Time- where does it go? by Nancy M Bell

 

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

Time, where does it go? It feels like only yesterday I was sixteen and galloping through the Rouge Valley near Scarborough, Ontario. My world was filled with horses and the people associated with them. That time in my life is kind of like a golden halo, you know the old saying- the Good Old Days. Of course, life being what it is, there was good and bad in those days. But the constant thread running through it all was the horses and my passion for them. 

It wasn't until I was seventeen that I got my own horse, but I still remember those wonderful patient horses who made up the dude string at Rouge Hill Stables. Considered by some as old, or used up, or just a grade (the equine equivalent of mutt), but they patiently put up with packing non-riders up and down the big hill to gain access to the valley. They did their job without complaining day in and day out. I learned so much from those horses, in my mind's eye I can see them still.

And now, in December I will turn sixty-five. Officially a Senior. How the hell did that happen? My youngest will turn forty in February of 2022. I mean...are you kidding me? Where did all that time go- how did all those years slip by without me really noticing? I have been many things in my life, but through it all the constant has been my horses. Although many horses have made an impact on my life, there are a few that were truly horses of my heart. Brandy was the first horse that was mine, one that no one else could make a decision about. That's the problem with loving horses that don't belong to you, other people can make decisions that take that horse away from you. The second horse of my heart was Tags, a big chestnut quarter horse that looked more like a stocky thoroughbred (and acted like one as well) the third horse, the horse of my old age is Emily. She's twenty-one and still looks much younger. She's been mine since before she was born as I owned her momma. 

I know some men can keep track of events that happened in the past by what car they drove at that time, for me it's what horses were around me that brings back the memories clear and strong. In my heart I am still that sixteen year old kid riding horses in the moonlight through the blooming apple trees beneath Spy Glass Hill, wearing my heart on my sleeve and believing anything is possible if you just want it bad enough.

That idealistic outlook is a bit tattered by the passing years, but I guess I do still believe anything is possible if you just work at it and don't lose focus. The old lady I see in the mirror now can still startle me sometimes, who is she? And behind her eyes I can still find the golden halo of youthful optimism, and always the horses, teaching me courage and fortitude and reminding me patience is a virtue.

 Until next month, stay well, stay happy.

October Surprise by Eileen Charbonneau

Find my books here

Greetings, dear readers!

My October surprise is a sneak peek at my November 2021 release, Ursula's Inheritance. The third book in my American Civil War Brides series, it was a surprise to me, too! After publishing Book 2, Mercies of the Fallen, I thought I was finished with Ursula's story. But readers thought otherwise! 

Mercies took place between the Battles of Antietam and Gettysburg. It ended just after the infamous New York City draft riots of July 1863. Readers wanted to know what happened next in the lives of Ursula and her Union officer Captain Rowan Buckley. Does he survive the war? Can she come out of hiding and clear her name? Will their young marriage born of desperate circumstances become a lasting union of souls? And what about the secrets still between them?

Did you know that this is how Louisa May Alcott's Little Women got written too? The first volume (1868) was a great success. But readers were eager for more. Alcott quickly completed a second volume in 1869. The two volumes were issued in 1880 as a single novel that has become our cherished classic. 

I hope you'll enjoy what happens next in the story...The opening is from Rowan's viewpoint, and I hope you'll learn what a great dad he is becoming....

Chapter One, Ursula's Inheritance  

April 1864, Gramercy Park, Manhattan

Even with the one eye the war had left him, Rowan Buckley knew the wee one pilfering from the garden was a girl, despite her trousers. He frowned at the canvas bag at her feet.

“So it is not a squirrel with an interest in our angelica, then?” he asked quietly.

The urchin turned, startled eyes narrowing. “Better me than an Irish thug!” she spat out. 

The girl took advantage of his hesitation and his limited depth perception. She grabbed the sack and raced toward the iron garden gate. But after three hard years of soldiering, there was nothing wrong with Rowan’s reflexes. He caught up, took her wrist, and, when she resisted, her waist. She had a waist. So she was a little older than her small size had first impressed upon him.

“Please let me go, sir,” an even smaller voice came out of her.

“Am I ‘sir’ then, now that you’re caught?”

“You are a black Irish scoundrel to hold me against my will!”

She kicked him. Hard enough to throw off his stance. He maintained his temper and light grip as he steered her toward the tradesman’s door of Ursula’s house.

“You’ve nothing to fear from me, lass.” He sent her through the entrance with a nudge at her back. “Now hush up your caterwauling, the baby’s asleep.”

Jonathan was stretched out at the hearth, his stockinged foot rocking the cradle. His eyebrow arched.

“Company? The kettle’s on, my fine fellow.”

“Your fellow is a girl, and there’s nothing fine about her,” Rowan corrected, lifting the cap off his captive’s head. Fair-haired braids descended. “May I present our angelica and camomile thief?”

Jonathan smiled. “Ah. Mystery solved.”

The girl’s eyes fired. “I planted that garden!”

“Did you?” Jonathan asked in his most charming southern tone. “Fetch the young horticulturist a chair, brother.”

“She kicks,” Rowan warned.

The girl’s light brown eyes narrowed as she looked from one to the other. “You’re not brothers.”

“And you neglected to pay for your trousers,” Rowan observed, yanking off and reading the dry goods store tag. “The proprietor might want a word with you about that.”

“The proprietor is my father. His name is Selby, see?”

A rustling of nightclothes and Ursula stood in the back doorway.  “Mr. Thomas Selby?”

Rowan saw something familiar in the girl’s trapped look, the tears stubbornly held back. 

“You are so confusing! All of you!” she shouted, loud enough to startle wee Henry to wailing. 

“Aw, there now then, fledgling,” Rowan soothed, lifting the baby from cradle and into his arms. “You’ve had enough of the lot of us, have you?”

Ursula kept her eyes fixed on the girl.

“What is your name?”

“Penina.”

She glanced in the sack, “Thank you, Penina. A little camomile is exactly what we need for our Henry’s teething gums. Take the rest home. Will you not join us for breakfast first?”

Rowan sighed. His wife had found another stray. He rubbed his sore shin, then fetched the frying pan. This little one might enjoy some of his oatcakes, he supposed.

Wedding Rings by J. S. Marlo

 

 

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

I welcomed a daughter-in-love last month. She is the love of my son’s life, and I couldn’t have picked a better woman for him.

After they got engaged last Christmas, my new daughter and I shared some interesting conversations about wedding rings. She’d read that the wedding ring is supposed to go first on your finger, then you slip the engagement ring back afterward, so she was wondering when or if she was supposed to switch her engagement ring to her right hand before putting it back to her left ring on top of her wedding ring.

I’ll admit staring a bit weirdly at her, only because I had never heard of wearing the wedding ring first. When I got married thirty-eight years ago, there was no Internet. New couples basically followed the traditions set by their parents/grandparents. My mother and my grandmothers wore their engagement rings next to their knuckles, then when they got married, their husbands slipped their wedding bands on top. There was no taking rings off or switching hands. It was simple and straightforward.

So, I did some research on the Internet about wedding rings, and stumbled on some very unusual ones along the way.

The first wedding rings are believed to date back to ancient Egypt, some 3,000 to 4,000 years ago. Egyptians wore their rings on the fourth finger of the left hand, believing that a vein from that finger led directly to the heart. The Romans call this the “vena amoris”, or “vein of love”.

The early Asian civilizations were certainly not as romantic as the Romans. Weddings were seen as a legal contract between a man and a woman, and the wedding rings were considered a physical representation of that binding contract. Therefore,

couples would seal their marriage with puzzle wedding rings which would immediately fall apart if they tried to remove them from their fingers.

Wearing your wedding ring on the left hand is not a global tradition, mainly for one of these two reasons:

-  The word left is derived from the Latin word meaning sinister. Therefore, wearing it on the left hand is considered unlucky or evil.

-  In the Bible it was the practice to wear rings on the right hand, the hand of authority and power, completing the pledge of commitment.

This holds true in countries like Russia, Poland, Norway, Austria, Denmark, Latvia, Bulgaria, Ukraine, Spain, Portugal, Greece, and India.

Interestingly enough, in Sweden and Chile, it is not just brides-to-be that receive engagement rings, men wear them too.

In many cultures, it was traditional for only the woman to wear a wedding ring, but it changed during World War II. Many servicemen began wearing their wedding rings as a sign of commitment and as a way to remember their wives while stationed overseas.

As far as which ring should come first? My new daughter was right about most traditions favoring the wedding ring, but it is also not uncommon to stack them starting with the first one that was received. So, like me, she is wearing her wedding ring on top of her engagement ring.

Happy Reading & Stay Safe

JS

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

 

The Joy of Flying

 

Find my books here

When I was ten, my parents took my sister Kate, brother Peter and me on our first trip by airplane. We traveled from New York to Washington DC. We visited museums, the OAS headquarters, and a cathedral. 

But my most vivid memory was of the Lincoln Memorial. My father stood us beside the wall of the north chamber and had us recite the words of Lincoln’s second inaugural address. I did not understand the sense of our sixteenth president’s thoughts about the national trauma that was our Civil War. But I understood the beauty of the sound of his thoughts…

With malice toward none, with charity for all, 

with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, 

let us strive on to finish the work we are in,

 to bind up the nation's wounds, 

to care for him who shall have borne the battle 

and for his widow and his orphan, 

to do all which may achieve and cherish 

a just and lasting peace 

among ourselves and with all nations.

I have shared my father’s love of flying ever since that trip.

On September 11, 2001 I was emerging from the subway in lower Manhattan when the first plane hit the World Trade Center. I rushed up the steps of the Federal Courthouse to meet with my fellow jurors, hold each other’s hands, and watch the debris bursting out of the gaping black hole like white doves in flight against an impossibly blue sky.

My father called me from his home in Florida a month later. His printer was broken.  He needed me to help him choose a new one and get it up and running. He was insistent, he’d pay for my flight, my mother was already making me a pie. He needed me right away.

So I boarded a plane, breathing deeply, telling my racing heart that all would be well, that my father needed me.

He didn’t need my help, of course. He needed me to get on a plane, to not let being an eyewitness to another national trauma take away my joy of flying.

Thank you, Daddy.

I live in bear country by J. S. Marlo

 

 

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

In "Mishandled Conviction", Violette and her pregnant daughter flee in the forest to escape their abductor only to encounter a mama bear with her two cubs. To describe the bear encounter, I use the phrase If it’s brown, get down. If it’s black, attack. If it’s white, you’re dead, but how true is this statement?

 

 

I live in Wood Buffalo, Northern Alberta. As of August 11, there has been 134 black bear encounters in the municipality since the spring. 59% of these encounters occurred in residential areas. Late summer and fall are active months for black bears as they will eat as much as they can before going into hibernation, so that number will rise in the weeks to come.

The only bear I saw so far this summer was  a cub crossing the street ten feet in front of my car. I did stop to let him cross safely, but no, I didn't get out. I didn't see his mama, but she couldn't have been far since that cub was too young to fend for himself.

In Wood Buffalo, there are only black bears, but black bears aren't always black. They come in different colours: from cream, to cinnamon, to brown, to black, and almost everything in between.

 

When we use the term "brown bear", we mean a grizzly bear, not a black bear with brown fur. It is actually important to know the difference between a grizzly and a black bear in order to know how to react to them.

 

Though grizzlies are generally bigger than black bears, you can't rely on colour or size alone to differentiate them. A grizzly has a prominent shoulder hump and an elongated face, unlike the black bear who has no obvious hump and a more rounded face. Their toes aren't aligned the same way, so their prints are different. Grizzlies also have longer claws, though I would rather not come within distance of being able to see their claws.

So, should you fight back if you encounter a black bear, or lay down if you come across a grizzly? In most cases, that would be the right thing to do, but before you reach that point, there are a few other things to do--and not do.

 

First, if you see a bear, DO NOT RUN! And never turn your back to a bear.

If the bear hasn't seen you: move away cautiously.

If the bear saw you: speak calmly, wave your arm slowly, and back away. Get ready to use your bear spray, which should be clipped to your waist and not hidden at the bottom of your backpack.

If the bear charges, and your spray doesn't work,  fight the black bear but lay down for the grizzly (protect your head with your arms) as you have very slim chances of winning a fight against a grizzly. That being said, if the grizzly doesn't lose interest in you after a few minutes and start biting you, you may want to fight back.

 

In practice, these worst-case scenarios don't happen very often. There are ways to minimize your chances of dangerous encounters: hike in groups, make noise, stay on the trails, pay attention to paw prints and scats (fresh poop means bear nearby), carry bear spray and know how to use it. Humans aren't on black bears' or grizzlies' menu, but bears will react if they are startled, if they feel threatened, if you stand in the middle of their berry patch, or heaven forbid if you come between them and their cubs.

Bottom line: Don't be afraid to enjoy the outdoor, but stay ALERT! And don't forget, bears are good climbers.

 

 A quick note on white bears, aka polar bears: they are at the top of the food chain. No human ventures into polar bear territory without a loaded rifle unless they want to become a midday snack. So, if a polar bear is charging at you, and your finger isn't on the trigger, I'm afraid that bear will be the last thing you'll ever see.

 

For more information on how to play safely in bear country, Read the Alberta BearSmart Guide

Happy Reading & Stay Safe

JS

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

 

A Leisurely Tour of Our Vegetable Garden #vegetablegardening #freshvegetables

 

Arranging a Dream: a Memoir by J.Q. Rose

Follow this couple’s inspiring story, filled with the joy and triumphs and the obstacles and failures experienced as they travel the turbulent path of turning dreams into reality.

Click here to discover more books by JQ Rose 

on her BWL Publishing author page.  

🍅🍅🍅

Hello and Welcome to our garden! This time of year is when we really enjoy the harvest. Come on along with me and see Gardener Ted's (GT) garden.

My husband, Ted, is a farm boy. He has never lost that love of growing plants. In fact, because he built a small greenhouse on the back of our house way back in the '70s, moved away from our friends and family to purchase a floral shop and greenhouse operation in Michigan. 

My newest release from BWL Publishing, Arranging a Dream: A Memoir, is a feel-good story about the first year we were in the flower business in 1975-1976. What an adventure for us! We knew nothing about the floral industry or how to operate a business. 

Now in our retirement years, we are fortunate to have time to enjoy our passions--Ted's gardening and my writing. 

Garden Gate
Image by Axelle Spencer from Pixabay 

Please come on into our garden in West Michigan. Here, let me open the gate for you so you can step in and discover all the goodies.

Quote by Cicero

Spring garden--We've had a good year this year. I love gardeners. They are such optimists. When the garden does not produce one year, the gardener still plants another garden the next year, believing it will be the best garden ever!

Cabbage

Cucumbers growing vertically to save them from sprawling all over the ground
Easier to pick too!

Weeds-Quote by unknown author

Green pepper hiding in the leaves

Red and ripening tomatoes

Harvest of lettuce, cabbage, green pepper, cucumbers and potatoes

Many varieties of lettuce

Quote by May Sarton

Cantaloupe

Irrigation set up--a timer so Ted does not have to hang onto a hose to water the garden.
The black pipes you see next to the plants are the irrigation tubes.

Black-eyed Susan and zinnias border this part of the garden.
Shasta daisies, now out of season, border the other side.

Green, yellow and purple beans (that turn green in boiling water)
You can see the irrigation tube here and how much water is saved by not watering the entire piece of ground, as well as not watering overhead.

The gardener and family (and sometimes the neighbors') reward. Fresh food from plant to table!

One of our family's favorite meals--beans, onions, potatoes and bacon--

all but the bacon grown in the garden.

Quote by Robert Bridges

🍅🍅🍅

I hope you have enjoyed the tour of Gardener Ted's garden. I take no credit for the garden. I do enjoy the fresh veggies and trying new recipes. Perhaps you would like to grow some fresh vegetables or herbs next year--a bowl of lettuce on your back porch, potted tomatoes or peppers on your patio or a patch of ground out back. I say "Grow for it!" 

Thank you very "mulch" for stopping by.

🍅🍅🍅

GT and me

Click here to connect online with JQ Rose

Book Series by J. S. Marlo

 

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

I just finished reading an historical fiction book set in Nova Scotia during WW2. I really enjoyed it, but not once while reading it did it occur to me that it was part of a series. It wasn’t until I reviewed it on Goodreads that I realised it was the second book of the series. The title of another book she wrote was printed on the cover, but nothing indicated that other book was in fact the first of the series.

There was no series name or number on the book cover, so I started searching to see if there were written or unwritten "rules" on how to set up a series. I didn't  find any rules, which I thought wasn't a bad thing since it meant I was breaking any elusive rules, but I discovered that series were classified by types.

 

These are the three most popular types of series: Dynamic, Static, or Anthology Series.

 

Dynamic Series:

A dynamic series follows the same characters as the main story carries out through the series. The characters grow as the series progress. The series should be seen as one whole story, not distinct installments in the characters’ life. These individual books are not standalones and need to be read in order for the story to make sense.

 

Static Series:

A static series follows the same characters, but these characters don’t develop in any major ways over time. Each book features a different story, and these individual books are standalone and can usually be read in any order.

 

Anthology Series:

An anthology series do not follow the same characters for every book of the series. The series are tied by a world, a setting, or character relationship. These individual books are standalone, and while some series can be read in any order, other series may need to be read order to avoid spoilers.

 

 

While I was writing my first novel Salvaged, I wasn’t thinking about series. My goal was to finish it, then not get lost in the overwhelming and scary world of synopsis, query letters, and publishers. It wasn’t until I finished my second novel Unraveled that the word “series” struck me. By then, I had found a publisher and Salvaged was tiptoeing into the published world, so I had started looking farther into my publishing goals. The truth is, I became very attached to the characters in Unraveled. Since I wasn’t ready to let them go, I turned the book into a series.

So far, I have written twelve novels. Eleven are published and the twelfth "The Red Quilt" is scheduled for release this coming December. Out of the dozen, only two are not part of a series. The other ten novels are part of four different series...but what kind of series?

 

In my Duty Bound Series, the main character in each new book is a minor character from the previous book, but few other characters from the previous book make it in the next one. Each book takes place a few years after the previous one, the recurring characters evolve, but it introduces new plots and new characters. There are some dynamic & static elements in them, the books are standalones, but reading them out of order gives spoilers about the previous books. So, to my great surprise, it looks like an anthology series. I'm not sure why, but I would never have associated the term 'anthology' to my series until now.

 

My Heart & Endurance Series is a bit different.  The first two books start with different characters and intrigue, but at one point in the second book, characters from the first book begin filtering through. The main characters in the first two books become minor characters in the third book whose storyline revolves around two new main characters. Each book takes place a year or two after the previous one, the recurring characters evolve, but there is a minor loose end that isn’t resolved until the third book. As much as I would have liked to tie that loose end in the first book, it realistically takes years for justice to render a verdict, so while that verdict didn’t come as a surprise, it only became official in the last book. While these three books can be read as standalone, they should be read in order to avoid spoliers. Again, this series looks like an anthology series, even though there are

dynamic & static elements.

 

My Unraveling the Past Series is definitely an anthology series. Brand-new characters in every book. Different settings. Different years. Different means of time-travel. Standalone stories. No continuity. The theme of the stories is what ties them together. In each book, the main character travels back in time and tries to right the wrongs of the past. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have numbered that series.

 

My Fifteen Shades Series will probably resemble my Duty Bound Series in the sense that one of the minor characters in the first book will become the main character in the second book. More about the first new book of that series The Red Quilt next month. I'm finishing my edits, but I received its book cover. It’s gorgeous! I can’t wait to share it with everyone.

 

Happy Reading & Stay Safe

JS

More info about book series, visit Ignite your ink

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website