When It's Cold Outside

Read a scene below!

Do you like to read winter stories at this time of year? According to most of the feeds on my social media, my friends and family are deeply buried under blankets of snow trying to stay warm. With wind chills in the negative numbers, it might not be the ideal weather to go ice skating. However, it is the ideal time to write about it, because I can stay close to the fire while looking outside for inspiration. I share a scene from “Spinning Through Time” where a woman from modern day Dallas unexpectedly spends the winter in 1874 Philadelphia:

The single horse had no trouble pulling the sleigh across the hard packed snow on the lane, and Nicholas assured them the pond lay close enough to the road that they wouldn’t have far to walk. Immediately upon arriving at the pond, he gathered enough wood to start a small fire should they get chilled while skating.

While Molly helped Amanda put on her skates, Jaci struggled with her own, swatting aside petticoats and heavy velvet skirts. “It was much easier in pants and a sweater,” she mumbled under her breath, wondering how on earth she would ever stand up, much less skate across the frozen pond.

“What’s that, Miss?” The ever vigilant Molly lifted her head from lacing Amanda’s skates.

“Never mind. It’s of no consequence.” Jaci stopped in the middle of knotting the second skate. Dear me, I’m even beginning to talk like them.

Her thoughts were immediately diverted when Amanda squealed. She straightened her skirts carefully around her legs as she watched the child glide out onto the ice, her cheeks rosy with cold and excitement. For such a young child, she skated exceptionally well.

“Miss Eastman, perhaps you would stay warmer if you got off that log and moved about.”

She glanced up sharply as a shadow crossed her vision. Nicholas, handsome as always in his greatcoat and wool trousers, extended a hand to her. The air floated about his head in frozen puffs as he spoke.

She wondered when she had fallen in love with him. The words didn’t surprise her today, even though two days ago she had protested such an idea. Deep in her heart, she had already known the truth. She shook her head in wonder.

For most of her adult life, she had tried to avoid macho males who wanted to run her life, and yet here she was, stuck in the wrong century with just such a man. And the problem? She didn’t seem to mind it.

Nicholas had a magnetic personality which drew others to him, herself included, and his smile was enough to make a girl faint, or swoon, or whatever they did in 1874. He had a terrific sense of humor, talked to her intelligently and not in a condescending manner, and seemed to value her as an individual. Of course, when they argued, it was as violent as the thunderstorms that shook the earth, but even their fights had sent shivers of excitement through her.

So what’s the problem? She asked herself. Aside from the fact that she didn’t belong here and didn’t know how long she would stay? She shook her head to clear it as she allowed him to pull her out onto the ice, deciding today wasn’t made for worrying.

“You’re much more graceful on skates than the back of a horse,” he teased as he skated in front of her.

Her skirts billowed out about her, but she found they didn’t inhibit her movements like she thought they would.

Nicholas was showing off by tipping forward, one foot lifted behind him in the air. She pushed him, catching him off balance. He wobbled and fell on his fanny.

“Alas, it’s too bad you’re not. Do you always end up on your as...derriere?” She stood in front of him to judge his reaction.

His grin was infectious, and she threw back her head and laughed, tossing all her dire thoughts to the wind. She turned and skated away, but he quickly caught up with her.

“Here, try this,” he challenged as he expertly turned in front of her, capturing her hands in his and resting one of them on his shoulder. With no apparent effort on his part, he skated backwards while guiding her into the steps of a waltz. Though awkward at first, she soon found she actually did move more gracefully on skates with all her petticoats than she did on dry land. She began to hum a tune in time to their movements.

Did he feel the electricity like she did; the need to touch him even when she knew she shouldn’t? She tilted her head back, her gaze taking in the wayward lock of black hair falling across his forehead, the gray at the temples that only enhanced his appearance. When she shrugged negligently to relieve the tension, he grinned, his full sensuous lips parting to reveal straight white teeth. She lightly tugged on his lapels to bring him closer.

As often as they had kissed recently, she should have been prepared. Even so, it amazed her at how quickly she saw passion ignite in his gaze before her eyes drifted closed.

The buzzing in her head reminded her of the accident at the carousel, and she wondered if she would open her eyes and be back in Dallas. Perhaps becoming involved with a man from the wrong century was what she needed to return to her own time.

When the pressure on her spine and mouth lessened and she opened her eyes, however, she found Nicholas staring strangely at her. Her mittened fingers shook as they touched her mouth, still tender from his kiss; her heart pounded a rhythm too fast to count. She had remained in Nicholas’s time. Tears stung her eyes as she realized she was immensely glad she had not been transported.

“Uncle Nicholas, Miss Eastman — watch!” Amanda called for their attention and she didn’t have time to dwell on her mixed up emotions.

“Be careful, Muffin,” Nicholas called to his niece, ever mindful of their safety. Jaci heard the yearning in his voice, and knew he thought of Amanda as his own daughter.

“Oh, Uncle Nicholas, you know I am. Don’t be an old fuddy-duddy.”

Suddenly her scream rent the still morning. Horrified, Jaci watched as, in slow motion, Amanda began to sink through the ice.

“Amanda!” Nicholas bellowed a denial even as he raced toward the hole that had swallowed his niece.

***

            If you’d like to find out what happens next, grab a copy of “Spinning Through Time” at

https://books2read.com/Spinning-Through-Time.

 ***

            If winter isn’t your thing but you still want a getaway, how about taking a trip to a ghost town in Nevada (Prospecting for Love); the gold mines of the Black Hills (Loving Charlie Forever) or travel the river on a riverboat (Hold on to the Past). Time travels are quite inexpensive and require no luggage or boarding passes! Find all my time travels and more at https://bwlpublishing.ca/baldwin-barbara/.

Regardless of what the groundhog says, spring WILL come and we will CELEBRATE!

Barb Baldwin

http://authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin

 

Seasons and Senses

 

            Basically there are four seasons in the year, yet it dawned on me that those four sections of a year are very subjective and are not at all the same for everyone. Not only are they in opposite months in some countries, but some countries and even some states within a country don’t have the unique changes in season that others do.

            This makes it somewhat difficult to write about the seasons. To express the joy of newly flowering trees in, say October, may confuse the reader unless they are fully aware of where the story is taking place. Getting roller skates and bicycles for Christmas is only exciting if you live in Florida at the time, as I did as a child.

            Yet there is so much to be said about each season even without knowing the “where” of it. Spring is often considered the time of rebirth and new beginnings. Opposite on the spectrum is winter, when we tend to hunker down and hibernate, staying close to home and hearth.

            Which is your favorite season? What is it about that time of year you enjoy? I moved to Tennessee in the summer of one year and so looked forward to exploring the Smoky Mountains. But I contracted cancer and spent September through early May in and out of the hospital. I was unable to enjoy the changing leaves or the beautiful sunsets. That year, 2010, was the worse year for snow that the Nashville area had seen in quite some time, and I missed that too. My view out of my hospital window was a parking garage.

            You can’t discuss the seasons without combining it with your senses. After all, there’s something unique about the smell of burning leaves in the fall; how the cold wind of winter makes your eyes water and your cheeks burn. What is the single most memorable sound of summer? For me, it’s the musical jingles of the ice cream truck. Every season has its particular tastes, smells, sounds and sights.

            Have you recently read a book (or in your writing) that pulls you irrevocably into the pages because of the use of senses? You could actually hear the squeak of carriage wheels or the pesky buzz of a bug. Take a book and open it to any page. Read and note any use of the senses. In your own writing, do the same. If you don’t hear, see, taste, feel or smell something, perhaps some edits are in order. And stop to consider – you don’t want to “taste the lemon slice in the ice tea”, but rather know “the zesty slice of lemon made my cheeks pucker.”

            To help and enhance writing, make a list using the seasons and the senses. For each season, list something unique for each of your senses. Do you find it harder to list things for one sense over the others? Are you seeing things aplenty but not feeling them? Have you become immune to certain smells? Keep your list handy because you will find more to add as you approach and inhabit each season or if you travel to an area where the seasons aren’t quite the same as you are used to.

            Another exercise using your senses and or the seasons is to jot down phrases that explain something or someone without exactly explaining them.

            It smelled like home.

            She was a sight for sore eyes.

            It feels like football season.

            Her hair was as bright as the autumn day.

            His demeanor was as bitter as the winter countryside.

            One thing I found when I began writing time travel is that I had to be aware of the difference in sensual things in today’s world and that of the 1800s, where my stories were set. In “Spinning Through Time”, one of the first things Jack notices when she’s thrown back in time is the silence. Where was the traffic noise; the constant calliope of voices? Look for more differences when you read this 5 star novel that one reviewer said is:

“A Gorgeous story, it was lovely from beginning to end. A keeper. One of the best time travel romances I've read!”

Barbara Baldwin

http://www.authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin

http://www.bookswelove.com/baldwin-barbara/