The agony of writing the cover blurb - by Vijaya Schartz

The Blue Phantom glows like a beacon in black space, appears and vanishes,
and never registers on scanners. Rumors say it will save the righteous, the oppressed,
and the downtrodden… and slay the unworthy without mercy.
The space pirates fear it. Their victims pray for it… but its help comes at a price…

The art of the cover blurb is to give a taste without revealing too much.

When I am half-way through writing a novel and I know my story and my characters better, I like to take the first stab at the cover blurb, a short paragraph of about 100+ words, to let the reader know what the novel is about.

First, I need to set the stage. What kind of world is it? In the case of my current WIP the feudal planet was almost destroyed two decades ago and is starting to reorganize itself. Many nobles covet the throne.

Writing the blurb also helps me refocus on the main themes, motivations, and conflicts of the characters in the story. It forces me to reconsider, and to pinpoint the larger scope of the novel beyond the step-by-step sequence of events. Is it about revenge? Thwarting evil? The challenges of doing the right thing? Resisting temptation? Never trusting appearances? Overcoming unsurmountable obstacles? Finding your true self? Coming of age? Seeking salvation for past mistakes? Is it about greed and corruption? Ambition? Intrigue?

Usually in my novels, it’s several of these, but I have to determine which theme dominates this particular story. Then, I can reinforce that theme throughout the book.

It's also time to define my characters in a few words for the reader. In my current project, I define my heroine as a “spiritual warrior woman.” I often have warrior women in my stories, Samurai, soldier, bodyguard, Avenging Angel, Valkyrie, bounty hunter… but this one is different. She adheres to a pure code of conduct, lives in a monastery, and practices meditation and Tai-Chi as well as lethal weapons. She respects all life, loves animals, never took a sip of a fermented drink, and is a strict vegetarian.

Avenging Angel

Bounty hunter

 

Samurai heroine

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The other side of that pure heroine is that she lacks life experience. Believing everyone is basically good and worthy is dangerous for a warrior confronting pure evil. That naivety can be her undoing… or her salvation.

But there are other constraints in writing the blurb. Usually, online shoppers on a retail site like Amazon can only see the first one or two lines of the blurb. So, the challenge is to hook the reader with the first words, hoping that he or she will want to click on “more” and read the full book description.

Here is my first try at the blurb for CHI WARRIOR, book 1 of the Protectors series. Look for it releasing from BWL Publishing in November 2025.

Blurb for the entire series, called: The Protectors

A few decades ago, a cataclysm devastated the feudal planet. Today, as simple life returns, an elite of mighty warriors protect the Celestial Gate, expecting benevolent Immortals to return from the stars. But they struggle against alien races with advanced technology, who covet their natural resources, and plan to enslave the defenseless population.

Chi Warrior – Book 1 

A spiritual warrior woman faces a fearsome barbarian with a wolf, a double-edged prophecy, and a black cloud with wings.

Anila trained all her life in the monastery of the Celestial Gate, ready to take the vows of the mighty Protectors. That’s all she’s ever known, all she ever wanted.

When a barbarian horde descends from the north, Bayar Khan, their leader, seems unstoppable, determined to destroy everything in his path. Rumors of his cruelty make the most powerful princes tremble in their stone fortresses.

But in the inevitable clash, nothing is as it seems… blurring the lines between good and evil, an ancient enemy rises in the shadows, and the falling darkness threatens Anila and everyone she loves.

In the meantime, you can find all my available novels with strong heroines and brave heroes on my author page at:

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"Phenomenal world building, characters the readers care about, and an intriguing mystery... all the elements one expects from a Vijaya Schartz story! Easily recommended!" Debbie - CK2sKwipsandKritique
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Happy Reading!

Vijaya Schartz, author

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Canada's Rainforest by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

https://books2read.com/Sleuthing-the-Klondike 

Canada’s Rainforest

I am a Canadian and all my mystery, historical, romance, and young adult novels are set in Canada. Canada is the second largest country in the world and has almost twenty-five percent of the world’s temperate rainforest.

A rainforest is characterized by a dense, damp forest that receives up to 254cm (100inches) of moisture (rain, snow, drizzle, fog, or mist) each year. The trees are tall and form an overhead canopy.

There are two types of rainforest: temperate and tropical. A rainforest close to the equator is tropical; one between the Tropic of Cancer and the Arctic in the northern hemisphere or between the Tropic of Capricorn and the Antarctic Circle in the southern hemisphere is called temperate. Therefore, Canada’s rainforests are temperate.

New Zealand, Chile, and Norway also have temperate rainforests. These forests all have much the same characteristics but may have different plants and animals. While most of the temperate rainforests in other parts of the world are a mix of deciduous and coniferous trees, Canada’s rainforests are made up of coniferous trees such as pine, fir, and spruce.

Some of the similarities of rainforests are: trees that range from new saplings to tall, centuries-old growth; large logs lying on the forest floor; an abundance of bright green moss, ferns, and other vegetation hiding the forest floor; plants growing on other plants; and many layers of canopy overhead. Some of the dead logs will have seedlings to tall trees growing on them and are sometimes called a host or nurse log.

Canada’s rainforest ranges along the west coast of British Columbia and Vancouver Island. Their abundant rainfall comes from being close to the Pacific Ocean and coastal mountains. They are part of the Pacific Temperate Rainforest ecoregion which runs from Alaska to Northern California and is the world’s largest temperate rainforest.

Canada also has the world’s only temperate inland forest called the Interior Wet Belt. It runs from Fort George southeast to Revelstoke and further south to the United States border and owes its rain to weather systems that begin in the Pacific Ocean and flow west to rise over the Columbia Mountains.

The Great Bear Rainforest covers 32,000 square kilometres (12,000 sq miles.) along the central and northern coast of British Columbia. It is one of the largest remaining areas of unspoiled temperate rainforest in the world. Besides being home to grizzly bears, wolves, salmon, bald eagles and cougars, it is also home to the Kermode or Spirit Bear, which is a species of black bear. It is called the Spirit Bear because of its white-coloured coat caused by inheriting the genes of both parents. One in ten black bear cubs is born with this coat.

Rainforests cover less than ten percent of the world’s land surface but contribute to one-third of the world’s oxygen production.

Striving for Perfection by Victoria Chatham

 

COMING IN SEPTEMBER 2025

Yes, Winnie Hatherall has solved the crime in this, my first cosy mystery. 

However, while hammering my way through the last chapter, I began to slow down as I realised - shock, horror - that I had a major plot hole. Once I started filling that one in, I found another and then another. I don't know how many drafts of a new novel are too many, but I am now on the home stretch. I think.

Reading through my manuscript is more than checking that my I's are dotted and my T's crossed. Have I left red herrings dangling, or have I given them a logical conclusion? Have I created a worthy sleuth, and is my villain too obvious or not obvious enough? Are my characters sufficiently fleshed out to be believable?  Is the plot strong enough? Ah, the aim for perfection.

Perfection is akin to flawlessness, and how often do we achieve that? I once had a lengthy discussion with a well-known Harlequin editor regarding instances of errors in a particular book. Considering how many pairs of eyes would have reviewed it, I was surprised by the number. Her answer was a gentle reminder that we are all human. So, where do I see perfection? Always in nature and especially in a garden.

Of all the flowers I have grown, I have enjoyed roses the best. They weren't always the easiest to cultivate, but I had this lovely deep pink rose that grew prolifically in my garden at Ivy Cottage. Another rose that grew well there was a vivid yellow cabbage rose that rambled over my garage like a weed and frequently bloomed right up until Christmas. 

 

  

It doesn't matter where I go, gardens are a delight to wander through. This year, I again visited Victoria, on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, and although I had missed the cherry blossom, I was in time for the blaze of rhododendrons. These were so prolific in a range of colours from scarlet to various shades of pink, and this lovely shade of lilac. Originating from eastern Asia, particularly the Himalayan region, rhododendrons have thrived in other parts of the world.

One of my favourite gardens to visit is the Botanical Gardens, just south of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. The garden spans over seventy-nine acres, comprising some manicured and precise flower beds, as well as winding trails through the jungle environment. It is also known for its orchid conservation and propagation, and this yellow orchid was only one of the many varieties on display. 

Leaving the scents, colours, and profusion of perfection behind me, I am now going to step back into the imperfect world of Winnie Hatherall, senior sleuth. Watch out for her in September!

Victoria Chatham

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NB: photographs shown here are from this author's collection.

There's nothing like on-site reseach

 Each of the Doug Fletcher mysteries is set in a different US National Park. I've enjoyed visiting the future settings of the Fletcher books, and last fall we spent a week in central Kentucky. The setting for "A Bourbon to Die For" is Lincoln's Birthplace National Historic site. I approached the volunteer in the visitor center, handed her on of my business cards, then asked, "Where would you dispose of a dead body?'

Without a moment of hesitation, she replied, "In a pig sty." Seeing my surprise at her quick response, she explained she had been the district attorney for that county and had often reflected on how to dispose of a dead body while prosecuting dozens, or perhaps hundreds, of hapless criminals who'd had the misfortune of having been caught, arrested, and prosecuted for their crimes.

After explaining to her that my crime scene needed to be inside the park, we had a longer discussion of the park, it's layout, and secluded spots suitable for a murder. In the end, we decided my victim should be found in a secluded area of the park beyond the overflow parking. Once off the main trails, very few visitors would stumble onto the crime scene.

The next part of the research was a terrible burden (insert dramatic sigh). With assorted family members, we HAD to visit several distilleries and a cooperage (Barrel making company). While suffering through samples of different bourbons, we were educated in the nuances of aging, and bourbon flavors. Armed with a TON of research material, I started writing. I passed a partial draft to my first proofreader, Deanna Wilson, who responded, "You really 'geeked out' on this one. Cut out about ninety percent of the chemistry and try to focus on THE PLOT!"

Getting that same advice from other beta readers, I deleted pages of information about corn genetics and gas chromatography, focusing on the death of a bourbon maker and who had motive, means, and opportunity. Who would kill a guy who was on the verge of introducing a bourbon he claimed would change the industry. I added a toothless church janitor who knew more about the victim and his distillery than the local police did, some local politics, a discussion of the local social strata, and voila! there's a mystery.

Check out "A Bourbon to Die For" at my publisher's website Bookswelove.net

Authors — BWL Publishing

A young adult ghost story, written with my granddaughter, by Diane Scott Lewis

                                           

NEW RELEASE To purchase this young adult novel, click here

 I wrote this story, released this month, with my granddaughter, Jorja, who is fifteen now; I'm so proud of it. I hope you enjoy the spooky tale. 

Here is the blurb:

Sage, at fourteen, grows up in turmoil in Nahant, Massachusetts. Her changing body, her parents’ rocky marriage. When her cousin Patrick visits for the summer, his parents’ divorce has given him a reckless anger. He insists they explore the creepy mansion in the woods. Nate, Sage’s younger brother, is reluctant to approach the manor where a beloved teacher was found hanged months earlier. The children’s great-great grandmother worked at Lakeluster House in a previous century and was under suspicion of shooting another servant.

Now an old lady and her butler have moved in and the kids bring a welcome cake. Invited inside, Sage encounters a strange little girl who shows her the manor’s dark secrets—sparking Sage’s curiosity. Will the butler—a man with his own mysteries—throw them out for snooping? Who is real and who is a ghost? Was her relative guilty? And what danger lingers in the attic? Sage must gather her courage, risking her life to find out.

My late husband chose the setting for the story: Nahant, Massachusetts, an almost island dangling off the coast.

The gazebo mentioned in the novel

Writing from a younger POV gave me new insights. I'd use words my granddaughter would puzzle over, so I had to change them. Or she'd say "I'd never say that!" I also had to figure out the current teenage slang. Like bougie for fancy. My critique partners said it was their new favorite word.

She is a recipient of literary awards, a girl after my own heart!

An excerpt:

Sage, the fourteen-year-old protagonist, is exploring the manor library, when a child comes up behind her.

“Do you live here?” Sage felt the room go colder, as if someone had opened a window. She rubbed her arms. “Is Miss Dora your aunt or…?”

“My room is upstairs, on the third floor.” Bella cocked her head. “I don’t come down often.”

She had a stilted cadence to her speech, as if she only recited lines written by somebody else. Or she’d repeated them many times before.

“Are you all right?” Sage wondered why she’d ask that. Was this child a prisoner, or a guest? Or just an odd family member? Then Sage remembered the dream she had of a child. A child who resembled this one. How could that be? Her heart twitched. “Do you… like it here?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Bella frowned. “It’s my home now. But the others never liked visitors.”

“The others?” Sage felt for a moment she was being pranked. She shook her head. “Um, okay. There’s a photo album here. Would you like to look at the pictures with me?” Sage turned to the desk and opened the album, at first filled with sepia pictures with posing, glum people: fusty and dusty. Maybe she could get the child to tell her more. A chill crept up the back of her neck and she looked behind her.

Bella was gone.

Sage scanned the room, and it was empty. A lion carving in the fireplace mantel had its eye on her, a live eye that blinked! Sage gasped. The eye returned to plain wood. Big yikes? She stepped over and tentatively touched it, cool and wooden as could be. Then she looked down and cringed.

Bella’s ribbon, still in a bow, lay on the fireplace grate.

To purchase my books, visit my publisher's author page:

https://bwlpublishing.ca/lewis-diane-scott/

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with one naughty dachshund.

Do you fancy cold water swimming?...by Sheila Claydon

 

I learn something new every day, and what a joy that is.

We have new nextdoor-but-one neighbours who recently moved to our small corner of North West England from Hampstead in London. As we're a friendly lot around here they have very quickly become part of the neighbourhood and, in the way of all new friendships, questions have been both asked and answered. And because of that I have learned all about Hampstead and Highgate Ponds.

A while ago a documentary was made about them (now on Netflix - The Ponds) and one of our new neighbours was featured. Naturally we were agog to see it and him, and we were so impressed. What did I learn?

Well the first thing I discovered was that just under 4 miles from central London there are many bodies of water, mostly man made reservoirs originally dug out in the 17th and 18th centuries to meet London's growing water demands. Nowadays they are mostly wonderful wetland habitats crowded with birds, insects, fish and wildfowl. In the midst of all this nature, however, are 3 famous swimming ponds. A large single sex pond for men and one for women, both open year round, plus a pond where men and women can swim together, which is open May to September. There is a lifeguard. No child under eight years of age may swim in any of the ponds, and no child between 8-15 without an adult accompanying them because the water is deep and only suitable for competent swimmers. Apart from that there are few rules.

Apparently access was free until 2004 when the City of London Corporation tried close the ponds, saying that they cost too much to maintain and were a health risk to swimmers. Those swimmers who had used them for many, many years challenged the decision in the High Court and won, although there is now a small charge to use them. 

There is more history too. Boudicca's Mound, near the men's bathing pond, is a tumulus where, according to local legend, but probably not true, Queen Boadicea was buried after she and her 10,000 Icini warriors were defeated at Battle Bridge.

What I found more fascinating than any this, however, is the fact that people swim in the ponds every day, all year, some even on Christmas Day. They dive into the depths when the water temperature can be as low as 1 degree, and when they have to take care not to cut themselves on the surface ice that has formed. And if the film is a good judge, they then all clamber out revitalised and sure that they are the better for it. I know couldn't do it, not just because I am a very indifferent swimmer but because I feel the cold too quickly. However, I greatly admire and envy the people who can. 

My new neighbour says the ponds are a great leveller. Shivering in bathing suits in the winter makes for a lot of joking and bonhomie.  Nobody cares who you are or what you do, it's whether you can withstand the temperature that is the test. 

We learned, too, how friendships forged at the ponds have helped people through bereavement, illness, job loss and depression. They even helped someone back from a near death experience. There were some real characters too. So interesting. Another thing became clear as well. However politically incorrect it might be to say it nowadays, those single sex ponds are both appreciated and necessary. Nearly all the swimmers enjoy visiting the mixed pond in the summer where they participate in various races and fun events, but for the rest of the year they appreciate those single-sex spaces where friendships and easy conversations bloom. In the film, female swimmers discussed breast cancer, family problems and ageing, while the men supported one another through illness, bereavement and job loss, but in very different ways. Sometimes we all just need our own special place.

To us the film was an eye opener to a whole different way of life. A place where people find peace and tranquility in the heart of a busy city. And our new neighbours? Well now they are too far away from London to use the ponds, they swim in the sea instead. Our beach is only a 10 minute walk away through field, woods and across sand dunes. It is idyllic. We love it. But we don't swim in the sea, not even in the height of summer - too many people then - and in the winter, when the beach is empty, it's far too cold. Not for our new neighbours though. If they can swim in the Hampstead and Highgate Ponds all year then I'm sure the will manage the choppy, grey Irish Sea whose waves break against our shoreline.

What is it about the Moon? by Nancy M Bell

To see my newest release Night at the Legislature click on the image above.

What is it about the moon that fascinates us so? I could spend hours just watching her swim across the sable ocean of the sky slipping through the constellations on her nightly journey. Songs have been written and poems composed, indeed even novels (although a lot of them are concerned with the affect the full moon has on certain shape shifters). There is something about moonlight that evokes magic in the heart and the imagination. Familiar sights take on new nuances when viewed through the lens of moonlight. 

The very fact that the daily tides in the oceans of the world are ruled by the influence of the moon is pretty darn amazing.  That an object floating in the vastness of space captured in the earth's magnetic pull moves literally tons of salt water is pretty magical to me. I know, I know, there is scientific information that explains this, but why get so bogged down in all that science speak when one can fill one's heart and soul with the sheer magnificence of the reality playing out before you as you sit on the shingle of the beach and watch the water creep up the shore little trickle by little trickle. Slowly filling the spaces between the pebbles while the magic fills your heart. Water is a living spirit, the earth's life blood. I often think how wonderful it would be to included in the unspoken communication between the waters and the moon's power to move it.

When I was a kid I would sit under the maple tree by the dock of our cottage where the warm night was a velvet ebony blanket around me and watch the moon rise turning the still water of the lake to shimmering ice with her light. In the complete darkness and silence that was filled with sound it seemed that anything was possible and that the stars were singing to to the moon as she journeyed. Later as I grew older, I sat on my horse in the Rouge valley and smiled as the moonlight woke ripples of ice on the Rouge River at the shallow Durnford crossing. So many small, but important moments in my life have been lit by moonlight.

The moon has always been female to me, regardless of the Man in the Moon stories, and the sun has always seemed male to me. The warrior as opposed to the healer. Both strong in their own way.   

I'm not sure I'll ever really figure out just what it is about the moon and it's light that inspires me and holds me in awe at the same time.   

Until next month, be well, be happy.   

 

A strawberry in the sky, by J.C. Kavanagh

 

To purchase this award-winning series, click here: 

https://www.bookswelove.net/kavanagh-j-c/

There's blood moons, there's blue moons, and yes, there's strawberry moons. 

Why call it 'strawberry' moon? The name stems from our Indigenous people - traditionally named for the time of year (June) when strawberries are ripe for the picking. Though the moon is not typically reddish in colour during a 'strawberry' moon, it certainly was this year in Ontario, Canada, thanks to the ash particulates in the air from wildfires in Saskatchewan, Alberta and northern Ontario.

Photo credit to Liza Symonenko, June 10, 2025

This year, the strawberry moon coincided with the celestial event referred to as a 'major lunar standstill,' one that occurs every 18.6 years. A major lunar standstill means the moon's orbit will be at the steepest angle in the sky compared to the earth's equator. This phenomenon won't occur again until 2043. A 'minor lunar standstill' occurs every 9.3 years, where the moon's orbit will be at the shallowest angle to the earth's equator. To better describe this phenomenon, I've copied the Wikipedia explanation.

Detailed explanation of a lunar standstill

[EXCERPT AND DIAGRAM FROM WIKIPEDIA]

Apparent paths of the Sun and Moon on the celestial sphere (angles exaggerated for clarity)

A more detailed explanation is best considered in terms of the paths of the Sun and Moon on the celestial sphere, as shown in the first diagram (right). This shows the abstract sphere surrounding the Earth at the center. The Earth is oriented so that its axis is vertical.

The Sun is, by definition, always seen on the ecliptic (the Sun's apparent path across the sky) while Earth is tilted at an angle of e = 23.5° to the plane of that path and completes one orbit around the Sun in 365.25636 days, slightly longer than one year due to precession altering the direction of Earth's inclination.

 The Moon's orbit around Earth (shown dotted) is inclined at an angle of i = 5.14° relative to the ecliptic. The Moon completes one orbit around the Earth in 27.32166 days. The two points at which the Moon crosses the ecliptic are known as its orbital nodes, shown as "N1" and "N2" (ascending node and descending node, respectively), and the line connecting them is known as the line of nodes. Due to precession of the Moon's orbital plane, these crossing points, and the positions of eclipses, gradually shift around the ecliptic in a period of 18.6 years.

Thanks Wikipedia. I think (?) that helped.

In my Twisted Climb series, the full moon plays an integral part in the night-time adventures for the characters in the Dream World and the un-World. There, the moon is always stationary - angled high above - yet the milky white, puffy clouds shift over and around it. There, Connor, Jayden and Max experience moonlit clarity as the moon beams down on them in a shifting frame of brightness. Does that pique your interest? If so, you'll love the adventures, action, suspense and drama in this award-winning series. If you're looking for a summer-time read, The Twisted Climb series is it. And please, leave a review in Amazon or Good Reads or Indigo, or any site that promotes authors and their books. Enjoy!

Stay safe and don't forget to tell the ones you love that you love them :)

J.C. Kavanagh, author of
The Twisted Climb - A Bright Darkness (Book 3) Best YA Book FINALIST at Critters Readers Poll 2022
AND
The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends (Book 2) voted BEST Young Adult Book 2018, Critters Readers Poll and Best YA Book FINALIST at The Word Guild, Canada
AND
The Twisted Climb,
voted BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers Poll
Voted Best Local Author, Simcoe County, Ontario, 2021
Novels for teens, young adults and adults young-at-heart
Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com
www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
www.amazon.com/author/jckavanagh
Instagram @authorjckavanagh

Creative Collecting

 

                                                  my publisher's website

Do you like to collect? Author Paula Chaffee Scardamalia, (Divine Musings)  recent excellent newsletter delt with the subject. It got me thinking about links from our world of collecting to our creative lives. 

I fully admit to being a collector. Living in an old house with a big attic has made it easy for me to say "yes" to a neighbor who was in the process of moving and would I find a good home for her now excess flower pots, side table, mystery collection? 

My attic seemed to expand to provide!

Do you go antiquing? Attend estate sales? It's a good way to discover what colors, textures art styles appeal to you. How you decorate your home shows your own aesthetic, your own style.

Paula suggests that "collecting first of all stimulates the brain, especially through the senses.. Look at any collection of items you have and see which of your senses respond to those items."

Here's something else I hadn't realized about collecting...

"Beyond that sensory effect, collecting while traveling anchors memories of new experiences, new understandings and insights."

Haven't we all looked at a piece of blown glass, a travel brochure, an old long-out-of-print cookbook and remember what adventure we were on when we discovered our treasure? I still lovingly iron a now well-worn embroidered blouse I bought from a vendor in the shadow of a Mayan pyramid, and I think with wonder and gratitude that I was able to experience that moment in my travels.

One of my favorite collections is fellow writer friends, old and new, that I've made over the years. We even get to see each other while on book tours and conferences. Here are my friend Liz and David at a memorable moment... We like collecting those book awards, too!

I hope what you collect inspires your life and fuels your creativity!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Garage Sale Season

                                                 Please click this link to learn about A Killer Whisky

My project this winter was to declutter the Calgary home I've lived in for twenty-nine years. My husband Will and I loaded fifteen boxes of books into our car to donate to charity book sale. Will sold our old foosball table and other items of some value on Kijiji. We filled an old suitcase with items to bring to our son in Ottawa for him to keep or sell in his neighbourhood garage sale. 

The Great Glebe Garage Sale takes place annually in Ottawa the fourth Saturday in May. About a third of the homes in the Glebe neighbourhood participate. Shoppers come from all over the city and make the event into a festival. People line the sidewalks, food trucks set up on main streets, and flea market vendors rent spots in the high school yard. 

This year, our spring visit to Ottawa corresponded with Great Garage Sale. Will and I helped sell items to the thousand or so people who browsed the goods that lined our son's driveway. Our old suitcase sold for $10. A woman paid $25 for a dilapidated rocking chair that had belonged to my grandparents. She plans to refurbish it into a cherished antique. 

Two weeks after The Glebe, my Calgary neighbourhood hosted a Parade of Garage Sales. Will and I were inspired to give it a try. From the Parade organizers and our son, we picked up a few garage sale tips.

• Painter's tape is good for price stickers since it peels off easily and cleanly
• Elevate items as much as possible, using TV tables and boxes in addition to regular tables
• Organize items by categories and prices
• Wear a fanny pack for holding coins and bills
• Have lots of coins and small bills on hand to make change
• Offer deals: 2-for-1bundles, or "fill a bag" for $5

As it turned out, we didn't need the change since almost everyone paid with coins or small bills, and the deals didn't entice people to add to their own clutter, although our neighbour bought our whole box of fridge magnets for one dollar.

We generally priced our goods lower than our son did his because our prime goal was to get rid of stuff and we knew our shoppers would be a fraction of the Great Glebe's. Our first buyer arrived a half hour before the official start and got first dibs on our vintage board games and other items. We heard the word "vintage" several times that day, which was nicer than saying "junk." People enjoyed nostalgic moments at the sight of toys they recalled playing with as children. A woman reminded me that I'd bought my abacus in Hong Kong 50 years ago. 

Another woman fell in love with a heavy mirror in a carved wood frame that had been on my father's wall. She bought it for five dollars. My father liked garage sales and collecting "vintage" goods. He'd be happy the mirror went to this woman rather than remain stashed in my basement corner. 

It was great to see bulky items go to people who'd appreciate them. My old guitar with broken strings, a folding lawn chair that we'd found uncomfortable, a bean bag game we hadn't played in years. 

A lot of stuff was left over at the end, including a ping pong table. But the table's large surface was so handy for displaying items like board games that we don't mind storing it disassembled in the garage for a future garage sale.

Yes, we'll probably do it again. Garage sales seem to run in my family blood and one of these years I'll convince Will to sell his "vintage" childhood wagon that a few of our buyers spotted in our garage. 

Now our task is to throw out the real junk, pack up China and household items for Goodwill donation, and return a few unsold things to our house to keep until next year. I'll return my abacus to the wall unit as a source of Hong Kong memories instead of a piece of clutter. 

The sale has also inspired our next project -- to clean up and organize the garage. It will be a pleasure to drive inside, when there's finally room again for the car.       

                   

Flowers of the Sea by Karla Stover

 

https://bookswelove.net/stover-karla/

I was at a big junk hunt last month and saw a small dress made from cloth flour sacks. My Aunt Doris was raised during the Depression and for Christmas she often gave me flour sack kitchen towels which she’d embroidered. They’re very large and don’t dry well but it’s a good sturdy cloth and I wouldn’t get rid of them for the world. And one still has a flour odor imbedded in the fibers. I didn’t buy it; what I came home with was two antique handbags to add to my collection and an old lantern. The handbags I frame and hang on the bedroom wall and we have been Hanging old lanterns on the patio roof beams. Over the years, I’ve bought old hatpins, old books, a very peculiar hat, a necklace containing braided human hair, and this year an alabaster elephant. Having said this, what I’d really like to have but they’re way out of my budget is a Victorian seaweed album.

I only just learned about this supposedly popular occupation for young ladies, described as “a romantic and safely-domesticated way for them to explore the natural world” because they certainly weren’t expected to study science for science’s sake. Of course, being women creating a well-thought-out album was merely an artistic accomplishment. 

Victorians were fascinated by all-things-nature. What do General George Armstrong Custer, President Theodore Roosevelt, and Queen Victoria have in common? A love of taxidermy. The general tried his hand at it; the president had the animals he killed stuffed, and the queen collected stuffed birds. My Aunt Doris shot and tanned a ring-necked pheasant and gifted the skin to my husband.

The Victorians also created a language of flowers and sent messages using only floral pictures, and developed a love of terrariums. However, along about the same time they began collecting seaweed.

In 1863, a children’s book author names Margaret Gatty wrote British Sea-weeds, a handbook for amateurs. The book introduced readers to some of the species’ varieties, and offered suggestions for the proper attire when collecting (no petticoats below the ankle) and she strongly suggested taking along a male companion. Her illustrations showing some of the different varieties were to help with the correct identification of samples obtained.

Eighteen years later, a man named Alpheus Baker Hervey wrote the book, Sea Mosses: a collector’s guide, and an introduction to the study of marine algae. The tools he suggested were a pair of pliers to handle the specimens, scissors to cut away what he called “superfluous branches,” a stick with a needle on the end to be used to move the seaweed around so as to reveal its finer points, at least two wash bowls to clean it, paper such as a botanist’s drying paper or blotting paper using multiple sheets to dry it between, cotton cloth, and cards on which to mount the specimens.

I googled looking for the numbers of seaweed a.k.a algae, available for an album and it ranges between seven and twelve thousand types, generally comes in red, green or brown, and ranges in appearance from delicate, lacy fronds to leafy blades to the enormous growths in a kelp forest.

May, 2, 2025 The News Tribune

In late April, Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife Police announced that they had issued a citation to a group for harvesting seaweed near Sekiu on the Olympic Peninsula.

              I grew up on Commencement Bay and things have really changed. The beaches are no longer covered in shells. My mom, Aunt Elizabeth and I used to collect tiny shells which may or may not have been screw shells. We dug geoducks; mussels clung to every piling. We had as many oysters as we wanted and Mom once found a pearl. Now, when I want their shell remains, the beaches are bare. And we have two new food sources, squid and seaweed. In summer we’ve seen members of our Asian population raking in seaweed from the bay and draping it over driftwood to dry.  In mid-winter, they jig for squid off the peers. With so many people wanting to supplement their food supplies, the state had to create strict laws and require licenses. Bur, I digress.

              I almost never meet a hobby I don’t like. My latest are making pine needle baskets and creating little pictures with sea glass, also very hard to find. I’m not sure if I want to try a seaweed album, though. But if I do, one thing is for sure; it will certainly wig-out my poor husband.