The Long, Extremely Hot Summer by Diane Scott Lewis

 

Last year I welcomed into my repertoire of published novels, my oyster war story, based on true events, Ghost Point. A love triangle complicates my characters' lives as they battle through history in 1956 Virginia.

Someone told me this scenario would never happen, people shooting each other over oysters. But truth is stranger than fiction.

"The reader is thrust into what happens to both Yelena and Luke with emotional tension. The plot moves at a good pace. If you're a fan of sagas and dramatic fiction, you'll enjoy Ghost Point. Highly recommend!"    ~ N. N. Lights

Purchase here, ON SALE! on Amazon

Climate change is scorching us, the summer heat index up to 110, or is that just because we went camping.

Fires everywhere, burning up California, my home state. Friends evacuated. My oldest friend has had to leave her home, twice.

We drove to Nashville, TN, for a reunion of ex-sailors stationed in Nea Makri, Greece. Three years ago, we traveled to Greece after a forty year absence. We loved it.

In June we camped outside of Nashville in torrid heat. You couldn't breath in the thick humidity. An outside plug on our RV melted in the high temperature.

Runways in England were melting, that's how bad it got. 

It sounds like a dystopian novel, or for us older folk: The Twilight Zone.

Here is the Greek reunion in the air-conditioned hotel. My hubby and I are in the back row. I'm sixth from the left. Story of my life, (the back row) for being tall.

In July we traveled to Gettysburg to visit with his niece and sister. His niece has a camp and a beautiful outside set-up. But again, the weather turned scorching, the humidity impossible.

I sat in front of the fan and let it blow through my blouse. There's me on the far right. My husband is enjoying his home-made pina coladas, something he learned to make in Puerto Rico.

The earth seems to be melting, but the winters in Pennsylvania can still be harsh. Too many believe climate change isn't happening. But something is pushing nature to extremes.

Fires are everywhere in summer, in Greece as well. Now there's flooding in Kentucky. Lives were lost. Yosemite National Park is threatened by fire. Last year, Yellowstone was flooded. 

I rarely drive anymore, so I'm doing my part in cutting down on emissions. But the United States is so vast, it's difficult to function without a car. Are electric cars the way to go? But fossil fuels generate electricity.

Now our stream is running dry, the one that we get our house water from. My son's well is almost dry, too. We desperately need rain.

The weather has gone berserk.

Of course, all this would make a great novel: the future is now, upon us, not a millennia away.

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

To find out more about her and her books:  DianeScottLewis

The Offcuts of History...by Sheila Claydon

Find my books here

Many a Moon, the third and final book in my Mapleby Memories series, having recently been published, I am saturated by history because the protagonists move between the present day and the thirteenth century, which took a lot of research. So when, last month, I read my fellow author's blog Orangeman's Day in Northern Ireland by Susan Calder it gave me pause for thought. Why do some historical events develop a long and legendary life while others are reduced to a footnote in the history books, only remembered by those who actually took part and forgotten when they die? 

The Battle of the Boyne that Susan wrote about has not died. It is, instead, a history that has lived on in legend and in fact and one I see enacted every year. I didn't have a thought of blogging about it until I read her piece, however, and it prompted memories of when the Orange Order comes to town! 

Possibly unusually, I have Catholic and Protestant Irish ancestry on both sides of my family history. A Catholic great-grandfather from Southern Ireland who joined the British army, a Protestant great-grandmother, also born in Southern Ireland, but into another branch of the family.  And then there's the grandmother whose parents came from opposite sides of the religious divide and who, unable to agree on her religious upbringing, took her and her siblings to their respective churches on alternate Sundays! The result of these various oddities is a family that has dispensed with any sort of religious conformity whatsoever, so this is not about the religious divide, it is about the history that lingers.

I live in a village 11 miles north of Liverpool in the UK, and Liverpool, which is just 'across the water' from Ireland, is sometimes jokingly referred to as Ireland's capital city because up to 70% of its population claims Irish ancestry. Consequently it is a place where traces of the Irish accent are commonplace. It also has a lot of Irish pubs! It is also the home of the Liverpool Provincial Grand Lodge, the place where Orange Lodges from all around the UK gather on 12 July each year to march through the city. They then travel 16 miles to Southport for another parade. Southport is a town a few miles on the other side of my village. And this has been going on for more than 200 years! 

As Susan said in her very interesting blog about her recent visit to Ireland, the aim of the march is to celebrate King William's victory at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690 when he vanquished James II. Although King Billy, as he is known in Ireland, didn't entirely achieve his aim, the superior force of his army, both in numbers and strategy, meant that James II (who was actually William's father-in-law - how is that for a family squabble!) fled to France. Many of his supporters, however, held siege in the county of Limerick in the west of Ireland until the Treaty of Limerick brought it to an end the following year. Despite this, James II remained alive and well in France under the protection of Louis XIV, which meant that the unrest continued until the end of the century. 

Like many happenings in history, however, the Battle of the Boyne was about far, far more than the divide between Catholicism and Protestantism. It was about the rising power of France, about the divine right of kings, about growing tensions between France and the Dutch Republic, it was even about the birth of James' only son and heir. As with most of the stories of history, there is always more than meets the eye. Even more strangely in this case, the Catholic Pope Innocent XI actually supported the Protestant King William.  This was because the Papacy had fallen out with King Louis XIV of France, who was an ally of King James, so again, nothing to do with religion. Even more unbelievably, a Mass of deliverance was celebrated in Rome by the Catholics for Protestant King William's victory. The stories behind the pieces of history that become legendary are often very strange indeed.

Yet despite its mixed and multi-layered past, The Battle of the Boyne has been adopted as something to celebrate by the fraternity of the Orange Order.  Even stranger, the order, which was founded by the Ulster Protestants during one of the many periods of Irish sectarian conflict, was not created until 1795, more than 100  years after the battle,  Its purported aim was to defend Protestant civil and religious liberties and in its heyday it had approximately 90,000 members. Now it's a third of that.  It still makes its mark though, not least in Southport where, despite the parades bringing thousands of visitors to the town centre every year, they are heartily disliked by many of the residents. 

Not only are the roads closed twice on the parade route to the irritation of drivers, once for the incoming parade and once for the home-going one, but many of the shopkeepers board up their windows, offices lock their doors, and locals keep away. When I worked in Southport, Orange Day was the only day my public office kept its doors locked. And when the parade is over the streets are full of litter, streamers and broken bottles. The Irish pubs do a roaring trade though!

At their best the parades can be great fun. On a sunny day the rousing music and the pride of the marchers in their bowler hats and orange sashes can lift the spirits. It just depends who is watching. Many consider them a provocation that pours flames on the troubles that have never left Ireland, while The Orange Order itself sees them variously  as a celebration of civil liberties, a time-time-honored tradition, and a confirmation of the sovereignty of the British parliament. 

Me, I'm just glad that my small village is ignored. While it might be right in the middle of the parade routes between the city and the town, it isn't considered important enough to be part of either. When the parades began it was little more than a hamlet, and now, 200 years later, although much bigger, it is protected by a busy ByPass. So although it has two small train stations, not a single marcher disembarks en route from Liverpool to Southport. Whether this is because the village is still of no importance, or whether it is a left over from the early days of railway when the Station Master refused to let the trains stop on Orange Day, I have no idea. His decision is lost in the annals of history. All that remains is a story. 

From Memory to Action Helen Henderson

 

Windmaster Legacy by Helen Henderson
Click the cover for purchase information

Organizing old photographs, cleaning out family papers, or sorting boxes of ephemera all can bring on reminiscing. To me the word "reminisce," means to think, talk, or write about remembered events or experiences. A favorite cartoon I used to carry with me to book signings of my local histories dealt with memories and reminiscing. An author researching a book interviews all the old-timers in town. All said nothing exciting happened in the area. Until the book is published and at the signing, the same old-timers change their story. Now each one had a legend or story that should have, and would have been included, if the old-timers had only told the author. Fiction writers can have this same problem of "Why didn't you?" But, it may result more from an ending or why a character acted a certain way than a missing piece of history.

Although at least one dictionary uses the word "pleasant" to describe a reminiscence, In the 1990s, psychologists Lisa Watt and Paul Wong classified reminiscing into six types. Sometime reminiscing can be pleasant, some negative, or used to transmit history, values, or culture from one generation to another. In fiction, when a character reminisces, it can be a way to introduce their backstory, evince an emotion or to show the true personality of the character. If a memory has become obsessive, the character will act using that memory or emotion as a filter. But, for the reader to understand he needs to know the background. 

The snippit below is an example of how a memory impacts a character's action. Which is fortunate as the unnamed youth of this battle in Windmaster, returns in Windmaster Golem. This time as an experienced, skilled fighter, and friend to the man who saved his life.

Dal closed the distance to Ruaridh’s fragile protection. He lunged forward and knocked the sword from the soldier’s hand. Beneath the askewed helmet, Dal saw frightened eyes within a pale face.

He could not be more than sixteen turns, Dal realized. “Unless you want to join him, I suggest you leave.” The hope that flickered across the youth’s face brought a memory of another boy who stood disarmed before a superior warrior. He heard Telarim the Red’s words again, as if for the first time. I might as well use Telarim’s technique. “Return to your home,” Dal ordered the youth. “If in two turns you still want to soldier, find Telarim the Red. Tell him Lieutenant Dal sent you. Telarim will teach you well if you’re willing to learn.”

To purchase the Windmaster Novels: BWL

Now that you have the result of a character's youthful memory, next month a few of my own triggered by the season. As a teaser, an image from that time.

 ~Until next month, stay safe and read.  

Find out more about me and my novels at Journey to Worlds of Imagination.
Follow me online at Facebook, Goodreads or Twitter .

Helen Henderson lives in western Tennessee with her husband. While she doesn’t have any pets in residence at the moment, she often visits a husky who have adopted her as one the pack. 

Field of Ghosts by Nancy M Bell

 

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

After many many years of caring for horses I find that I am in possession of a field of ghosts. Emily aka Pikkasso Premiere crossed the Rainbow Bridge on Tuesday August 9, 2022. She was 22 years old and was born here. Today, in a field that once housed 6 horses and four cows, there is only Shady aka Shades of Ice, a TB mare who came to live her as Emily's companion after Max crossed the Rainbow Bridge. 

    When I look across the empty acres I feel the ghosts of those who lived here and have passed. I see them in the shimmer of heat over the grass, hear their voices in the whisper of the wind, in the laughter of the poplar leaves. Shady is doing well on her own which is a relief. Perhaps, she too, feels their presence and knows she is not alone. 

    Usually when a loved animal passes they are absent for a time before returning, but Emily hasn't left me. I feel her at my side as I'm walking, just as she always did in life. We took her last walk together and as always weak and crappy feeling as she was, she walked at my shoulder and trusted me to the last to do what was best.

    She contacted Potomac Horse Fever and declined very quickly.  Her kidneys failed and while the values did improve overnight while she was on high amount of fluids running IV and with her legs encased in ice boots to hopefully stop the possibility of laminitis (founder), she was in a huge amount of pain. She couldn't have pain meds as they would affect her kidneys which were only marginally beginning to work. Emily was mare who was full of piss and vinegar always, when we first got her to the vet she was literally leaning on me to stay on her feet, swaying and leaning on the wall. She stayed on her feet through sheer will. 

    Tuesday morning she stood with her head down, nose on the ground or leaning on my chest, eyes glazed over. The only times she would stir was when the spasms in her gut spiked. I stayed with her for an hour finalizing a decision I knew I had to make, but needed to be sure. Emily's actions and her body language told me without a doubt that she was ready to let go. Sometimes when you love something or someone so much, you have to make the choice to let them go. 

    We could have continued to treat her, but kidney injury is a long long road to recovery and in most likely hood that would not be anywhere near 100% recovery which could lead to other complications, even in the event she pulled through which was in no way a given.

    How could I ask her to go through that long corridor of pain when I couldn't promise her it would get better. The reality is we could have carried on for another few days, weeks or months and after all that the end result had a high probability of being the same. How could I ask her to endure that when she was telling me in the only ways she could that it was time to let go?

    And so we took our last walk together in this realm and I let her go, staying with her until her spirit left her body. 

    And now I look out over a field of ghosts. Tags (Tag n Passum), Laura (Laura's Miracle), Sue, the cow, Sunny (Pug's Escourt) (the mare) Emily's mom, Phil (Philosopher's Stone) her brother, Flash (MS Flashdance), Sam, Spook, Patches the pony, Sleeping Beauty the pony, Goat-the goat, Big Bird (Condor), Chance, Max, King, and now Emily.  

Until next month, be well, be  happy.

Emily, Phil and Big Bird photo by Michelle Kannenberg

Aging Days and Lost in Thought by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #Mfrw Author Thought #Lost Aging

 

I am usually upto date on when I post my blogs. Having a broken foot and moving slowly makes one feel lost. Thank heavens the huge boot is gone and I am able to move around. I'm busily working on my next book and it's moving slower than I'd hoped. That has been on my mind for weeks. Moving around using a walker isn't my idea of fun. Nor the huge shoe thing used instead of a shoe didn't help. But I'm finally back znd promise next month I'll be on time.

The cover shwon is of a book that's free almost everywhere except one place as far as I know. Temple of Fyre is a sensous fantasy that was fun to write, especially thinking of the fyrestones of many colors that had magical uses. The four books in the series were great to write. Dragons of Fyre is probably my favorite but than I have a great fixation with dragons having many kind from a small jade dragon to what is a light that's about fifteen inches wide and two feet long. This was once a decoration in a restaurant in town. Out of business now but my granddaughter bought the light as a birthday present. She didn't buy the four foot lego dragon, I'm glad.