Christmas is Coming - Janet Lane Walters #

Christmas doesn’t figure in many of my stories and I’m not sure why. But one of my books The Leo Aquarius Connection revolves around the holiday.

 Click this link to Visit Janet Lane Walters' BWL Author Page for purchase links

The nurses stare as he exits the elevator on the Pediatric Unit. “Enter the handsome doctor.” Those are Doctor Caleb Winstone’s words as he steps off the elevator. Though he’s embarrassed, this Leo doctor rolls with the punches. He’s returned home to join an older doctor in the practice. Before long he learns the new nurse manager of the unit is a woman he knows. Of all the women in the world, she is the last one he wants to see. How can he manage to work daily with her?

 Before the day ends, he discovers his mother has decided who he should marry and the woman is quite willing. Not for him. 

Suzanna Rollins is an Aquarian and now the guardian of her half-brother who was badly injured in a car accident. She takes the position as nurse manager of the Pediatric unit for several reasons. One is the move from the city re-unites her with college friends, the Grantley Gang. The other is for the excellent Rehab Center.

 On the day of her arrival, she encounters Caleb. What is he doing here and why? Can she work with the man she fell in and out of love with the night he offered her less than marriage? Caleb’s interest in helping her half-brother gives them more together time than they imagined.

The heroine has never had a real Christmas with tree, lights, many presents. Nor has her younger brother. The hero’s Christmases have been orchestrated and he will be alone this year. 

Now what does that have to do with my Christmas. I love the holiday and right now, I’m in the process of filling eighteen stockings for my children and grandchildren. I love doing this and finding a lot of interesting presents. I’m getting to the point in the process of having to figure what left to find for perhaps one or two of the stockings.

Eight are done. Once the stockings are finished. Then it’s on to decorating the tree and the house and then baking cookies. The rush will be over before the day arrives but then there’s cooking the dinner.

The only good thing about all this madness is that I am managing to write a little. If I don’t see a bit of progress every day, I lose the Christmas spirit. Five hundred words is enough to keep me happy. 

So Christmas is coming and the stockings will be hung, actually some are sent to Florida and the others will cluster around the tree,

A pew and a Kavanagh link, by J.C. Kavanagh

Darkness Descends, 

Book 2 of the award-winning Twisted Climb series

It started with an old church pew. I bought it in 1989 from the St. James parish church in Colgan, Ontario. The church was celebrating a 100-year anniversary, and part of the celebration was replacing the pews, which were built from local trees and by local carpenters in 1889.

The 6' pew was in decent condition when I brought it home - made from pine, oak and walnut. The 'legs' were cast iron, fashioned in the Gothic/Romanesque style of the day. The wood holder for hymnals and booklets was intact, as was the card-sized metal plate frame that displayed the name of the family that donated money for the pew / church. Even the kneeler was included. And so a new life began for the old pew, first in my kitchen. Children and their friends ate meals on this historic pew - a pew that had once been reserved for peace and quiet. Not so in a kitchen filled with youngsters.

Years later, it began another life - outside on my covered porch. Many a person sat on that pew with a cigarette or drink in hand (back when smoking was discouraged inside your home and encouraged outside). It sat for many years on that porch, holding strong and steady.

And then this year, we brought it back to its original glory. My partner and I love to refinish/refurbish/re-do oh, just about anything. We had just built a 7'4" table for our kitchen, using 100-year old maple planks from a local tree. We had the planks planed, glued and kiln-dried through a Mennonite business and then finished it ourselves - sanding, staining and then two coats of epoxy. That project led to the next project - re-finishing the kitchen chairs, including my father's old captain chairs. And that of course, led to the thought, "Well, wouldn't the pew look grand in here too?"

So the pew was resurrected from the basement, where it had been resting for the last six years. We carefully separated the back from the bottom, the arms from the legs, and began a two-week project that included hours and hours of sanding, re-gluing cracks, re-gluing the back/bottom tongue-in-groove joiners, staining and varnish. Oh, and sand-blasting the iron legs and then spraying a protective clear-coat gloss varnish.

New table (temporary legs as we're still designing permanent legs), 
re-furbished chairs and pew.

We kept most of the original nails in place - the heads were rectangular! 

That's when I decided I would research the history of the pew, because I do love history. And to my surprise, I discovered that the pew may be linked to my own history - the Kavanagh clan. Back in the 1800s, the Colgan area was being settled by Irish Catholics in large numbers - sufficient to build several churches within a 5-mile radius. St. James was the grandest of them all, first built in 1851 and then replaced in 1889. The main church, still an active parish, accommodates about 700 people and the upper gallery about 150.

Artist's sketch of St. James church in Colgan, Ontario. 

Top right, weather-beaten church circa 1855.

And who were the builders contracted to construct this magnificent church? The Kavanagh brothers, Sam, William and 'Lil.' They had already built a small mission church, St. Francis Xavier, in nearby Tottenham. My mom told me that some of her father's uncles had emigrated to Canada and New York during the Irish potato famine (1845-1852). Unfortunately, they didn't keep in touch with their Irish kin. My grandfather's name, by the way, is William Kavanagh, born in 1902 and named 'William' in keeping with the tradition of carrying on the patriarch's given name. Coincidence? Only one way to find out. Research.

I'll keep you posted.

Current photo of St. James church, Colgan, Ontario, 

built in 1889 by the Kavanagh brothers. 

Total construction cost: less than $15,000.

Don't forget to add The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends to your Christmas list! Fantastic reading for young adults and adults young at heart. You won't be able to put it down.

Merry Christmas to all!

J.C. Kavanagh 

The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends (Book 2) 
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The Twisted Climb, 
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Meeting a Voodoo priestess in New Orleans

It took some effort to connect with Priestess Miriam. When we arrived in the morning at the Voudon temple near the center of New Orleans, she was busy, even though we had an appointment.

“Come later,” she said. “I’m busy now.”

My son and I had planned this trip for months. We had flown to Houston and rented a car there; our plan being to travel across the South for two weeks.

We returned at noon, but the priestess couldn’t meet us. “Later” she shouted from the back. What did “later” mean? Time seemed to be a fluid concept for the priestess.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” commented my son.

I shrugged my shoulders. We spent the day sightseeing and, finally, at four-thirty in the afternoon, gave it one more shot.

“Alright, come in,” she said. She didn’t seem particularly welcoming. The priestess was past middle-age, with dark walnut cheeks, grey hair tied with a red bandana, and wore a white gown. The front of the temple contained a store, stuffed with various charms, liquids and herbs—traditionally called gris-gris, all necessary for the practice of Voudon. In the back was a large room, filled with an incredible number of knick-knacks—African masks, statues of the Virgin Mary, tie-died Hindu Deities and Tibetan Thankas. It was certainly an eclectic collection. She sat on a large seat while we occupied a small sofa in front.

“What do you want?” she questioned, getting to the point quickly.

“What is Voudon about?” I asked.

"It’s about healing. About allowing one to heal one-self.” She explained its history. “The English were not the only ones involved in the slave trade. The French also imported slaves to the Americas. But the difference was this: according to French laws, children were not separated from parents at an early age. Therefore, many African customs were transmitted to slave children, unlike in the rest of America. So Voudon became prevalent in Haiti and New Orleans.”

The old lady became more open as the evening progressed, as did we. The conversation took many turns: historical, social and even personal. I expressed my satisfaction of my travels with my son. She talked about the history of Louisiana, of New Orleans and the temple.

“The negative image of Voudon comes from Hollywood and sensational novels. They make it out to be something dark. But it is nothing more than the spiritual practices of West Africa, still practiced by over thirty million people—the Fon, Mandika and Bambra. However, over time, North American Voudon has become somewhat different.”

As she talked, she relaxed as did my son and I. Most of her visitors came for personal help: dealing with broken relationships and hurt. She healed and, in that, lay her power.

Finally, it was time to head out. I looked at my watch. It was eight-thirty.

As we said our goodbyes, she reached over to one of the shelves in the store. “This gris-gris contains some herbs. They purify the spirit. Please take it.”

We accepted the gift with gratitude. Maybe one day, we will be able to visit Priestess Miriam again.

Please read about this episode and others in Mohan Ashtakala’s new release, “Karma Nation.” www.mohanashtakala.com . 

Published by Books We Love: http://bookswelove.com/authors/ashtakala-mohan-fantasy/

Christmas on a cruise ship and other places...by Sheila Claydon

Of all the books I have written, only Cabin Fever features Christmas, and even that is without the snow and cold we usually experience in the UK. If you, like me, prefer the sunshine, however, it makes a very different read for the holiday season. In it, the cruise ship Osprey makes it way down the coast of New Zealand to Sydney in Australia. With illness, secrets, jealousy, misunderstandings and an unexpected desire trying hard to get in the way, the entertainment crew still manage to pull together a spectacular Christmas show for their passengers, as well as finding a way to mend two broken hearts.

A few years ago I made the selfsame journey, arriving in Sydney Harbour on Christmas Eve. Although it was wonderful and was the reason I eventually wrote Cabin Fever, there was nobody on board as mesmerising as Ellie, the heroine, or as outrageously handsome as Drew, the hero. Reliving the memories got me thinking about my own Christmases, however, and I realised how very varied they have been over the years.

Instead of the traditional English meal of turkey, Christmas pudding and mince pies I've enjoyed huge and juicy BBQ prawns on the beach in Australia, roast goose and red cabbage in Denmark, tandoori chicken with rice and chapattis in India, and Chinese wontons with noodles so hot and spicy they made my lips numb!

I didn't set out to experience Christmas in different places around the world but with a son who lives and works abroad it sometimes just happens that way, and each foreign Christmas has always been intriguing, delicious and enjoyable.

I've learned that hygge really is a thing in Denmark where Christmas is celebrated beside a blazing fire while candles flicker from every available surface.  Hot fruit tea and chocolates really are best enjoyed snuggled up in a furry rug. Schnapps, which makes an appearance at random intervals throughout the day has to be downed in one swallow accompanied by a loud shout of Skaal (cheers), and the specially brewed Danish Christmas beer really is much stronger than anyone realises until it's too late!

In Australia it is far more laid back with daily BBQs and a lot of sun, sand and beer. The excitement grows as New Year approaches though until what seems like the whole population converges to watch the always magnificent firework display at Sydney Harbour.

In India we were taken to the Golden Temple at Amritsar where Sikhs go in their thousands to celebrate the New Year. As one of only a handful of westerners there, it was a mesmerising experience. Also, that same Christmas, for some now unremembered reason, I ended up riding a camel as well as being marooned in the middle of an enormous boating lake while vultures flew overhead the cloudless sky. If that sounds a bit scary it wasn't, it was stomach clutchingly funny. It is, however, a story for another day.

Of course I love the traditional English Christmas too and that is mostly what I experience. It was best when my children were small, that is until grandchildren arrived and reworked the Christmas magic for all the adults in the house.  Last year it was a traditional family Christmas at home with the whole family, something that is not always possible, and with a 3 year old in the house in the lead up to the celebrations we had to find a different hiding place for the Christmas Elf every day and then remember that there was still a chocolate to be eaten in the Advent calendar!

This Christmas, however, we're back on our travels and off to Hong Kong. We have no idea what to expect except that the people we know who have experienced it say it's one of the best places to be at Christmas.  Let's hope they are right because I've just received this picture as a precursor and I think the elves look a bit scary!!

For Cabin Fever and the rest of Sheila's books go to:

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/claydon-sheila-romance/

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Sharing a Holiday Tradition by Helen Henderson

Click here to visit Helen Henderson's BWL Publishing Author Page where you can read about and purchase her books from  your favorite bookstore

In honor of the holidays, I’m sharing how they are celebrated in the series, the Windmaster Novels. You might ask why a fantasy world would have a holiday. Their world is different than ours as far as its history and heritage. There would be no president named Washington, no Christmas, no Fourth of July. Even in our contemporary world, despite differences in cultures and traditions, you can find annual celebrations. Some are secular, others religious. Traditional activities can pertain to a given time of year such as the harvest or the winter solstice.

Since annual traditions and celebrations are such a part of our world it made sense to me that the one I created should have some also.

Turn’s End is celebrated to mark the end of one year and the beginning of the next. Parties brighten the dark hours of the cold season and everyday work clothes are exchanged for more formal clothing. Entertainments include dancing and in some instances, newly composed music. Special food is another aspect and as evidenced from the snippet from Windmaster an enjoyable one.

“Ellspeth performed a fast mental inventory of what gowns were packed in the wooden trunks in the adjacent attic storage rooms. The green one she wore to the last turn’s end festivities piqued her interest. Eighth hour, she decided, should be just enough time to air the preserving leaves from the gown. No dallying or I'll miss the chilled crustaceans and the sweet bread will be soggy.”

While not every event in our world needs to have an exact correlation in the fantasy one, how we celebrate an event can serve as inspiration for a fictional one. New Year’s Eve helped form Turn’s End. The Lantern Festival in Windmaster Legend during which Lady Pelra tries to decide which of the two men her heart wants was inspired by two events, the Lantern Float held annually on Memorial Day on Oʻahu’s south shore and the sky lantern festival of Taiwan. In one, lanterns are set afloat on the water in a personal and collective moment of remembrance and offering of gratitude to those who have gone before. In the other, sky lanterns are released into the night sky with people's wishes written on them.

The one sky lantern launch that I’ve seen in person combined both water and sky. A grieving family sent a single lantern aloft over the water in memorial of a loved one’s passing. I couldn’t see if it bore handwritten wishes or if only a picture of the loved one was carried skyward.

While the emotion in that launch was somber, I wanted the one in Windmaster Legend to also have a counterpoint. So a festival tradition was added, “When lanterns fill the sky, a man—or woman, can claim a kiss from anyone they chose.” You’ll have to read Windmaster Legend when it is released (March 2019) to see whether Pelra followed the festival tradition… and which of the two men was the recipient.

From Windmaster Legend, an excerpt that includes the lantern set aloft by a couple celebrating wedding anniversary.

“One by one the other ships assigned as launching platforms slipped into formation until they formed a straight line of bobbing lights beneath the darkening skies.

To distract herself from the emotions rising at Iol’s closeness, Pelra read the handwritten notes on the sky lanterns closest to her. Some were thanks for a profitable year, while others were prayers for the one to come. Many were poignant remembrances of loved ones who had passed beyond the veil. The dream listed on one lantern clutched at her heart.

Air and sky together forever,
May our two lives be as joined.
With nothing between but a gentle zephyr.
Air and sky, bless our journey.”

To end this post, I’ll be sending a virtual sky lantern aloft with the wish that all your hopes and dreams come true in the coming year.

 

Meeting the Creator of Peter Rabbit

For more information about Susan Calder's books, or to purchase visit her Books We Love Author Blog.

Beatrix Potter, author of The Tale of Peter Rabbit and other beloved children's stories, grew up in London, England. Her family spent their summer holidays in the countryside, where she discovered that she loved animals and nature more than cities. The Lake District in England became the place of Beatrix Potter's heart. Last spring I came to understand why she loved that region when my husband Will and I spent a week in The Lake District. One of our many highlights was a boat ride across Lake Windermere to Wray Castle, which the Potters rented for several family vacations.

Wray Castle - Beatrix Potter's parents must have  had a fair amount of money to be able to rent such a large summer cottage. They were wealthy enough that they scorned working for a living. 

Rambling Wray Castle is now a tourist site, its rooms containing an eclectic assortment of displays. Some depict the life of the woman who built the castle, Margaret Dawson, an early feminist. Other rooms show drawings and scientific studies made by Beatrix Potter. There are a large number of playrooms for children, which include replica scenes from Peter Rabbit and her other stories. A friend told me she and her family spent a fun rainy day at Wray Castle letting their children run loose. 

Will steals cabbages from Mr. McGregor's garden

I join Beatrix, her family and their guests for dinner

From Wray Castle, Will and I walked the path along Lake Windermere. At a beach we met a friend, who wasn't shy.  

Beatrix Potter studied animal habits meticulously to make her character's actions realistic. We caught a ferry to the town of Bowness and visited The World of Beatrix Potter museum, which featured dioramas of Beatrix Potter's stories.

In 1905 Beatrix used income from her books and a small inheritance to buy a farm in The Lake District. Eight years later, at age 47, she married a local solicitor. While she continued to write, her interests shifted to country life. She bred and raised Herdwick sheep, a breed indigenous to the region, and became president of the Herdwick Sheepbreeders' Association. Some credit her progressive policies and methods for helping to save the breed from extinction. 

Herdwick sheep are born black and grow lighter with age. 

Beatrix Potter wrote her greatest works before she settled contentedly into the life she was meant to lead. No doubt she was happiest in her later years, but fans of Peter Rabbit and her other charming characters can be glad for her younger days when she struggled to find her place in the world.  

Beatrix Potter and me in The World of Beatrix Potter

Everything's Coming up Snowflakes by Karla Stover

bwlauthors.blogspot.com   

Jericho is a little town of about 5,000 in central Vermont. It’s the kind of place where folks photograph the Truman Galusha House built in 1790 or the Old Red Mill and Mill House built in 1856 or to visit the Snowflake Bentley Gift Shop. Yes, an entire gift shop devoted to snowflakes.

First off, let’s make sure that we’re talking about the feathery ice crystal, typically displaying delicate six-fold symmetry and not the autumn-blooming Eurasian flower. Now that we’ve clarified that, let’s look at how the giftshop began.

Three steps were required. First: on February 9, 1865, with the birth of a baby named Wilson Alwyn Bentley. Second: on his 11th birthday, when his mother let him look at a snowflake though an inexpensive microscope. Third: when Wilson was given a compound microscope and camera for his 20th birthday, thanks to his mother because his father thought (and did so for all of his life) that it was an unnecessary extravagance.)

After that, and every winter for the next 50 years Wilson set his equipment up in an unheated shed, and as soon as the first flake fell began to capture/record them on glass plates. When a storm started, he stood in the shed's open doorway and caught snowflakes on a smooth, black-painted, square foot board which he held by wire handles. Then he carried the board inside, examined the crystals through a magnifying glass, and brushed the damaged ones away with a feather, all the while holding his breath so as to not melt one. The perfect ones he transferred to glass slides. Finally, with the camera pointed toward a window, he took each picture through the microscope with the light passing through the snowflake which became magnified from 64 to 3,600 times its size. The process involved an apparatus consisting of wheels, ropes, and other odds and ends. Exposure ranged from ten to 100 seconds. The last steps were to treat the plates to a fixing bath and then wash the plate in the ice cold water of his backyard spring.

Wilson divided his snowflakes into origins of high or low altitude. It was his opinion that low altitude flakes had the most beautiful designs.

During his lifetime, Wilson  captured and preserved some 6,000 snow "crystals." He contributed articles to The Annual Summary of the Monthly Weather Bureau Review, had his photographs used in science classes, included in encyclopedias, and numerous magazines. Artists and jewelers found and find inspiration in them. Three weeks before his death on December 23, 1931, Snow Crystals, his magnum opus prepared in collaboration with Dr. W.J. Humphreys of the U.S. Weather Bureau was published.