Count your blessings, Cherish every day, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

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I've learned a lot this tumultuous year, but mostly to appreciate what I have. In our rush-around world we forget what is important. I hope you all out there really take time to slow down and smell the honeysuckle (I know it's supposed to be roses, but I love the scent of honeysuckle).

At the beginning of the year my family received shocking news and I wasn't sure how to manage the emotions. Now I see I need to appreciate every blessing in my life.

Firstly, my two granddaughters, lively and funny, and of course, talented. Here's an old picture of us on Mother's Day. The girls painted themselves and me, face to fingernails.

I've always overthought things and that can lead to negative vibes. I need to make the best of everything. I grew up in a loving family, a comfortable home, food always on the table, that is something to be thankful for. Did I appreciate it at the time? Not enough, I'm sure.

I got to travel to many different countries in the navy and as a civilian. I met my husband in Greece. Then we returned for a reunion four years ago. Here we're in front of the base (now closed) where we met. (and he didn't even attempt to Return me, lol)

We have two healthy sons together, both who are pitching in to help us out at this "bumpy" time.

I'm still in contact with women I went to elementary school with. We talk on the phone, or PM through Facebook. They cyber hold my hand when needed. I do the same for them.

I love and appreciate all these family and friends. I try to cherish the simple things, hearing the birds chirp in the morning, watching the geese fly by, a doe and her fawn grazing in our grass. Rain against the window. The silly laughs from the grandgirls.

In this divisive world, spread love not hate.

I go to my happy place (a warm, sandy beach, with crashing waves and rippling wildflowers) when I need to find calm.

It's devastating to lose people in your life, but I try to think how lucky I was to spend time with them in the first place.

And, no, none of this is easy. I get frustrated, panicky, but I'm making my best effort.

Diane lives in western Pennsylvania with her husband one very naughty dachshund.

Meaning of Flowers by J. S. Marlo

 

Seasoned Hearts

"Love & Sacrifice #1"

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I was having lunch with a friend, and I was telling her I needed to weed my flowerbeds. She asked what kind of flowers I grew. My answer: pretty flowers?

I know the names of some flowers, like roses, tulips, daffodil, poppies, petunias, lilies... but I don't really pay attention to their names. I choose my flowers according to colours, shapes, and scents. She proceeded to tell me flowers have meanings. I knew red roses meant love, but for the rest, I wasn't too sure, so I did some research... in case I decide to add those kind of details in a future story.

When deciphering the meaning of a flower, its colour is as important as the flower itself.

Red: Red flowers are the most popular to send to someone. They represent love, passion, and affection.

Pink: Pink flowers are sent to friends or love interest. They represent femininity and playfulness.

Yellow: Yellow flowers are sent to brighten a home or cheer up a friend. They represent joy, happiness, and friendship.

White: White flowers are sent to someone who's getting married or welcomed a baby. They represent purity, humility, and innocence.

Here are the flowers to send according to the occasion or the meaning you would like to convey.

Love: red roses, red tulips, red carnations, dahlias.

Friendship: yellow roses, freesias, alstroemeria, chrysanthemums.

Gratitude: pink roses, hydrangeas, sweet peas, irises.

Sympathy: white roses, lilies, orchids, poppies.

Celebration: peonies, lisianthuses, daffodils, calla lilies.

My two favorite are lavender and lilac. Both for their colours and their scents, but not their meanings.

Lavender means distrust and Lilac means joy of youth.

There are also birth flowers, like there are birthstones. I was born in September. According to the chart, my birth flower is Morning Glory. Well, that's interesting because I'm anything but glorious in the morning.

I'll go weed my flowerbeds one last time before the frost kills all my flowers. Take Care & Happy Reading!

J. S.

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

Friends by J. S. Marlo

 

Seasoned Hearts

"Love & Sacrifice #1"

is now available  

click here 

 

 

  

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

Over the decades, I've made many friends. Some have faded in the background or are resting in peace, others are very much present in my life, and a special few are closer than family.

Many, many years ago, I'd stumbled on a lovely poem by an unknown author about friends. It talked about friends for a season and friends for a lifetime. Well, I rediscovered the poem a few months ago, and it was much more meaningful and powerful than I remembered.

Reason, Season, Lifetime Poem

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.

When you figure out which one it is, you will know what to do for each person.

When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty; to provide you with guidance and support; to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend, and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be.

Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it. It is real. But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons; things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.

— Unknown

If that poem touched your heart, you will enjoy reading "Seasoned Hearts".

Enjoy the people in your life. Hugs! 

J. S.

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

Apple Peels and Snails to Snare a Husband in the Eighteenth Century, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

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To celebrate February, the month of love, with Valentine's Day, I delved into the superstitions of the past when a village lass searched for her one true love.

Folklore abounds in the villages of England around the single girl’s search for a husband—as in the eighteenth century marriage was what most young women had to look forward to, or they’d be ridiculed and regulated to spinsters, farmed out as governesses, or forced to live on the charity of their family.

Most of these search-for-true-love customs revolved around the seasons.

 
At the ruined Abbey of Cerne Abbas in Dorsetshire, girls flocked around the wishing-well in all seasons. To obtain their heart’s desire, they’d pluck a leaf from a nearby laurel bush, make a cup of it, dip this in the well, then turn and face the church. The girl would then “wish” for presumably a man she already has in mind, but must keep this wish a secret or it wouldn’t come true.

Other customs included, in Somersetshire on May Day Eve or St. John’s Eve, a lass putting a snail on a pewter plate. As the snail slithered across the plate it would mark out the future husband’s initials.

On another ritual to this end, writer Daniel Defoe remarked by saying: “I hope that the next twenty-ninth of June, which is St. John the Baptist’s Day, I shall not see the pastures adjacent to the metropolis thronged as they were the last year with well-dressed young ladies crawling up and down upon their knees as if they were a parcel of weeders, when all the business is to hunt superstitiously after a coal under the root of a plantain to put under their heads that night that they may dream who should be their husbands.”

Throwing an apple peel over the left shoulder was also employed in the hopes the paring would fall into the shape of the future husband’s initials. When done on St. Simon and St. Jude’s Day, the girls would recite the following rhyme as they tossed the peel: St. Simon and St. Jude, on you I intrude, By this paring I hold to discover, without any delay please tell me this day, the first letter of him, my true lover.

On St. John’s Eve, his flower, the St. John’s Wort, would be hung over doors and windows to keep off evil spirits, and the girls who weren’t off searching for snails in the pastures, would be preparing the dumb cake. Two girls made the cake, two baked it, and two broke it. A third person would put the cake pieces under the pillows of the other six. This entire ritual must be performed in dead silence-or it would fail. The girls would then go to bed to dream of their future husbands.

On the eve of St. Mary Magdalene’s Day, a spring of rosemary would be dipped into a mixture of wine, rum, gin, vinegar, and water. The girls, who must be under twenty-one, fastened the sprigs to their gowns, drink three sips of the concoction, then would go to sleep in silence and dream of future husbands.



On Halloween, a girl going out alone might meet her true lover. One tale has it that a young servant-maid who went out for this purpose encountered her master coming home from market instead of a single boy. She ran home to tell her mistress, who was already ill. The mistress implored the maid to be kind to her children, then this wife died. Later on, the master did marry his serving-maid.

Myths and customs were long a part of village life when it came to match-making.


Source: English Country Life in the Eighteenth Century, by Rosamond Bayne-Powell, 1935.

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund. 

Naming February -- Creativity Month

 

Although February is the birthday month of such great Americans as Abraham Lincoln, George Washington and my son, most people tend to think of Valentine’s Day when you mention February. And of course, Valentine’s Day makes one think of LOVE. So just for fun, I looked up people whose last name was LOVE. Here are a few interesting ones.

Augustus Edward Hough Love, (1863 – 1940), often known as A. E. H. Love, was a mathematician famous for his work on the mathematical theory of elasticity. He also won the Adams prize in 1911 for developing a mathematical model of surface waves known as Love waves. Love also contributed to the theory of tidal locking and introduced the parameters known as Love numbers, which are widely used today in problems related to the tidal deformation of the Earth due to the gravitational attraction of the Moon and Sun. He authored the two volume classic, A Treatise on the Mathematical Theory of Elasticity.

Harry Montagu Love (1877 --1943) was an English screen, stage and vaudeville actor. Educated in Great Britain, Love began his career as an artist, with his first important job as an illustrator for The Illustrated Daily News in London. Love's acting debut came with an American company in a production in the Isle of Wight. He honed basic stage talents in London. He was typically cast in heartless villain roles. Love was one of the more successful villains in silent films.

 

Kermit Ernest Hollingshead Love (1916 – 2008) was an American puppet maker, puppeteer, costume designer, and actor in children's television and on Broadway. He was best known as a designer and builder with the Muppets, in particular those on Sesame Street. Love built Oscar the Grouch and then Big Bird after a drawing was designed by Henson. Love also helped create Cookie Monster. Later, he designed Mr. Snuffleupagus.

Geoffrey Love (4 September 1917 – 8 July 1991), known as Geoff Love, was a prolific British arranger and composer of easy listening and pop versions of film themes. He became famous in the late 1950s. After leaving school at 15, Love worked as a car mechanic and played trombone at dance halls in the evening. Having turned professional at 17, Love joined Freddie Platt's band. Later, in 1936, he joined Jan Ralfini's band playing in London and learned to play jazz. With the outbreak of the Second World War, Love was called up and joined the King's Royal Rifle Corps. While in the armed forces, Love spent time learning orchestration by questioning musicians how best to write for their individual instruments.

 

Courtney Michelle Love (née Harrison; born July 9, 1964) is an American singer, songwriter and actress. Her career has spanned four decades. In 2020, NME named her "one of the most influential singers in alternative culture of the last 30 years." Love has also been active as a writer; she co-created and co-wrote three volumes of a manga, Princess Ai, between 2004 and 2006, and wrote a memoir, Dirty Blonde: The Diaries of Courtney Love (2006).

The interesting thing I noticed about these people was they were all very creative and left their marks on the arts, including music and writing. Even the mathematician wrote books. As a writer myself, I love the idea of making February creativity month, especially for those of us who write romance--the story of relationships and love.

Not all of my romance novels have the word “love” in the title, but as I look them over, I found three different subgenres that did. “A Game of Love” is a contemporary set in Boston with a little mystery, a lot of passion and even a ghost. “Love in Disguise” is an historical full of hidden identities, murder and intrigue and a very feminist heroine even though it’s set in 1876. One of my most recent, “Loving Charlie Forever” is a great time travel set in an old west town in South Dakota; again with mystery and a great deal of romance and love.

All the love and romance you could want is available in these and other books of mine available through Books We Love at https://www.bookswelove.net.

My love to you this February and throughout the year.

Barb Baldwin

http://www.authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin

https://bookswelove.net/baldwin-barbara/

 

Christmas Stockings - Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Christmas #Traditions #Stockings

 

 

Christmas Stockings

 

 

I don’t have any one book completely dedicated to Christmas but Christmas is a feature of the Leo Aquarius Connection. It’s also coming up in my next Moonchild story – Haunted Dreams. But Christmas Stockings is what I’m talking about this month.

 

My father was a steelworker in Pittsburgh, PA and often during the years after WWII there were strikes and many of them extended over Christmas. In our house, this meant money could be scarce so my parents spent the year finding things to put in the stockings for their children and themselves. My mother loved to knit and so she made us stockings. These were magnificent and able to stretch to massive proportions. Unfortunately most of them have disintegrated over the eyars and I believe there are two and maybe three left. Those were stockings, she mad for my children and not of woolen yarn. Perhaps the kind still have some of them

 

The tradition continued with my parents filling stockings for children and grandchildren until first my father and then my mother died. I’ve taken on that chore and I really enjoy doing this. Finding odd and different things for each person. Often in all the stockings, there were socks. I still continue this tradition. I stopped sending oranges when the stockings had to be mailed. This was after the year one of the orangers was flattened in the mail.

 

This year with Covid in the air, and children and grandchildren at a distance, I had to make the stockings to be mailed early. So of the fifteen I do every year, 7 have been sent. The rest will be done on Christmas Eve – maybe a day or two earlier and be around the tree and fireplace for everyone. What I wonder is who will maintain this tradition started when money was scarce when I no longer can.

 

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A Valentine Worth Waiting For...by Sheila Claydon

Sheila's books at Books We Love

So it's my turn to post on Valentine's Day again! Not surprising really as I always post on the 14th of every month. Last year I wrote in detail about the history behind Valentine's Day. How it started off as a pagan fertility ritual which segued into a feast day in the Catholic Calendar of Saints when a  third century Pope  named 14 February Saint Valentine's Day. However it wasn't until the Middle Ages that the poet Chaucer linked St Valentine with romantic love. Now, centuries later, it's hearts and roses all the way...or is it?

I thought so, but then I write romantic novels so I would, wouldn't I. And remembering back to my own long ago youth, I thought all young girls longed for a valentine card to land on their doormat. I thought they spent a lot of time yearning for romance and Mr Right, but a recent conversation with some modern teenagers has shown me otherwise. While they are happy to be part of a mixed sex friendship group, like it in fact, they are not looking for a boyfriend. I was fascinated so I kept listening.

One of the best comments was, 'why would I want to tie myself down with a boyfriend when I'm this young? There is a great big world out there full of things I haven't seen or don't know yet. I want a career too, so I've a lot of studying and learning to do. Being exclusive to a boy would get in the way of all that, and it might mean I wouldn't see so much of my friends either. I'd rather just be part of a fun group until I'm much older.'

These are all beautiful, bright, confident girls. They don't know it of course, because their teenage hormones often tell them otherwise, so sometimes they beat themselves up about their looks, their figures, their exam results...but on good days, when they look in the mirror they know, and they also know when the boys in their group ask them for a date. 

Sometimes one of them succumbs for one date, or several, but never more. Then it's back to the friendship group, boys and all, where they variously do things like skating, sailing, horse riding, hiking, playing sport, eating pizza, having sleepovers (the girls), playing musical instruments, singing, experimenting with hair and make-up, watching films, baking, reading, discussing life...

So off you go St Valentine. The young girls of the twenty-first century might want romance eventually...but not yet! They have too much to see and to do before they take it seriously, and they are quite right. It is a big and interesting world out there and they have a lot of living to do.

In my book Remembering Rose, the heroine is also looking for more. What is different about her is that she already has exactly what she needs, she just can't see it even though it's right under her nose. There isn't a valentine in the book, but there is love...real love...the sort of love worth waiting for. The sort of love I hope all those beautiful girls find one day...when they are ready.

Golden Girl is a Books We Love March release where another of Sheila Claydon's heroines finds love - but not until she's ready.

Love is the only thing by Sheila Claydon

Check out my books on the Books We Love website

Although my books have heroines in them, this is a tribute to a real life heroine.

A few days ago I attended the funeral of a very dear friend. She was 93 years old, and if I am lucky enough to reach such a great age myself, I would love to leave behind the same legacy. We met 25 years ago, and from that day on I have always wanted to be like her. She has always been my ultimate heroine. 

Although there is always sadness when someone dies, the memories  recalled and the stories exchanged sometimes offset the grief and this was certainly the case at Shirley's funeral. 

Why, despite her death, is she my heroine? It's simple. She loved people so people loved her.  Her default setting was to think about others, which meant that visiting her was always a joy. Yes, the hot drinks and chocolate biscuits (never plain) were welcome, as was the white wine (after 6 unless it was lunchtime), but the real pleasure was Shirley herself. She was so interested in everything, and who doesn't enjoy a conversation with someone who genuinely wants to know how you are feeling and what is happening in your life. Also, and this is perhaps the most important thing, she never complained. While she had a never-ending supply of sympathy for others, she rarely talked about herself, and if she did it was about happy things, not about the pacemaker she had to have fitted, or her failing eyesight.

Listening to her adult grandchildren recall their childhood visits and holidays with Nanna was heartwarming too. She has left them with so many wonderful memories. The annual family holidays in Greece with anything up to 20 adults and children participating sounded idyllic and yes, the white wine featured there as well. Then there were the bedtime stories, the walks in the woods and on the beach, the meals, the fun.  Making sure that other people enjoyed themselves and had fun was one of Shirley's greatest gifts. 

Her other great gift to her friends and family was her insistence on remaining independent. When her sight failed and she could no longer drive, she moved to a ground floor apartment in the centre of the village so she could continue to do her own shopping and meet friends for coffee or a meal without inconveniencing anyone. Then, at 90, too frail to continue alone, she sold up and moved herself into a care home, still in the centre of the village so she could carry on with her social life. This was despite the fact that both her daughters wanted her to live with them. 

Once settled in the care home she had more visitors than anyone else, and those family holidays continued even though they were now a bit closer to home. Christmas and Easter and many weekends were spent with the family too, and in between she saw old friends and made many new friends. 

I know she was supported by a strong faith, but only once in all the years I knew her did she mention it, and that was when she told me how much she was enjoying her Bible study class and learning how to meditate. She started these new activities when she was 91!

Finally, and the greatest proof of all that love is what everyone craves whether of the two-legged or four-legged variety, was her relationship with dogs. There were always dogs in her life. Her own when she was still able to care for them, and later other people's. For 8 years she provided daycare for one of my dogs while I was working and the intense love between them was mutual. In fact the last time I saw her was when I took my latest dog to see her. In my house the dog is not allowed upstairs (not always enforceable if the grandchildren are around!), and she is certainly not allowed on the beds. When we visited Shirley at the care home, however, they both snuggled up on the bed together without any reference to me whatsoever. 

In addition to all of this, Shirley remained extremely pretty even in old age, and very elegant too. Despite losing most of her sight she continued to dress beautifully, and her hair and nails were always immaculate. This was also part of her attraction. As well as her loving kindness she made sure she was as good to look at as possible despite her extreme old age.

As the priest said at the funeral, 'everyone here now has a Shirley shaped hole in their lives, but it is a hole that is filled with loving and joyful memories.' 

What a way to live, and what a way to go. No wonder she was and will remain my heroine.

How Do I Love Thee? by Roseanne Dowell

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Oh wait, this blog is about writing, not love.

Although in a way it is about love. I love writing. I’m sure most authors will say the same thing. At least serious authors will.

We can’t stop writing any more than we can stop breathing. So every chance we get, we write. Sometimes it’s profitable. Other times it’s not. Many people think writers are rich, or at least get paid a lot.

Not!

While most writers don’t write for the money, deep down, we all want to write that blow out novel. The best seller. We’d be lying if we said otherwise. Yet, most of us know those authors are few and far between. That’s not why we write.

We write because these voices in our heads insist on it. Because our minds are constantly making up stories. We see things differently than other people. While most people stop at a traffic light and just wait for the light to change, writers look around to see who’s in the

car next to them. And they can’t help it, their imagination takes over and next thing you know they’re making up a story. Same thing happens in shopping malls, restaurants,

banks, or grocery stores. Our minds are never still.

Sometimes an article on the news sparks a story idea. Many things come into play when writing a story. I’ve had heroes/heroines pop off the pages of magazines. An overheard comment inspired a story idea. Once an idea pops into my mind, that’s all it takes. My mind goes into overtime and next thing I know I’m jotting down ideas.

The only thing I know about the story is the beginning and the end. How I get there is as much a surprise to me as it is to the reader. Many authors outline their stories. I tried that once and the story was stalled for two years. For me the story flows better if I let it go on its own. Everyone has their own way of doing things, their own voice, their own way to write and that’s fine. There are very few rules in writing.

The one thing that remains the same is writers love to write.  So I guess you could say this blog was about love after all. 

You can find all my books at You can find all my work at: Books We Love or Amazon.