“An Author to her Book” is a poem by Anne Bradstreet that I used to enjoy teaching. She addresses her book as her child personifying the motherly relationship with the words and images we place on the page. Throughout the poem, Bradstreet relays the internal struggle of not being good enough to dress her child for going out into the world and inevitably into the hands of critics. With my latest novel sitting beside me, I hear the nagging little voices telling me I’m not good enough. I feel the tug to apologize for asking people to read my story, but I also have an excited quiver, making me feel alive. This is it. Ready or not, Shroud of Ice releases this Nov 25. This little guy is all set to tell the final chapters of the oldest cold case - Otzi the Iceman murdered over 5000 years ago. It’s a tale of the betrayal by those we love, a fight for survival as we make our way home, the power of forgiveness especially of ourselves, and the courage to believe we were meant for more. But still, in the quiet of the morning with his brand new cover and bound pages I can’t help but ask him if he’s going to be alright out there. The world is a scary place. He simply says, “It's going to be okay. I’ve got this, Mom.”

Standing on the edge of my lavender garden feels like staring into the abyss of why did I try? I enjoyed a respectable harvest this spring and felt encouraged that less plants perished from the winter. Weeks of spring melted into torrential rains of summer. Our drought last year was over. We had an extraordinary +5” of rain and lavender doesn’t like wet feet.  The first indicator came when two rows of plush, healthy plants turned to brown sticks in a week, then a few more plants gave up. What once promised to give me a bounty of relaxation and a retirement income now failed in front of me. Grief’s denial works on my instinct to go into ostrich mode, to take the child's approach of if I can't see you, then you don't exist. But failure waited for me to notice. Unless I’m saving an astronaut from sling shotting past the moon, failure is definitely an option.  As a society, we put a negative stigma on failure. The fear that comes with this “f” word is enough to cripple any perfectionist from even starting. Many talented students have chosen to wear the embarrassment of not completing the task because they were afraid they couldn't do it perfectly. I've seen that many times. In class, we talked about the role of failure as a natural and healthy process to get us to a stronger and happier place in life. The idea was to take the sting away. The reality still hurts and exists in the pain of saying I didn't win this one. Trying to apply what I teach, I've pondered how to navigate this arena. I still don't look at my lavender, but I'm accepting that there's a life lesson in here somewhere. Three steps that I’m learning from this brink are simple and in my control. Understand what part I played in the failing. I do not have any control over the weather, but I did have control over how well I prepped the ground before planting. No amount of heart can overcome a poor foundation. That’s on me. I discovered this when analyzing why one of my gardens flourished and this did not. Decide how much repair is worth it and make a plan to correct mistakes. I will not just throw a thousand dollars of plants at this problem next spring. I need to address the soil first and work the ground to be stronger, then get a few of the varieties of lavender that I enjoyed. I think maybe twelve will be good.  Ask for help and listen. This is the hardest part of falling down, but we belong together and are connected with each other. My daughter reminds me to take a step back, reevaluate and see what comes into focus. She's right, time is a tool, not an enemy. By asking for help, I am redefining my understanding of control. Failure is all about losing an unhealthy sense of control, the control that is attached to pride. Taking responsibility for what I can influence is a healthy sense of control. Because I’ve stood on that brink and wiggled my toes over the edge, I am discovering the grit inside waiting to grow. I'm stronger than I thought. With a little self-reflection and problem solving, I can work within this failure, looking forward to what my next challenge will be.

“There’s nothing like the feeling of bringing in a herd” is a City Slicker movie quote that I like. Three best friends, messed up in a midlife crisis, go to a dude ranch, searching for meaning. Our Lavender Ink Society didn't have a midlife crisis, we just had a crisis. One of our founding members passed away suddenly. We felt entrusted, as knights of honor, to finish her story, a love story about her parents. Wrangling cows from the movie became synonymous with the words that didn’t want to go where we needed them to be. After one year of not knowing how, the rodeo of plot sequence sits roped in front of us and Despite It All is ready for an agent. Not that I’m a weekend cowboy, but as a writer writing the last sentence, I felt those final, unused words "the end" and I’ve got to say there’s nothing quite like it. What started as a conversation on my deck became a labor of love. “Sharon, how did you do it? How did you get published?” My friend, Lisa, needed to know. She needed my help. She burned with the desire to write her parents’ love story - he had been a Jew and she the daughter of a Nazi - true story. Lisa had a passion to capture what she had witnessed as a powerful tale of love's blind ability to overcome obstacles.   We founded our writers group of four and poked our way around words and each other. She had gotten about twenty thousand words on the page, yet with Lisa gone her parents’ story was unfinished. Grief and love for our beautiful friend and her dream compelled us to pledge our fidelity, our singular loyalty to the task of finishing her book. Three women of different writing styles would attempt to overlay voices with Lisa's original writer’s voice. The task was daunting.  We met with Lisa's mother over tea to understand the facts remembered. We zoomed with her daughters or met at our favorite pub, O'Brien's. With the writing not being our own, we took risks and tried a variety of approaches to craft this love story, a story of her parents and of our own hearts grasping to stay true to our friend’s vision. Many times we wanted to quit. Life got full and we didn't know where to go in the story. Lisa, however, is special. Her passion compelled us to listen to the characters. The first anniversary of her death passed in July. We had his story. We had her story, but we still didn't have their story. We didn't have a complete novel to gift her family. Motivation, the mysterious mistress of writers, showed up. The words weren’t just waiting for us to notice anymore. They persuaded us to sit down and write. As the last two chapters came into view, We felt the flow of the words harnessed as a team pulling to the last sentence. "The end" happened even though we don't say that anymore, and we felt amazing! We did the nigh impossible. Today we met with Lisa's family for the handoff. Our promise stood fulfilled. We had finished just in time. Often when we do not think we can or know how we will complete a challenge, we just need to hold on and push through. That decision of I can't is when an amazing opportunity waits just on the other side. The only thing we can't do is say, "I can't." We just cannot give up. At long last, our friend has her story, her mother knows her husband's love lives on, and our writers group has a feeling there’s nothing quite like.

“The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.” – William Arthur Ward Ms. Joan Fisher had flaming red hair and a machine gun laugh that ricocheted through the halls. I tried to slip behind her to claim a seat the first day of class when she stepped back on my foot with her stiletto. She asked my name and said she would never forget me and then laughed her impressive laugh. I am the one who never forgot her. She taught much more than American literature. She taught authenticity, what it meant to be real and to come broken to the pages of a story and find a piece of me there. She heard my voice and amplified the shy kid, who preferred to be hidden in the back of the room. She believed in me when I needed someone to. I built my 22 years in the classroom from her model of teaching. This year will be the first that I am not opening the door to my classroom. I step into a new role mentoring other teachers. With that task at hand, I need to reflect on the core values of what makes a teacher impactful. Yesterday at lunch, my friend asked what the difference was in my last year of teaching compared to other years. I told my students that we were going to finish this together. We began our last term striving for the same end goal - graduation from public school. This comradery created a bond I couldn't anticipate. Senior year can be difficult, especially after March and college acceptances start coming in. The last years of teaching can be difficult. To resist the temptation of relying on our laurels is a struggle. A dynamic classroom contains learners and teachers on both sides of the desk. I think that's one of the greatest lessons I will take from the classroom. Listen to others. Let others have the safe space to share their stories and burgeoning ideas. Only then will we graduate into a better sense of understanding and grace.

The garden is my passion. I fall in love with it and then have a break up in July when it's too hot. We always make amends in the fall. There is something healing and deep working in the soil. Maybe it is the child in me, who likes to get dirty. I doubt it though. That would limit the exchange that I have with the land, sitting on my stool and working to create a place of beauty for reflection. Virginia soil is pretty much red clay. We've brought in a number of trailers full of dirt. This load was particularly rich and full of dark color. My husband told me it was leaf compost. Leaf compost made sense. The best dirt, is the one that has broken down the natural growth through time and rain and heat to get the nutrients that the plant borrowed back into the ground. Shoveling and hauling the compost to fill my newest rose garden, I began to think about composting and forgiveness. We've all been hurt by those we trust. It's part of the human condition. Waiting for someone to say they are sorry can be like Horton waiting for Lazy Maisy to return to her nest. So what do I do with the hurt and the need to acknowledge the fact that I have been wronged? I am learning to will my will to forgive. Like the rain that breaks down the fallen leaves, I need to consciously redirect my thoughts when they wish to nurture heartache. I'm not ignoring the fact that I hurt. I am acknowledging and choosing to let go. For the soil to be enriched, the leaf must let go of what it once was for new life to be sustained and grow. This Good Friday, I consider the heat that Jesus experienced. He prayed in the garden, not my will but His father's will. He went before false accusers who humiliated Him, caused pain that would crush me, and then, according to the Greek translation of the word, as they nailed Him to the cross, Jesus continued to repeat, "Forgive them" over and over. With each hammer's blow, His words were of forgiveness. That was the mantra that He focused on to get through the pain until it was time to let it all go and claim it is finished. While I am not superhuman, I can continue to focus on what is really important. For mercy to grow, I need to share mercy with others. For love to blossom, I need to dig deep and love those who are broken much like myself. I need to will my will like the shovel moving the dirt to let go and live free. Peace be with you and Happy Easter!

Ötzi's life ended in a seemingly insignificant manner. His impact, however, tells a much different tale of a mountain legacy. Here's one of the top impacts I like about Ötzi: It took 100 lbs. of malachite to extract enough copper ore to pour his copper axe, which can fit easily in the palm of your hand. The copper is traced back to Southern Tuscany. He lived and was murdered 350 miles away from the copper mines indicating the trade routes were open. 5000 years ago, people were moving, people were talking, and business was booming!

This past July I found myself on the side of the Similaun Mountain wondering what I had gotten myself into. I earned an Excellence in Education grant from my county that supported the cost of getting me into that predicament. The purpose - to see what Ötzi saw and get a better feeling for how to end book 2, Shroud Of Ice, with his actual murder. What I found was a wonderful friendship with my advising archeologist, Dr. Walter Leitner, I found beautiful views, I experienced the fury of the mountain, and I got to meet Ötzi himself. Here's what I now know - an author will go way beyond a comfort zone if the itch of the story calls to do so. The mountain climb up started at 8am on July 24 in a slight rain. By 10 am we were quite wet. We were passed by herds of sheep wandering the slopes and path. Springs gushing down the side of the mountain created waterfalls that pushed downhill to the raging river below. The 75 varieties of moss and lungwort that mapped out Ötzi's final hike were green and amazing with their innate ability to grow in rough terrain. The mountain always has been available to life in its various forms. When we trek outside our comfort zone, we see the strength in beauty that keeps life rather simple. How grateful I was for the crucifix marking the proximity to a hutte where we could stop for a bowl of soup. How warm a friendly smile from another hiker felt when we met. How incredibly stubborn I am when the need arises. Life as it should be - simple. With two hours to go before reaching our final destination of the day, we had to decide - go and see where Ötzi was found or head straight to shelter. From being wet most of the day, we headed to the Similaun Hutte. The last hour and a half, assured us that was the best decision. If we had taken the path to his monument, I would have suffered even more from hypothermia and possibly not made it. Sometimes those simple decisions are the best.

In less than three weeks, I will have hiked to where Ötzi was found and be heading down the Italian side of the Similaun Mountain. If all goes well, I will not have gotten lost in fog, or succumbed to altitude sickness, or been inhibited by storms. Yes, my imagination tugs at everything that can go wrong. It's human nature. What I have found, however, is I need more mountains in my life. Facing these fears has forced me to focus, to take risks, to get out there and do something about the deficits I see coming between me and reaching the place where Ötzi was murdered. My mountain has made me better. It's a lie to say I'm not nervous. I'm a 55 year old English teacher, not an athlete. I'm also a believer in walking through the open doors and knocking at least once on the ones that are closed. If someone had told me three years ago when I began the publishing journey with Iceman Awakens that I would be climbing up 9000+ meters, I'd laugh. What I have learned from training is simply this: climbing a mountain is literally thousands of smaller steps aimed at something I cannot not see. When I have gone out to Skyline Drive on the Blue Ridge Mountains, I follow the path, I notice the scenery and the challenges along the way, I talk with people on the same path and am encouraged to see the individuals going beyond me by hiking the full Appalachian Trail. When I do finally emerge from the tree line, I am impressed with the amazing magnitude of God's grace and goodness bringing me to this point. Standing on the rocks, viewing the tops of birds soaring, identifying landmarks in the sprawling valley below all give a sense of belonging. I'm fully saturated in sunshine and oxygen, which opens my understanding, chases away my anxiety, and brings my perspective into balance. This is why I do believe I need more mountains in life. Next week I'll note the different hikes in Blue Ridge that I recommend, but for today it is sufficient to accomplish the steps I have to take to reach my goal.

Writing Iceman Awakens seemed like the hard part. Not true. Everything that happened after the book was bound became a series of challenges. Always baby steps, the risks grew as my confidence did. I have heard that our dreams should scare us, at least a little. There is something about being on the edge where possibilities and opportunities intersect. Book 2 - Shroud of Ice is on my laptop and almost finished, but one thing is missing - I need an ending I feel passionate about. What did Ötzi see? What was his path? What can I leave my readers with that I am proud to write? Google could only do so much. I needed to travel to Europe to answer my questions. In March, I learned that I am one of the recipients of this year's Fauquier Excellence in Education Grants. I will be flying to Austria to follow my dream of meeting those who have helped me as well as climbing Ötzi's mountain. The adventure is about to begin. Stay tuned right here for more information regarding, training and preparation for my trip as well as the experience of seeing my book come alive.

The Beatles sang it best, I'm poor yet I want to be a paperback writer. The path to writing can be daunting. Here's one new boost I've treated myself to. Thoroughly enjoying spending time since 6:00 am est with writers from around the world zooming into this convention in England. So far I have learned about book cover trends, marketing strategies, where the blending between nonfiction and fiction lies in writing, but most importantly I have learned I am not alone. Many people when they find that I have published will quietly express their wish to get their story published as well. Writing is an incredibly isolating path, yet it doesn't have to be. Since Covid 19, people have been using platforms to connect and are finding the encouragement they lacked previously. If you are interested in growing your writing, then drop me a line and let's see if we can't find a way to encourage that story inside to come out and play.

Obligation dims many passions, but in the harness alongside responsibility a mother plows a field of harvest for her children. On this brisk, winter Sunday, considering what it is that I have sown and still need to sow. May your gardens sleep with seeds germinating under the leaves and chill to surprise you with a beautiful bounty in a few weeks.

Teachers helping teachers! That's the thrust behind this new addition to Iceman Awakens. We just celebrated our two year publishversary last night and revealed the latest endeavor to help teachers use Iceman Awakens effectively in the classroom. Four teachers, four creative problem solvers have activity options to challenge critical thinking. Wendi Pillars inspired the Visual Mind Mapping activity allowing students to doodle their connections and demonstrate understanding in a very different format. Kassidi Gray contributed the One Page - a dynamic end of the book project that takes students through the symbolism and features of a plot. Audrey Swain contributed the True Colors essay, the rousing schoolwide scavenger hunt, and the Mandala Mask project connecting a spirit animal to a character. So much creativity can only sprout from a solid foundation of critical thinking. Creativity at its finest is really problem solving. Critical thinking at its finest is an opportunity for students to inspire themselves and in the process those witnesses near enough to see it - the teacher and classmates. This powerful moment, known as the aha moment, captured in a project, is what allows students to truly shine and when they shine, they are very beautiful, stunning even! Want to know what keeps me teaching? It would be that transformation just describe. Take a moment to check out the Teacher Workbook. Coming soon will be some videos explaining the extra activities and in the new year a webquest to learn more about the real live (okay he's dead) but the real mummy Ötzi the Iceman.