sold, and establish a market presence. And we find out, it’s not that painful after all. Especially if it means people are reading our books, which is why we’ve done all this work anyway.

Does it ever stop? Not from what I hear. So… we have to get used to it. Find our own style. Like with finding our own voice in writing, perhaps we have to find our own way to succeed in marketing.

Sharing Ideas.

I would love to share more and learn more on this topic which isn’t always the most fun to address, but matters to all of us authors trying to get established in this crazy, changing world. We all can learn and even enjoy with the support and encouragement of each other.

I enjoy bouncing ideas back and forth and learning from others. Yes, these are interesting times and I realize there are no set rules – we’re in a very changing game here, and want to learn all I can, but be smart about my choices. I do not want to ever devalue my work and be a 99cent seller. I would like readers to read my work because it’s good, not because it’s cheap. Likewise, I have not heard one positive confirmation that paying for publicity or marketing works wonders. Let me know if you’ve heard otherwise. Save your money, and get to work.

If I’m good, sales will come in due time – but not by sitting on my hands. Hard work does not frighten me, and I don’t believe in fairy tales.

The truth: Be true!

I’m thinking there are other things we can do beside compromise our integrity. Get the word out our way – sincerely, honestly, and ourselves. Slowly, but surely. Blogging, giveaways, personal appearances, personalize anything/everything, like correspondence, and writing everyone back. Treat our readers with respect, and trust they will in turn respect our work.

I’m not finding sure fire answers. I guess there are none. Yet I shall always believe one can build success on a combination of sincerity, belief in your work, and working hard.

So far, here is what I’ve learned in these past six months about marketing in a nutshell.

What’s worked for me:

– Blogging. It’s me. It’s real. It’s sincere. I’ve been told what I do is not “proper blogging.” My posts are too long, too personal, too rambling. Yes, that’s me. Don’t like it? Don’t read it. Though after six years at it, I’ve not only established a decent following of over a thousand people who care and I in turn have learned to care for, I have met many a real people because of blogging. Friends. Fellow writers, readers. People I converse with on a first name basis, and know the name of their wife, kids, dogs, and the town they grew up in. This is good stuff.

– Facebook. But minimally and with caution. It’s shallow. It caters to those who would rather “like” the latest picture of my pup than read real news, though so many of us turn to it to find some happy medium of keeping up to date and not losing touch with friends and family. I have no interest is posting selfies and telling you what I ate for dinner, but I will share my latest book and building news and blog posts. I found this summer I don’t have (or take) the time to look at the feeds, so I’m probably failing at the FB game now. I no longer look into what other folks have put up. I’m sorry. If you really want me to know, write me. I respond if I’m written to personally but otherwise, the random checking into other people’s lives has lost its interest for me when I barely have time for a bath.

– Reviews. Do your darndest to get folks to read and review. Ask people. Be personal. Don’t send out a mass mailer, but a personal note. Give them your book. You’re not asking a favor – you’re sharing a gift. Though… getting them to POST those reviews, well, that’s not always easy. Everyone is busy. Respect that. Then bug them to get it done!

– Endorsements. Take a chance – ask! I am wonderfully surprised by the person who could have hit “delete” but instead said “sure” versus the colleague I swore would have been interested but now can’t find a minute to write me back (Note to self: Be the person you want to work with! Treat EVERYONE with respect, and respond in kind.)

– Giving away pdf copies. It doesn’t cost you anything, but you get people to read it. If it’s good, and it better be or you don’t want your name on it, they’ll like it, and they’ll spread the word. Slowly but surely. Trust this one. The more readers, the better. Give it away! Maybe you lost one sale, but chances are, you’ll get a whole lot more because of it.

– Book signing. Once again, anything personal. I’m proud of my book. I want to share it. I’m shy and thought this would be torture, but it’s not. Readers are good people. Share your time and enthusiasm with them.

– Going beyond local and finding your niche. My local following… isn’t. More of my readers are from far and wide. I’m proud of this. Look far and wide. Not everyone works best from their front door. Find which way works best for you.

What didn’t work:

– Anything close to home. I’m not a social person or part of the nearby community, so this should not come as surprise to me that they didn’t care that one of their “locals” was being published. I thought suddenly they’d care. They didn’t.

– GoodReads. Their giveaways and support for authors. Not yet, at least, though I’m not done trying. So far what I found is that they attract quantity, not quality. And they are attracting a younger market than my readers. I know my readers and most would rather curl up with a book than sit at the computer surfing social media. Though, some of them do that too…

– Writing groups? I don’t have time…

– Twitter and other social media. Once again, I’d rather be sincere and be me. It’s not my style, my audience or my way of reaching out.

Getting Readers.

Of course this is the bottom line. And it’s not as easy as one would think.

You write to be read. So, you write a great story, but really – who has time to read now a days? Seriously – like remember the old summer reading list? Now we’re all too tied up and life’s too complicated and sitting down with a good book seems a million miles away most days.

And if there are readers out there, which I still believe there are, how do you reach them? Well, that’s what this is all about, this marketing madness thing.

And that’s where reviews come into play.

Getting Reviews.

This is a big one, and tops the list for “to do” because it really does matter. Though I honestly haven’t figured out why yet. I’ll let you know if/when I do. For now, I just know this. It’s a numbers game, maybe, but it’s not a bad or evil one, I don’t feel compromised, I just try to encourage readers to share (and post) their reviews.

Try anyway. Keep trying. Give away. The more you give, the more you get. That’s nothing new – we should all know that already.

How do you go about getting reviews? Start by asking. Personally. And then, you got it, follow up. It’s a bit of a dilemma. People promise. They mean well. But at the end of the day, where the heck are the reviews and the reviewers? Seriously, getting people to post reviews can be like getting water from a rock. (Once again, note to self: treat others how you wish to be treated! I’ve learned to post positive reviews for writers who could use them, and deserve them!)

There are places you can actually pay people to review your book. Let me know if that works for you. I haven’t done this and have no intention of trying. Maybe I’m a cheap skate, but I believe my writing is good enough that I don’t need to pay someone to read it. I think the point is, I want someone to WANT to read my books. And I want the right people to read my books, not some random person who is just doing it for the money. It might be the slower way of doing things, but once again, for me, it’s the sincere route, and the way I’ve chosen. I’m not going there. Not unless you convince me otherwise.

Reviews matter. They are important numbers our industry (books/publishing) bases our success upon. They help other readers find books, choose books. They need not be elaborate or fancy. Some are. That’s great. Some aren’t. And that’s great too. Not everyone wants to read a long one (or write a long one). Although those long one do help the curious book explorer understand their selection well, those short and to the point ones matter too. One of my favorites, from reviewer Lisa: “Damn good read.” That works for me!

Social Media

Of course I need to elaborate on this. It’s a huge topic, but I’d like to put it in its place and keep it small and manageable. I personally think that’s all it is worthy of. I am, after all, not a social butterfly. The following is based on a conversation with fellow writer, Kayann Short.

Social Media is hot right now. It’s new, news, ever changing… and flaky. You can play the game and go for the latest greatest, which may be something new and shiny next week, so stay on your toes. But if you do choose to play this game, ask yourself this… Is it you? Are you being sincere? Are you willing to give as much as you get? (Remember that 80/20 rule for those of us who use these things not just for entertainment, but for business: give 80 percent of the time and be lucky to get responses back the other 20.) Does it have substance? Are the people hooked on social media your readers, your target market? I wonder.

On the other hand, would the impact and importance of community involvement, writers groups (personal networking, etc) as well as writers and readers working together (as in book events, signings, etc), be more valuable than randomly reaching the masses impersonally with spam and twitter?

Is social media the modern way and the way of the future for writers? I don’t think so. I think it’s fickle. And I don’t want to be.

I’m not saying I’m ruling it all out. I’m open minded, just hesitant. I’m trying to learn the new rules, but I see too much fly by night, flitter, twitter, missing a backbone, spineless, give it a try, let it go, and try something new… The latest, greatest, bubble gum burst lasts about as long as that flavor… That’s my hard, harsh take on social media so far.

Personal Appearances

This is my style. Keep it personal. Be real, be me. Book signings, community events, anything personal. Get to know your readers, and the bookstores.

I was petrified of doing this at first. But it’s not as painful as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s really FUN. And an incredible opportunity to share, meet, learn.

Learn from your readers.

Learn what touches people.

Learn who your readers are!

Keep it personal – that’s my rule of thumb. I hope I’m always open to hear from my readers. There’s a lot to learn if you’re willing to listen. And you might even meet some great folks along the way. Icing on the cake, but what would a cake be without it?

Writer’s Leagues, Groups, Conventions

Support groups?

Writers Anonymous!

No, really, there are some amazing groups, organizations, leagues… Join! Participate! Share! There’s something to learn from everyone if you’re willing to listen. Find your niche, and find like minds or at least, like markets. Share ideas. Listen to what others are going through, and share what you’ve learned. I’m new to all this and learning all the time but am learning it’s fun – you’re dealing with other writers. And they’re in the same boat you are in, paddling madly to get to the other side and still looking at the same side of the river bank.

Help each other out, and maybe the tide will be more likely to turn.

What’s next?

Do you want to find and follow the next trend, or learn what works best for you and develop your own style? I’m big on being sincere, true to myself, true to my readers. All I can do is hope that in the long run, this approach will pay off.

I don’t want to be silly thinking my books will sell themselves, nor turn into a door-to-door salesman when what I am is a writer. We each must find what works best for each of us, I suppose, but certainly be willing to work. Ultimately, I want to be sincere. I still have to look in the proverbial mirror at the end of the day, and I want to like the person I see staring back at me.

What works for you? What ideas and suggestions do you have? Any advice you’d like to share? What are your thoughts on Marketing Madness?

Please take a moment to leave a comment so we all can learn from each other. Or if you prefer, you can always write me personally at gingetz at gmail dot com.

This is how my mind works.

July 7, 2014 / Gin Getz / 3 Comments

Caught in the middle in a land of extremes. The silence and solitude of winter now so far away. Today it’s about moving, shaking, building, banging, people, pleasing, chatting, listening, hearing a road racing with RVs and ATVs and almost forgetting the soft pale rumble I barely hear behind all this motion and commotion that is the Rio Grande. A certain and steady flow, drawing the line in a crystal clear sparkling swath between a high mountain summer season Mecca and a tranquil hillside of dead and dying trees which is where my heart is lost this time of year. Disconnected.

It’s the end of another day spent cleaning cabins, working on our new one, and sharing it all with the steady stream of visitors which summer brings. I’m going to go running. The dark clouds that have been building all afternoon suddenly seem more serious and a few fat full heavy drops tap loudly on the metal roof like anticipating fingers on a table top as I’m taking off my work boots and putting on my running shoes. No matter. I’m going to run. I’m going to sneak away from the goose, the tourists, the slowly growing cabin and the pending inevitability of figuring out what to cook for dinner over the old wood cook stove fueled by scraps of wood from the construction site, and appeasing appetites fueled from that construction work.

Out there in the rain, under a dark sky and through oddly eerie brown blue spruce stripped of needles, some having recently left their load still pale green in patches beneath their slipping bark and along the trail.

An owl calls. It is that dark.

The dog is in front, beside me, behind me, off in the woods to my left, my right, you never know except then suddenly there he is, as happy and wet and wild as I am and I’m feeling leaping over fallen trees that litter the trail, hair soaking and chest sweating and skinny legs nimbly peddling through wet brush.

I return to the baby cheeps of the goose on the top of the cliff above the river, looking down at me where I’m crossing – calling me home. He the wild thing, and me the domesticated. But for right now, it all feels upside down in the soaked state of summer rains in the high country.

Dear Readers: In case you have not yet had the time, please be sure to put these books on your Summer Reading List: The Color of the Wild and The Last of the Living Blue. And when you have finished reading them, and I shall sincerely hope enjoyed them, please take an extra few moment (really, that’s all it takes!) and post a review on Amazon, Barnes and Nobles, GoodReads, social media… where ever you feel comfortable, for reviews do matter and really do help!

And Reviewers: Those of you who requested and received a review copy. I hope you have read or are reading… and truly hope you enjoy! When you can, please take a moment to post your review. A huge THANK YOU to those who already have.

Growing up.

The new house. Not me. Though sometimes it feels one in the same. Solid roots. Walls. The Real Deal. (My boys may cringe at that one.)

This week brought walls slowly rising. Milling our own rough cut lumber. Framing out the first windows. Looking out. Looking in. Knowing now what that view will be like… Not too bad. Slow birth of a home, coming to life.

Peeling logs. Each a work of art. New life to dead trees.

The culprit revealed as we chip off the bark and grind smooth the knots and corners.

Life among the beetles. A couple years ago, we didn’t know what one looked like. Now we crush them with our hand tools as we wrestle each log in place, flick them from each other’s shirts, shake them from our hair, brush them off the log surface before we draw the line to make the measure that will mark the cut for the next part of the wall to the ever growing home. Did you know they bite? Maybe after working on the mill and peeling logs and sweeping up sawdust, I smell enough like a tree that they give me a go. We watch their random flight paths in the low light of evening as we pack up our tools and call it a day.

What will be the fate of the last living blue?

This is how my mind works. In random bursts. In colors red and gold then stormy steel grey, light and dark, warm and cold, getting colder. Discipline of body, of ritual, of ways to work. But not in peace of mind. You can’t really call me steady, level, even.

I leave you with this to consider.

A Rumi a dear friend shared with me yesterday:

Run from what is comfortable

Forget safety

Live where you fear to live

I have tried prudent living long enough

From now on I’ll be mad.

Don’t forget the power of anger. Use it wisely. On one hand, it can eat you alive. On the other, it can feed you. Fuel the fire of inevitable change.

Nothing stays the same.

Progress to date.

July 1, 2014July 1, 2014 / Gin Getz / 15 Comments

This post is all about progress on our home. Sharing the details to date. For those who care, are curious, and/or want to learn. Log Cabin Building 101 and then some. Let me start by telling you this. This is no Little Cabin. We’re doing it all to code. It’s solid, seemingly complicated and overkill at times, but it sure as heck is going to out last us all. And boy-oh-boy are we learning along way. Sometime more than I cared to or thought I needed to know. I still have this thing about simple. Funny thing is, elaborate and grande as it seems to us, it’s still so simple to some people’s standards for a high mountain, year-round full-time home for three.

So, here it is. Custom log home building at it’s funnest. A family affair. A home built by us, for us, with love. Evolving…

In the meanwhile, it’s business as usual in the other cabins as the guest ranch is up and running, we’re camping out in the Little Cabin, and life is good. Simple. Well, sort of. Best not get me started…

Where were we last time I shared an update? The ground was dug out, a level spot excavated, footer set and poured, stem walls formed, in-floor heating coils laid out and slab for the shop smoothed out. Then we set the floor joists… All this just to get started and have a helluva crawl space. Then again, I am looking forward to indoor plumbing once again, so whatever it takes, I guess.

Next, the sub-floor is laid out and oiled.

Then it’s time for the logs. First, we have to get them from our stock pile of those beetle kill trees we harvested from our land across the frozen river over winter. Secret weapons include: Lee’s borrowed crane, Bob’s new CAT, Todd and Barbara (seriously, where did you guys come from, and at just the right moment?), and my magnificent work crew (husband and son).

Thanks, Ellen, for sharing the great perspective on that last shot!

Okay, so once the logs are up, then they get moved by (borrowed) crane to (borrowed) mill.

From there, with help of the crane, these solid “logs” are put in place. Each one is milled two, three or four sided as need be. We’re doing custom, traditional “butt and pass” log construction. Base logs average a whopping 16 inches plus wide. We’ll be warm.

And there you have it. The base logs are set. Walls are defined (of the first floor, at least). Time for movin’ on up!

Really, I swear I do more than take pictures (and feed the crew). No comments about the chicken legs, please.

I can’t thank enough those who have shared so much with us already – their mill, their crane, their crane operating expertise (and great company), their support, encouragement and enthusiasm… but I will try: THANK YOU.

Now, onto raising the walls. This is the fun part. It’s all fun. The best part is simply being here together, working with the best work crew in the world. My husband and son.

Not a bad place to work either.