Kate E. Thompson's Blog: An Author's Whatnots, a blog of days gone by, page 5

Where in the World Have We Gone?

This Way or That? Photo by Kate Thompson. 2008. by L. C. Mcgee

Weekly Book Review 
from Kevin Race McLeod 
Kevin Race McLeod may be fictitious, but his book reviews couldn't be more real. 

Effigies, Artifacts and Relics by Mary Anna Evans. Follow gritty archaeologist Faye Longchamp while she explores the history of native peoples and digs up exciting facts about the first Americans, along with murder and mayhem.

Becoming Animal by David Abram. WOW! Literally a mind-blowing look at how far we’ve wandered in ignoring our human place in nature and the natural world itself. Makes me wonder, can one free oneself from our Eastern or Western rote ways of thinking, ingrained perceptions and the dominating affects of the current cultures we live in? And can we be objective (never possible, some say) when we’re already steeped and stewing in the soup of civilization? Catch him on You Tube, he says it better.

Adventures in Solitude by Grant Lawrence.  A CBC radio personality gives a true account of his love affair with Desolation Sound in Canada. It’s told in the context of a young man’s coming of age. It is thoughtful and painfully funny. Unforgettable real-life characters pepper a setting of rugged scenery, bountiful food (if you know how to procure it) and the pristine beauty of the Northwest’s secluded inlets and coves. Love his non-judgmental consciousness in regarding people and the lives they pursue.


About the books:
Effigies, Artifacts, and Relics. Check out the author's website. . 
Becoming Animal is available in the Kindle Bookstore.
Adventures in Solitude. Check it out at Barnes & Noble. 

Kevin Race McLeod is a budding thespian in L C Mcgee’s stories. You can read all about Kevin and his secrets in “The Cave” and “Streams of Connections” in New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors. Available on: Kindle, Nook and Kobo .

L.C.Mcgee, his wife and two fine cats live on the coast of Puget Sound. He enjoys reading, writing, writhing in coils (yoga), gardening and the occasional summer sail. Researching coastal Indian lore is a hobby and is further enhanced by his son’s Tlingit ancestry. He has finished writing his first mystery novel The Amber Crow (available May 2013), is updating the sequel The Amber crow and the Black Mariah, and has begun The Amber Crow and the Hooting Woman.  More about L. C. Mcgee at 5 NW Authors

Vietnamese and Buddhist Ghosts

Hungry Ghost Ceremony Temple Altar. Vietnamese and Buddhist Ghosts
by Cathy Kigerl, author of "Those Demon Denims!", one of the 13 Stories in New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors.

In my story, "Those Demon Denims", Loc Pham is especially disturbed by what he believes is a ghost haunting Linny Jones’ farm.  Vietnamese belief in ghosts is very real, even though attempts by government have tried to suppress it. Traditionally, in Vietnamese culture, to die far from home means to die a “bad death” compared with dying a “good death” in or near home. If a person dies far from home they are called wandering ghosts for they find themselves in a type of limbo between this life and a next. They are believed to wander aimlessly without a clear idea of how to return home.  They can also become fearful demons. Families will go to great lengths to bring a family member’s remains home for a proper burial.

It is not surprising to know that the Vietnam War created many wandering ghosts as thousands of Vietnamese soldiers died far from home (Mirsky). Many were buried in unmarked graves and Vietnamese people continue to actively search for lost family members who died in the war so they may finally be brought to rest.

Buddhism—the primary religion in Vietnam—acknowledges what are called hungry ghosts. The hungry ghost realm is one of the Six Realms of Samsara into which a being can be reborn. Those who have died violent or untimely deaths, including suicides, are considered hungry ghosts. It is understood that such people, unable to go through preparatory stages prior to death, carry unresolved emotional and physical needs. People with addictions, excessive greed or obsessions can also become hungry ghosts upon death.

When Buddhism was brought to China from India, belief in ghosts and ancestor worship was already engrained in traditional Chinese culture. Neighboring Asian countries—where Buddhism traveled next, such as Vietnam and Japan—also had ghost/ancestor traditions. These cultures were thus compatible with the Buddhist recognition of the hungry ghost realm.

Hungry Ghost Festivals continue to take place in Buddhist temples around the world every year (usually in autumn). In this ceremony, hungry ghosts are made offerings of food, and other items to metaphorically draw them to the temple for a ritual blessing.

This explains why Loc Pham is adamant about wanting to settle Miss Linny’s denim-clad ghost!

Read “Those Demon Denims” in New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors . Two more of Cathy's stories, "The Parking Lot Prophet" and "Do Your Dream" are included in the book.

Mirsky, Jonathan. “Vietnam. Dead Souls.” A book review of: Ghosts of War in Vietnam by Heonik Kwan. Cambridge University Press. 2008. http://www.viet-studies.info/Mirsky_VN_books_NYRB.pdf

Photo. Hungry Ghost Ceremony Temple Altar. Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:San...

Catherine Kigerl is the author of Stirring up the Water, a collection of poems (under the name Cat Ruiz). She is an online college instructor and is currently writing a second collection, The Water Settles. Watch for more of The Parking Lot Prophet, the quirky mystic from New Halem Tales Secrets in the Further Adventures of the Parking Lot Prophet. More about Catherine on her author page.

Dream Jobs Do Come True

Dream Jobs Do Come True
by Charles Thompson

Two weeks ago I started the best job I have ever had, and believe me I've had quite a few. You could say I’m the poster child of transferable skills. I went to college straight out of high school but life got in the way and I didn't finish. After many years of struggling and hitting that “no degree” wall, I returned to school, earned my Associate’s Degree at South Seattle Community College, and received my BA and Masters in Education degrees from the University of Washington.  My Master’s program was in Higher Education Leadership and Policy with particular focus on student development and community colleges.

Ten years after earning that degree, I'm now doing the work I was so excited about in class, to open access to higher education for adults who have limited social resources or opportunities for a way out of their challenging situations.

Starting with the New Year, I work for Edmonds Community College as the interim director of a $7 M Health Professions Opportunity Grant from the Department of Health and Human Services that is funded by the Affordable Care Act.  Locally our project is CATCH, Creating Access To Careers in Healthcare. The 5 year program supports 100 low income adults each year to come to the community colleges and prepare for a career beginning position as a Nursing Assistant, Phlebotomist or EKG Tech. At the same time they complete 15-20 college credits in a core healthcare curriculum giving a wide choice of career pathways in much needed healthcare professions. For the last year and a half I have been managing the smaller Everett Community College partnership in the grant with great success and now I have the opportunity to assist in many more ways for more students.

I truly enjoy teaching eager students technical skills and sharing stories that illustrate the soft skills of professionalism and career excellence. But what really makes it all worthwhile is when I see that moment, that light come on, when a student who has struggled against so many social barriers sees themselves as a valuable member of the profession. They envision a future in a satisfying career pathway to help others and provide for their families a living wage with a confidence in continued upward mobility.

In Charlie’s “spare time” away from teaching or starting new projects he writes and edits fiction with a close group of writers, the 5 NW Authors. This past December the group published their first collective work, New Halem Tales: Secrets, 13 Stories from 5 NW Writers available at Amazon’s Kindle and Barnes and Nobel’s Nook stores and soon to appear in Google Play and Kobo. See a different side of Charlie at http://www.newhalemtales.com

Achoo! Bring on the Chicken Soup

Chicken Soup for the cold season by Gwen Knechtel

Season after season, it arrives – the common cold. Most of us have experienced the all too familiar symptoms: sniffles, sneezes, coughs, congestion with maybe some chills and low grade fever thrown in. We pro-actively take immune system boosters and still the virus sneaks in. Now all we can do now is stock up on Kleenex and wait it out.

Doctors advise those stricken, “Drink lots of liquids, get plenty of rest and cover those sneezes.” If you are anything like me – you do the best you can, hoping the cold will be over quickly and you don’t pass it on to family, friends, co-workers or people at the checkout stand. Though you likely caught it from one of them!

The debate is on: what season carries the worst type of cold? Is it winter, spring, summer or fall? My choice is whatever current cold makes life a misery is in position number one.

In the end, It doesn’t matter what season is hardest hit or if the cold is formidable or hardly worth mentioning. They are all unwelcome.

Once a cold enters my life, I always appreciate things that help ease its impact.  One popular cold cure favorite is homemade chicken soup. If you know of other good cold remedies, please be sure to let me know. I’d appreciate hearing from others afflicted, and ways to ease discomforts of the common cold.

Chicken Soup. Photo by Miansari66 (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

Gwen  Knechtel   is a teacher and resides in western Washington with her husband and family. Now in “late middle age” she celebrates daily, love of family, friends and creativity. Gwen is the author of "In Which Relationships are Key" and "In Which the Best Defense is a Good Offense", two of the stories in New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors. She is currently working on a novel, DORM 1973. 

When your Imaginary Dogs Drool

A Newfoundland carting a Christmas tree. by Kate Thompson

“Hey Girl nudged Astra in the hip and Good Boy woofed. Astra sighed and she and Matthew looked down at the dogs. They’d gone for their leashes. They held them in their mouths. Their big friendly eyes, drool.”
The Asteroid’s Daughter and the Serpent Handler’s Son

Hey Girl and Good Boy are Sheriff Astra Billings’ best friends. Together they tip the scale at 300 pounds. They are Newfoundland dogs, Newfies for short, and they live with Astra in my novella, “The Asteroid’s Daughter and the Serpent Handler’s Son.” 

Gentle giants, and worthy of the name, Newfies make ideal companions. Of course, you remember Nana, the prim Newfoundland dog who, for the Darling family in J.M. Barrie’s, Peter Pan, proved to be a treasure of a nurse. That’s a stretch, but Peter Pan is fiction. The Newfoundland is a sweet dog, a work dog, a strong swimmer, brave and loyal. Did you know a Newfoundland survived the Titanic? This is true; and he didn’t take the lifeboat. He swam ahead and led survivors to safety.

J.M. Barrie owned a Newfoundland, a Landseer he called Luath, who served as inspiration for Nana. I didn’t know much about Newfoundlands when I began my novella. Astra needed a dog and it was a Newfoundland that came to me, two of them, in fact.

I’d met a couple Newfies a few years before. I admit I was alarmed when I saw giant dogs coming out to greet me and my daughters. My daughters were little then, the dogs full grown. As it turned out, I had nothing to fear. Gentle giants indeed, they were true to their breed.

Maybe you’ve heard that writers ought to write what they know. This isn’t true. Writers have imaginations. I imagined Astra’s Newfoundlands. To go along with my imagination, I had the one brief encounter and a reference photo, my girls petting the dogs and the threads of drool that connected them.

In the early drafts, Astra’s dogs were like paper dogs. They would need a bit of fleshing out in the rewrite. I put the story on the shelf to age. By the time I got back to it, I couldn’t find the picture. In fact, years had passed, my daughters were practically grown, and in my mind, the one experience I had with the dogs was fuzzy at best. Hey Girl and Good Boy were minor characters, but no matter how small their part, they belonged to Astra; they were part of her. Besides, I liked them. I needed more than imagination to bring them to life.

This called for research. I like research. It’s something I can get lost in and often, it’s hard to stop. I delved in and read everything I could find on the Newfoundland dog. I studied pictures, read heroic stories and dog manuals, watched YouTube videos and when I was out, I kept my eyes peeled for Newfies. You can spot one a block away. I began imagining two Newfies, always by my side. I mean, by Astra’s side. I imagined thick, satiny-black coats, their faces turned up, the trust in their eyes.

One late November, I heard about a Christmas tree farm that was sponsoring a fund-raiser for the Newfoundland rescue club. Newfoundland dogs would be there carting Christmas trees for the patrons, donations welcome. I didn't need a Christmas tree; I had a nice one out in the garage in a box.

The farm was an hour away. I didn’t need to go. I’d finished my research and I knew way more about Newfoundlands than I needed to know for the scope of the story. A few minor edits and the novella would be complete and I’d move on and Hey Girl and Good Boy would stay behind, with Astra, of course. I would miss them. Well, I could always go to the book and read the passages they were in. 

I went to the tree farm. The dogs were a friendly bunch, the way Newfies are. They gave me hugs and kisses, just like those Good Boy and Hey Girl gave Astra. They stood by my side and nosed my hand. I petted them. I talked to the owners.

I knew when I left the farm. Just like when I began my novella and I knew Astra had two Newfies in her life. I knew one day in my future, I would have a Newfie in mine; a loyal and lovable, panting, shedding, slobbery, Newfie of my own.

Newfoundland Carting a Christmas Tree. Photo by Charles Thompson

Kate Thompson's novella, "The Asteroid's Daughter and the Serpent Handler's Son" and short story, "Hannah's Treasure" are two of the 13 stories in New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors,  www.newhalemtales.com . She is currently working on her second novel, Tied by Water, and a third, A Family of Forgetters. Kate is enthralled by treasure hunter stories and pirates, pioneer women, UFOs and Bigfoot. More from Kate on the 5 NW Authors Blog and her author page.

Wild and Wondrous Starlit Nights

by L C Mcgee

Kevin Race McLeod is a budding thespian in L C Mcgee’s, “The Cave” and “Streams of Connections”, two of the stories in New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors.

Kevin Race McLeod is very much into acting, the theatre and himself. After his mysterious and harrowing adventures in New Halem, he is forced to confront the amazing fact that he is a mind-traveler. His girlfriend, Sybil Des Lisieux, the novice Seer Kevin met in New Halem, is into the metaphysical and is enthralled with Kevin’s abilities to mentally travel back in time.

Case Mathew Smith, Kevin’s rock-climbing buddy and college friend, is a science and math teacher at Ocean Crest High. Case feels Kevin is being influenced by the ‘woo-woo milieu’ of Sybil, Sybil’s mother and her close friend, Mary, who is a Tlingit Shaman. Case offered Kevin a few books to read in hopes they will ground him in reality and give his friend what he feels is a well-rounded science education.

The timing couldn't be better. Carmella Williams, an ambitious reporter on the staff of New Halem’s newspaper, the FishWrap Bugle, is very interested in Kevin and she’s inveigled him into accepting a volunteer job reviewing books for the Bugle.

Book Review by Kevin Race McLeod for the FishWrap Bugle:

How We See the Sky by Thomas Hockey.
Case Smith, my climbing buddy, insisted I review this book. He uses it for supplemental assignments in his Physics’ classes. At first I resisted, but soon found I liked it. My science background is shaky at best, but the professor’s warm personal insights, his presentations of historical facts and the archaeological backgrounds of astronomy make it fascinating. It seems that in our “modern civilizations” most of us have totally forgotten about the night sky. Light pollution doesn’t help either. So Sybil and I took the book, a planisphere and flashlight out to the beach. We had a lot of fun naked… ha, ha, that is using our naked eye observations under a starry night.  How We See the Sky is available on Kindle and Nook. New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors is also available on Kindle and Nook at Amazon’s Kindle Store and the Barnes and Noble’s Nook Bookstore. Check out the New Halem Tales website for excerpts and more about the book.

Kevin Race McLeod may be fictitious, but his book reviews couldn't be more real. 
Weekly book reviews from Kevin Race McLeod. Watch for them in 5 NW Authors, the Blog.

L.C.Mcgee, his wife and two fine cats live on the coast of Puget Sound. He enjoys reading, writing, writhing in coils (yoga), gardening and the occasional summer sail. Researching coastal Indian lore is a hobby and is further enhanced by his son’s Tlingit ancestry. He has finished writing his first mystery novel The Amber Crow (available May 2013), is updating the sequel The Amber crow and the Black Mariah, and has begun The Amber Crow and the Hooting Woman.  

Tackle those Winter Blahs

"Happy New Year To You" by Gwen Knechtel

A new year was born at 12:01am January 1st.  Champagne corks popped; fireworks splashed color on midnight skies as noisy revelers ushered in 2013.  New Year’s Day always seems to be filled with hope of new beginnings and the resolve that things will be different this year.

In the Great Pacific Northwest, winter daylight disappears by 4:30pm. No wonder its citizens enjoy the warmth of a good read and the solace of the silver screen! After all the holiday festivities the fun fizzles, replaced by boring reality of everyday responsibilities. The joy and sparkle of December fades away. What is left is a lackluster life steeped in winter blahs.

I’m guessing most of us have experienced some form of Post-Holiday Let Down (PHLD). If you have ideas on positive ways to get through it, please share.

"Happy New Year to You". Postcard. 1908 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Gwen is a teacher and resides in western Washington with her husband and family. Now in “late middle age” she celebrates daily, love of family, friends and creativity. She's a contributing author to New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors - New Halem Tales Website - and is currently working on her first novel, DORM 1973. More about Gwen and the 5 NW Authors at 5 NW Authors. 

Who Cooks for You?

Hedgebrook Owl. Photo by Kate Thompson. by Kate Thompson

He flew on silent wings; one swoop and his talons grazed the top of her head. She didn't see him coming. She was walking down the forest path to her cabin after a hearty meal at the farmhouse. It was twilight, drizzly and she was alone. Before she thought to run, he went in for a second swipe. Claws out, he combed her hair. This time, she left his domain sprinting and even though her cabin was closer, she ran back to the farmhouse to warn us.

This was my first night as a writer-in-residence at Hedgebrook, a retreat for women writers located on Whidbey Island, WA. The writers' cottages were tucked away in the forest amongst cedars and furs, pines and hemlocks and vine maples. In owl territory, it seemed. Funny, the packet I received when I was awarded the Hedgebrook residency, mentioned deer and bunnies, not crazed owls. 

The victim, bearing minor scratches, burst into the farmhouse dining room and told us her story. We’d just finished dinner. Now we had to walk down the owl path to our respective cabins. We strategized. We had numbers; there were five of us and one owl. He was 2 pounds, we were 600. But wait, couldn't an owl perched in the tallest cedar spot a tree frog at night? Couldn't he hear a pinecone drop a mile away?

We needed an edge. A shield, breastplate and matching helmet would give us one. We settled for coats. Buttoned up to our necks, tucked in loose hairs and most important, covered our heads.

There are many ways to protect a head. Flip up a hood, don a wide brimmed hat, tie on a red blinking light, or put tomorrow’s lunch in your pocket and wear the Red-Riding-Hood basket it came in, on your head, the handle like a bow. I put on my basket after I finished tying my hood. 

We turned on our windup flashlights and marched shoulder to shoulder into the woods. We walked a fast clip. And the owl, wherever he was, allowed us to pass.

He woke me before my alarm. I rushed downstairs and opened the window. First light winked through the branches. I wanted to get a look at that owl. It was a frosty morning and I shivered. The fire I made the night before was ash. I wrapped in a blanket and waited.

It wasn't long before I heard him hooting. “Hoo-hoo hoo hoo. Hoo-hoo hoo hoo hoo,” he called. Was this the crazed owl?  Was he right outside my window? 

“Hoo-hoo, hoo hoo –”

While he hooted, I peered into the branches. He was nearby, I knew it. But where?

I shut the window and thumbed through my Pacific NW Guidebook. I learned that a Barn Owl screamed and clicked, the Burrowing Owl cooed. I read on. The Barred Owl’s hoot was unique. If he hooted words they’d be, “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?”

Who cooks for you? I substituted ‘hoo’ for each word. I hooted out loud a few times. Yes, I found my owl! I studied the picture. He or she, the book wasn't that detailed, was about two feet tall, had a four foot wingspan and friendly eyebrows. He looked cuddly, not crazed. 

The sun was up and yellow and red leaves glistened. The owl wouldn't be out hunting again until nightfall and if I wanted my dinner, I’d be walking through the woods the same time he was looking for his.

I saw my lunch-basket hat on the table, the sandwich I left in my pocket, still cold, as if it’d been in the fridge all night. I thought of dinner the night before. An epicurean feast and the first meal I hadn't cooked in ages. Hedgebrook had a chef, a real chef who made mouth-watering dinners and lunches to go. The type of meals I would never prepare at home because, well, who had time for fancy stuff, when you had kids and jobs and messes to clean? I ate the sandwich for breakfast, roast beef, not bologna. Who cooks for you? I chuckled. I had almost two weeks left at Hedgebrook to write whenever I wanted and without interruption or obligation.

That night after dinner, we walked back to our cabins together. I kept the picture of the owl in mind. I thought of his big brown eyes; I thought of his stripes. We had our hats on! One of the women wore a floppy one and I wore the hardhat I found in my cabin. I looked like a construction worker. Problem was, someone with a bigger head had worn it last and I hadn't thought to adjust it. As I walked, it slid down over my eyes, off the back of my head, to one side, the other.

We arrived at the giant elm, the spot where we would split up. Two of us left the path and headed to our cabins. Not a peep out of that owl. Strange, I felt disappointed.

We’d only walked a few feet when the owl swooped in and landed on a low branch. We had high power flashlights this time, not the wimpy windups. We shined our lights on him. 

He didn't look as friendly as he did in the picture.  Still, I felt a little giddy. Who cooks for you? I smiled. The chef made chocolate chip cookies for dessert. A rare treat; I never baked much at home. She gave me extra on my way out. They were in my pockets.

The owl hadn't budged. Then, with no warning, my companion marched up to that bird and started telling him off. I watched her wave her arms, whoop and holler. I’d never seen anything like it. The owl cocked his head. Apparently, he hadn't either. Finally, she put her hand on her hip and turned. “He’s not scared at all.” She sounded surprised and held her flashlight steady.

The owl’s eyes slid over to me. I thought of the cuddly owl. I saw a hunter. I remembered the bunnies I’d seen on the path earlier. I tried not to scare them, but a twig snapped underfoot and they scurried into the bushes. I turned off my flashlight. We weren't the food the owl was looking for. He only wanted to protect his dinner. 

The owl took flight. He made no sound; the branch didn't move. He glided. He flew in my direction. Several feet away he broke course. Whoosh! He soared up, up and over my head. I whirled around to see where he’d gone, but my hard hat slid over my eyes and fell to the ground. 

I looked up. A moonless night, the sky inky-black and the only sound was rustling leaves.

Kate Thompson is a 2008 Hedgebrook alum. She’s enthralled by treasure hunter stories and pirates, pioneer women, UFOs and Bigfoot. She's a contributing author in New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors, www.newhalemtales.com, and is currently working on her second novel, Tied by Water, and a third, A Family of Forgetters. You can see more of her work at www.5nwauthors.com . 

Café People

Brown Trout Café, Dunsmuir CA 2011 By Catherine Kigerl

My husband, William and I are a café people. So we have accumulated a good list of preferred cafés. Our favorites hinge on quality of coffee (taste and richness), price and a certain understated feel to the place. The latter includes how conducive a café is for a good
demonstrative discussion. Cordial servers and location are also thrown into the mix. Depending upon our preferences at the time, quality of bakery items, espresso drinks and Chai tea may be figured in too.

When we were first going out together we found café solace in a few Seattle establishments. The Portage Bay Café, just a walk from where I lived in the University District, was best for a tall cup of coffee and the newspaper on a window stool. The Cedars Indian Restaurant was a favorite for the unlimited delicious, homemade Chai. There, we sat outside on a good (non-rainy) day, the Indian flute music carrying on the breeze with our latest topic of intense discussion.

Since William worked near Ashland, Oregon at the time, my visits to him introduced us to a few of the many Ashland cafés. Our favorite at the time: Bloomsbury Books Café. The patio out back with its bamboo awnings and flower garden graced by a stone Buddha offered an unparalleled ambiance. 

A year later, with our relationship solidified, we found ourselves living in West Seattle and Caffe Ladro—just down the street—with its big wooden deck chairs out front and huge coffee cups with saucers became our favorite on a Saturday morning. I especially took to their lattes topped with a delicate fern design and William to their luscious brownies.

A move to Mt Shasta, California for four years ushered in our top choice found in Dunsmuir, a town a few miles south: the Brown Trout Café. Now defunct, a creek feeding into the Sacramento River ran underneath the floor and a patron could stand on a grate and watch the flowing water below. Our favorite stools next to the window looked out on the train yard across the street and the forest-covered hills. The mocha's were a special treat made with a Mexican chocolate rarely found outside the State of California.

Before moving back to Washington State, we took up residency in Ashland, Oregon. We had been visiting Ashland once a month, but it often isn't until you live somewhere that you can fully invest in the cafés. For café culture means hanging out as well as drinking coffee or tea over a period of visits. Bloomsbury Books Café became our top stop again as well as another. But sometimes cafés should remain a secret so I’m going to jump to Washington State.

Since we live a long ways from a café now, and our visits less frequent, our decision was carefully considered. After trying several in various nearby towns, our undisputed favorite café became The Coffee Exchange in Kingston, Washington. The coffee is yes, good, and the chairs are comfy and welcoming. A bonus is the owners' big old calico cat, Kiki, often seen slinking around the tables and chairs. There is an understated feel to the place—one of our top priorities in choosing to make a café our ‘home’ away from home.

We also keep a list of recommended cafés for when we happen to be passing through. Do you have a favorite café to share?

Photo: Brown Trout Café by Catherine Kigerl. 2011

Catherine Kigerl is a contributing author to New Halem Tales Secrets: 13 Stories from 5 NW Authors. She is also the author of Stirring up the Water (under the name Cat Ruiz) published in 2008 by Salt Publishing Ltd, Cambridge UK. Her projects in the works include: The Further Adventures of the Parking Lot Prophet and No Expectations. A second collection of poems, The Water Settles, is also forthcoming. More about Cathy at 5 NW Authors and New Halem Tales. 

Rain, Rain, Here to Stay

by Gwen Knechtel

Rain. When you live in western Washington State in late autumn and winter you get a lot of it. This morning its pelting pavement and our metal roof; you can hear the wind tossing tops of trees with the all too familiar whoosh.
   The forecasters show weather maps of solid green with concentrations of yellow; the colors translate to system after system of often heavy rain, cold and continuous, chasing each other across the Pacific Northwest.
     I am not enthused about getting into my car at 7am and commuting to my middle school on the other side of the district. It is 5am now, dark and dank; you can hear the rain pounding our house. Definitely one of those mornings where staying under bedcovers is a good idea.
     It reminds me of a 1970s song by Karen Carpenter, “Rainy Days and Mondays”. I sang it as a solo in my senior year of high school. Recall lyrics about how the weather and start of week had a depressing affect. I concur! On that note, best get my morning routine going. Our cat Saaski is demanding breakfast.
Gwen Knechtel(Photo Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

Gwen Knechtel is a teacher and resides in western Washington with her husband and family. Now in “late middle age” she celebrates daily, love of family, friends and creativity. With one published story in Lembas for the Soul and a contributing author to e-book New Halem Tales: Secrets, she is currently working on DORM 1973. Check out New Halem Tales Secrets here. Find Gwen at www.5nwauthors.com