Saturday, May 24, 2025

My Dream Job by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 


West to the Bay
https://books2read.com/West-to-the-Bay-Yarmey

West to Grande Portage
 

https://books2read.com/West-to-Grande-Portage-V2

https://bwlpublishing.ca/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

My Dream Job

My desire to travel goes back to when I was in high school. There were so many places and things I wanted to see in the world but I had no idea what job would pay me enough to be able to travel around the world. Then I decided the only way I could see all the countries and their cities, historic sites and scenery was to become a stewardess. Just that name should tell you how many years ago that was.

     To help ensure that I would have a better stay in the places I visited, I studied French, German, and Russian so I would know some other languages for when I landed and maybe stayed over in another country. In my last year in high school a job show was held at my high school and I went to talk with the representative from an airline that had a booth there. She was dressed in her uniform and was very nice.

     I explained that I wanted to be a stewardess and asked for information. She told me that I had to be a certain height and weight, which I was. She said that all stewardesses had to wear a girdle even though their figures might be perfect. I was okay with that. Then she told me that anyone who wore glasses could not be a stewardess. I was devastated, since I needed prescription glasses but seldom wore them. I went to an optometrist to get contact lenses. This was when they were still made of hard material and my eyes could not adjust to them.

     So I gave up my dream of being a stewardess.

     I married after graduation and had wonderful children who have given me wonderful grandchildren. After taking some courses I became a writer, starting out with one article and then adding some historical and travel articles. I attended a course on finding a publisher and spoke with the publisher afterwards about an idea I had. He invited me to visit him at his office which I did and we decided I would write two travel books on the province of Alberta. I travelled extensively through Alberta and was amazed at the scenery, history, and sites in my home province. When those books were a success, I did the same in British Columbia, the Yukon, and Alaska. These I called my backroads series.

     I began my fiction writing career with mystery novels. I gave my main female character the parttime job of being a travel writer. She always gets involved in some sort of mystery when she is travelling and researching articles for magazines. I called the three novels The Travelling Detective Mystery Series. I hope to one day write a fourth in the series. 

     I belong to a dragon boat race team and I have taken part in international festivals in Caloundra, Queensland, Australia (spent four week visiting the sites of Queensland and New South Wales then a week in Fiji), Sarasota, Florida, USA, (my husband and I travelled through two provinces and nineteen states on our way there and back home) and Florence, Italy (I did two bus tours, one cruise, and rode trains and stayed in hostels while visiting twenty countries.) I’ve also been to Japan and China with my sister.

     So not realizing my desire to become a stewardess, or flight attendant as they are called today, has not stopped me from doing the travelling I dreamed of when I was younger.

Friday, May 23, 2025

Ivy Cottage by Victoria Chatham

 




Many years ago, on a bright April day with cotton wool clouds whisked across a clear blue sky by a strong breeze, I first saw Ivy Cottage. I stood at the entrance of the driveway leading into the garden, where daffodils danced at the feet of a row of cordoned apple trees covered in blossoms. The lady of the house sat on the lawn in the sunshine, engrossed with her spinning wheel, and I felt as though I had wandered through a time-travel portal.

The term 'cottage' was quite misleading, as this three-hundred-year-old Cotswold stone and brick property was actually a five-bedroom house. We made an offer, which the vendor accepted, and in August of that year, we moved in. The garden had to take care of itself that autumn and winter, but as it began to thrive the following spring, I discovered many intriguing things growing spontaneously.

Aside from the fruit trees, there was a large vegetable patch, a raspberry patch, and my favourite—a sprawling wild garden I never touched. Rabbits hid there, foxes used a regular trail through it, and a hedgehog raised her babies there for several years in a row. Bees loved the foxgloves and honeysuckle, while butterflies were drawn to the lilacs and buddleia. Each year, appearing unannounced in a different part of the garden, were poppies, ox-eye daisies, and the delicate and shy fritillaries.  

rhsplants.co.uk

Another annual visitor was the teasel, which appeared in various parts of the garden each year. Known since before Tudor times for its woollen production, the mills in our area purchased locally grown teasels.  

thompsonmorgan.com


The teasels were dried, and their spiky heads were then used to raise the nap on the fabric. This process was known as ‘teasing.’ In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, locally grown commercially harvested teasel crops became a thing of the past due to cheap imported teasels from Spain. My teasels attracted not only pollinators when they came into flower, but once they went to seed, they provided a feast for various birds, particularly goldfinches.

a-z-animals.com

The goldfinches weren’t the only birds inhabiting the garden. We had a noisy wren nesting in an old wall and a robin in the potting shed. Chaffinches and bullfinches, lovely as it was to see them, became spring pests once the fruit blossoms appeared. House and hedge sparrows, blackbirds, and thrushes all came and went, alongside an infrequent woodpecker and an occasional blue jay.

Being a single working mum meant I often didn’t tend to the garden as much as I would have liked. When the grass grew too long, I borrowed a neighbour’s goats to trim it. The only issue with this was that they had to be tethered to a ground peg, resulting in various odd-looking crop circles. It was either that or have the garden completely stripped.

During the ten years we lived in that house, the vegetable and raspberry patches were expanded, and I cultivated various herbs in reclaimed clay chimney pots acquired from a local demolition yard.

pinterest.co.uk

 However, none of this brought me the same satisfaction as my wild garden and all its inhabitants, both flora and fauna.



Victoria Chatham

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Wednesday, May 21, 2025

An intro to D.L. Dixen, my "Skidded and Skunked" co-author

 

I stopped at a bookstore last week and the owners asked an obvious question, "Who is D.L. Dixen and how did she become your "Skidded and Skunked" co-author?"

Our collaboration began with "Prairie Menace" after my long-time cop consultant passed away. Ms. Dixen introduced herself at a library event and after explaining her law enforcement and legal system experience, she offered to proof my manuscripts. From there she advised me on horse/farm issues, she helped create the CJ Jensen character, and her basset showed up as a character in the Pine County series. She's been a key collaborator and editor for several years, so it was only logical that she contribute her writing skills.

Here's the bio she wrote for "Skidded and Skunked": D.L. Dixen makes her home on a small hobby farm with her family, ponies and basset hound, not far from the Pine County border. Her professional background ranges from the criminal justice system to secondary English education. Her professional experiences, coupled with her deep familial Pine County roots, make for good fiction in the Pine County mystery series. Skidded and Skunked is her first mystery.

Reviewers have posted many positive comments about our collaboration. This review is by Julie C. on Goodreads. "This was my whirlwind introduction to the Hovey and Dixen Pine County series. The situations this pair of writers came up with both shocked and amazed me. I can't count the number of wide-eyed moments I had. I am looking forward to getting to know the Pine County crew as the series grows!"

Check out "Skidded and Skunked", the latest Pine County mystery from BWL Publishing.

https://www.amazon.com/Skidded-Skunked-Pine-County-Book-ebook/dp/B0F2GWWSLZ

A Romance Parody. You Were Supposed to Laugh, by Diane Scott Lewis


 

To purchase this book, called "a worthwhile read (and nice change of pace)." ~ Long and Short Reviews, click HERE


If you like parodies, and funny romps through the 18th c., you'll enjoy my story where I poke fun at the tropes of romance novels. At least if you take it with a grain of salt.

I read many historical romance novels and usually found the formula, boy meets girl, they immediately fall in love, trouble ensues, but love and lust conquers all, contrived. I wanted to pen more believable stories, with long simmering attractions. But first, given the parodies of the popular Fifty Shades of Grey, I had to combine the usual tropes of this genre and have some fun.

Here is an excerpt: (Melwyn and Griffin are betrothed, but neither wants the match. He confronts her in the Vauxhall Gardens)

The chit’s wrist felt sparrow-thin in his hands. Griffin glared down at her, as she stared up, raspberry ice cream on her lips. At first startled, she didn’t scream and composed herself quickly; he had to admire that.

“How is your sojourn in London, my lady? A sudden urge to travel, had you?” Griffin smiled at the rising anger in her blue eyes.

“How dare you follow me, sir. And drag me into bushes.” Miss Pencavel pulled away from him, chin jutted out. “I told you my wishes in Cornwall. You have wasted your time if you’re here to change my mind.”

“Truth is, I did have business in town, so it’s not a total waste.” He rocked back on his heels, arms now behind his back. His actions were irrational, and totally alien to his usual demeanor. “You intrigue me, Miss Pencavel, such as a wasp might intrigue one. You wonder how close you may hover before being stung.”

He baited her, and enjoyed it. This slip of a girl provoked him, and that was disconcerting. Most females he understood as connivers or simpletons. Miss Pencavel appeared to be neither. Her eyes shone with an innate intelligence. Why had he followed her into the garden—while he had to admit that he’d searched for any sign of her in town—when he had little use for marriage? A wife like her would only get in his way.
Thomas Rowlandson 1780s, "Entrance to Vauxhall Gardens"
 
“I assure you, you will feel my sting.” She backed up a step and took another bite of her dessert. “You said cruel things about my mother. Even if they were true, you were still despicable.”

“I must apologize; I should have waited until I knew you better before being so straightforward.” He softened his words as a twig crackled under his buckled shoe. “But are you like your mother, partial to servants and other low-lifes?”

“I might be partial to whoever takes my fancy, a sailor, a groom, a particularly handsome nightsoil man.” She scrutinized him closely. “I’ve heard you have sinister inclinations, not that such things would bother me, being the free-thinking person I am, but I’d rather not be troubled with you.”

Griffin pondered what she really knew. He decided to deride her, to nudge her off-balance. He resisted the urge to brush a stray leaf from her cheek. “Are you already ruined, my girl, is that why you shy away?”

“I have been in various positions where I might have been ruined, but not in that compromising position I know nothing about, and you no doubt insinuate.” She licked her spoon, slowly.
'
"Beer Street and Gin Lane" by William Hogarth 1751

Many reviewers took offence at my fun-poking, but it was not meant to be taken seriously. My book club thought it hilarious.




For more on me and my books, visit my BWL author's page


Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with one naughty dachshund.

Tuesday, May 20, 2025

'Crabbed age and youth'...by Sheila Claydon



In a poem attributed to him, William Shakespeare said 'Crabbed age and youth cannot live together.' He was right about so many things but not about this, well at least from my perspective. Why do I feel this way? Well, although I sincerely hope I'm not crabbed, I am definitely aged. This means that I now have regular help with my garden and my house. Not a lot, but enough for me to no longer have to tackle the heavy jobs.

In the past 6 months my longtime gardener has retired and the woman who helped with the house has left to have a baby. So now, instead of seasoned experts, I have two young people helping me instead. My new gardener is 21 and just setting himself up in business. The cleaner 23. Both work hard but this is where the crabbed age bit could come in if I let it, because neither of them have enough experience to get everything right.

When I asked the gardener to clear the weeds that had grown up around my very small pond, he cleared everything leaving a patch of bare earth. That was when I discovered that his 5 year apprenticeship was in landscape gardening not horticulture and he didn't know a weed from a flower. Not the best recommendation for a gardener I know, but he wasn't aware of the difference and now he wants to learn. So while he does the heavy stuff, I teach him about the plants in the garden I have planted and nurtured over many years. As a bonus he has done a brilliant job of rebuilding the pond, re-laying paving stones and moving large plants, all things that needed his landscaping skills. And now we are working together I've learned all about his brothers and his parents, his dog and its recent operation, his hobbies (cage fighting...the mind shudders) and now, his new girlfriend and his plans for the future.

Then there is the cleaner. When she first arrived she seemed shy so, in true writerly fashion, I asked questions, hoping to put her at ease. That was when I discovered she is a student who is working to pay her way through university. She already has a Degree in computer science and is now studying for a Masters in Data Collection using Artificial Intelligence. Wow! I don't know how long I'll keep her as there must be a much more exciting future career out there for her, but in the meantime I'm learning quite a bit about the uses of AI while she learns some of the finer points of housekeeping. Because a 23 year old graduate who is still studying isn't ever going to be the best I consider a forgotten window or an unplumped cushion a small price to pay for our interesting conversations. So far I've learned about the use of AI in medical care, specifically the lungs, and in return she's learned how to clean windows without streaks, and how an expandable feather duster works wonders! Not a fair exchange really but it's all I had to offer other than my great admiration for how she is managing her life.

And in addition to those two I have my granddaughters, all of whom are moving forward with dreams and ambitions. A trainee vet, a college student whose final exams are almost over and is going to take a gap year, working behind a bar in addition to bringing on her young horse, while she decides what she actually wants to do, and finally a younger one just about to start senior school. They don't get to hear much about their grandmother. Instead they tell me all about their adventures, what thrills them and what bothers them.In this way I have learned a great deal about the inner workings of a horse, some rather grusome facts behind lambing large flocks, and the ethics of animal care. I've learned, too, how to mix an espresso cocktail and a mini Guinness. And the youngest one has taught me faster and better ways to use my Ipad and phone as well as how to catch mosquitos and the future of the world relating to climate change. Such a mixed and interesting bag!

We have young neighbours too, all of whom we like a lot and see regularly. So my take on Shakespeare's 'Crabbed age and Youth' quote is that old people won't ever get crabby if they open themselves up to living with the young. They have so much to tell us if we truly listen. And they are such fun.

My book Many a Moon, the third in my Mapleby Memories series, also includes relationships between the old and the much younger, and how wisdom can be exchanged for vitality and interest. Crabbed old age! Pah!

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