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.

***

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.

* * * * * 

 

https://bookswelove.net/hovey-dean/

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.

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

Tales of Sheltering in Place

 

A-Master-Passion, Hamilton & Eliza

(Did the Hamiltons own a cat? I doubt the relationship would have been as formal as that. In the 18th Century, cats lived mostly in barns and stables and the houses of the poor. Cats were déclassé. Dogs were, and still are, a more gentrified proposition. It just occurred that although I have cat characters in every book I've written, there are no prominent pussy-cats in A Master Passion.)  

***

Life for me and my husband has slowed to a crawl while we shelter in place. It's been five weeks for us, hiding out, around here. That is nowhere near as long as more urban areas nearby, so we're grateful for that. We are also grateful that we do not have to get up and go to work every day, risking our lives for a paycheck, like so many younger folks with small children at home are doing. The experience for us is like being under some form of 1%er house arrest. 

We try to keep to a routine, but it's not easy for me. I confess to liking senior classes at the gym and before this disaster movie became the new normal, those kept me to a schedule. Now going out is a fraught undertaking, while you suit up like you are going out an airlock. It's too much trouble--and if you don't have to, you find yourself inventing reasons not to go out at all. 

We're staying up later and sleeping later, too, rolling around in a warm bed until long after the sun comes up--for which I give deep, heartfelt thanks! I'm a senior who needs a great deal of sleep--the main difference between me today and when I was three is I don't fight naps.

For the last few weeks, just as I begin this delayed awakening, Tony materializes, conjuring himself out of thin air. He leaps onto my chest and then settles as a furry weight, purring loudly.  The Male of his Caretaker/Servants gives him too many treats, because he is such an adorable little beggar. Since the Quarantine, his once svelte gray body has blimped into a gray, overripe zucchini. Turns out, there even is a zucchini breed to supply the perfect new nickname for our newly tubby Anthony: "Grayzini." )

 There is stuff in this refrigerator that needs to be checked out.

His weight settles me. What's there to get up for? I'm supposed to stay home, after all and if I get up too early I'll find myself with no excuse not to clean. As soon as that idea crosses my mind, I have no strength to struggle. His purr is a nearby waterfall. Almost immediately I sink into the Dark Arms of Morpheus--or somewhere similar. REM sleep in the morning is very, very close. 

Tony's silver paws knead in time with those waves of sound. For several days this was nice and we'd go back to sleep together. Lately, though, he's got a new plan, and it isn't as nice as before. Sorry to report, he begins to knead my neck. I need to detach those claws quickly, before they can puncture me. I'm afraid that he'll go at it in the same heartfelt way he tears at the carpeted cat tree he's inexorably destroying downstairs. Apparently cuddly is so over! This week, he's jack the ripper.

***

Joining the crowd, I've been baking more than usual. My go-to comfort food is bread.  Unfortunately, flour and yeast are both in short supply. 

Horrors! This frightens me more than the t.p. shortage. My primary comfort food is buttered toast. Of course, that will quickly turn to pudge all over me because there are No Actions, Especially Involving the Ingestion of Gluten that does NOT have consequences for my metabolism. 

Despite that, I remain a reflexive bread baker.  It "looms large in me legend" as Ringo says in Hard Day's Night. When I got married, same year as that movie, I could cook burgers, boil potatoes and fry eggs, but that was the extent of my culinary skills. To show that I was in earnest about this new wife business, I read, cover to cover, The Joy of Cooking with which my in-laws had thoughtfully presented me.  Bread baking seemed to be the best Real Housewife Kitchen Activity I could adopt. Of course, my stern New England mother-in-law was pleased by this; she instructed me. She baked bread every week for her family, and for many, many years I followed her lead.

Now, faced with a lack I've never encountered before--yeast--I've been watching videos to discover methods of creating yeast via fermentation with dried fruit, flowers, potatoes, even from Yellow split peas. I hope yeast making(?) doesn't become a necessity, but it seems that in these perilous times of The Great Global Reality Check, it's time to learn some new-to-me but genuinely foundational cooking skills. If there is an "after," how-to knowledge is always grist for the historical novelist's mill.  
    


  ~~Juliet Waldron

All My Historical Novels