Greenhorn Lake

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Several months ago, I took up the habit of walking, five days a week, around a nearby lake, with my mother.

It was to help her, you see. Her doctor told her she needed to start walking, and she said she would. But I knew her promise would go the way of most good intentions, unless something was done to seal the deal.

How did I know so much about good intentions? Because when it came to walking, my own intentions had died a thousand deaths, from neglect.

So it was also to help me, that I raised my hand and said, "We'll both walk. Around Greenhorn Lake. Starting tomorrow morning."

We began.

The very first day, we fell in love with the sparkling water, the wooded paths, the deer, the occasional fox, or squirrel, the hawks and pelicans and cormorants. And the geese, several hundred of them, all insistent that we share with them our bread. So we did.

And do. Each day, my mother and I take one loaf of bread, two walking sticks (for steep or gravelly places), one pair of binoculars, the occasional friend or two, and one good camera, to set off on our morning adventure. There's no question of ever stopping. The beauty pulls us along. Greenhorn Lake isn't an interruption in our day. It is our day.

The place was named for a certain man fresh off the wagon from Boston, who, during the 1800's Gold Rush days, stepped into the assayers office to ask where he might find a vein of gold to mine. Of course, if the assayer knew the answer to that question, he'd be a richer man. But he thought he'd play a joke on the young greenhorn, so he said, "Sure, son. Look out that window. See the oak tree up yonder? Go dig under that and you'll find your vein."

It wasn't long before the young man brought piles of gold into the same office, dug out from under the oak tree, just as he'd been promised. It turned out to be one of the richest mines in the area.

Have you ever taken a fresh new step in life that opened up whole worlds for you? So much of the good in my life has begun that way. One day I met a delightful man, and I ended up marrying him, and that began a journey that this summer will bring me my first grandchild (by my step-son, Noah and his wife, Julia), and my second daughter-in-law (Krista, who will marry Alex).

One day I wrote a book. One day I started walking around the lake. One day I picked up a camera. All wonderful new beginnings.

And one day this coming January, I will launch an exciting new group blog, Novel Matters, with six talented authors: Bonnie Grove, Sharon K. Souza, Latayne Scott, Debbie Fuller Thomas, Patti Hill, and Jennifer Valent.

What will we talk about? The writing, and reading, of beautiful fiction.

Which makes my former blog -- Reading, Writing and... What Else is There? -- sort of redundant, doesn't it?

Thus the new blog, Ever Mindful. This is where I will talk about everything but writing. About the lake, certainly, and the things I see there, the pictures I take and the thoughts I think. I may even discuss books I'm reading, but my emphasis will be different. This will chronicle my attempts at living a grateful, trusting, attentive life. A life that will foster the writing of beautiful fiction. (I guess I'll never get too far from that.)

And of course, I'll tell you all the breaking news about my books. A proud mother can't help herself.

I hope I'll see your comments here. And soon, at Novel Matters as well.

Have a beautiful day.


Anonymous said...


I love your new blog. What a beautiful photo of Greenhorn Lake, and what a fun story. I look forward to following you here at Ever Mindful.

Kathleen Popa said...

Thanks, Sharon, for my first comment. So nice that it came from a dear friend.