Spring...It's Spring! by Nancy M Bell

 

To find out more about my books click on the image above.   

It's finally Spring here in Central Alberta. I know that on the west coast the trees are in blossom and the tulips and daffs are glowing. It seems Spring comes to different parts of Canada at different times for sure. In Southern Ontario the lilacs and tulips would be blooming by Mother's Day and the peonies wouldn't be far behind. Here, my peonies don't bloom until late June or early July. 

It's raining today on the dry dusty prairies. Which is cause for joy. It has been dry for so long, even the snow melt was whisked away by the strong winds. The top six inches of soil needs to be moist so the crops can germinate and flourish. In comparison to the growth of wheat, barley and canola my little garden worries are pretty tiny. Besides, I can water my garden, without irrigation pivots and a water source it's pretty hard to water hectares of grain crop. So today, I'm doing the happy dance for the rain and for Spring.

The Mayday tree in the yard has come fully leafed over the last week and the tiny flower spikes are waving in the breeze, soon to break out into white spiky florets that will attract the honey bees and the birds. Hollyhocks are  the first to brave the uncertainty of a Central Alberta Spring and they are raising their broad leaves to the sun and rain, fighting off the strong winds. Rhubarb is growing in the northeast corner of the yard which gets the most early sun in the year. It will actually be ready to harvest a bit soon. It will be so nice when the fruit trees here blossom and the lilacs by the house scent the air.

Birds are everywhere, fighting over seeds and nesting materials. And, I saw my very first Sandhill Cranes this Spring. They were migrating and I came across a flock of them twice. I had to do a double take as I assumed they were geese at first, but nope. Cranes! They sound different as well when they fly, but the ones I saw were earthbound scavenging in a grain field. I am so used to the sound of Canada Geese which is what I encountered at our old house. But here, the Grey Geese and swans go through and their voices are all different to my ears. 

So wherever you are and whatever stage your Spring is at.... Enjoy the transition from winter into Spring and the lengthening days. We are climbing the slope of Light up to the Solstice which is when we begin the slow slide back toward the longest night in December. Cherish your journey, because it is yours alone.

Until next month stay well, stay happy.

      

Rainforest Writers Retreat ~ A Little bit of Heaven

 

This is my latest novel. The first offering in BWL Publishing Inc's Paranormal Canadiana Collection.

I spent a few days in early March at the Rainforest Writers Retreat at Lake Quinault in the Washington Rainforest. It is a wonderful magical place and to spend 4 days surrounded by other writers and just soaking in the creative juices was amazing. It's a pilgrimage I try to make every year, but lately it hasn't happened as often as I would like. 

I fly to Portland OR and meet my dear friend. Then we road trip up to Lake Quinault where we meet up with the other writers who are taking in Session 3 of the retreat. Patrick Swenson (Fairweather Press) hosts the retreat which runs for 4 weeks in late February and into  mid March. It is such fun, chasing tree squids and enjoying the raucous Cabin Party on Saturday night. I usually managed to get in about 20,000 words, but this year I didn't have a ms on the go as my latest novel (see above) released on March 1. So instead, this year I took in more of the social aspects and didn't spend most of the time in my room glued to my computer. And this year I also managed to write some poetry. 

I got to be a bar fly on Saturday night- enjoying laughs and some new cocktails : Sidecars, green tea shots (which incidentally had NO green tea in it at all.)

I let the pictures speak for themselves.

    

That In between Feeling by Nancy M Bell

 

To find more of Nancy's books click on the cover above.

Ta Daaahhhh! This is the cover of my latest book which will release in the Spring of 2025. It is set in the Manitoba Legislature building on the night of the Winter Solstice. It's part of the paranormal collection being created by BWL Publishing Inc. 

I had a blast researching this book, there are so many cool things in Manitoba that I could have woven a story around. Lake monsters and UFOs and so much more. But once I found the Legislature building I was hooked. The architect was a Mason and he incorporated that into the features of his creation. Messages in stone, hidden in plain sight. Including the iconic Golden Boy or as the sculptor named him Eternal Youth.

I have hit the doldrums of creation at the moment. I have just finished the tale and sent it off to the publisher for the editor to have his go at it. And now I'm in that pocket that happens when one story has ended but another hasn't yet been born. It's a strange place for an author who always seems to have a company of characters ranging around in her head. Some from older stories who wish their own tale told, some new ones elbowing their way in to the mix. 

But for the period that always comes after I type The End, there is a void of sorts. Almost as if my brain (or more likely my much abused Muse) takes a deep breath and lets it out, releasing the accumulated strain of corralling my characters into the paths I wish them to take in order to bring the story as I envision it to life. You laugh, but often my characters get uppity and take off on tangents of their own leaving me to chase along behind gathering up the consonants and vowels they discard and attempting to catch the news they are launching back at me. 

I suppose I should be grateful for the creative doldrums, and I am in a way. But I'm always waiting for the next cloudy storm of words to appear on the horizon, hoping the winds will blow them my way and pick me up out of the equatorial doldrums where I'm languishing. Picture my Muse down in the captain's cabin stretched out in the berth with a glass of rum, while I'm up on deck scanning the horizons for those clouds with a spyglass pressed to my eye.

Fortunately, the doldrums don't usually last too long. Soon the limp sails of my mind start to shiver in the breeze as a zephyr dances across the calm waters, waking wavelets in its wake. Down below, my Muse sighs, empties the bottle of rum, stretches and saunters up on deck with me to watch the clouds of words gather on the horizon.

Hopefully, it won't be too long before the winds pick up, but for the moment I am going to enjoy my stay here in the becalmed waters. Maybe I'll join my Muse for some of that rum.

Until next month, stay well, stay happy.

 

  

Tom Thomson Book Launch a huge Success! by Nancy M Bell

 

To learn more about Nancy's books click on the cover please.

The book launch at The Purple Platypus Bookstore in Castor, Alberta was huge success. There was tons of fun,  door prizes, swag bags and of course a reading from the book. There was a great turnout with over 20 people joining me in the cozy confines of the bookstore. It's such a pleasure to support and be supported by an independent bookstore. Castor is a small town in east-central Alberta and The Purple Platypus draws patrons from as far away as Red Deer and Wetaskiwin. I'm so happy that the lovely Lynn Sabo agreed to host this book launch. Even though the day outside was a bit dreary, the warm and companionship within was wonderful. 

Not to mention I sold lots of books which was good for me and the store. So win win.

As anice way to cap off the day I got the first look at the cover for my upcoming book Night at te Legislature, a Manitoba paranormal set in the Manitoba Legislature building. This one is the first book in BWL Publishing's news collection The Paranormal Canadiana Collection which will feature a novel set in each of Canada's provinces and territories.

Until next month, stay well, stay happy

 

Fall is coming or is it here? By Nancy M Bell

 

To see more of Nancy's work please click on the image above.

September 2024 is almost half over. Do you think the calendar decides when summer is gone and fall is upon us? I honestly don't think nature pays much attention to our human machinations. I remember an August day back in 1978, I was sitting on my horse having just come out of the wooded valley behind the barn and looking over Bruno Bijoni's  huge bean field. It was only mid August, but as I sat and let the sun fall in slanted beams around me and the breeze sweep across the land to lift my hair, there was the unmistakable scent of autumn in it. It's a hard scent to describe, more experienced than described. It's a mix of dry grasses, disturbed leaf litter under the trees, a cooling of the air moving over the tasseled heads of ripe corn waiting for the reaper and so many other  nebulous but unmistakable nuances.

In my middle years, I so looked forward to the shortening of days, the cries of the wild geese overhead and the whisper of the wind in their pinions as they lofted off the trout pond. Summer was always full to the brim and the dusk of ten pm often found me still teaching a riding lesson, or schooling my own horses. Not to mention the myriad of  chores that spring and summer brings. Haying in June when the weather was always hot and humid, repairing fences, showing horses, braiding manes and tails until after midnight with my own horse always done last after the students. So yes, the shortening days were welcome. A promise of respite and a chance to recharge. 

When I was much younger, fall meant the time we spent at the cottage on Davis Lake in Haliburton was drawing to a close and that was not met with such relief. But oh, the glory of the maple trees burning orange and red and gold against the dark spruce and pine. Their colours reflected in the mirror stillness of the lake. In later years, it was the Rouge Valley that gifted me with the palette of autumn colour as I rode my horse along the well known and loved trails. Even now, so many years later, I can close my eyes and ride down Mosquito Alley, climb Spyglass Hill, look over the flats on the east side of the river from Souix Lookout, ride down the broad avenue that ran along the top of the ridge, the place where I could find  trilliums and lady's slippers in the spring.

Some falls have been open and warm, holding autumn at bay and spreading honey-gold light and heat across the western prairies. Clouds of dust rising into the Alberta blue sky heralding the work of many combines bring in John Barley Corn, wheat, canola, rye and other crops. On those days, fall seems far away and winter even more distant. There is one thing I can always be certain of though, no matter when it arrives, fall will be a'comin' in with crispy days and sharper nights. Jack Frost will paint the trees with colour, although out here in the west it mostly shades of gold and yellow. I trust my nose and my senses rather than the calendar to tell me what season it is. 

Here are some images to get you into the mood.

Until next month, stay well, stay happy.

Update on current Work In Progress ~ When your characters go AWOL by Nancy M Bell

 

to learn more about Nancy's work click on the cover.

The progress on this book has been slow. For awhile, my characters refused to speak to me which was frustrating. I depend on them to carry me forward. I finally figured out why they had disappeared into the Ontario bush of 1917 and refused to come out. 

I was so tied up with historical timelines and who said this and where this other person was at such and such a time that I forgot about the underlying story I was attempting to tell. I finally pulled my head out of the rabbit hole and said "to hell with timeline etc."

I got back to my main character, Harriet Agnes St. George, and turned her loose on Canoe Lake and the Algonquin bush. One of the things which has plagued me is that this is based on actual happenings and Tom Thomson's death has never been fully explained. There are many and conflicting accounts of the events leading up to his death and those following the event. I have been sunk in a conundrum of what to use and what to disregard as not fitting with my storyline.

As this is a work of fiction, both historical and a mystery, I need to have a satisfying conclusion to the mystery. But as there is no clear indication of who the murderer was, or if indeed it was murder and not an accident, it has caused me some pause.

Clearly, I can't say such and such a historical figure was the murderer and to the best of anyone's knowledge, there were no eye witness to the attack/accident. So I have invented Harriet who tells the story in her own words from a unique perspective. I think the reader will find the conclusion and the wrap up of Harriet's story both surprising and satisfying. 

I'm not going to reveal anything more about that. Just say, keep an open mind as you follow Harriet through her journey to discover who killed her friend and fellow artist Tom Thomson.

In closing, just let me say, I hate hate hate writers block and I hate when my characters desert me and then suddenly show up in the middle of the night waking me up with "hey lady, about your story line- how about this...."

Until next month, stay well, stay happy.

Learning to Live Without You by Nancy M Bell

 

To find more of Nancy's books click on the cover

Emily, Shady, Max

Emily

Guapo

Spook, Colleen, Phil, Sunny, Emily in the east pasture

As we age there are transitions in our lives.  The biggest, and latest one, in  mine is that I no longer own a horse. That's not entirely a true statement, I never 'owned' a horse, they more aptly owned me. My earliest memory is of riding a pony and being led around under a shady tree at the Bowmanville Zoo in Ontario. My childhood is filled with wishing for horses, it was a part of me was missing until I started working  at Rouge Hill Stables (Highway 2 and Shepherd Ave). While I didn't own those school horses, I loved them and took care of them I spent every moment I could at the barn. Most weekends I led trail rides from 8 in the morning until 8 or 9 at night. I went to school for a break LOL. 

I got my first horse when I was 17. I loved that horse, still do. He was the horse of my youth, probably the only reason I made it through my teens. Tags was the horse of my middle age and Emily was the horse of my old age. There are countless other horses who have touched my life, and I adore all of them. I remember all of them.  If I work at it I can recall the order of the stalls in the school barn at the Rouge, even though the horses sometimes changed. 

I spent my highschool years on  horseback in the magical Rouge Valley which is now a park. The first gallop on the sandy trail beside the river, crossing at the Durnford Crossing, then down the tree shadowed Mosquito Alley past the Fairy Pool at the end. Then the rest area, then either over the river again and through the apple orchard and up the steep Spy Glass Hill where you could look out over the valley and see the Glen Eagles Hotel perched on the edge of cliff to the west. The hotel is long gone now, but it lingers in my memory. If you went the other way you went up and then along the top of ridge where trilliums and lady's slippers bloomed. 

And through everything there were horses. Always Horses. 

Now, I'm learning to live without them. A part of my heart is missing. I suppose as we grow older we lose things. People, animals, beloved locations become paved over or plowed under. And yet, as long as we remember them, they are never really lost. But the place they occupy in my heart is bit less shiny and new.

I suppose everyone of us has things from our youth and lives that we leave behind as we move forward. For me, it is the privilege of caring for horses. But life moves on and we must therefore move with it. The alternative is to stop living and be engulfed by the past. Tempting as that is at times, I'm not ready to do that yet. There are still windmills I need to go tilting after. And books yet to write. 

Until next month, be well , be happy. 

   

My first horse show. Chum (Cherokee's Luck) I was 16

Guapo

Max

Miley

Gibbie

Emily, Phil, Big Bird