Is it Spring yet? by Nancy M Bell

 

To explore more of Nancy's work please click on the cover above.

This is the cover for my next novel which is releasing in April of 2025. Night at the Legislature is the first book in the new collection of paranormal novels being released by BWL Publishing Inc. This collection joins the Canadian Historical Brides and the Canadian Historical Mysteries collections already available.

But now to my point. Is it spring yet? I know, I know,  you're all thinking 'what else could she expect? she lives in central Alberta'. This is the time of year when I get antsy, wanting to buy flowers, bedding plants, bulbs for the garden. Only problem is there is about three feet of snow over my gardens right now and the temperature is in the -20 degrees Celsius. Yup, no digging in the dirt for me for  awhile. Somehow, I always manage to make it through the dark days when the sun is sinking further and further to the south, the hours of daylight shortening with each passing day. It's not Christmas that I look forward to (although that is of course part of it) but the winter solstice. The moment when the Holly King at the height of his reign gives over to the Oak King. 

Slowly, the light returns, the days getting longer and the sun strengthening. Gradually, the sun will make its journey into the northern skies, the sunsets will slant shadows in different directions. Winter will release her strangle hold and the snow will begin to melt, dripping in diamond tears from the trees and the eaves of houses. Creeks and streams will find their voices again as snow melt swells their ranks. The bright chatter and music of running water will fill the air...and finally...the earth will warm enough that snow drops and prairie crocus will push toward the light , followed by daffodils, tulips and hyacinths. The brilliant gold of forsythia will wave beside the pearly grey pussy willows.

But for now, I'm stuck in the middle of February with its frosty nights silvered with moonlight  and starlight. While I watch Orion stalk across the eastern skies headed toward the west as the dawn light approaches. And the jewels of the planets burning in the cold winter skies, somehow more sparkling than in the warmth of summer. Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Venus and if I'm lucky enough to see it before he slips beneath the horizon, Mercury. 

Winter can be spectacular with motes of fairy dust floating in the sunlight as the moisture in the air freezes in the breeze. Snow reflecting the moonlight and starlight. Tall evergreens mantled in heavy frost like hoary giants guarding us.

But, oh spring...spring...the renewal of life, the return of the light...young animals starting their lives, the song of birds growing ever stronger. The return of the hawks and geese and that harbinger of spring the robin. My heart years for spring in the midst of February. So...is it spring yet?

Until next month, be happy, be wise, be healthy 

    

Going down the Rabbit Hole by Nancy M Bell

 

To find out more about my work please click on the cover.

Working on a historical mystery has its own rewards and challenges. There is so much information to track down and then process. How to fit it all together...what to keep...what to throw away...what to actually use in the story...

The process of tracking down the information and then verifying said information is an experience all on its own. I find myself following links and leads from one site to another and then oh my! looking for actual books, either hard copy or digital, to further add to the pile of data that needs to be sorted through.

Ultimately, I arrive at the bottom of the rabbit hole and I'm never sure if I'm any more enlightened than when I started. But of course, then the author has to start to shovel their way back to the surface, sorting the dross from the gold. I emerge into the light holding some tiny nuggets of  gold (information I can actually use).   

However, the journey is important because even though I may not use all the information directly in the final product, the finding and sorting of all the information helps me to formulate the background structure that I will ultimately pin my story to. It enriches the overall image and atmosphere I wish to create, a backdrop if you will, against which my mystery and the characters involved can play out the storyline.

Though, sometimes I do wish the rabbit hole was not quite so deep or the rabbit warren not quite so extensive.

The Tom Thomson Mystery releases from BWL Publishing in November of 2024. I think you'll find it interesting with a rather unique POV from my protaganist ~ Harriet Agnes St. George of Sprucedale Ontario who is spending her spring and summer of 1917 in Algonquin Park  in what was known then as New Ontario.

Until next month stay well, stay happy

In Memory ~ Never Forget by Nancy M Bell

To find out more about Nancy's work click on the cover above. 

 My novel His Brother's Bride is very roughly based on my grandparent's story. We lived with my grandparents when I was younger and I can vividly remember my grandfather shaving and picking bits of shrapnel out of his face. This was many years after the end of World War One. Both Grampa Pritchard and his brother came to Canada as Dr. Barnardo's home children. They were shipped from Liverpool sheltering homes to eastern Ontario. Although they came a year apart, they were fortunate enough to end up close to each other near Eaganville Ontario. Grampa was given to the Wilcox family, Uncle Joe with the Mills. When World War One broke out he volunteered and lied about his age in order to be sent to Europe. His brother, my great Uncle Joe, enlisted after Grampa did. Grampa was a sapper and part of the engineering corps who went ahead to set up first aide areas and infrastructure. Along with others, he was buried for three days in rubble when the area they were working in was bombed. He was also gassed with mustard gas on six different occasions. 

 Uncle Joe was a private in the 21st Battalion of the Canadian Infantry (Eastern Ontario Regiment) and was lost on August 8, 1918 in an early morning Somme offensive near the village of Marcelcave at the age of 25. He is buried in France at Crucifix Corner Cemetary Villers-Bretonneux which is a village in the Department of the Somme, on the road from Amiens to St Quentin. CRUCIFIX CORNER CEMETERY is south of the village at the crossing of the road to Demuin and the road from Cachy to Marcelcave. 

Following the war, the British War Medal, Victory Medal, Plaque (Dead Man’s Penny) and Scroll were sent to his brother, Herbert Pritchard, c/o C.B. St. George, Sprucedale, Ontario

I wrote the following poem for Uncle Joe. 

 Somme Sleep 

 Crouched and ready we wait, 

Dawn is late in coming 

And when it does it is shrouded In mist and fog 

It is more than the damp and wet 

That sends the shivers over our skin 

Anticipation and fear war with each other 

Where are the tanks that are supposed to support us? 

 Sky and earth merge when we peek over the top 

Stitched together by mizzle and mist 

Yards away, across the trampled earth 

The enemy crouch and wait as we do 

 Where are the tanks? The support? 

Whispers and rumours run up and down the line 

Then—suddenly the wait is over 

“Over the top, boys,” the sergeant yells 

 And we go 

Surging out of our earthen burrows 

Running, firing blind, blinking in the fog

 No time to think, only to run and fire 

Ducking bullets whining by our ears 

 Then—it stops I open my mouth and spit mud 

Blood, hot and cold runs through my fingers 

The old guys were right 

There is no pain when it happens 

Just a mixed sensation of disbelief 

And relief… 

 Even if I die right here in the mud 

It’s over: 

 The fear; 

 the wet; 

 the lice;

 the killing. 

 Somewhere my mates are yelling and shots echo 

But around me there is an odd silence 

A separation from the man-made hell 

One hand clutching my gut, the other somehow still wrapped around my rifle 

I let the lark song sing me to sleep. 

 Copyright 2020 Nancy M Bell