Tuesday, May 5, 2020
To learn more about Rosemary please click on the cover above.
Gardens and Gardening
My interest in gardening and history extends to Garden History and the effect of changes in climate over the years.
I am reading A little History of British Gardening by Jenny Uglow.
It begins with a mention of the Iron Age in the first Chapter: 'Did the Romans Have Rakes" and is a mine of information. Ms Uglow describes gardens large and small, the plants and the gardeners. She writes: "I wish there were medieval monastic gardens for us to visit, to wander from the cloister to the orchard, the infirmary to the fishponds, the paradise where flowers were grown to the rows of kale and leeks. But even if we cannot visit them, we know that the monks and nuns enjoyed their gardens.
At Winchester the clerk of works had a private garden called 'La Joye'. And in 1108, on the day that he died, the ailing archbishop of York walked in his garden to breathe the air and the scent of flowers.'
Every time I go into my private, organic garden I appreciate the legacy of fresh air and the scent of flowers also enjoyed so long ago by the archbishop.
Self-isolated due to the corona virus, the pleasure growing my own herbs, soft fruit, stone fruit, vegetables and ornamental threes shrubs and flowers is more important than it has ever been.
Sitting outside on a pleasant day listening to birdsong, watching birds drinking from my tiny pond and seeing the cheeky squirrels fills me with peace and a sense of well-being.
Classic Historical Fiction by Rosemary Morris
Early 18th Century novels: Tangled Love, Far Beyond Rubies, The Captain and The Countess
Regency Novels False Pretences.
Heroines Born on Different Days of the Week Books One to Six, Sunday’s Child, Monday’s Child, Tuesday’s Child, Wednesday’s Child, Thursday’s Child and Friday’s Child.
(The novels in the series are not dependent on each other, although events in previous novels are referred to and characters reappear.)
Mediaeval Novel Yvonne Lady of Cassio. The Lovages of Cassio Book One
www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
http://bookswelove.net/authors/morris-rosemary
Monday, May 4, 2020
The Great London Fire by Katherine Pym
Buy Here |
~*~*~*~
London Fire reached Ludgate, September 4, 1666 |
I
understand this is a subject that may have been slightly overdone, especially
since 2016 marked the 350 year anniversary of the vast destruction that
occurred within a short 4 day timespan. To celebrate, London had a lovely old
city effigy burned on a barge in the Thames. BBC had a television show on how
it happened, where it started. It looks like Pudding Lane wasn’t quite where we
thought it was all these years. The bakery was a block or so farther away. A
marker that shows where it was is in a nice, clean street where cars now
parallel park.
My current
work in progress (WIP) takes place in London 1666. Since the fire was a big
event in that year, I cannot not mention it, now can I? The reader would wonder
why I’ve listed every other important moment but not that one, which to this
day marks many souls as a living catastrophe.
In
1666, England was at war with the Dutch (fought entirely at sea). It was really
a merchant’s war, caused by skirmishes over ports of call in the East and West
Indies. The English felt the Dutch should share in the profits of spices, new
fabrics (cotton), exotic fruits, differently manufactured furniture and fine pottery.
After all, the Indies included vast areas of land and people. It wasn’t fair that
one country take everything.
Fighting fire with a 'squirt'. It held 4 pints of fluid, and took 2 men to operate.
Almost
18 months into the war, as the English fleet prepared to meet the enemy in a pitched
battle, on September 1, 1666, a gale entered the Channel. A wind so strong, it
felled the fleet. Sails ripped from masts. Bowsprits shattered. Ships collided
and listed. Gun ports were closed to keep the seas from flowing onto the gun
decks, swamping everything in its wake. The winds tore the fleet to shreds,
then moved onto England. In the wee hours of Sunday morning, September 2,
London winds whipped a spark and London began to burn.
The
fire was so fierce, it created its own weather. Lightning slashed, thunder
boomed. Warehouses along the Thames contained oils, pitch and tar, which burned
fiercely.
People weren't this calm as they ran |
Most
homes were squeezed along narrow, dark lanes, cantilevered so that top stories
were only inches apart. Made of half-timbers, wattle and daub, a material that
if maintained did not burn easily, many houses were not maintained. Leased
houses and shops were the responsibility of the renters. They had to fix
anything that broke, burnt or toppled over. They were responsible for the
walkway and road outside their doors. Not many followed these regulations. And
with the winds so fierce, it was fodder for fire.
People
took their goods to neighbors’, thinking the fire wouldn’t reach them. They
took furniture and clothing to churches, thinking the walls were too thick for
fire to burn them. As the fire moved west along the river and northwest through
town, people removed what they had stored and moved them farther away, into a
neighborhood they were sure would not burn.
Black
smoke could be seen over 56 miles away. The city looked like daylight when it
was nighttime. A contemporary wrote the firestorm sounded like “a thousand iron
chariots beating on stones”. It was deafening. Stone facades exploded like
bombs. Church steeples engulfed in flame toppled over onto streets and houses.
Booksellers
lived in the vicinity of St. Paul’s Cathedral. They sold their wares in Paul’s
Yard. Their parish church was St. Faith’s located under St. Paul’s church in
the undercroft. They called it St. Faith’s under St. Paul’s. They took their
presses, paper and books to St. Faith’s knowing with the massive pillars of
Paul’s it would never burn. By the time the flames licked Paul’s outer walls,
St. Faith’s was stuffed. St. Paul’s was filled with goods up to the choir loft.
St.
Paul’s was in disrepair. Over time, the heavy, lead roof had spread its walls
outward. Pillars were crumbling. Scaffolding supported some of the pillars and
the outside of the church. Just a few days prior, a meeting had been held to
discuss renovation of the building.
The Burning of St. Paul's Cathedral |
By 8
o’clock Tuesday evening (September 4), fiery debris had fallen on Paul’s roof. Shoddy
repairs of timber caught and burned so hot, a gentleman who stood over a mile
away saw the inferno.
“Large
parts of the roof, both stone and burning timber fell in, and the Cathedral
became a roaring cauldron of fire…”
“Molten
lead dripped in silvery beads from the roof, raining down upon the broken
stones and tombs that strewed the Cathedral floor, and there collecting, ran
out into the streets in a stream.”
Paul’s
choir and lower floor crashed into St. Faith’s. When St. Paul’s collapsed, the
whole building exploded with an earsplitting roar. Burning papers and books
sailed in the air, some of the pages landing miles away in the English
countryside.
St.
Paul’s was a mass of smoking ruins within an hour.
London after the fire. It poured beyond the old Roman walls into west London.
~*~*~*~
Many
thanks to Wikicommons, public domain,
By
Permission of Heaven, the True Story of the Great Fire of London, by Adrian
Tinniswood, Riverhead Books, NY 2004
The
Story of London’s Great Fire by Walter G. Bell, Butler & Tanner, Ltd.,
Frome and London, 1923
Author of historical novels set in 1660's London with one novel of the French Revolution.
Sunday, May 3, 2020
Writing and reading in times of... Whatever this is. by Diane Bator
Writing and reading in times of... Whatever this is....
By Diane Bator
Do we have the same struggles with concentrating while our world is in a constant state of change?
Are any of us immune to what happens outside our front doors on a daily basis?
Are we staying sane or losing our marbles in solitude?
Our local library had to cancel our Open Mic night featuring local authors. Instead, we each recorded ourselves doing short readings for library staff to air that night. As well, the continued their Storytellers Series in the same way. Each month an author or local celebrity is doing a 20 minute chat for library patrons. I'm looking forward to trying my hand at doing my first video this week.
Toronto Sisters in Crime held their first ever Zoom meeting last month, which was a blast! I was grateful for the opportunity to be a part of this because physically joining in the meetings is difficult. What a great time we had talking about what we are or are not currently writing. We commiserated about the struggle with inspiration now that we have all the time we need. Like all meetings lately, the mood was heavy until then talk turned to what we're watching on Netflix. It was helpful to hear of mystery series I've never read or seen. I left that meeting feeling much lighter and not so worried about creating when I didn't have the energy for it. Darned if right after I got off the meeting, one of the shows we talked about was on television. Vera. I'm a fan!
Another great discussion I got to listen to was put on by the Writers' Trust of Canada https://www.facebook.com/writerstrust/ Five great Canadian authors gave some great advice to writers of all levels. On this call was Tanya Talaga (the moderator), Eden Robinson, Heather O'Neill, Michael Crummey, and Miriam Toews. The chat was filled with comments about Eden's amazing laugh but my best takeaway from the whole thing was the sense that they are all dealing with the same day-to-day struggles we all are. And they're keeping a sense of humor about it all!
As authors, they are used to solitude and working alone, but the loneliness is a whole other thing. All of them are fortunate to be self-isolated with family members and have lots of human interaction via digital means. Where Michael and Heather are working as normal, keeping their routine as usual. For the rest, there are family members and things they have to work around.
One very funny moment was when Eden admitted her biggest challenge was eating her own cooking. Since she's traveled so much before this all hit, she was used to eating out all the time. The general consensus was that cooking takes up an awful lot of writing time!
Heather pointed out that stories written BC (Before Covid) would not reflect the changes in society we currently see, but she feels there will be a demand for literature and the voices we all have in order for things to feel normal again. As for writers who want to know how to become published, there are as many different routes to becoming a published writer as there are writers.
The best advice they all had for fellow writers the reminder that we all need to sit for long periods of time "doing nothing." It's been said that 95% of writing is staring out the window. Of course, that nothing time gives us space to create before we put our thoughts on paper. The second best was simply: Stay Optimistic and Keep Writing!
Diane Bator
Author of Wild Blue Mysteries, Gilda Wright Mysteries, Glitter Bay Mysteries
and the NEW upcoming Sugarwood Mysteries!
Labels:
#Canadian Writers,
#lovetowrite,
Eden Robinson,
Heather O'Neill,
Michael Crummey,
MIriam Toews,
Tanya Talaga,
Toronto Sister in Crime,
Writers Trust of Canada
Prolific author, Editor, Associate Publisher, and Book Coach. Also mom of three grown ups and two fur babies.
Saturday, May 2, 2020
Hard to Believe
That we're still sheltering at home. I pray this ends soon. Not to mention the weather hasn't been all that great. Sure would like some warm weather. I swear it was nicer in March. And the rain doesn't help. I know, I know, April showers bring May flowers.
The only bright spot is the beautiful daffodils. Bright yellow sure helps brighten the yard even through the clouds and rain. And they seem to be lasting a longer time than usual. I love the clusters along the fence. There's also some white/cream colored ones in the back corner of the yard. Looks like a big bouquet.
I think I've mentioned before we had a lake in the back yard. Okay, not an official lake, not even a pond although the width and length of it could qualify for a pond but the depth would disqualify it. Of course the ducks liked it.
So my younger son suggested I order some dirt. Not terribly expensive, he said, and free delivery. So I went online and sure enough it wasn't terribly expensive but it wasn't showing free delivery. So I called them. The lady said free delivery was only with a whole truck load. I was ordering 7 yards. I asked what was a truck load. She said 8 yards. Well heck I knew the yard could handle it. Truth be told I could probably use another truck load.
So I asked my son when I should order it since he and my other sons were going to haul it from the drive to the back yard. No way my husband and I could do it. Especially not my husband, who suffers from COPD.
At any rate, son said whenever you want. Any Saturday. So I called and lo and behold, they could deliver it that Saturday (last week). I text messaged my son and told him to line up his brothers.
It was a chilly day, which was probably good because no one worked up a sweat. Dirt got hauled spread. Like I said I could probably get another truck load. Not sure the boys would be too anxious to spend another day hauling dirt. Oh, and my daughter in law helped also, God bless her.
So there's some puddling and it probably drowned the grass seed in that area. I'm either going to have to order more dirt, or buy bags of dirt. But at least I don't have a swamp out there now and it looks a hundred percent better.
Next week we have to pick up 3 flats of flowers we ordered through the high school. 32 plants to a flat. Going to be busy planting them and I have some seed to put in also. Problem is, I have to weed first and it's been so wet, I hate the thought of doing it. I will have to get out there soon.
The plants probably can't go in right away as there's still a danger of frost. All those plants are going to take a while to plant, not to mention figuring out where to put them all and which ones where. I'm looking forward to it, though. It's going to mean warm weather and since we still have to shelter at home, warm weather will be much appreciated.
Excerpt from Elusive Mission For this and a list of my other books go to:
Books We Love
Vanessa’s
stomach tensed. She had to get out of here. Needed some air, needed to escape.
She
got in her car and started driving, to where was anyone’s guess. The quaintness
of Strongsville, Ohio, especially the town square with the gazebo and all the
Christmas decorations, brought tears to her eyes. Vanessa wiped them away and
parked the car. Shoppers and carolers filled the sidewalks. Ignoring them,
Vanessa hurried past decorated shops until she came to a small church. St.
Matthew’s Lutheran Church, the sign out front said. Two huge wreaths hung
on the heavy oak doors. The small white building beckoned to her.
Vanessa
opened the door, walked up the steps and stood at the entrance. The quiet of
the empty church filled her soul. It had been too long since she had attended
services. Charles wasn’t particularly religious, but at least he had allowed
her to have Alyssa baptized. She should have gone to church more often by
herself, but after spending Saturday evening at the club, it was all too easy
to sleep in on Sunday morning.
Light
showed through the stained glass windows, illuminating the red carpet-covered
aisle way. A nativity scene at the front captured her attention and drew her
forward. Memories from her childhood flashed through her mind.
Her
father always helped set up the nativity at church when she was a little girl,
and they let her put Baby Jesus in the crèche. A noise from the side aisle interrupted
her thoughts. Vanessa stopped, saw a flash of red and the side door slammed.
Funny, she hadn’t noticed anyone else when she came in.
Oh,
well, Vanessa shrugged and continued to the front and knelt down. What in the
world? Next to the nativity scene sat a car seat. An infant, three, maybe four
months old with dark curly hair, opened its almond shaped dark eyes and reached
its chubby arms out to her.
“What
have we here?” Vanessa unbuckled the seat belt. “Hello, precious.” She picked
up the baby and a note fell on the diaper bag next to the car seat. Vanessa
picked up the paper and read the scribbled words.
Please
take care of my baby. Her name is Grace. Mary.
“Who
could leave someone as precious as you?” Vanessa looked around. No one lurked
in the shadows. Who left the baby? How long had she been here? God, what should
she do? The baby cuddled against her. Vanessa inhaled the sweet smell of baby
lotion, bringing back memory of Alyssa. Tears filled her eyes. For a minute,
she was tempted to take the baby and leave, but she couldn’t do it.
Startled,
when the door at the back of the church slammed, Vanessa turned toward the
sound. A shadow loomed at the entrance and moved toward her. A tall figure
walked down the aisle, checking the pews along the way. Vanessa hugged the baby
against her, held her breath, and let it out when she saw who it was.
“Father,
I’m glad you’re here. I came in here and found this baby. I was just about to
call the police.”
“I’m a
minister, not a priest. Pastor Dan Jacobson, Pastor Dan will do,” he said. “You
found a baby?” His brown eyes sparkled with a glint of gold below raised
eyebrows. “Who do you suppose it belongs to?”
“Yes, I ... uh.” The look on his face told her he
didn’t believe her. Heck, she could have pretended Grace was hers. He wouldn’t
have known. “When I came in someone ran out through that side door. I came up
here to see the nativity scene and….” Vanessa walked away and sat in a pew,
cradling the baby against her chest. What was the use, he didn’t believe her.
She didn’t need this. Not now. She had enough problems of her own.
“I
see, pretty little thing, boy or girl?” Vanessa stood and took a step closer to
him. “Girl.” She stopped next to him. “You aren’t suggesting this child is
mine, are you?” Vanessa looked him straight in the eyes. How dare he? Minister
or not, what gave him the right? “Look, I came in here and found the baby. I
told you someone ran out that door.” Vanessa took a deep breath, let out an
angry sigh. “Here.” She pushed the note toward him. “This was lying on the
diaper bag. I didn’t touch anything else.”
Pastor
Dan stared at her, like he was studying her.
Vanessa
stared back at him. Disbelief showed in his face. Like she’d try to pull off
such a stunt? Imagine her abandoning a baby like this. The memory of Alyssa,
clinging to her when Charles tore her away, flashed in her mind. Even now,
Alyssa’s cries when Charles slammed the door ripped her apart.
Pastor
Dan brought her back to awareness. “I see. Well, I guess we’ll have to call
Social Services.” He read the note, then picked up the diaper bag and looked
through it.
Grace
squirmed in Vanessa’s arms and began to cry.
“Probably
hungry.” Vanessa hummed and cuddled the baby and rocked her.
Pastor
Dan pulled out a bottle of formula.
The
warmth of the baby against her chest opened a hole in her heart, missing Alyssa
even more. Her insides trembled, tears burned her eyes, threatened to fall.
“You
have children?” Pastor Dan’s tone softened.
A tear
escaped, fell on her cheek. She nodded, a lump caught in her throat.
“How
many?”
“One.”
Vanessa choked out the word.
How
old?”
“Two.”
The tears burst forth as if a damn had been unleashed. “I’m....” Vanessa
couldn’t speak. She turned away, held back the tears, and paced across the
front to the nativity scene, leaving him standing there.
***
As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
Friday, May 1, 2020
BWL PUBLISHING INC. - MAY NEW RELEASES
https://bookswelove.net/mcgill-tricia/ |
In
book 4 of the Settlers Series, we catch up with most members of the extended
family from the previous three books. Annie at 18 is the eldest Carstairs girl.
She has lived out at Bathurst west of the Blue Mountains, where she was born
just after her Mama, Bella and Papa, Tiger settled there back in 1824. After
visiting her brother Tim and his wife Jo just before Christmas 1843, Annie
decides to stay in Port Philip, seeking adventure much as her brother did when
he set out with Jo the previous year. Annie has inherited her mother’s
independent streak, a character trait that sometimes leads her to make the
wrong choices.
Jacob
O’Quinn works for her brother, and the likeable young carpenter catches Annie’s
eye. Jacob is quiet and reserved in his manner, having spent his life with his
widowed mother. When handsome Zachary McDowell, the complete opposite to steady
Jacob comes along, he sweeps Annie off her feet. Heedless of advice given by
others, Annie makes a choice that turns out to be the worst she could ever
make.
Restless,
Annie decides to return to her home, and Jacob makes the decision to escort
her. The journey back across the mountains proves to be a lot more eventful
than she assumed it could ever be. The road itself may have seen improvements
through the years but there will always be unexpected incidents to turn life
around on its axis. A suspected murder brings the might of the law down on the
shoulders of the young couple.
* * * * *
In Devil's Fall, Doug Fletcher Book 5, Doug Fletcher's Thanksgiving vacation
is interrupted by a phone call from his Texas U.S. Park Service superintendent.
A Wyoming coroner determines that a climber’s fall from Devils Tower isn’t the
accident it first appeared to be. Doug is thrown into an investigation where he
peels back the layers of rumors and lies provided by colorful Black Hills
residents to find a murderer in a region where the deer hunting season is
winding down and everyone has a gun in their pickup truck.
* * * * *
https://bookswelove.net/baldwin-barbara/ |
Legend states that
hanging a Dreamcatcher over your bed will catch the bad dreams and only
allow the good ones to flow through to the dreamer. Willow has been told
“if you believe, then it will be so”, but her nightmares about the
events causing her amnesia still haunt her, and while she knows she
doesn’t belong with the Blackfoot tribe, it is the only shelter she
has...
…until Garrison York
appears. Montana rancher and blood brother to the Chief’s son, he is
given charge of helping Willow discover her past, but the instant
attraction between them makes him want to concentrate only on current
pleasure. With neighbors trying to steal land for railroad expansion and
relatives willing to kill for fortunes in gold, can Garrison keep
Willow safe until they determine her true identity?
* * * * *
https://bookswelove.net/hovey-joan-hall/ |
Night Corridor: 2nd Edition 2020
After nine years in Bayshore mental institution, once called the lunatic asylum, Caroline Hill is finally being released.
There will be no one to meet her. Her parents who brought her here…are dead.
They have found her a room in a rooming house, a job washing dishes in a restaurant. She will do fine, they said. But no one told that women in St. Simeon are already dying at the hands of a vicious predator. One, an actress who lived previously in her building.
And others.
And now, as Caroline struggles to survive on the outside, she realizes someone is stalking her.
But who will believe her? She's a crazy woman after all.
Then, one cold winter's night on her way home from her job, a man follows and is about to assault her when a stranger intercedes.
A stranger who hides his face and whispers her name.
There will be no one to meet her. Her parents who brought her here…are dead.
They have found her a room in a rooming house, a job washing dishes in a restaurant. She will do fine, they said. But no one told that women in St. Simeon are already dying at the hands of a vicious predator. One, an actress who lived previously in her building.
And others.
And now, as Caroline struggles to survive on the outside, she realizes someone is stalking her.
But who will believe her? She's a crazy woman after all.
Then, one cold winter's night on her way home from her job, a man follows and is about to assault her when a stranger intercedes.
A stranger who hides his face and whispers her name.
I
loved this book and stayed up all night reading it! The characters were
so well-drawn that I could almost hear them breathing, see them
laughing, feel their emotions. It's rare that I feel like I KNOW the
characters THAT well, but I did here, in THIS book - especially the main
character, Caroline, but also the minor characters - every one of them!
I could see and hear Caroline, almost feel her breath on my skin. The
writing and the plot drew me in, from page one. I was fully engaged and
up all night, reading and enjoying this book, to the very last word. M. Lewis
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