Beth Trissel's Blog, page 99

City of Tranquil Light

This book attracted my notice because of my Chinese connection with the past.  Not only did I spend my early childhood in Taiwan where my parents taught English, but my grandmother was born and raised in China by her missionary parents.  My mother and father also taught English there at a later time, but I didn't accompany them on that trip.  Their home has always been open to hosting students from China, many of whom have become our friends over the years.  My grandmother spoke Mandarin all her life and never forgot it, and my mother also learned the language.  She can chat  with waiters in Chinese restaurants.

City of Tranquil Light by Bo Caldwell, although a novel, reads as if it were a biography and the reader is an integral part of the day-to-day experiences of Edward and Katherine Kiehn. Especially meaningful is that the story centers on these two Mennonite missionaries who went to China early in the 20th Century, as did my great-grandparents, only they traveled there even earlier in 1891 under the Southern Presbyterian Church. They initially met on the voyage over, but were posted to different cities.  After my great-grandfather made an exceedingly difficult trip to visit her, my great-grandmother decided to accept his marriage proposal because she loved him,  and to spare him another horrific journey which included a canal boat with an opium addict, as did one trip described in the book.

An extremely moving part of the story concerns the sickness and death of Edward and Katherine's young daughter, almost more than they could bear and forever in their hearts and minds. My great grandparents had five children born in China, with one stillborn. Their oldest son, after finishing college and seminary in the United States, returned to China to serve as an itinerate pastor, as had his father, visiting small villages where Christ was not known.  Another son completed medical school and returned to China to work with his mother, also a doctor.  Highly unusual for a woman in that era.  She'd been tried early on by villagers who brought a boy to her nearly dead from a worm infestation. Knowing it was a test, she laid him out on the ground where all could see, and gradually gave him something to make the worms leave his body, curing him.  And won their respect.

Eventually all members of our family were forced back to the states in 1939, after Japan invaded China and war ravaged the land. Living in China makes an enormous impact on Americans, as it did on those in Ms. Caldwell's book upon whom she based her story, and as it's made on our family.  A hospital now stands on the spot where my great grandmother practiced medicine and their stillborn child is buried.  Many descendents of missionary families who'd served there at that time were invited back to a celebration of its founding in 2005.

My parents have a camphor wood chest, not as elaborate as the one described in the book, but as fragrant, that they bought while teaching school on Taiwan. They (and I) can attest to the feelings of love expressed in the book that flowed between the Chinese friends of Edward and Katherine and which the couple reciprocated with all their hearts.

*Photographs are of me as a child in Taiwan with my doll tied on my back like the peasant women who carried their infants that way while at work in the rice paddies.

*My great-grandmother, Annie Houston Patterson and my Great Uncle Houston

*My grandparents, Henry and Margaret Mack,  my mom and uncle.  My grandmother grew up in China, returned to the states for higher education and married.   She and my grandfather traveled back to China and stayed with her parents for a time, later journeying as missionaries to the Philippines.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: American missionary to China, Annie Houston Patterson, Bo Caldwell, China, Chinese cuisine, City of Tranquil Light, Cousin, early 20th century china, English language, Grandparent, Mandarin, Mandarin Chinese, Philippines, Taiwan, the Southern Presbyterian Church, United States

Spring Is When the Meadowlark Sings~

Flashes of lightning and the rumble of an approaching thunderstorm woke me early this morning.  Typical crazy March weather here in the Shenandoah Valley.  Yesterday a cold snap followed on the heels of several wonderfully balmy days.  The weatherman predicts more storms this afternoon, but we're glad for the rain after last summer's drought and a fairly dry winter.  Cold, but dry.  Now we're catching up on some much-needed moisture.

Ducks and geese love all the puddles that come with the rain, and our pond is finally full again after dwindling to a sad state last summer. Happy quacks resound against the lovely trill of the meadowlark, my favorite songbird.  Also, one of the first signs of spring.  My goal is to ever actually see one of these elusive birds again.  Supposedly, this shouldn't such a challenge.  Once or twice, I've glimpsed a yellow flash  and spotted the bird perched on a fence post before it flew.  Mostly, though, they hide in the grass and skim away to another spot before I get a good look, calling all the while from various positions in the meadow.

Last spring daughter Elise and I were determined to track down the evasive songster and tenaciously followed its calls, even climbed over the fence into the neighbor's pasture and picked our way along the little creek, but never caught up with that bird, or birds.  There may have been more than one.  So unless I catch another rare glimpse, I must content myself with their beautiful trills.  Birds like this need tall grasses and untidy hedge rows for nesting.  Bear that in mind in your own yard and garden.  Keeping everything trim and cultivated robs our feathered friends of habitat.  It's also a good excuse for a less than perfectly kept landscape.     A little wilderness here and there is a good thing.

*For more on the Western Meadowlark~

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Atmospheric Sciences, Bird, Birds, Canada Goose, Duck, Earth Sciences, Garden, Goose, Ides of March, Julius Caesar, Lake, Mallard, meadowlark, Meteorology, Recreation, Shenandoah Valley, Thunderstorms and Lightning, United States, Virginia, Weather Phenomena

Gardening Is Dear To My Heart~

"I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet it in a garden." ~ Ruth Stout

At long last, after a long, cold winter, spring has returned to the Shenandoah Valley.   If it could always be spring….what joy.   And I'm allergic to it, been on shots and meds for years, but I love it anyway.

And best of all, I'm finally back in the garden.  I come from a long line of plant lovers and inherited the gardening gene.  I've passed it on to my younger daughter, my right arm in the garden, but all of my children are fans.  And now, the little people, the grandbabies are our new crop of apprentices. My six yr old grandson is of some real help.  The same cannot be said of the three yr olds.  Toddlers are no help at all.  Nor, I might add, are well-meaning dogs who lie on plants.  One of our dogs, a lab mix, actually eats asparagus, corn and tomatoes.  He's worse than groundhogs and raccoons, so we've secured our fence against him.

My main recommendation when it comes to gardening is to use a lot of compost and natural mulch, like well-rotted hay or straw, even leaves, in your vegetable and flower beds.  Robust plants better resist insects and disease.  Earth worms are a gardener's best friend and thrive in natural mulch, humus-enriched soil.  I've even gone on worm finds and introduced more into the gardens, plus bought them from a reputable online source.  Yes, I'm nuts over worms as are my grandbabies now.  Thanks to my enthusiasm, they think worms totally rock.

Avoid chemical fertilizers and pesticides or you'll kill the worms and other beneficial insects.   I mix up an organic brew to spray on susceptible plants to fight diseases and battle our most voracious pests.  I favor a blend of 1 tab. baking soda and 1 tab. liquid copper (both fight diseases),  1 capful (approximately 1 tsp or more) of liquid seaweed or some such sea based fertilizer, 1 tab. neem oil (fights diseases and chewing insects without harming those that don't chew)  and 1 tsp. Safer's insecticidal soap mixed in a gallon of water.  *Some directions for Neem suggest mixing one ounce per gallon, but I've had some problems with leaves getting burned at that rate.  Nor do I always add Neem to my brew.  Garlic is also good to fight diseases and pests, but must be strained well or it clogs the sprayer.  Always avoid spraying during hot sun or leaves might burn.  And don't spray Neem on plants that host butterfly larvae.   They chew but turn out quite beautifully so in their case, chewing is allowed. The best plant protection, though, is healthy soil.

My primary focus in gardening is our vegetable, perennial & annual flower and herb beds.  I'm particularly fond of herbs and old-fashioned cottage garden plants, those heirloom flowers and vegetables passed down from generation to generation.  Some of these vintage varieties involve saving seed and ordering from specialty catalogues.  Those herbs and flowers that attract butterflies, hummingbirds, songbirds, and honey bees are of special interest to me. I strive to create a wildlife sanctuary of sorts.  The American love of a chemically dependent green lawn is the opposite of what beneficial insects and wildlife need, and plants for that matter.  Think wildflowers and herbs.  Rejoice in the butterflies and hummers that will follow.

We rotate annual our garden vegetables as well as practicing companion planting.  Time honored combinations we've tried, as well as making some of our own discoveries, are to plant nasturtiums and radishes closely around the cucurbit family (commonly called the cucumber, gourd, melon, or pumpkin family) help to deter the squash vine borer and cucumber beetles which are deadly to the plants.   This family is our most trouble prone, so gets the greatest attention when it comes to companion planting.  Radishes are also a good companion for lettuce, spinach, and carrots.  If I were to choose one companion plant it would be radishes and the second, nasturtiums, but there are many excellent choices and we're learning more all the time about effective combinations.

I interplant garlic with roses and have beneficial effects in warding off some of the pests and diseases that attack them.  *I prefer the old-time roses and David Austen varieties that combine the best of the old with the repeat bloom of the new.  My favorite rose is Abraham Darby by David Austen.

Tomatoes grow more happily when planted near basil.  Peppers also like it.  Sweet marjoram, which reseeds itself for us, is another beneficial herb to interplant with vegetables and flowers.  Mint helps deter cabbage worms.   Pumpkins and squash better survive when rotated from their usual spots.  This year we tucked a pumpkin in among the massive, native clematis vine growing along the backyard fence that we refer to as 'the beast.'  The borers didn't find it, plus 'the beast' helped cradle the orange globes.

We've observed that old-fashioned sunflowers with multiple heads (planted by birds from the birdseed variety) grow the most vigorously.  Sunflowers attract masses of goldfinches, a favorite songbird, and when planted in and around corn, reduce army worms in the ears.  Marigolds are an excellent companion plant for vegetable and flowers to help ward off Japanese beetles.  Borage enriches the soil, attracts honey bees, and is another good companion for squash.  Onions planted near carrots help repel the carrot fly.  Chamomile is another good companion plant but use it sparingly.

Encourage beneficial insects to make their home in your garden and experiment with companion planting.  Avoid monochromatic schemes and think variety.  And remember the old time, non hybrid varieties of flowers and vegetables.  A great book about growing heirloom plants and sharing them with others is Passalong Plants.   A delightful  book chocked full of information.

And Happy gardening!

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Beneficial insects, Companion planting, creating wildlife habitat, Garden, Gardening, heirloom plants, Home, Japanese beetle, Organic gardening, Plant, Ruth Stout, Shenandoah Valley, Vegetable

Make Way For Ducklings

When the world was new and I was young, I ordered a dozen Rouen ducklings (resemble large mallards) from a game farm and began my love affair with ducks, blessed by its moments of joy and cursed with inevitable tragedy.  The box of downy babies was delivered directly to my door much earlier in the day than our mail normally comes as the mailman had wearied of their incessant peeping.  I took the new arrivals from the grateful carrier and transferred them to a corner of the family room under a warm light bulb.  My two oldest children, in grade school then, were delighted with their new playmates, but soon joined me in the discovery that these tiny creatures were incredibly messy.

The ducklings reveled in their food, spewing a mixture of feed and water on themselves, the box, and the walls.  This led to their speedy removal to an unoccupied rabbit hutch in an outbuilding.  Here they grew in sheltered bliss until we deemed them ready for life on the pond, unaware that our charges needed parental guidance.  The unchaperoned youngsters soon slipped under the fence and lost themselves in the neighbor's grassy meadow.  We tracked their frantic quacks and carried them home, only to have them forget and stray again and again.

Sadly, unwary ducklings do not know to be on guard against snapping turtles, something their mama would have taught them.  By summer's end, just two grown ducks remained and were fondly named Daphne and Darlene.  They were inseparable and divided their day between the cows and geese in the barnyard and forays to the pond.

The next spring Daphne and Darlene built a mutual nest inside a clump of gold-button tansy at the edge of the garden and patiently sat on the eggs that would never hatch.  It was time to find them a suitable spouse.  One fall evening "Don" arrived in my hubby's pickup truck.

The girls took an instant liking to the handsome drake, and he to them, though he showed a slight preference for Darlene.  As spring neared again, we noticed a wild mallard drake observing our little band.  He would dash forward for a bite of grain at feeding time, only to be driven away by Don.  We pitied Dwayne, as he soon became known, and tossed a handful far to the side for him.  Besides the free lunch, it seemed that Dwayne was attracted to our Daphne, much to Don's strong disapproval.

The small male was undeterred and eventually won acceptance, amusing us by his attempts to mate with Daphne, twice his size.  Persistence won out though.  That year the girls had separate nests, Darlene at the base of a bittersweet vine, while Daphne went back to the tansy.  Don and Dwayne bonded, swapping stories as they awaited imminent fatherhood.

The ducklings hatched in late spring and grew quickly.  All survived with excellent care from their mothers.  By fall we could see Dwayne's influence on the flock.  His offspring were considerably smaller. It was a golden, happy time. Late afternoons we quacked loudly, calling our ducks for feeding.  Heads popped up from the seeding grass and they answered back then waddled single file behind Don, their noble leader.  If we were late with dinner, they gathered to complain about the lack of service and were not averse to heading up to the house to fetch us if necessary.

Autumn in all its' splendor passed into a winter that was our most severe in years.  We tromped faithfully through the deep snow every day to scatter feed on the frozen pond.  Then one morning after fresh snowfall we could not find a single duck.  Our anxious calls came back to us empty on the wind…searching revealed spatters of blood and dog tracks in the snow, the silent witness to their grim fate.   Still, we hoped that some birds had escaped the attack and combed the neighborhood, finally locating a pair of Dwayne's offspring.  Only the smaller ducks could fly well.  We had unwittingly fed the others up to be "sitting ducks," an expression I understand too well now.  A week later Dwayne returned on his own, but it was a bleak time.  How empty the pond seemed without the gang.

That May, Betty, our lone remaining female, hatched a fuzzy brood.  Familiar quacks again filled the air and gladdened our spirits.  It just isn't spring without ducklings.  ~

All of this took place eons ago, but we still have ducks on our pond and an ample flock fussy barnyard geese who make daily visits down to the water.  The small town of Dayton, Virginia, not far from us, has a lovely body of water called Silver Lake (the size of a large pond) and a stream that attracts so many ducks the town has installed a duck crossing sign.

*Pics of our farm and ducks, also my mom and dad's ducks…it's a family thing this love of ducks.

*But the top pic of Rouen ducks are not ours

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Animal, country life, Duck, Gardens, Livestock, Pond, Poultry, raising ducks, Rouen, rural life, spring in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia

Native American Historical Romance

The opening to both of my Native American Historical romance novels, THROUGH THE FIRE and RED BIRD'S SONG were inspired by dreams, as were some of the subsequent scenes in them.  I also encountered several of the key secondary characters in that mystical realm.  Behind these stories lies an immense wealth of research.  Boggles the mind how much work went into them (into all my stories, really).  I have shelves of books and piles of manuscripts given to me by historians, old journals, etc, heaped here and there in my house.  Now, of course, there are all the online sources too, but back in the day, there weren't.   And I began this research fifteen plus years ago.

Apart from all of these non-fiction sources, I've read very little NA based fiction.  And I'd already written Red Bird's Song before I got around to seeing the superb 1992 film,  The Last of the Mohicans.  Granted I loved the movie, but never set out to reproduce it in any of my novels, only to say that they have that sort of flavor.

My admiration for Native American people and their culture is a long-standing one, as is my profound regret at the horrific treatment they suffered at the hands of Western man.  In my stories, I aim to depict both points of view with varying the shades of grey.  No one group is ever all bad or good–people are people the world over.

I tire of some readers telling me my hero, if he's a warrior, wouldn't do this or that.  First, he doesn't have to fit a Native American cookie cutter mold.  He's an individual.  And yes, I consulted historians, anthropologists, archeologists, reenactors and even some of the Shawnee themselves before and during the writing of these stories, so I had a good idea what comprised traditional behavior for that era, and there's no one size fits all for warriors.  It just all depended.

Bear in mind that Eastern Woodland warriors intermingled heavily with the whites, or could have, through trade, acting as guides…not to mention the inevitable warfare and captive situations that threw the two groups together.  Many warriors spoke at least some English and possessed an awareness of Western ways.   Again, to various degrees.   Some were educated.  The eloquence of their words are still with us, at least those that have been preserved.

Back to the interaction, remember, the first settlers to the New World arrived  in the late 1500′s (think Roanoke Island and The Lost Colony), and Jamestown was established  in the early 1600′s.   So, Eastern  Woodland Tribes had a lot of experience  with Europeans by the time period my stories take place.  Unlike western and Plains tribes, some of whom hadn't even seen whites until the mid 1800′s.   Makes an enormous difference.

I'm at work on the sequel to Through the Fire, a story that also builds on the history of Red Bird's Song and follows closely on its heels time wise.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Beth Trissel, Ethnicity, Historical Romance, Indigenous, Jamestown Virginia, Last of the Mohicans, Native American, Native American Historical Romance, Native American Romance, Native Americans in the United States, New World, Pow-wow, Red Bird's Song, Roanoke Island, The Wild Rose Press, Through the Fire, United States

The Ides Of March and The Old Farmer's Almanac

I love The Old Farmer's Almanac website and their interesting newsletters.  Free, btw.  Today's subject is the Ides of March,  spring tonics and recipes for St. Patrick's Day…

In a nutshell, what they say about the Ides of March (March 15th) "has long been considered an ill-fated day. Julius Caesar was assassinated on March 15, 44 B.C. Historians note that it is likely that a soothsayer named Spurinna had warned Caesar that danger would occur by the ides of March. William Shakespeare included the phrase "Beware the ides of March" in his play Julius Caesar."

Outside of falling down my steps and skinning my knee, so far the Ides of March have been uneventful here.  And that happened yesterday, so technically it wasn't The Day yet.  I'll just sir tight and avoid assassins.

For more on the Ides of March and the Old Farmer's Almanac click here.

Early history of the Old Farmer's Almanac:

"The first Old Farmer's Almanac (then known as The Farmer's Almanac) was edited by Robert B. Thomas, the publication's founder.

There were many competing almanacs in the 18th century, but Thomas's upstart was a success. In its second year, distribution tripled to 9,000. The cost of the book was six pence (about four cents).

To calculate the Almanac's weather predictions, Thomas studied solar activity, astronomy cycles and weather patterns and used his research to develop a secret forecasting formula, which is still in use today. Other than the Almanac's prognosticators, few people have seen the formula. It is kept in a black tin box at the Almanac offices in Dublin, New Hampshire.

Thomas also started drilling a hole through the Almanac so that subscribers could hang it from a nail or a string. Subscribers would hang the Almanac in their outhouse to provide family members with both reading material and toilet paper.

Thomas served as editor until his death on May 19, 1846. As its editor for more than 50 years, Thomas established The Old Farmer's Almanac as America's "most enduring" almanac by outlasting the competition."

We've gotten the annual Old Farmer's Almanac for years and find that it's weather forecast is usually right.  Interesting to note that "in 2008, the Almanac stated that the earth had entered a global cooling period that would probably last decades. The journal based its prediction on sunspot cycles. Said contributing meteorologist Joseph D'Aleo, "Studying these and other factor suggests that cold, not warm, climate may be our future."

With the exception of the blistering hot summer of 2010, this would be true of the Shenandoah Valley.   So far, March has mostly been chilly here, and I see the Almanac is calling for a cooler than normal spring, also a slightly cooler than normal summer. We shall see, but they're probably right.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: 44 BC, Almanac, Dublin New Hampshire, history, Ides of March, Julius Caesar, Moon, Old Farmers Almanac, Rome, Shakespeare, Shenandoah Valley, William Shakespeare, Works

My Talented Friend Caroline Clemmons Is My Guest

I'm delighted to have Caroline Clemmons on my blog today.  She's a wonderful lady and talented author, also a frequent commenter here.  I so appreciate her kind and interesting contributions.   I feel certain if we lived closer together we'd be having tea and touring our gardens…we have much in common:)

And now, onto Caroline~

In honor of St. Patrick's Day later this week, Top 'O The Mornin' or whatever time you're reading this post! Thanks to Beth for having me as her guest today.

March is one of my favorite times because so many good things happen this month. Spring will be here next week. Already daffodils and pansies are waving from many gardens. Bluebirds are nesting in their house and the goldfinches have arrived at our bird feeders. Our grass and plants are greening and native elm trees have leafed out. Soon our redbud tree will flower and our peach trees have already budded. Those two trees signal to my family that spring has arrived–never mind that meteorologists predict a freeze for tomorrow night after afternoon temperatures climb to the high seventies. Our poor plants won't know what to think. We've been bringing patio plants in and out for a couple of weeks now, each time thinking warm weather has arrived, only to be told we were wrong again.

Don't you love spring? (I do! And I'm allergic to it and been on shots for years

It's as if the world gets a fresh start. Spring is a time of renewal for people as well as the earth. The new growth and flowers inspire us to make a new start at achieving our own dreams. This time of year, I feel invincible–like the country western song says, "Ten feet tall and bullet proof." Well, until I look in the mirror and wonder what the heck happened there? LOL What are some of your goals for the rest of this year?

One of my goals last fall was to finish a book, a novella really, that I began several years ago. I had planned to surprise my mom with a story that used her name as the heroine's mom and the name of my Aunt Elizabeth (shortened to Beth) as the heroine. I could picture my mom's laughing face as she read the story. She loved my writing and was proud of each release. Before I could finish this book, my mom died and I had to put the work away for several years. Yes, I was a terrible Momma's girl and have had a difficult time recovering from her loss. But last fall, I finished the story and now it has been released as SAVE YOUR HEART FOR ME from The Wild Rose Press.

Obviously, I'm partial to this story because of my mom's name. If you wondered why I didn't use her name for the heroine, it's because I couldn't bring myself to write sex scenes for someone sharing my mother's name. Yes, I know how I got here, but that's different than actually writing the scenes. LOL

Here's the blurb for you:

Six years ago Beth Jeffers fled her abusive husband. Now she wants nothing more than to protect her son Davey and help her mother operate a boarding house. The women in her family have had no luck with men, and she has no intention of letting any man mar her son's life. Not even Matt Petrov, no matter how much her heart urges otherwise.

Federal Marshall Matt Petrov fell in love with Beth the first time he saw her. She was another man's wife then, so he kept his longings to himself. But now that he and the lovely widow have crossed paths again, he intends to seize his chance at happiness.

Here's an excerpt from SAVE YOUR HEART FOR ME after Matt is wounded arresting two criminals and has barely made it back to his room at the boarding house:

"Nice." He held her hand to his chest.

She tugged free. "You need sleep." She turned out the lamp then came back to pull the sheet over him. Light from a full moon poured in the window to outline her. "I folded the quilt back so that if it turns cool toward morning you only have to pull the edge and it will slide right up."

"Beth?"

"Yes?" She set his boots beside the bed and hung his shirt and jacket on the chair back.

"Please…don't go yet." He didn't deserve it he knew, but he needed her near him. He'd made an error tonight and almost died because of it. Knowing it was mostly his own fault didn't ease his wounds' pain or make the experience any less frightening.

She reached for the chair. "Well, I guess I could sit with you a while."

"I mean stay." He patted the bed. "Here. Just for tonight."

"Matt, what will people think? It's not proper, even if you're injured."

"Who'll know…or care? I'm wearing my britches and you're all bundled up. I'm so stove up I can barely move." He must have lost his mind. Sounded like he begged.

"I-I guess I could sit a bit. Maybe you could tell me about Lionel?"

"Not now. Shut the door and stay beside me."

Just this once he wanted to experience being in a real home with a good woman. A sample of how life should be, something he could take with him to savor on all the lonely nights to come. He closed his eyes and prayed.

Lord, give me one night and I'll never ask another thing.

The soft click of the door sent his eyelids open. Had he disgusted or insulted her so she left the room? No, she padded silently around the bed and slid beside him.

Thank you, God.

"Matt? I'm sorry I yelled at you because I thought you'd been drinking." She laid her hand on his arm.

"S'all right." He moved her arm to his chest and exhaled. "Good. You're here, I feel better now."

She nestled her head against his shoulder. "Then go to sleep."

"Beth?"

She raised her head. The moonlight played across her skin and reflected in shades of silver and gold on her hair. "What now."

"I always thought you were beautiful, but the moonlight makes you even prettier." He skimmed his hand up her arm. "Kiss me goodnight."

"Matt Petrov, you are not only the nerviest man, you're plain out of your head. Go to sleep."

He pulled her to him and claimed her lips. Softly, so he didn't scare her. After her treatment from Jeffers, he figured she'd be skittish. She resisted for an instant then leaned into him. He deepened the kiss and she parted her lips for him.

Sweet heaven, he'd never known a more satisfying kiss. He tugged her until she stretched along his body.

When she broke the kiss, she moved her legs back to the mattress but laid her head on his chest. "Why'd you do that?"

"Needed to. For six years. Can't say I'm proud of wanting you when you belonged to another man, but I won't deny I thought about you."~

Did that excerpt intrigue you? Please say yes. (Beth says yes! And I love the title and the cover is gorgeous.)

Visit my blog:  http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com

My website: http://www.carolineclemmons.com/

Facebook www.facebook.com/Caroline Clemmons

Twitter www.twitter.com/CarolinClemmons (no E in Caroline)

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/458092.Caroline_Clemmons

Since St. Patrick's Day occurs this week and the month is Irish-American Month and some of my ancestors were Scot-Irish, I thought perhaps I'd leave you an Irish Blessing to end the post. In my book THE TEXAN'S IRISH BRIDE, the heroine's father, Seamus O'Neill, is a man with the gift of gab and a blessing or toast for every occasion.

Here is a well-known blessing he used:

"May the road rise to meet you,

May the wind be always at your back,

The sun shine warm upon your face,

The rain fall soft upon your fields

And, until we meet again,

May God hold you in the hallow of His hand."~

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Caroline Clemmons writes romance and adventures—although her earliest made up adventures featured her saving the West with Roy Rogers. Her career has included stay-at-home mom (her favorite job), newspaper reporter and featured columnist, assistant to the managing editor of a psychology journal, and bookkeeper.

She and her husband live in rural North Central Texas with a menagerie of rescued pets. When she's not writing, she enjoys spending time with family, reading, travel, browsing antique malls and estate sales, and genealogy/family history.

Her latest contemporary and historical romance releases include THE TEXAN'S IRISH BRIDE, OUT OF THE BLUE, SNOWFIRES, SAVE YOUR HEART FOR ME, a novella in the EPIC nominated Civil War anthology NORTHERN ROSES AND SOUTHERN BELLES, and the upcoming sweet contemporary July release, HOME SWEET TEXAS HOME. Her backlist of THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE, THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND and BE MY GUEST are available at Amazon Kindle and Smashwords. Caroline loves to hear from readers at caroline@carolineclemmons.com

*Thanks so much Caroline for sharing such a beautiful springtime post and telling  us about your new release.  Not only does the story sound wonderful but I love that it was inspired by your mom and your aunt.  Very touching.  *Beth wiping at tears.~

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Clemmons North Carolina, contemporary romance in texas, family, historical romance in texas, history, Holidays, Home, Ireland, Maurice Clemmons, Mother, Police, Police officer, romance author caroline clemmons, Roy Rogers, Saint Patrick's Day, Seattle, Shamrock Shake, Sheriff, St. Patricks Day, texas romance

Read An Ebook Week Winners!

Announcing the winners of my Read An Ebook Week Giveaway!  Thanks everyone who stopped by and left me such enthusiastic comments.  I wish I could give everyone an ebook, but I have to buy them too (after using up my allotment of free giveaways, and I did that long ago).   So, I hope those of you who are inspired to read my work will add these titles to your TBR pile.  :)

Karen in TN won a digital download of Somewhere My Love~

Sandy Marlow won a digital download of Somewhere My Lass~

"Man … can go up against gravitation in a balloon, and why should he not hope that ultimately he may be able to stop or accelerate his drift along the Time-Dimension, or even turn about and travel the other way."

~H.G. WELLS, The Time Machine

 

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Spring Rites

Spring can be very wintry here in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, with snow lying on the ground sometimes until Easter and a chill wind blowing from the North.  But the sun shines more brightly, when it shines, and the barnyard geese get fussy, a sure harbinger of spring.  Squawky geese are always the first sign, even before the pussy willow blooms, or whatever it is that pussy willows do. This sign of spring makes me think of other annual observances, such as my battle with cows.  In winter I give them little thought, but in spring they're the enemy.

March is usually the first month when gardeners can get their hands into the earth and plant something, like those first rows of peas, often put in with cold fingers right before a rain.  The rains come so closely together there may only be a day or two when the soil is workable before it's too wet again.  Veteran gardeners watch the sky and feel the earth, wrinkled pea seed in readiness, and when it's all systems go, there's a mad scramble for the garden as the gray clouds roll in.  I have yet to beat the clouds this year.

Along with the peas, a bit of lettuce, spinach, and radish seeds are scattered in short rows, then back to the house for a hot cup of tea and toasting of numbed extremities by the wood stove, the contentment of a spring rite observed. There's something of a one-upmanship among country folk about who gets their peas in the earliest.  "Got your peas in yet?" is apt to be a seemingly casual conversation opener, but only for the one who has, of course.

Spring is also the time of year when I regard the cows on our farm with a deep wariness.  Inevitably, the cows will get out.  I don't know exactly when they'll time their visit, but their attraction for newly planted gardens and flower beds is their annual spring rite. They particularly like a newly planted garden just after an April shower, because they can really sink their hooves in and churn up the earth.   The fence my father installed around the vegetable garden has helped deter them, unless someone forgets to close the gate.  However, my flower/herb beds and borders are unprotected.  And cows enjoy a freshly re-seeded lawn, which needs doing again after their last rampage.    Cows are also fond of shrubbery.  We have a side of the house called "Cow corner" where the bushes appear to have been strangely pruned by a mad gardener.

I don't know of any plant that doesn't attract them except maybe thistles, which we battle in the meadow.  I once threw myself in front of a stampeding young heifer as she made her way for my newly planted raspberry bushes––bushes I was in the midst of planting when she and several others escaped from the pen my husband was cleaning.  He'd left the gate unbolted for a second––that second cows live for.  Yelling "No!" I hurled myself in her path.  He came running just in time to see me prepared to be martyred for my cause, stalwart gardener that I am.

Not so the heifer, a coward at heart, who veered at the last moment and leapt off the small wall at one end of the garden.  I later heard some discussion about the value of the raspberries compared to the cow if she'd broken her leg.  There's no comparison in my mind, but I'm relieved to add that she didn't and there was some concern for my safety, had I disappeared under her charge.

I've watched in horror as bovines of all ages have frisked their way through tender young snapdragons, newly emerging peas, and dozens of other cherished plantings.  Later in the season when the weeds get thick and the weather grows hot and dry, my enthusiasm for the garden wanes.  As does the cows.  They prefer to make their pilgrimages while the earth is fresh and new, the plants carefully chosen and special.

*Pics are of the author, Beth Trissel, daughter Elise, our farm, cows, geese, and granddog Grady

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Review for Time Travel Romance Somewhere My Lass

I came across a new (to me) romance site Bitten By Paranormal Romance and requested a review which one of their reviewers promptly and enthusiastically gave.  Thanks Dee.~


"Neil MacKenzie had quite the shock when he returned home. His beloved house keeper and companion Mrs. Dannon had been murdered and an exquisite red haired beauty lay unconscious at the top of his stairs. A beauty who brings a fierce sense of possessiveness, protectiveness and a sense of ownership to Neil.
Mora Campbell could not believe her eyes. When she awoke with a dreadful headache to find her most beloved Niall, who had been presumed dead, standing over her, her heart nearly stopped. Only her Niall looked, spoke, and dressed quite different. Not only that he didn't seem to know her. 

This is a heart warming love story. Where the couple strive to regain a future that had been stolen from them, but only have a short period of time for success. The twist to the story was a surprise and was fun to read. Neil and Mora are joined by some very interesting, and funny characters to help them on their journey. Fergus is Neil's best friend and quite the scene stealer, in my opinion. Love me some Fergus."~

Reviewer at Bitten by Paranormal Romance

Rating~

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