OCTOBER GAVE A PARTY

 October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came…
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band. 
                                                ~George Cooper, "October's Party"  

Autumn has walked across our Pennsylvania mountains and spilled out all the seasonal smells like a rich perfume. This is time when red-cheeked apples and sweet wood smoke give off a familiar fragrance that is a harbinger of things to come. We can smell the earth—the dried cornstalks, the pungent aroma of woods and pine, and the musky scent of pumpkins and gourds. Along the fences, grapes on withering vines fill the air with an earthy bouquet. 

But there’s a certain sadness to autumn. It’s a warning that the year is ending, that we’re growing older. We’re maturing. It is a time to contemplate the reason for our being and for our purpose. It’s a time to be thankful for our lives, to re-evaluate our errors, to realign our goals, and to strive towards that which makes us happy . . . and our world a sweeter place.

****     

Above are the poem and excerpts from my very first online blog, for October 2011, fourteen years ago. Since graduating decades ago from Point Park College with a degree in journalism and communications, I’ve realized my entire life has been dedicated to pounding the typewriter or computer keys to string words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs. 

I’ve written for television, radio, education, industry and business. I’ve composed copy for commercials and public service announcements for radio, television, and news outlets. I’ve written grants, curricula, and news articles. I’ve taxed by brain while collecting facts for nonfiction, and stretched my imagination for fiction. I’ve written with tight deadlines of only a few hours; and I’ve procrastinated for days, knowing I had a loose lengthy deadline. 

All writers know the feeling of rejection—as well as the joys of being published. Awards are also wonderful to receive, but there is no better feeling for writers than the minute they finish a tough piece of writing, and they know they’ve given one hundred percent of their time, energy, and talent. The elation, which may only be a smile or nod or sigh to the outsider, can’t compare to the joy and relief they feel as the thoughts in their heads do a happy dance. 

Someone once asked me what I thought were the main ingredients needed to become a writer. There are many, but personally for me, the main abilities are curiosity, an imagination, persistence, and a love for reading. 

As October brings us falling leaves, falling temperatures, and maybe even falling snow, I leave you with this quote from Somerset Maugham:

It’s a funny thing about life; 

if you refuse to accept anything but the best, 

you very often get it. 

 

 

 

FINDING LOVE IN PINE VALLEY  

 

Released this month:  

eBook/Digital - $2.99

Print - 6.99 

 

FINDING LOVE IN PINE VALLEY - is finally finished!

 Finding Love in Pine Valley is finally finished.

I’ve been trying to get this second chance mystery and romance finished and released for almost two years now. There are over twenty-five reasons why a person procrastinates. I can truly believe five of mine are:  Task aversion, distractions, feeling overwhelmed, indecisiveness, and decision fatigue.

However, there is one reason, which is wrapped up like a ball of tangled string, that affects me as a writer the most. It’s the fear of having existing mistakes in the manuscript—whether they are spelling, grammar, or development errors. Luckily, I have a good friend who is a wonderful editor. Yet, my insecurities still exist.  FINDING LOVE IN PINE VALLEY will be released on September 14^th, and there is a pre-order for those who would like to purchase it early. 

It is: https://www.amazon.com/Finding-Love-Pine-Valley-romance-ebook/dp/B0FNS296JP

 Cost for ebook/digital is $2.99 and print is $6.99. Enjoy!  

The back cover blurb is below. I hope you enjoy it.

                       FINDING LOVE IN PINE VALLEY   

 Lena Starron knew that leaving her two-timing ex-husband and her job in New York as a writer would be a challenge. Starting over always is. But she never thought she’d return to her old hometown in Pennsylvania where two new jobs awaited her, only to discover she had no place to live. 

Wyatt Taylor of Taylor Tree Farm hired Lena to organize and open a new café while she also worked writing publicity for Pine Valley’s 200th Anniversary Celebration. Even though it has been five years since his painful break-up with his fiancé, Wyatt hasn’t been able to get his life or his home in order. When he learns Lena needs a place to live and work, he offers office space and room in his house.

To help raise money for town’s Recreational Park and its much-needed new playground equipment, Lena agrees to organize a two-day, fall Jamboree at the tree farm. When her expensive, antique jewelry box is stolen, she must determine whether it’s for true monetary value—or does someone want to see her fail and leave town. 

Together, as Wyatt and Lena untangle the mysterious web surrounding the robbery, will sparks fly? And will they be brave enough to find their second chance at love?

DOG DAYS OF SUMMER

The Dog Days of Summer in Pennsylvania are those hot, humid days at the end of July and on into August when the temperatures reach the high eighties into the nineties. Growing up on our farm in Pennsylvania, the Dog Days meant hurrying to get the last fields of first cutting hay, dried, baled and into the barn.

Haying season in the Northeast typically begins in early June and continues through the summer and early fall, with multiple cuttings possible depending on the weather. Despite the blazing sun, the tiredness of the work, and the prickly hayseeds and stalks adding to the discomfort, summer and haying season always brought warm memories to store and hold dear.

Before we bought a baler, my father first used an old horse-drawn hayloader attached to the back of his 1932 flat bed truck that was once a milk truck. The driver of this set-up slowly maneuvered the truck up the rows of hay, making sure the tires straddled the raked windrows. The hayloader with its many tines grabbed the hay and moved it upward where my father, using a pitchfork, spread it evenly on the load.  It was then unloaded, lifted off the truck by a pulley and large fork on a track inside the barn.                                                     

From first grade onward, I was the driver. My brother had been born in January, so my mother was busy tending to him. I loved the outdoors, smell of fresh dried hay—and I loved machinery and its rumbling sounds, despite the smell of gas and oil.

Because the driver can’t see the load once the window opening behind him is covered with hay, I learned to listen to my father’s shrill whistle which meant to immediately stop. I would have to half-standup, jump one foot on brake and the other on the clutch. Usually, his whistle was for various reasons like he needed more time to spread the hay about, or a black racer snake came up onto the load and had to be pitched off, or the loader wasn’t operating correctly.

There were many, many things I learned living on a farm. Too many to tell here. But the first one is that farming is dangerous. You learn to follow directions early in life and do as you’re told. Breaking a rule can result in injury or death.

Many people ask whether it was tiresome and hard. Yes, at times. Especially during the Dog Days. After all, who’s fond of working in 90+ degree heat with hayseeds sliding down your back and sweat running into your eyes?

But it was also fun. And at the end of the day, there was always the satisfaction of a chore well done. . . even if you were just a kid. 

IT'S CHRISTMAS IN JULY!  

HERE IS A LINK TO "JUNE - THE PIANIST"  

JUST $0.99

A SALUTE TO JULY!

“I drifted into a summer nap under the hot shade of July, 

serenaded by a cicada lullaby,

to drowsy-warm dreams of distant thunder.”  

—Terri Guillemets* 

I think I might be the only person who sadly hates to see the end of June. For me, it means we’ve moved one-third closer to the end of summer as we enter the Dog Days of Summer and July.

I’ve always thought of summer as June, July, and August. Oddly, I have never considered September as a month belonging to the season, yet a portion of it is. I think it’s a throwback from youth when we started school the end of August. Summer was a time when we were free from long bus rides, lugging books from school to home and back, doing homework, and abiding by a strict daily routine. Summer was truly a time to smell the roses in bloom and eat handfuls of sun-warmed berries growing wild along the roads or in farm pastures.

July is the month of movement. We have the Fourth of July to celebrate, complete with outdoor get-togethers, music, and sparkling fireworks. In the U.S., the month is packed with fairs, festivals, carnivals, and arts and crafts shows. There are celebrations for almost every day of the month, including special days for hotdogs, raspberries, and cheesecake. July 23^rd is National Day of the Cowboy while July  27th is Take Your Houseplants for a Walk Day.         

While July’s average temperatures make it the hottest month of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, it is also the coldest month on average in the Southern Hemisphere. In the northern states like Pennsylvania, July is a time for vacationing and trips to our nation’s beaches, rivers, and parks to engage in activities like swimming, boating, water skiing, hiking, geo-caching, and more.

July is a unique month with its ruby gemstone, symbolizing love, passion and courage. The larkspur and water lily are the state flowers. The full moon in July this year occur on the 10^th and is called the “Buck Moon” because the antlers of male deer (bucks) are in full-growth mode at this time. July is often considered the middle of summer where there is nothing like its sunny days to remind you of how wonderful life can be.                                       

*(NOTE: Terri Guillemets is the pen name
of Terri A. Woodhull,a quotation anthologist
born in 1973 in Phoenix, Arizona.)

 

       LINK to my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE