Gin Getz's Blog

Early morning. Above the glow of the candle and illuminated table upon which my pen scratches passionately at the invitation of open space on empty journal pages. Shifting focus. Softening my gaze. Opening up. Looking around. Seeing beyond safe and assumed. Seeing not what I expect to see but rather what is really there. So … Continue reading Soften your gaze

One day snow. The next a river of rain in the sky. And then we’re out working in shirt sleeves while it’s 75 in the sun. The river slowly settles after the dumping of warm rain stripped snow from the hills and even the mountains appear bare. Early morning, robins speckle the pasture along with … Continue reading Shifting seasons.

Yesterday was a milestone for me. Seven years sober. Seven years of showing up. No champagne corks popped to celebrate. There was no celebration though still a lot to celebrate. Some of us are faced with the choice – to drink or not. Not much middle ground. Be strong and stable, or drink. Be calm … Continue reading Seven Sober

Alright, this one got long. Grab a cup of coffee and sit back when you have some time, if you’re willing to read it through. At my age, you start to hear it more often: You should teach that! With all your years and experience, you have so much to share! Is this a compliment, … Continue reading Good advice

rainy day, inspiration, black and white photography,

Today I’m simply sharing some pictures from yesterday (yes, even the blooming flowers), and a little lilting piece (from something bigger) I was working on and thought you might enjoy.                Here.                Now.                Early morning.                A morning like so many in the six years I have called this place home.                Familiarity … Continue reading Simple late winter welcoming.

With a wooden palette strapped onto the forks of the tractor, Bob makes a platform upon which to stand for washing the high windows overlooking the river. Hillbilly ingenuity. Not OSHA approved. Tends to be how we do things. And we get them done. I think of all the years we ran the guest ranch … Continue reading January leaves.

This has nothing to do with writing or rain or riding through the wilds. It’s political. Because I choose not to be. I don’t get what’s up with our world. But I can’t not see it. So what’s a gal to do? You see; you feel; you care. And then what? At some point, you’re … Continue reading Standing.

Lit from a window with dark and drama as if a Vermeer farm house woman painted on old canvas, weathered and worn with time. Where is my pitcher, my cup, a book held just so, or an open letter draped in my perfectly poised hand? Instead, I loom mighty over a laptop, screen cold blue … Continue reading Stripped. Bare.

This is me. Real. Raw. A little rough around the edges. No frills and nothing fancy. Some days unsettled in shifting clouds, stirred by wild winds within and around me. Other days grounded in terra firma, pummeled by fall rains, nourishing dormant seeds, creative seeds, growing enough to give a part the self to others. … Continue reading Up close and personal.