Cool Water by Nancy M Bell

 

Chance's Way releases in September 2021. To find out more about Nancy's work please click on the cover. 

Water. It's something most people take for granted. Not me. I grew up in a house with a shallow well, every August it would go dry for a short period. There is nothing more heart stopping than turning on the tap and nothing comes out. The number of things we use water for without realizing it is mind blowing. Everything from washing dishes, to showers, to flushing the toilet...the list is endless.

Maybe I'm weird, but every time I  turn on the tap and water comes out give up a silent thanks to the earth who shares her life blood with me. In the shower I offer up a silent prayer of thanks for the luxury of having clean water pour over me, washing more than bodily dirt away. What would happen if the rivers ceased to flow? The lakes dry up into windblown plains? 

The sound of running taps or the pump kicking in and out will still wake me up from a sound sleep. Such are the lessons we learn in childhood. I currently live on a farm that depends on well water and I husband it carefully. I think of well water as 'living water' it is straight from the depths of the earth, cold enough to freeze my hands after a few minutes. It isn't treated or 'civilized' or 'purified' it is just what is meant to be....water. Life giving, life sustaining water.  

This summer is one of the driest and hottest we've had in many years here in southern Alberta. It's only June 28th and the grass is dry and brittle under my bare feet, the pavement hot enough to produce burns on unwary feet of humans and animals. The wide but shallow slough in the pasture is dark brown mud right now, the water gone from the surface but still lurking below waiting for a good rain to bring it back into the light.  

So, the next time you turn on a tap and water gushes forth, give a prayer of thanks and appreciate the bounty provided by nature. Fresh water is not a commodity to be traded or made money off of, regardless of what some think.  Fresh water is a give from the gods and goddesses, or God if you prefer. Not to be taken for granted and not to be taken lightly. Just for second imagine life without water...

Until next month, stay safe.  

Thanksgiving This Year - Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Thanksgiving #These Days #Past ones

 

Thanksgiving This Year

 

As I was thinking about what to post this month, I had a strange thought. I don’t think I have any of my books that have a Thanksgiving celebration in them. I’ve used Valentine’s Day, Halloween and Christmas but I can’t remember using many other holidays. I’m not sure what that means.

 

Thanksgiving this year will be a quiet one. There will be family phone calls but there won’t be any family visiting. It’s sad. But I will make dinner. Turkey is a great one. What I’ve done this year is to buy four extra legs. My son and granddaughter who live here are suckers for dark meet, leaving me to eat the white meat. This year’s turkey is a small one. Our grocery store gives a free one but that’s not my choice. We’ll take the turkey they give away to People to People, the local food pantry. Last year, the only one I could find was twenty-one pounds. Some family had a great meal. I usually include other things with the turkey. I’ll be checking to see what I have and what I need to buy.

 

Would be nice to have an old fashioned Thanksgiving like the ones in the past when we’ve had to add a picnic table to extend the dining room one but one can only remember the past. In these days with this Covid virus rampaging, There are many things to be thankful for and the best is knowing none of my family has been caught by the virus though friends have been. So far no one in my wide circle has died but some have been very ill. They will have my healing thoughts every day and especially on Thanksgiving.

 

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Cranberries!

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Thanksgiving is going to be a little different for most of us this year but I hope our readers enjoy time with loved ones in any form that time may take. 

Here are a couple of my favorite recipes with a favorite seasonal ingredient: Cranberries!

Our family never ate canned jellied cranberry again once daughter Marya brought this simple combination home from third grade long ago...

Fresh Cranberry-Orange Relish

Only three ingredients: 

1 bag of fresh cranberries, 

1 cup of sugar

1 navel orange

If you have a fancy food processor: quarter the orange, throw everything in and whizz away until you’ve got a nice, small chunk relish.

If, like me, you only have a blender: cut the orange into eighths and blend that first to get some liquid going, then add the rest. Refrigerate.

We make lots because its SO good with leftovers and on sandwiches!

Lemon Cranberry Scones

2 cups flour

1/4 cup sugar

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest

1/2 cup cold butter, cut into small pieces

1/2 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup milk

1 large egg

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup fresh cranberries, lightly chopped in food processor

Glaze

1 cup confectionary sugar

1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

1 and 1/2 tablespoons lemon juice

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Mix the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt in large bowl. Add the zest. Cut in the butter until the mix is crumbly. Stir in chopped cranberries.  In a separate bowl, whisk together the cream, egg, milk and vanilla.  Add to the flour mix to bring the dough together. Shape dough and cut into 2 equal parts. Shape each into a 10 inch round disc. Cut each disc into 6 wedges. Place on a parchment covered baking tray with a few inches between each. Bake for 10-15 minutes until scones are lightly browned on top.

Prepare glaze. Drizzle on cooled scones. Let set. 

A 19th Century New England Thanksgiving by Eileen O'Finlan

Click here for purchase information
Click here to visit Eileen O'Finlan's website

Thanksgiving figures heavily in my forthcoming novel, Erin's Children, sequel to Kelegeen. Why Thanksgiving? Why not Christmas? Erin's Children is set in Massachusetts in the 1850s. Thanksgiving was the quintessential New England holiday at that time. Sure folks had started celebrating Christmas to a degree, but it was nothing in comparison to the grandest holiday of all – Thanksgiving.

It was English Puritans who came to Massachusetts in the early 1600s bringing with them a great distaste for anything that smacked of the Church in Rome which meant December 25^th was just another day on the calendar. Anyone caught celebrating Christmas could find themselves in trouble with the law. But Thanksgiving? That was a different story.

Though Puritanism had died out by the 1850s some of the Puritans' ways remained. It wasn't until the American Civil War in the 1860s and beyond that Christmas gained the foothold that would eventually catapult the holiday into the commercialized juggernaut of today. Thanksgiving, on the other hand, took pride of place in the hearts of New Englanders.

As most know, the “First Thanksgiving” took place in 1621 in Plymouth Colony with the Pilgrims and Wampanoag Indians sharing an autumnal harvest feast. For the following two centuries days of Thanksgiving were celebrated at various times by several of the colonies. It wasn't until 1863 when President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed a national day of Thanksgiving to be held every November that it became uniform. Still, by the 1850s the holiday was pretty well set as a tradition, even to the point of always being observed on a Thursday in November. Lincoln just made it official.

Thanksgiving was a huge celebration which entailed a tremendous amount of work. Imagine the work of preparing for Thanksgiving today and multiply it by at least ten. A fresh turkey had to be purchased before dawn on Thanksgiving morning, scalded in boiling water to loosen the feathers, then plucked. The bird was beheaded, gutted, then roasted all day. As if turkey wasn't enough, a couple of chickens were often included. Mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce, and a multitude of pies, most of them baked weeks in advance and kept frozen in a closed off section of the house, rounded out the feast. Just thinking about the preparation and clean up makes me exhausted.

Often families traveled to spend the day – or if they traveled any real distance, several days or even a few weeks – with relatives. Or, they may have been the hosts, as are the Claprood family in Erin's Children, with relatives coming to stay with them. Not only was there the big Thanksgiving meal to prepare and enjoy, but other frolics that went on for days. In Erin's Children, Mrs. Claprood's brother and his family join them for a week at Thanksgiving. The young people are especially jolly, celebrating with sleigh rides and a taffy pull during the days following the big feast.

Here is a short snippet of the taffy pull scene in Erin's Children:

The scents of hot chocolate and taffy lured Oliver and Benjamin into the kitchen with Nancy and Ethan right behind.

“You've come at a good time,” Deborah announced. “We're ready to pull!”

Kathleen placed the baking pan on the table while Meg set the crock of butter beside it. Once each had thoroughly buttered their hands, they lifted the thickened mixture, each grabbing hold of a section. Meg and Kathleen watched as the young people stretched and pulled the taffy, then folded it in on itself to stretch and pull again. Laughter filled the room as they set themselves up in teams to see who could stretch it furthest. The combination of slippery butter and sticky molasses mixture made for plenty of adventures and a few mishaps.

“Don't you want to pull, too?” Alice asked Meg and Kathleen.

The sisters looked at each other. The thought had not crossed their minds.

“Try.” Pamela encouraged them.

Kathleen's wistful expression decided it for Meg. She held out the crock of butter to her sister who eagerly greased her hands. She and Kathleen each held an end of the taffy and began pulling. To Meg's surprise, the odd mixture of slippery and sticky along with the sweet aroma appealed. She and Kathleen were soon laughing along with the others. For a few moments she felt part of the family. When their stretch of taffy broke, the end snapping back to curl around Meg's hands, she and Kathleen dissolved in gales of laughter.

Available for Purchase on December 1, 2020

 

Happy Thanksgiving - a bit early

 

The holiday season is almost upon us. My favorite time of year and it begins with Thanksgiving. Actually, in my house, it begins a week or so before.

Since we no longer host Christmas with my children – too many of them for our small house – the kids have taken over. However, we still do Thanksgiving dinner here – with a couple of the kids and the rest come over later for dessert – so I put up our tree and Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving.

When the kids were small, we used to put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Neighbors all told me we were nuts. Funny, how many trees and decorations I see on Thanksgiving, and even before now days. It warms my heart. Guess I wasn’t so crazy after all.

Anyway, as I said the holidays start with Thanksgiving. Of course, we have the traditional turkey and dressing (after the blessing – oh wait that’s a Christmas song) and then the other kids come over – as well as grandkids – and we have dessert. Usually more than we can possibly eat.

It’s been my tradition ever since my kids got married to give them something on Thanksgiving, usually a Christmas decoration of some sort. I was into ceramics for a while, so naturally they got ceramics, a Santa Claus ornament or statue. Then I was into woodworking and made them Santas, Christmas trees or other ornament. Eventually I was into red work embroidery and made them wall hangings of – who else – Santa Claus. I started quilting and yep, you guessed it, I made them table runners – no not of Santa Claus – and wall hangings (Santa of course). Eventually I started buying them ornaments.

My son and daughter in law begged me not to get them anything this year. They’re out of wall space and their tree is full of ornaments. I’ll have to see what I can come up with, because no way am I breaking that tradition. That’s part of the fun of the holiday season. Maybe I’ll be nice this year and look for Santa Claus candy, something consumable.

When I was younger, my mom started baking the day after Thanksgiving, making huge cans (potato chip cans and not the small ones) full of cookies. Back then everyone entertained and visited a lot during the holidays. Sadly, that practice seems to have stopped.  There wasn’t a weekend that went by without some aunt or uncle coming to visit. I loved those days. I don’t bake as much as I used to and certainly don’t start the day after Thanksgiving.

The first weekend in December, my daughters and I spent the days shopping. They used to help me pick out gifts for their children, but since their kids are all grown up now, (well most of them are, I still have a couple young ones) I don’t need to shop for them anymore. I’ve taken the lazy, safe route and give them cash. I’m sure they like it better. Once they’ve moved out or married, they join the ranks of the adult couples gifts, usually something homemade now since we’ve retired and money is tight.

Christmas Eve is spent with my siblings – two brothers and a sister. We’ve lost a sister and brother some years back and it’s not quite the same. Nieces and nephews used to join us, but that was back before most of them married. Now they have other families to share the day with and we’ve dwindled from a group of 37 down to 8 plus a couple nieces and nephews whose families are out of town.

I still love the holidays and look forward to them as much or more than any child. The hustle and bustle of getting ready, the family gatherings, and spending time with loved ones. I’m very blessed and thankful to have all my children and most of my grandchildren within twenty minutes of me. We miss the ones who can’t join us, but it’s still a lively group and growing by leaps and bounds. Not only are some of the grandchildren married or dating, they’re having children of their own. I dread the day when their parents decide it’s too much and they want their own families around them for the holiday. I know that day will come, maybe sooner than I think, and it’ll sadden me, but I do understand. We had to do it also as our kids grew and had families of their own. But for now, I’ll enjoy what God has so richly blessed me with. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Time to Love Again

 The man next door, his granddaughter and her sister’s ghost help bring Rose Asbury out of her seclusion. Fifty-eight year old, Rose Asbury knows people think she’s a recluse, but she doesn’t care. She just wants to be left alone. She doesn’t need anyone and no one needs her and that’s just fine. At least she didn’t until this year. For some reason this year is different. Suddenly she’s melancholy and discontent with her life..

And the man next door doesn't help matters. Every time he sees her, he insists on speaking to her. So her stomach tumbles every time she sees him, that doesn't mean anything. Hunger pains, nerves, she just wishes he'd leave her alone. Or does she? 

CULTURE SHOCK - Or, don’t mess with apple pie - by Vijaya Schartz

AKIRA'S CHOICE, Byzantium Book 2 Sci-fi Romance
More of Vijaya Schartz' book from BWL HERE

Edouard Herriot famously said that culture is what remains when one has forgotten everything. Culture in the French vocabulary of the period meant learning and knowledge, but the saying is also true in today’s extended meaning of the word. 

We speak of ancient cultures, of the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, their philosophy and their mythology. We speak of the great artists of the Renaissance. They left long lasting testimonies of their history, architecture, writings, and way of life… Some say modern culture will only be evident when we are long gone and forgotten. 

I say culture is not only art, architecture, wisdom, or knowledge, but it is how we treat each other, and how we celebrate life, family, and the traditions that accompany good and bad events in our lives. 

Being raised in France, my first contact with America over the course of a three-month summer vacation was a true culture shock. I didn’t understand fast-food. Who in their right mind would eat ketchup? Why stick a piece of dry meat between two dry buns, when you can simmer your own coq-au-vin and bake potatoes au-gratin? 

I couldn’t understand why Americans worked such long hours and never took extended vacations. The French, even in those days, took five weeks of mandatory paid vacation each year, and often took a few extra, unpaid vacation weeks as well, with their employers’ blessing. Many French companies still close completely for an entire month each summer. 

When I returned to France, that fall, I declared that I would never want to live in America. These people were crazy, frantic, and didn’t know how to live… and they probably thought the same thing about me. 

As things go, life has a way of making you regret such statements made in the ignorance of youth. While studying in an ashram in India, where I felt totally at ease, despite the many cultural differences, I met an American man and fell in love. We were married, and I came to live with him in the United States. 

Imagine my reaction when he took me to eat a T-bone steak at Jack in the Box, on a paper plate, with plastic flatware. The culture shock was back. Never in my life had I cut a steak with a plastic knife. From then on, I cooked at home. It was great for a while, but soon, my husband missed American food… which I didn’t care for, and didn’t know how to cook. 

This was decades ago, and I since learned to appreciate American food and culture. I understand that a busy life requires take out or fast food, in order to spend more time with family. My mother spent all her time in the kitchen. I can now fully enjoy a barbecue party, or a seafood buffet. I absolutely love apple pie a la mode (which surprised me at first, because the French do not eat pie with ice-cream). I smile when I hear my neighbors shouting at the referee during a football game… although I still cook most of my meals at home… you know… trying to eat healthy. 

I even corrected my husband when he said America had no culture, compared to the Europeans, the Greeks or the Egyptians. But America is still young. These ancient cultures had a chance to mature over many centuries. Besides, Lady Liberty could compete with the colossus of Rhodes, and what about the faces carved in the rock of Mount Rushmore? 

Because America is young, it experiences many growing pains and is learning to cope with change, and handle diversity. It’s not an easy task, and progress is painful and takes time. Yet in the midst of all that, America has all kinds of great cultural traditions, because of its diversity. Emigrants from many countries melted their cultures together so much that we do not exactly know where American traditions come from. You can experience Mardi-Gras in New Orleans, or a Greek Festival in California. American pizza (nothing like its Italian ancestor) is now conquering Europe. Who hasn’t enjoyed a bagel smeared with cream cheese, or sushi, or Mexican food, Thai food, or Chinese take out? America embraced all these different cultures and from them, forged its own. 

But Thanksgiving is definitely a unique holiday of the American continent (although Europe is now trying to copy it), and I am ready to enjoy it to the fullest. I wish you all a fantastic Thanksgiving, with turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and all. And I’ll take my pie a la mode, merci beaucoup.

For a total culture shock, read ASHES FOR THE ELEPHANT GOD, a reincarnation love story set in India.

amazon  -  B&N  -  Smashwords  -  Kobo

To scatter her brother's ashes over the Narmada River, Fabienne leaves France for the mysterious India of her childhood dreams. As she awakens to a newfound spirituality, unexpected visions of a former life during the Raj stir ancient yearnings for a long lost passion. Mukunda, the palace architect Fabienne loved a century and a half ago, lives again as an American engineer and works on the local dam project.

As Fabienne falls in love again with India and the man of her destiny, the tapestry of her previous life unfolds. But, in the karmic land of the blue gods, a ruthless foe lies in wait. The Kali worshiper, who murdered the two lovers in a faraway past, has come back through the centuries to thwart their dream once more.

"... a broad-stroked, magnificent picture of a lavish India of the past and the present... a vivid tale of suspense... a gripping account of a woman coming to terms with heightened awareness... destiny." The Book Reader

"... entertaining, fast-paced yet deeply spiritual... Here is a superior metaphysical novel!" Richard Fuller - Metaphysical Reviews

"... passionate... love, lust, faith and deception... a magnificent offering to the world of fiction..." The Charlotte Austin Review

"...rich, sensual... multilayered... a thriller... magical, mystical book..." Writer's Digest

"...a striking and highly recommended metaphysical novel..." Midwest Book Review

Vijaya Schartz, author
 Strong heroines, brave heroes, cats, romance with a kick
 http://www.vijayaschartz.com
 amazon  -  B&N  -  Smashwords  -  Kobo  -  FB  -  

The Dreaded Black (Socks) Friday

More Fun Than Shopping on "Black Friday!"

One Thanksgiving, not too long ago but far, far away from home, I realized I forgot to pack socks. A family member suggested I could borrow socks. Well, no. Thanks, anyway, but, um, no.

Socks are important. They're a crucial component of life. I mean, really, without socks, society would break down into violence. We'd be nothing more than savages without socks.

So, I ventured out, looking for socks on Thanksgiving night, the worst possible time to go sock shopping. Because "Black Friday" has now turned into "Deep, Dark, Blacker Then Black Full-On Week Friday," a week long orgy of no holds barred, sometimes violent, shopping free-for-alls.

At Walmart, folks scrabbled, pushed, screamed and raced toward what they perceived as good deals. The sock aisle was relatively barren, yet the over-all ambience of the store was one of menace. Agonized howls rang out through the aisles--not children, but older folks who should know better. Lines were longer than the wait at the driver's license bureau. Menacing glares were exchanged over the last video game available. Eyes were void of hope, yet full of greed. Sam Walton won this round.

It got me thinking about the true meaning of Thanksgiving. It's an American holiday based on how the Pilgrims gave thanks to the Native-Americans for basically saving their lives. And, of course, we know how well that turned out for the Native-Americans. Greeting card companies and big business want us to forget that little tid-bit. From the depths of a wiped out culture rose a Hallmark moment. Thanksgiving now means familial togetherness and love. We get together with our families for one day, get it all over in one fell swoop and move on with our lives.

Yet...it's come around again. Thanks to Corporate America, Thanksgiving's returned to its roots. Once again, it's about violence and survival of the fittest. Weak shoppers will be trammeled over and forgotten. Those with the strongest stamina, pocketbooks and pepper-spray will persevere, no matter who has squatter rights.

I did come away from my Black Friday experience with socks. It took a helluva' long time. While my feet stink less, I feel like a pawn in the Big Plan Of Things. Next Thanksgiving to protest, I'm going to defiantly wear dirty socks. Join me if you will.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Speaking of disorganized chaos, Boundless Book Reviews calls Murder by Massage: "Chaotic, fun and hilarious." It's book #2 in the ongoing Zach and Zora comical mystery series. Collect 'em all!

Avoid those holiday shopping lines, by clicking!

Holiday Traditions? Plus Exclusive Excerpt of Secret: At HL Woods

Happy day-after Thanksgiving to all who celebrate this holiday, and for those who don’t, Happy Friday to you and yours: ) The weather is turning colder in Southwest Michigan, good for campfires, which I had today with my grandson. Always good times when sharing moments with family; )

So, tell me, are there certain family traditions you follow on this special day?

I’m always curious about traditions. I grew up with them…but things changed when I had my own family. I didn’t want to deal with traditions, things we do the same every year, but little did I know that I was actually making my own traditions. LOL Like celebrating the holiday on the Friday after:)

~.~.~.~

There is an amazing dish that my mom-in-law made for the holidays – Apple Pie Slices, which my brother-in-law named Pink Sh*t – because of the pink frosting on top. It’s like apple pie flattened onto a cookie sheet and topped with frosting – s-o-o-o yummy! We haven’t indulged in this dish for a number of years, but this year I made it for my family. I guess some traditions hang on whether you want them to or not – they become part of who we are.

~.~.~.~

So tell us about your favorite tradition for the holiday/s? Who knows, maybe it will become a new tradition for someone else.

~.~.~.~

While you’re here, I’d like to share a short excerpt from my soon-to-be-released book - Secret: At HL Woods – YA Paranormal Romance scheduled for release January 2018.

Unedited Author Excerpt - 1^st part of chapter one:

“What the—? Ugh!” Air exploded out of my lungs as I face-planted in musty dirt and leaves. A little fur-ball chipmunk had scurried across my path and should be a smear on the bottom of my tennis shoe, but I’d dove over it like diving off the raft. Air wheezed back into my body on gulps of mortification.

“Holy crap. Kyle, did you see that agile ballerina move? It’s none other than the dark witch-girl, Bri Lancaster. You know, the very one that unveils morbid goth clouds wherever she goes.”

Max. My worst nightmare. No, no, no. Don’t look. Do not raise your head. I did, coughing and sputtering dirt from my mouth. Kyle, the guy that lived next door, ran full bore toward me, while Max struck a pose, laughing. A deranged hyena came to mind. What the heck were those two doing this far into the woods? They’d never been in this area of the forest, at least not for the past three months I’d been jogging here.

“Are you hurt?” Kyle kneeled next to me and extended a hand.

I got to my feet on my own, brushing dirt from the front of my T-shirt. “I’m fine.” I glared at Max, who was still a distance away laughing his butt off. How mature.

“Max. It’s not that funny.” Kyle unfolded himself to stand beside me. His ice-blues twinkled from the sunlight filtering through the tree branches. “Are you sure you’re all right? That was quite a tumble.”

Stop staring at him and respond. A slap on my shoulder shoved me into Kyle. I nearly knocked him to the ground. Somehow he righted both of us.

“Get a grip, Goth-girl. He’s not into you.” Max jerked me away from Kyle and completed my humiliation. “You kissing the dirt made a perfect Snap Chat expose, my evil one.” He flashed me the picture on his phone. “Today we get to enjoy black spiky hair tipped in fluorescent fuchsia. What happened to your eyebrow stud?” He blinked his eyes and grinned, most likely for effect.

As if on auto-mode, my hands curled into fists with a deep-seated urge to punch his face. My hair wasn’t spiky, just short, and how he got his phone to grab a close up of me on the ground was beyond me. I hate him.

Grandpa’s words about hate rifled through my head, “Don’t hate the haters, it’s normally a traumatic experience that created their outlook, or exterior programming from parents that went through the trauma. Not their fault.” Well, I didn’t see anything but red whenever I looked at Max’s smug face.

Without a word, I ran toward the mound of wild rose vines and thistles, where Kyle and Max had stood a moment ago.

A black man and white woman shimmered into view beside it, arms around each other, both staring at me.

I stopped so abruptly I almost lost it again. Apparitions.

“Martin, look at her. She’s seein’ us.” The woman’s distinct southern accent caught me, but what set off my cursed paranormal spidey-sensors was their clothing…straight from the 60’s, according to some of the old romance books I’d read from Mom’s stash.

“By damn, she does see us.” He stepped closer to me with the woman at his side. “You can see us.”

“I can, yes.” Holy crap, I just said that out loud. My whole body tensed. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Kyle and Max still roamed face-plant alley. A shiver shook through me. They’d left.

“We need your help, Missy.” Martin’s brows arched, his head tilted. “Please tell us you can help us.”

The woman turned to him and patted his cheek. “It’s gonna be all right, sweetie. We ain’t botherin’ this fine woman with our problems.” She turned to me. “It’s okay, darlin’, you never mind us.”

“Why are you both here?” Wherever I saw spirits of the dead, it usually meant they were connected to something in the area. I considered the mound, seeing something metal and rusty underneath all the greenery. “You should have crossed over, into the vortex of light…unless you’re meant to go to the dark plane.”

The woman gasped and clung to Martin.

Maybe I’d said too much. I yanked some of the vines away, getting scratched and poked from the effort.

A car, green, ancient. No wonder it was tough to see.

“We want justice, but we aren’t able to leave this spot. Something’s holding us here, like some kind of barrier.” Martin’s lips pinched together, his head nodding. He looked at the woman as if to confirm. She nodded also.

I scanned the area thoroughly to make sure Kyle and Max weren’t lurking behind a tree to get a shot of me talking to air. I’d dealt with Max enough during school to last a lifetime; his nasty pranks didn’t need to scar my summer too.

Thankfully they’d really left.

“You fancyin’ one of those boys?” The woman smiled.

“Gloria, now don’t you be puttin’ on with this little lady. She won’t want to share her life with the likes of us.” Martin embraced Gloria, kissing her forehead.

I chuckled at considering either Kyle or Max as anything more than what? Simply guys in my grade? No one knew me here and I liked it that way. Moving from Marshall before the end of my junior year was the worst thing to happen in my life, well besides Dad leaving once we settled into the house here. Plus, Luke lived in Marshall. I shook my head. “No. Neither of those guys is into me, and I’m definitely not into them.”

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DK Davis writes YA sci-fi, supernatural, and fantasy with a good dollop of all the relationships woven in between. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, spending time with grandchildren or her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.

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Holidays by Roseanne Dowell

The holiday season is almost upon us. My favorite time of year and it begins with Thanksgiving. Actually in my house, it begins a week or so before.

Since we no longer host Christmas with my children – too many of them for our small house – the kids have taken over. However, we do still have Thanksgiving dinner here with a couple of the kids, and everyone comes later for dessert, so I put up our tree and Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving.

When the kids were small, we used to put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Neighbors all told me we were nuts. Funny, how many trees and decorations I see on Thanksgiving and even before now days. It warms my heart.

Anyway, as I said the holidays start with Thanksgiving. Of course we have the traditional turkey and dressing after the blessing – oh wait that’s a Christmas song-  and then the other kids come over  as well as grandkids  and we have dessert. Usually more than we can possibly eat.

It’s been my tradition ever since my kids got married to give them something on Thanksgiving, usually a Christmas decoration that I made. I was into ceramics for a while, so naturally they got ceramics, a Santa Claus ornament or statue. Then I was into woodworking and made them Santas.

Eventually I was into redwork embroidery and made them wall hangings of – who else – Santa Claus. Then I started quilting. I made them table runners – no not of Santa Claus – and wall hangings  – just Christmas related fabric. Sometimes I bought them ornaments.

My son and daughter in law begged me not to get them anything this year. They’re out of wall space and their tree is full of ornaments. I’ll have to see what I can come up with, because no way am I breaking that tradition. That’s part of the fun of the holiday season. Maybe I’ll be nice this year and look for Santa Claus candy, something consumable.

When I was younger, my mom started baking the day after Thanksgiving, making huge cans (potato chip cans and not the small ones) full of cookies. Back then everyone entertained and visited a lot during the holidays. Sadly that practice seems to have stopped.  There wasn’t a weekend that went by without some aunt or uncle coming to visit. I loved those days. I don’t bake as much as I used to and certainly not the day after Thanksgiving.

The weekend after Thanksgiving, my daughters and I spent the days shopping. They used to help me pick out gifts for their children, but since they’re all grown up now, (well most of them are, I still have a couple young ones) I don’t need to shop for them anymore. I’ve taken the lazy, safe route and give them cash. I’m sure they like it better. Once they’ve moved out or married, they join the ranks of the adult joint couples gifts, usually something homemade now since we’ve retired and money is tight.
We also celebrate our wedding anniversary in November - the 24th to be exact. Sometimes it lands on Thanksgiving which makes it extra special. Fifty-three years this year. Seems like only yesterday I walked down the aisle. Time sure flies.

Christmas Eve is spent with my siblings – two brothers and a sister. We’ve

lost a sister and brother some years back and it’s not quite the same. Nieces and nephews used to join us, but that was back before most of them married. Now they have other families to share the day with and we’ve dwindled from a group of 37 down to 8 plus a couple nieces and nephews whose families are out of town.

I still love the holidays and look forward to them as much or more than any child. The hustle and bustle of getting ready, the family gatherings, and spending time with loved ones. I’m very blessed and thankful to have all my children and most of my grandchildren within twenty minutes of me. We miss the ones who can’t join us, but it’s still a lively group and growing by leaps and bounds. Not only are most of the grandchildren married or dating, they’re having children of their own. I dread the day when their parents decide it’s too much and want their own families around them for the holiday. I know that day will come, maybe sooner than I think, and it’ll sadden me, but  I do understand. We had to do it also as our kids grew and had families of their own. But for now I’ll enjoy what God has so richly blessed me with. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.


My latest book, All's Well That Ends Well can be found at Books We Love

Aunt Beatrice Lulu is back and creating more havoc than ever. When a body falls out of a chimney in their newly purchased cabin, she takes it upon herself to investigate. Just because her niece is Chief of Police doesn’t mean she should mind her own business. Even her husband can’t control his busy body wife. It doesn’t end there, too many things happening for Beatrice Lulu to overlook. She’s bound and determined to figure things out on her own.