Post Solar Eclipse Blues

I have post Solar Eclipse blues. It's sort of like the day after Christmas when all there is left is a trash bin full of torn up Christmas paper and a fridge full of leftovers. Ironically, I was at the eye doctor's during the eclipse so I missed the peak of the exhibition. Can I call a natural phenomena an exhibition?

I haven't read the news in over 2 weeks and though I feel compelled to do it, I know it will only bring me down more. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all the news w...as good, or at least something like "There are no wars or problems to report today"? I'm going to live in my imaginary world a little longer I think.

I've been busy though. I've been working on my last Wilding story featuring Kyle Red Sky as the hero. I'm working up some ideas for historical western romances for the imaginary town of Hazard, Wyoming and building the town from the beginning. Maybe someday I'll write about the Wildings in modern times, just not right now.

Oh. And a note to my publisher at Prairie Rose Publications: I am also working on those edits for Legends of Winatuke , my paranormal trilogy. I also look forward to the eventual release of IT'S ONLY MAKE BELIEVE and my contribution to the Christmas anthology this year, A TEXAS CHRISTMAS with A Christmas Visitor.

I hope no one burned out their retinas looking at the solar eclipse. The PRP Solar Eclipse party was successful I think. I hope for those of you who got my free books during the PRP Eclipse party that you are enjoying them.

Now y'all go on out and have a delightful day. I'm going to work on getting my positive attitude and happy place back and do the same.

Oh, one more thing. My nephew bought the solar eclipse stamps and I now have an entire sheet of my own. They are unique in that you can place your figure on the complete eclipse and it becomes the moon. Pretty dang cool.

The Joy of Eating Fruits and Vegetables In Season

There's a lot to be said about fresh fruits and vegetables in season--the kind that actually ripened locally and are not shipped from somewhere else where the climate is different. Canned fruits and vegetables are okay, especially if they're canned at home. Does anybody can fruits and vegetables from the garden any more? I hope so.

People really got into freezing things back in the 60's, and frozen things are good, especially casseroles, because summertime is too hot to be s...tuck in the kitchen cooking.. But nothing beats fresh, in season fruits and vegetables.

I bought some locally grown peaches at the supermarket on Wednesday. I ate one of them for dessert after lunch today and thought I had gone to heaven. That sweet, juicy goodness is so wonderful. Nothing compares to it. Yumsville! And of course, no summer treat can be better than watermelon. I'm certain watermelon can be frozen, at least I guess it cab.. I don't know about canning it. I've never heard of anyone doing that. Have you?

Do any of you can or freeze things from the garden or the orchard? Do you raise your own fruits and vegetables? What is your favorite thing to eat when it's in season?

Bagpipes, Music, and Scotland

Piper and a Fiddler

I haven't played my bagpipes in quite some time, so of course, that means my mouth muscles are weak. I'm kinda lazy about practicing and most musicians know that's a very bad thing. Instead of improving, lack of practice makes me backslide and play worse. I suppose I should get out my practice chanter get back to playing again.

George Harrison Playing the Bagpipes

While looking up babpipes and Scotland, I found out something very interesting: George Harrison, otherwise known as the silent Beatle, played the bagpipes. I was very happy to learn that. Long ago and far away, I learned that Glen Campbell also played the bagpipes and he actually played them well. It must be true that creative people are often creative in many ways. Maybe that's why musicians often play several instruments. It's most likely because they just love music. Although I play several instruments, music is my second love--second to writing fiction. I love to write stories.

Pop could only play the harmonica and sometimes we would play together which was fun, but he wanted me to play the pipes. He was proud of his Scottish heritage and I knew it would mean so much to him if I played. So, I found my first pipe instructor and got to learning. Now I would never claim to be really good at playing the pipes, but it certainly was a challenge for me and I loved that. Pop did, too.

Pop in his kilt and his dog Ember

For today, I'm all into music, especially bagpipe music. All the pipers I know or have known are a bit different. They have all been this independent way of thinking and being. Okay, maybe another way to put that is most of the pipers I have met are kind of eccentric and in the best way possible. If I had an old missile silo and the Zombie Apocalypse was upon us, I would want to spend my last days on this good Earth with pipers and story tellers.

My favorite bagpipe tune is THE GREEN HILLS OF TYROL. I play every year on my birthday which I share with Pop.

Daniel Day-Lewis as Hawk Eye 

Bagpipe music is very emotional and stirring. You may remember the tune THE GAEL in the movie THE LAST OF THE MAHICANS with Daniel Day-Lewis. Boy oh boy, that music said Hawk Eye was going to find his lady love no matter what. Here is a YouTube video of the Black Watch playing THE GAEL.

https://youtu.be/BR-csWS1bcM


Do you have a creative vent--something you just have to do to enjoy your life? What is it about your creative interest that you enjoy the most? Does it make you feel happy and complete?

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

To all mothers whether your children are human or furry, have a wonderful Mother's Day.

Left to right: Mary, Mom, Me

Celebrating Mother's Day with Mom with breakfast in bed and some gifts way back when. I love and miss her every day.

Sarah J. McNeal

Author of paranormal, time travel and western romance

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Creating Villains: The Difference Between A Psychopath And A Sociopath

Today I'm at ONCE UPON A WORD talking about using psychology to create a villain. Was your villain born to be bad, or was your villain so mistreated, neglected, and abused they grew into a villain? What is the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath? The difference might surprise you.
http://onceuponaword1.blogspot.com/2017/05/creating-villains-difference-between.html

The Old Oak Picture Tree

Pop loved to take pictures. Mostly, he liked to take picture of flowers and animals instead of people. I preferred pictures of people because, many years later, it’s the pictures of people I loved that I treasure rather than that trumpet vine growing up the fence post or those polar bears at the Buffalo Zoo. I’m just sayin’…

But when Pop did take pictures of people, he liked to do it in front of the huge oak tree in the front yard. I have no idea why except he thought it was a good background. I believe every member of the family made it to that tree to get their picture taken at some point. There was the occasional picture taken in the orchard, but everyone got in a picture in front of that old oak.

My maternal grandfather once told Pop he needed to trim the limb from that oak that stretched out over the roof, but Pop refused because, “That’s where the owls hang out.” He was very attached to that limb and to the birds that “hung out” 0n it. A few days after Pop died back in 1981, that limb fell. And some years after my oldest sister sold the house, the old oak disappeared from the front yard. We had spent our lives living in that house with that old oak and it made me sad at its loss.

Here are just few pictures Pop took in front of that tree.

Sarah J. McNeal

Author of paranormal, time travel and western romance

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In Remembrance of My Father

Pop in his kilt on our birthday in 1976

Pop and I share a birthday. Although he's been gone from this Earth since 1981, I remember him and honor his birthday by playing bagpipe music. This picture was taken on our birthday. He had given the weather forecast on WSOC TV wearing his kilt to please me. He was very proud of his Scottish and Irish heritage, and he made me proud of it as well.

Pop was my constant, my mentor, adviser, and my friend. We shared some mighty good times that I will remember all my life. He was funny, a little eccentric, and a devoted husband to my mother. 

I miss Pop and think of him so often, but I especially miss him on our birthday. So, once again, in honor of my father, I play the bagpipe music we both so loved, light a candle and some incense, and write him a little note to celebrate our birthday and all the wonderful memories he gave me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, POP!

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

To all my Irish friends and to those who are only Irish for today--Have a happy Saint Patrick's Day!
Go Green!

March Madness

I didn't believe it would happen--but it snowed! Because of the weird warm weather we've had, the azaleas bloomed early. Now the even weirder snow has come and covered the azaleas and the wisteria that also bloomed too soon and has frozen once already..
In my childhood I do remember a March in which it snowed once a week for 3 weeks--and it didn't melt right away.

 
This snow is supposed to melt by this afternoon.
Anyone else having some off-season weather going on?

I spend a great deal of time worrying about and planning out my 3 monthly blogs at Once Upon A Word, Prairie Rose, and Sweethearts of the West, and yet I am beginning to believe blogs just aren't as popular as they once were. I'm not certain what IS the popular thing now. As much as I try to get to everyone's posts, I just don't see that many comments anymore.
Blogs have been an important part of sharing both information about ourselves, our writing, and things of interest related to what we write about, but I'm wondering now if others are interested in these articles. I have to say, I really respect the authors that put so much work and thought into their blogs. It's so amazing to read them. I find I learn something new almost every time.
What do y'all think? Are blogs still relevant? Has something new come along we should know about we should be doing?

MARCH BABIES

Pisces

I'm a March baby and so was my dad. In fact we celebrated the same birthday. I miss sharing our birthday since he's been gone, but I remember him in my own special way every year.
Are you a March baby, too?

I am an introvert, so I do not love attention. I prefer to hang out in the shadows and observe others.  I have always heard that Pisces and Virgo were the perfect match. I'm not certain what an "attractive personality" is. Other than these few differences, these statements are true for me. What about you?

The Breath Between

Last night I finished my first draft for IT’S ONLY MAKE BELIEVE, Kit Wilding and June Wingate’s story. I might have to step back from it a day or two before I get into the edits and add to the word count which I am short on. So maybe it’s time to take a breath and readjust my perspective.

I have a strong urge to start writing on my next story. I already have the synopsis (what I use as an outline) for it. I yearn to jump right into the next project all fresh and new, but I know I will just get all jumbled up and get too far away from Kit’s story. I need to iron out a few things, flesh out June and Kit a bit more. I need to REALLY care about them. It still needs something—maybe a dog.

So, anyway, as much as I would love to move on into another story, I’m just not ready yet. Once I get into these edits I think I’ll get deeper into my characters and their dilemma until it will be hard to leave them behind. When I have a hard time saying goodbye to my characters, then I’ll know I have a story readers might truly enjoy.

Do you have the same feelings after you finish a rough draft? Do you have to leave it alone for a while before you dig into the edits? Do you already have another story in progress? Have you ever found a huge hiccup in the story line after you’ve finished? Is it hard to go back and fix a problem after the fact?

Anyhow, I’m taking the weekend off and mull over in my mind what needs tweaking before I get to work mending and fixing things. It’s warm and sunny out today and I hear the deck calling me, “Come and sit a while in the sunshine.” So, off I go…

A Place of Memories

I have a special connection to central Pennsylvania, especially the northern, agricultural area around Numidia, Catawissa, Sunbury, and Bloomsburg. My parents were born and raised in the area, in fact, my entire family originated there--even me. I was born in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, a small college town where most of the houses are old Victorian beauties with well tended yards filled with flowers in the spring and summer and surrounded by soft, round-topped mountains.
We visited this area so often when I was young to reunite with my grandparents, family members, and old friends of my parents. Sometimes my sister and I would spend summer vacation time there. It's such a beautiful place with the Susquehanna River running through those lush green mountains, valleys where the farmers create fields that look like patchwork quilts. 

I remember the quiet, the fun running outside in our bathing suites to enjoy the rain, picking sweet, wild strawberries, and Sunday visits to my grandmother's friends most of whom lived on Mt. Carmel and Bear Mountain. They would exchange gifts of their handy work, like homemade baked goods, crocheted items, and quilts. I loved playing with all the kids. My grandmother loved to fish and she often packed a picnic and took us with her. We would spend our time playing in the water while she fished. Such great fun. We went to church bazaars, ice cream socials, and church picnics and ate delicious food and played games with other kids--and once, I actually won a peanut pushing race.
I only remember the 8 months of actually living in Pennsylvania when I was 4 years old. We lived in Luthersburg, a small town not too far from Pittsburg. I have so many warm memories of living there and the people who were so friendly and kind to us.

When the weather station closed in Luthersburg, we moved to Charlotte, NC where I have lived most of my life. 
Since my parents are gone, I seldom go back to Pennsylvania. Sometimes I miss it. I have gone to Catawissa and Numidia a couple times to see to the placing of a monument on my paternal grandparents' and Uncle John's graves.

While I stood there at The Hillside Cemetery and looked around at the rounded mountains surrounding the town, I felt a kind of homesickness for a place that held so many memories of my childhood and had now become a place where my ancestors can only whisper to me on the wind. It still tugs at my heart.

Merry Christmas!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

I wish for everyone a Christmas filled with joy, love, and peace of mind.

It's a busy world we live in with so many things to do and so little time filled with uncertainty and responsibilities. During this Christmas season, I hope we all take some quiet time for ourselves to reflect on the things that are really important and enjoy our family and friends.

Pop Culture and Pop Beads

I am not a follower of fashion trends. They come and go and you end up with a closet full of 70's bellbottoms and leather vests with yard long fringe or 80's dresses and blouses with shoulder pads that made women look like the Incredible Hulk and guys with leisure suits made of some kind of permanent press material that was shiny that made men feel they were trussed up in plastic wrap.

And then back when the Earth's crust was still cooling, there were POP BEADS.

What? You don't remember what pop beads were? Well, let me educate you. Pop beads were round, plastic beads with a little knob on one side and a tiny hole on the other so that one bead could fit into the other until they could be popped together into a circle to make bracelets and necklaces.

Of course, back in the 50's no one thought about choking hazards for kids let alone fire retardant sleepwear which in recent times has been condemned for its cancer enhancing chemicals. So, for a short time, pop beads were quite the rage. After a short period of adoration, they became considered gauche and tasteless and lost their prestige.

This is the only picture I have of Mom in her fashionable attire with those charming pop beads around her neck. Shortly after this picture, Mom added her pop beads to my "dress-up bin" of castoff grownup clothes to wear for play.

So ends the tale of pop beads in cultural history.

Mercy Hospital's Christmas Competition 1980's

Charlotte in Gingerbread

Way back in the 1980’s when I worked in Coronary Care at Mercy Hospital before Carolinas Medical Center bought out the Sisters of Mercy, we used to have an annual contest for the unit that had the best Christmas display. (We were allowed to call it “Christmas”, not winter holiday or some such politically correct name.) The prize was usually free lunch brought to the unit for the nurses on all shifts to enjoy and a huge platter of Christmas cookies.

We decided to do something extraordinary for our display, something grand that would win that prize. I remembered the gingerbread houses my parents used to make. They were not only beautiful, but very yummy, too. They even brought a gingerbread house to my unit a couple times and I loved that they did that. So my coworkers and I decided to make gingerbread houses for our display. But we didn’t just want regular gingerbread houses, we wanted to make downtown Charlotte like a whole city of gingerbread buildings. (Actually, we made the base of the buildings from cardboard to prevent any catastrophic collapse.)

We worked and worked on that city until the entire unite smelled like vanilla icing and candy. While I was looking at some old pictures, I found a picture of our gingerbread city all decorated for Christmas. We won! We all got to share in the sandwiches and cookies and, of course, a mention in the hospital newsletter that made us all rather proud. It was also my way of honoring the memory of my parents who loved making gingerbread houses out of real gingerbread each year for Christmas. It’s one of my best memories of Mom and Pop.  I still miss them.

Sarah J. McNeal

Author of paranormal, time travel and western romance

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THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES--MY CHILDHOOD FAVORITE

When I was around eleven years old, I read Sir Arthur Canon Doyle’s famous Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. As much as I have never been a dedicated mystery fan, Sherlock Holmes grabbed my attention and has never let go. As a kid, I wanted to be like Sherlock. I wore Pop’s old trench coat and with my green and white plastic bubble pipe and trusty magnifying glass, I roamed the house and yard searching for clues to some mysterious happening after another.

I was quite proud of the fact that I actually solved the mystery of The Hounds Of The Baskervilles before I finished reading it. Maybe it was the strange characters or just the intensity of how Doyle wrote those mysteries that made me love Sherlock, but I was all in.

I think I have watched every movie and TV series involving Sherlock Holmes and Watson, his faithful sidekick. And, lest we forget, the best villain ever, Moriarty, was penned into these stories—and I do love a good villain. Moriarty has to be the most devious, intelligent, and evil villain that ever existed. What would a detective as innovative as Sherlock Holmes do without his match to test his courage and intelligence?

You may ask why I bring up Sherlock Holmes today, well it IS Halloween, but more than that, I saw in the daily post titled “Today In History” that Sir Arthur Canon Doyle first published The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes on October 31, 1892—Halloween! How great is that? Just in case you want to read it, here is the link: http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/the-adventures-of-sherlock-holmes-published?cmpid=email-hist-tdih-2016-1031-10312016&om_rid=4d63dea69e0614740ba4cf720055a484f1f9cb0e9a3c53cefd61b21aa7be8758&om_mid=104011034&kx_EmailCampaignID=7826&kx_EmailCampaignName=email-hist-tdih-2016-1031-10312016&kx_EmailRecipientID=4d63dea69e0614740ba4cf720055a484f1f9cb0e9a3c53cefd61b21aa7be8758

NEVER FORGET!

Never Forget!

I was at work in the emergency department on 9/11/2001. When the first plane crashed into the tower, we were all dumbfounded and sad, but when the second plane hit the other tower, the chill of intentional horror hit us. Then the Pentagon took a hit from another plane followed by the plane in Pennsylvania thwarted from its suspected target of the White House by the brave passengers on board, we all knew the ugly truth. We experienced terrorism on a level never experienced before.

I called my niece and nephew just because I suddenly knew how important family was. The need to reach out to them was imperative in a world suddenly uncertain. We prepared as best we could at work for the possibility that Charlotte might be next. Who knew what would happen next. A torrent of emotions ran through the department from anger to weeping. No one smiled.

It was so odd and somewhat eerie to drive home with a clear blue sky above and not a single plane anywhere—not even a small Cessna. Nothing existed except this feeling of unbearable loss and mourning. When I reached home, I saw for the first time on TV the towers crumbling to the earth and the people posting pictures of their lost loved ones who were in the towers hoping against all odds they would be found alive.

In the weeks that followed, I felt I was living through one funeral after another. The sadness was overwhelming.

In the midst of all this turmoil, I adopted a kitten who had been hit by a car in front of the veterinary hospital. They saved her, fixed her injuries and had the kitten in the lobby. I took my dog, Kate, in for her shots and saw the black and white kitten crying in her cage. They named her Liberty. She was a beacon of light in a gloomy period of history. Liberty. Something innocent and sweet calling out to me. I took her home with me that day and she has brought me endless happiness ever since. I kept the name they gave her. I couldn’t think of another name that could possibly mean more to me than Liberty. My cat, my country, the ideal of our founding fathers. Liberty.

Secretly Paranormal

 HOME FOR THE HEART

I started my writing career with paranormal and time travel stories. I always enjoyed putting down stories with imaginary landscapes, time periods that were “different”, and characters that had to battle evil and win the hand of the ones they loved.
When I wrote HARMONICA JOE’S RELUCTANT BRIDE, I made it a time travel story with no intention of creating a town named Hazard or writing about the Wilding family. And yet, that’s exactly what I ended up doing. I love these crazy W...ildings. But the one thing I have stayed with in most of these stories is a touch of paranormal in the form of Lakota wisdom and beliefs.
Banjo’s uncle, Teekonka Red Sky, first introduced in FOR LOVE OF BANJO, is a Lakota shaman. He possesses great insight into the human heart and has a gift for getting in touch with the ancestors to help him work for the better good on the Earthly plane. His son, Kyle, carries on this legacy. He may seem like an ordinary man running a gas station and repairing cars, but he also has his father’s Lakota gift.
In my new release, HOME FOR THE HEART, Kyle warns Lucy Thoroughgood about something dangerous. Here is what he says and how Lucy responds:
Excerpt: (the Lakota Premonition)
Kyle brought the truck to a stop as close to the front door as the driveway allowed, but before Lucy could open the door, Kyle clasped her arm. She turned to face him and noticed a faraway look in his dark eyes. “What is it, Kyle? Is something wrong?”
His face took on a grim expression when he spoke. “All I know is something dark is coming. Be careful, Lucy.”
Something in her chest clutched. Kyle had a special gift and his words were not to be ignored. “Is something bad going to happen?”
“I’m afraid so. I wish I knew what it was, but I don’t. I only know it’s evil.”
“You’re scaring me, Kyle.”
“I don’t mean to. Hank and I will keep an eye out. Tell your dad what I said.”
All my Wilding western romances can be found on Amazon—and for a bargain if you have Amazon Select. You can also find a list of my books on my Wildings Page:
http://prairierosepublications.com/…/special-…/the-wildings/

Life in the South Without Air Conditioning

It’s so hot and humid right now that I find myself hanging out more and more in the comfort of my air conditioned house. I have so much gratitude for whoever it was who invented air conditioning.

When I was 5 years old, Pop transferred from a small weather station in Luthersburg, Pennsylvania to Charlotte, North Carolina. We landed at the airport on a hot summer day in Charlotte back in the days when you left the plane by walking down the movable stairs straight onto the hot tarmac. We had a lovely meal at a restaurant where my sister and I had broccoli for the first time and liked it. And then Pop took us to our new home he had rented for us on Mayfair Avenue—a house with no air conditioning, not even a window unit.

Pop was concerned about the heat since none of us were used to it. He wanted to keep the curtains closed in the heat of the day and had my sister and I take midday naps—not that either of us really wanted to take naps. At night, we kept the windows open. Yes, open windows at night back in those days when families didn’t feel threatened by home invasions, child kidnappers, and the like. Hard to imagine such freedom these days.

When the weather turned humid, I remember the discomfort of trying to sleep between damp sheets and wishing for a breeze to come through that window. Rain, even thunderstorms were welcome on most occasions because they brought with them a temporary relief. Of course, there were those times when rain just added to the humidity.

Pop did try to bring relief to us when he installed an industrial sized air conditioner which operated on the theory of evaporation. He hosed down the huge unit’s special padding every day and turned that thing on. It blew in cool air, but since it was operating on evaporation, it added to the humidity and misery. Also, it caused mold to grow on anything leather. So much for those expensive shoes and pocketbooks. So we went back to plan A with open windows and darkened rooms. Honestly, it was a greater relief to go out and play in the shade of the woods and splash around in the creek during the day.

When Mom and Pop bought a house, it was one with high ceilings and a hallway downstairs that helped move air through the house. This was the house where my sister and I grew up and we quickly acclimated to the lack of a central heating and cooling system. Because of Mom’s heart disease, Pop did get a window unit air conditioner for their bedroom to allow her some comfort. My parents were Yankee transplants having been born and raised in the mountainous north central Pennsylvania, and therefore, had a harder time adjusting to the heat.

Like most people these days I have central air. I try to be conservative by keeping the temperature at 76-78 degrees during the day and 74 at night. Ceiling fans make a huge difference in my tolerance to the heat. As long as I have those wonderful ceiling fans, I’m good. Still, there are times when I look back on those days and wonder how we survived the heat and humidity of summer. I have a heap of gratitude for that hard working air conditioner in my backyard.  

Treasured Childhood Books

Junior Classics Children's Books

My parents entered me in the Junior Classics Book Club when I was about 11 years old. Every month I would get a new classic in the mail. I absolutely loved it. 

Kidnapped 

My all-time favorite book was Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. I read it 7 times. My hero was Allen Breck, the Scot who saved David Balfour from his slavery on a ship after his uncle had him kidnapped to keep David from claiming his inheritance.

Through this story I learned about the Scots and Scotland, and began my love for the bagpipes, great coats, and swords. Later, I had a great coat and changed the plastic buttons to silver ones like Allen Breck’s famous silver buttons he gave to David to show his kinsman in order to gain their trust and help the lad. I was completely mesmerized by this story. 

I also loved the other classics I read in these Junior Classics collection like all of Louisa May Alcott’s stories, Tom Sawyer, Freckles (a wonderful story about an orphan who had lost his hand), and so many others I hold dear to my heart.

I remember when the remake of Little Woman came out with Wynonna Ryder as the central character, Jo. Oh gosh, even though I was a middle-aged woman, I couldn’t wait to see it. I thought they did a great job of capturing the original essence of that classic story.

I was introduced to The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. I wanted to become the famous detective and solve mysterious cases. I ran around the house and yard in Pop’s old trench coat with my magnifying glass and bubble pipe pretending to solve mysteries. What great fun I had.

I never hear my great-niece mention reading classic children’s books. The books she reads are new to me. Have classics fallen to the wayside? Did any of you with children encourage classic children’s stories, or are there “new classics” surfacing now? In any case, books filled my childhood with excitement and wonder and I’m so grateful I had those cherished books.

My Friend Mr. Book Bag

I know some of you who are teachers are dreading the end of summer vacation and the beginning of the school year, but for me, it brings back childhood memories. Don’t get me wrong, I was not one of those kids who looked forward to it or had visions of creating that robot who would do my bidding and impress the teacher. I was a shy kid who felt overwhelmed by the idea of going to school where all those kids were and where the expectation that I would be the next Einstein loomed over my head like a dark shadow.

Skeeter was my best friend, and as long as she was in my class, I might actually make it through the first grade. Besides Skeeter, I had my protective book bag. Honest to Pete, I loved that thing. Not only was it good to put my Dick and Jane book in and my papers of accomplishment like the picture of the plumb I correctly colored purple, notwithstanding my wonderful array of school supplies, but it also contained my magical mementos. I had my ball and jacks, a deck of worn out Old Maid cards (kind of a chauvinistic game in today’s politically correct world I guess), and things that belonged to my parents so I could feel they were there to protect me. I kept a button from my mom’s dress and one of my dad’s ties. You can never be too safe.

Everything would have been okay except I carried that protective book bag with me everywhere I went. When I say everywhere, I mean exactly that—to the restroom, the cafeteria, and even to recess. My teacher thought my obsession with my book bag might be detrimental to my mental wellbeing and sent home a note to my parents asking them to discourage me from traveling constantly with my shield and friend Mr. Book Bag.

Now this may surprise some of you, but my parents were different—different in their beliefs about raising children and their philosophies about what children needed. My father sent back a note to my teacher in which he flatly refused to insist on me giving up my book bag. He told her I needed that book bag to feel secure and that he felt I would eventually stop dragging it around once I felt safe and comfortable in the class. I never felt as validated as I did that day when my dad stuck up for me.

Eventually, I did stop taking that book bag with me all over the place. After all, I had my best friend Skeet. What’s a book bag compared to a best friend? Naturally, a note went home about that, too, but that’s another story for another time. So, the lesson I learned about love and feeling loved is sometimes it’s not enough to hear the words “I love you”, sometimes you can only know how much a person loves you by their actions and how they support the unique person they know you to be.

Just Released: Memories of Maple Street: Pawprints on My Heart

Have you ever had a pet that left indelible pawprints—or hoofprints—on your heart? Pets we’ve rescued—that rescued us, as well—and animals that maybe weren’t so much “pets” as “acquaintances” who’ve taught us a thing or two…

The third edition of our successful series, Memories From Maple Street, U.S.A.—Pawprints On My Heart, is chock full of stories about special pets we’ve had. These tales evoke loving memories of days gone by when these animals played a huge part in our lives—either as pets we had as children, or as adults.

Wayfaring Stranger/ My contribution

Imagine my surprise when my mother picked me up at school and told me about the strange, furry creature who came to our house.

Anatole France once said, “Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” This collection of true animal stories will serve to prove him right!

Includes authors Gayle M. Irwin, Ann Swann, Carol Huff, Sarah J. McNeal, Charlie Steel, C.J. Samuels, Jim Landwehr, Cher’ley Grogg, Beverly Wells, Gil McDonald, Meg Mims, Tina Holt, Tanya Hanson, Cheryl Pierson, and L.D.B. Taylor.

Buy Links: Kindle    Paperback

HOME FOR THE HEART, my new Wilding romance, Just Released

HOME FOR THE HEART, my new western romance in the Wildings series, is about love that just can’t seem to get off the ground and about a half Lakota boy who no longer believes he’s worthwhile.

Love doesn’t come easy…for some, it may never come at all.

Blurb:

Lucy Thoroughgood has gone and done it now—fallen in love with Hank Wilding, a man she’s known all her life. He’s content with friendship, but Lucy’s heart has flown the coop and she knows she’s in love with the determined bachelor. When she visits him with a proposition—to let the orphans she cares for learn to ride his horses during the summer—he surprises her with one of his own. She must accompany him to the dancing lessons he’s signed up for.

Secretly pleased, she hopes that perhaps this arrangement might lead to more than friendship. But Hank’s loved hard and lost, with his engagement to one of the popular town girls going south two years earlier. He’s sworn to never lose his heart to another—including Miss Lucy Thoroughgood.

A teenage orphan, Chayton, could be the key to thawing Hank’s heart—but danger follows the embittered boy. Will Hank be able to give Chayton the home he yearns for—or will the boy’s past bring only sorrow to those he cares for? When a Lakota premonition becomes reality, Lucy’s life hangs in the balance. Will Hank have the chance to let Lucy know how wrong he was?

Excerpt:

In the quiet of the barn filled with the smell of fresh hay, horse manure, and leather tack, Hank sensed rather than heard someone enter the building. Ah, the smell of sunshine and roses. Must be Lucille Thoroughgood. Without turning to look at her, he set the pitchfork against the wall of Lonesome’s stall. “What do you want, Lucy?” he grumbled as a greeting.

“Mr. Wilding, I have something I’d like to propose to you.” Her voice sounded tense. When he turned to face her, he saw those blue eyes dart away from his to peer at the straw on the floor. She promptly straightened her spine and must have forced herself to look him straight in the eye. Her starched manner made him want to mess with her.

“A proposal?” He moved closer to her…maybe too close. He felt something shift in his chest like a warning bell. “Well now, I haven’t ever had a lady propose to me before.” He joked, badly, just to get her goat. Generally, women were not to be trusted. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. But Lucy was his old friend since grade school. Even though she must have been born straight-laced and proper, she spoke her truth, plain and simple. Beneath that barbed wire exterior beat a heart of gold. 

Lucy propped her fists on her hips and he thought she looked like a charming sugar bowl all ruffed up in her pink flowered dress and her sweet, straw hat that sat askew on her gleaming brown hair. She knitted those brows together and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not proposing marriage to you, Mr. Wilding. I’m proposing a business deal…sort of.”

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Smashwords:

Home for the Heart

HOME FOR THE HEART

Home For The Heart, a Wilding Western Romance is in its final edits and will be released very soon.
In this book, Banjo's son, Hank, opens his ranch for orphaned kids with physical and emotional challenges to heal with horse therapy. He's doing it because Lucille Thoroughgood, the social worker for the orphanage, made a bargain with him he could not refuse. Little does Hank know how his life will change.

HOME FOR THE HEART cover by Livia Washburn Reasoner

Logline:

Love doesn’t come easy…for some, it may never come at all.

Blurb:

Lucille Thoroughgood is a social worker for orphan children. She is known to the town’s folk as dependable, logical, determined, and…well, stubborn. But Lucille has a secret affection for the determined bachelor, Hank Wilding.

Hank Wilding loved hard and lost. He has sworn to never marry. After Lucille makes a bargain with him, he agrees to allow troubled and physically challenged children from the orphanage to ride his horses as equine therapy. One of the orphans is a half Lakota boy, Chayton, who reminds Hank of his own father’s painful childhood.  

But danger follows in the shadows of the rejected, embittered teenager that may take the life of someone Hank and the town of Hazard holds dear. 

TO BE RELEASED SOON

Celebrate Life on Earth

For those of you who celebrate it, Happy Easter! and have a wonderful Passover to those of the Jewish faith. For all of you of any faith or belief, I want to wish you a beautiful and lovely Spring here on Mother Earth and a very happy life. In spite of the terrible events in our world, we can all cling to hope and smile at each sunrise.

 This is my wisteria now in full bloom. It smells positively delicious.

Life On Planet Earth

With all the turmoil reported in the news about contentious debates, random shootings on the streets, in the malls and schools, threats of nuclear missiles targeting the United States from North Korea, and a world in chaos, I need to find some peace and get centered again. I don’t want to fall into this negative vortex of mounting upheaval and despair.

So, I have been going to my Pinterest Cave to regain my calm and search for wisdom. I found this quote from the Native American, Chief Seattle:

“All things share the same breath, the beast, the tree, the man. The air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.”

This quote helps to remind me that all living things are connected. We need to take care of one another and protect all other living things because we are interdependent. What happens to one thing will affect the others. Mother Earth isn’t just a planet flying around in space. It is our home and it is unique because it contains something precious—life.

And that is the end of my sermon. I hope you all have a peaceful, loving day. Oh. One more thing. Spring is on the way. Just sayin’…