Alan's Farewell

 Good morning and happy Friday!

It looks like we'll have sunshine here today! Yay! It's been more cloudy this week than sunny. It's also supposed to be close to 70º instead of in the 50s. But spring is here. The trees are budding or blooming, depending on what kind of tree. Tiny leaves are showing on bushes and trees. Flowers are popping up. And the spring beauties are opening their delicate faces to the sun.

This was another busy week. I haven't gotten quite as much writing in this week as last week. Last week I ended with 10k words. Right now I'm at 7k. It might depend on how much I get written today and tomorrow. Both stories are still moving though the 4th of July story is picking up speed and "Phil Wood" seems to be slowing down a little.

KDWC opened its gates yesterday! Camp doesn't officially start until the 1st, but we are taking any sign-ups. Right now we have around 60 campers and 6 aunties. Plus Mary Poppins. ;) 

My youngest niece is turning one tomorrow so we'll be going over for her birthday party. I have to get her presents wrapped first. Her three loves are baby dolls, stuffed animals, and balls. Yes, she has 5 brothers. :)

Anyway, I thought I'd give you one more short story taken from my very first book. I did rewrite this story so it wasn't in first person with someone looking on. I hope you enjoy it!

 

Alan’s Farewell

    The evening sun was nearing the horizon as Alan McLean, attired in his Scottish garb with kilt, bray and sporran, climbed the hill to the cliffs overlooking the sea. His face wore a look of pain as he stopped near the edge and gazed about. It was harder than he thought it would be, this saying good-bye. Softly he began playing his much loved bagpipes which he carried over his shoulder. The notes wandered here and there as though unsure of how to find expression, growing louder with each moment, full of an unspoken yearning as they settled into “Amazing Grace” and filled the still air.
    As he played the familiar tune, Alan’s thoughts drifted back over the years. Leaving Scotland and settling here in Nova Scotia, Canada had been difficult, but the family had been together. Now he would be leaving for war, alone. Already Britain, France, Canada and others were fighting the German nation. And it all started, he recalled, with an archduke being killed. Part of Alan longed to stay at home fishing with his father and brother, but he knew the very freedoms they enjoyed were being threatened. That was why he had signed up to fight.
    He continued playing as he gazed out over the waters which reflected the sun’s evening glories. The sudden realization that tonight was his last night to stand here caused him to pause in the midst of the song and then begin a new one. As the haunting melody of “Auld Lang Syne” floated out over the water, the cliff, the trees, Alan tried to fix the image of the place in his mind. It had grown so dear to him. Pouring his very soul into every note, they swirled and dipped around him revealing the pain in his heart.
    Tomorrow all this would be beyond his sight. He dared not turn and look down the hill where the McLean home stood. The very thought of not seeing his brother, not feeling the kisses of his mother nor the handclasps of his father brought the tears to his eyes. Would he have the courage to say good-bye?
    His heart felt like lead and the notes from his pipes began to falter and break. Choking back the sob that rose in his throat, Alan tried to continue playing, but somehow the notes, which usually came so readily, refused to come. His shoulders began to shake and the tears to stream down his cheeks.
    “Och, my hame! My faither an’ maither, I cannae leave ye! My hert isna at war--!” Sobs shook his tall form, and he covered his face with his hand.
    All at once, the sounds of another piper continuing the broken song floated to his ears. Alan swallowed hard. He knew who it was but didn’t turn to welcome his father as he approached the cliff. Closing his eyes momentarily, Alan drew a long shaky breath and glanced beside him. Nothing was lacking in his father’s attire as a proud Scotsman.
    The very sight seemed to inspire Alan, for he began once more to play. Though he began softly, he couldn’t remain so, and soon the two pipers were sending the remainder of the song out on the wings of the evening breeze.
    Then Mr. McLean spoke. “Aye lad,” his strong voice was clear as he placed a hard, rough hand on his eldest son’s shoulder. “We’ll ne’er be foregettin’ ye. Donnae ye ken that?” Scanning the young face before him, he saw the traces of tears and rightly guessed the cause.
    Alan replied in a voice not quite steady, “Aye.”
    “Then donnae break yer mither’s hert with sic dreeful songs,” Mr. McLean chided gently. “Her een are upon ye frae oor hame, an’ it’s sair her hert will be if ye’re gang far to war wi’ out singin’ oor favorite hymn. Be ye able to sing?”
    There was a moment of silence. Alan gazed out over the waters. Straightening his shoulders he looked his father in the face. “Aye, wi’ David I am.” The words were clear and steady.
    Turning to gaze resolutely towards the McLean home, he watched his mother and brother climbing the hill towards him and burst into a lively march on his pipes. The sun was a flaming ball of fire, casting a golden light to tinge the purple and pink clouds. In the east, one or two stars were bravely peeking out of the dusky sky.
    All was hushed now. Even the pounding waves seemed subdued. In the expanse above, an eagle hung motionless, waiting. After kissing his mother, Alan gripped his brother’s hand, looking deeply into his eyes. David gazed back and a smile of brotherly love flashed between them. Mr. McLean had begun the melody. Full and touching floated the skirl of the pipes, only hushing its strength when Alan’s rich tenor and David’s perfect harmony began, blended as never before.

    “I am far frae my hame, an’ I’m weary aften whiles,
    For the longed-for hame-bringin’, an’ my Faither’s welcome smiles.
    An’ I’ll ne’er be fu’ content, until my een do see
    The Gowden gates o’ heav’n an’ my ain country.”

    As verse followed verse, the sun sank lower until the McLean family was left silhouetted against the glowing clouds of the western sky. There they remained until the last echoes of the hauntingly sweet notes had died away to be remembered in their hearts in the years to come.
    A thrill ran through Alan’s frame, and he gazed at his father. Whatever this war held for him, or for these dear ones waiting at home, they would be united again. If not here on earth, than in “oor ain countrie.” This was not a last farewell. One day they would be together again.
    “Aye,” Alan spoke aloud as his mother slipped her hand through his arm, “though mony years may pass before we see one another, someday we’ll a’ be in a countrie whaur we’ll ne’re part nae mair!”
 

Have you signed up for camp?

Has spring arrived at your home yet?

Do you like bagpipe music?

Two Chicken Stories

 Good morning, FFFs,

This has been a very busy writing week for me. Since I'm trying to write the 4th of July story for "A Very Bookish 4th of July" and still work on "Phil Wood", I've been writing 2k words or more a day this week. I try to get 1k on "Phil Wood" written in the morning or afternoon, then switch to "the 4th" in the later afternoon and after supper. This means I've already written 9k words this week! Since I normally write between 5-6k words a week with an occasional week where I get 8-9k, this is rather astonishing. But I'm really enjoying getting so much written.

I also started teaching writing classes again this week. Yesterday was my first classes. I had 5 students in one class and they were all new, which was rather fun. Then in the afternoon I had two older girls and we did a creative writing class. They are both going to write a short story. Both classes went well and were a lot of fun.

And guess what? Registration for KDWC is now open. We already have 40 campers signed up. The gates for camp open on the 25th, but camp itself doesn't start until the 1st. This will be a month long camp. If you're a writer and have never joined camp, maybe you should consider coming this time and seeing what it's like.

 Today I have two short stories for you. Since I'm celebrating the 10 year birthday of my first book, I thought I'd share two short stories from it with you today. These are both based on real events.

 

This first story is true. It was told to me by a friend. I only changed the names, time in history and place so as to fit in my book: Home Fires of the Great War

Time: April 1919. The Great War was over but many of the soldiers had yet to come home including the father of this family.

Place: A farm near Codell, Kansas

Family Info: The one telling the story is 17-year-old Emma. Her twin brother is Edmund. Emma is writing a letter to her cousin, Maria, who lives in Nova Scotia, Canada.

Nighty, the Rooster

         Oh, I must tell you about Evie. It would have been laughable if it were not so pitiable. We have, or rather did have, a black rooster whose name was Nighty. I believe Georgie named him, not that it matters. Nighty was mean. His favorite past time seemed to be terrorizing any person, with a few exceptions, who was outside. For some reason he never chased David, Edmund or Karl. Any of the rest of us were fair game as far as he was concerned. He was treacherous. If you turned squarely around on him and started walking toward him, he would turn tail and leave, but the moment your back was turned, he would be running straight for you. It got so bad that the younger ones wouldn’t go outside without one of the older boys. That rooster was the only one Kirsten couldn’t tame. Evie loves to be outside, but was terrified of Nighty. She would run screaming to the house or to the nearest person if he so much as looked at her. Finally Edmund had enough of it. One day he caught Nighty, who had just chased Evie inside, grabbed his legs and snapped his head against a fence post before tossing him behind the barn.

         When Evie heard the news she ran outside at once and shouted, “Nighty’s dead! Nighty’s dead!”

         Kirsten and Rosalie were much quieter upon hearing the news but also took immediate advantage and spent the rest of the day playing happily outside.

         A day or two later, Evie was outside playing and singing, “Nighty’s dead! Nighty’s dead!” I was in the kitchen with the older boys when a sudden, shrill, terrified scream came from outside! The boys sprang to their feet in an instant, knocking over their chairs as they did so.

         “Nighty’s comin’ af’er me!” Evie’s holler sent us all into action. At once we rushed for the door. Edmund was first. Leaping off the porch he sprinted across the yard and scooped up Evie in his arms. I stared from the safety of the porch. There indeed was Nighty. His head was hanging down at a grotesque angle from a broken neck, and he was staggering straight for Edmund.

         “That beast!” Edmund exclaimed. “Here, David, take Evie, and I’ll deal with him.” That was easier said than done, for Evie refused to let go of Edmund. Try as they might, they couldn’t get Evie to leave Edmund. Meanwhile the rooster was coming closer and closer. Evie’s screams again rent the air, and Edmund gave up to the inevitable and said, “One of you can do it, and make a good job of it!”

         David caught the luckless rooster and Karl grabbed a hatchet. In another minute, the rooster was without his head. Unlike the other butchering of chickens they do, the boys didn’t let go of this one for some minutes after his head was off. If you don’t know chickens, they run around like crazy for a little bit after their heads have been chopped off. Nighty would most certainly have headed straight for Edmund and Evie.

         Evie was still clinging in terror to Edmund’s neck and crying, saying over and over, “Nighty’s af’er me! He is!”

         “No, Evie,” Edmund soothed. “David has him, and Karl is chopping off his head. He won’t be after you any more.”

         “But he comes back!” Her face was buried against his neck while her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. She was shaking and trembling.

         Mama and I hurried over, but even with our combined effort, it made no difference. Edmund was the only one she wanted then, and it took nearly a quarter of an hour for him to just get her calmed down enough to raise her head.

         He took her to see that Nighty was really dead, and then they watched as he was buried. Still, it was almost a full hour later before Evie would let go of Edmund’s neck. She refused to go outside alone for two days after that, and will never go anywhere near where Nighty is buried, probably fearing that he will somehow come out of the ground and chase her. She has regained most of her courage by now, though she still looks warily at the barn when she passes it. The other way she was affected is that she dislikes any and all chickens. No longer will she go with Kirsten to feed and gather the eggs. She wants nothing to do with them. I can’t say that I blame her, can you?

 

In the Nests

    It was a lovely spring morning on the farm. The older boys and Papa were out in the barn milking the cows. Emma had gone out to gather the eggs as Kirsten, who usually gathered them, was sick in bed. Emma enjoyed gathering eggs especially on such a pretty morning. Everything was still waking up, the grass was damp with the night’s dew, and a meadowlark sang loudly on a nearby fence rail. Emma’s thoughts were not on the eggs she was placing in her basket. A breeze tossed her dark hair and whipped her dress around her ankles. It was a perfect day.
    Emma had gathered almost a dozen eggs, when reaching into the next nest she felt something move! She let out a shriek and almost dropped her basket. Staring at the nest in horror she thought, “What have I just touched?” She didn’t dare put her hand in the nest again. On seeing a slight movement among the straw, she screamed once more just as Edmund, David, Karl and Papa arrived.
    “What happened?” they demanded a little breathlessly.
    “Something moved in that nest,” Emma shuddered, pointing with a trembling hand to the straw which was still moving slightly. David reached boldly in and dragged out a large black snake! Stifling another cry that rose to her lips, Emma looked away. How the boys laughed!
    “Emma,” Edmund laughed at his twin. “It was just a nice little black snake.”
    “I don’t care, he scared me!” Emma had a dread of snakes which her brothers thought ridiculous. “I don’t think I dare gather any more eggs.”
    After a little more teasing from the three boys and even some from Papa, Edmund stayed to help her. He put his hand into the next nest and exclaimed, “Oh!” in a startled voice.
    Emma gave a stifled squeal.
    “Oh, it was only an egg,” Edmund said with a teasing little grin.
    “You!” Emma exclaimed and gave him a slight push.
    When there were only three nests left, Edmund tried coaxing his twin to get the eggs again. Emma shivered and shook her head.
    “Look,” he reasoned reaching confidently into another nest, “there aren’t any more snakes.”
    Only two lone nests remained unchecked. “Come on, Emma,” he urged. “I’ll get these, and you gather from that last one.”
    Slowly, with great reluctance, Emma reached into the last nest. Immediately, she let out a piercing scream and jumped back in terror! There was another snake! Edmund doubled over with laughter, but Emma shrieked again as the snake poked his head out, his small red tongue flicking in and out and his black beady eyes gleaming. Edmund was of no help, for he was bent double with laughter while tears ran down his cheeks from his merriment. As the snake began to wriggle out of the nest, Emma’s scream rose in a crescendo louder, and she whirled around to run to the house. As she turned, she bumped into Karl.
    “Karl!” Emma implored clutching his arm frantically, “Do something!”
    For a moment, he looked at her, the snake, and Edmund. Striding over, he caught the snake, which really wasn’t very big, and without a moment’s hesitation dropped it down the back of Edmund’s shirt! The sight of his face made Emma stand still for a minute and watch. Edmund’s laughter stopped suddenly as he felt the snake wriggling against his skin. One look at Karl and he burst into uncontrollable laughter once more. Shaking with mirth he untucked his shirt and let the snake fall to the ground. At that Karl joined in the laughter. So Emma left the two of them to their merriment and their snakes and went inside. “See if I ever gather eggs again!” she thought as the boys’ laughter still rang out from inside the safe, quiet kitchen.

Have you ever found a snake in something?

Do you like stories that are from real life?

Are you going to be a part of KDWC this time?

Life

 Good morning Readers,

I realized that I didn't have a story for you today. Sorry. This week has been somewhat crazy and my brain feels crowded. Has your brain ever felt crowded? (Maybe it's just my brain.) Anyway, I didn't get a story picked out and I don't have any new ones written. But I will give you a poem after in a little bit.

What a week! It was one of those weeks that don't seem too busy and crazy at the time. If you don't want to see what's making my brain so full and crowded, you can skip to the poem or just run away. ;)

Friday– Last Friday my nieces and nephews were over most of the morning and through lunch. We had a good time playing and visiting. It was also one of my nephew's birthdays, so he got to open his presents on his birthday.

Saturday– It was a lovely day. I got some things done in the morning and went for a lovely walk in the afternoon. I wrote a bit and felt as though I was so close to finishing up "Phil Wood." Then my nieces and nephews all came over again. This time for supper while their parents attended a "fancy dinner" as my 3-year-old nephew informed my sister. I read stories, played duets on the piano with my oldest nephew, talked, played, enjoyed the baby, and wondered when my brother and sis-in-law would return. We were all wondering that because they normally arrive between 8:30-9:00, but this time they didn't get here until almost 9:45.

Sunday– Since my sister was teaching Sunday School for someone, she and I went to church a little early. I was able to copy some things for the widows' ministry, and then got to help in the nursery during Sunday School. That was fun since I finally got to hold a little guy. I got a few more people signed up to be secret sisters for the windows' ministry. In the afternoon I got to read. But the first book I tried I ended up quitting.

Monday– Sent emails, worked on this thing, that thing, and the other thing. It was so nice out and I got outside and trimmed some plants and pulled weeds in the flower garden. That evening I tried to write. But it just wasn't working. My editor had told me "Phil Wood" was missing something. Something vital for a good story. So I started rereading the book. She was right, and I could tell I'd gotten off track, but getting things straightened out again was hard.

Tuesday– I spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out "Phil Wood". I had all sorts of thoughts and questions, but nothing was working. So later I had a talk with my editor and we were able to figure something out. While I was excited to finally have the problem at least hopefully figured out, it mean I had to rearrange almost ALL my scenes, cut scenes, write new scenes, and put the story all back together again. Pulling out my dry-erase board, I began making a timeline and dropping the scenes into place where they belonged. That included the scenes I needed to write or rewrite. It felt like the story was actually going to work this time.

Wednesday– I got some things done and then started reorganizing the actual scenes in "Phil Wood". And I wrote. I wrote almost 700 words before lunch which is not usual since I write best late afternoon/evening. In fact, this story was coming along so well, that I was able to get 2k words written that day even though I couldn't write after supper since I was working nursery at church. But that wasn't the only thing going on. Nope. I was trying to get as much of the work for the Widows' Ministry as I could so I could hand out things that night at church. This meant sorting papers, printing cards, getting papers together and folded and names written on them. But I couldn't do all the papers yet, because I still needed one more secret sister. (I did get her that night.) And that's not all! I got asked by Sarah Holman if I'd be interested in jumping in and writing a story for the "A Very Bookish 4th of July" collection. Wow! I had wanted to write a story for this collection since I first heard they were doing one, but they already had all the authors. But after some had to drop out, I got to join! And yes, I'm writing one. :D

Thursday– Yesterday my mom, sister, and I traveled 2 1/2 hours to spend the day with my grandparents, and then drove home again. It was so nice to see them again. We got the rest of their pictures hung in their new apartment, so now it looks more like their house. It was a lovely day, and my sister and I took a stroll out in the sunshine with our grandpa after lunch. After we got home, I was able to write 600 words of "Phil Wood." And I decided on which book I'm going to be using for the "4th of July" collection. :) I'm eager to write it, but also really want to finish "Phil Wood" first.

Today– We have to clean the house this morning and I have a whole list of things to do. Then the kids are coming over this evening so their parents can have a date. Not sure how much time I'll have for writing, but I'm hoping to get some written. Oh, and I need to get the rest of the Widows' Ministry things together so I can hand out the last of the papers.

And that, my readers, is why my brain is feeling crowded.

This poem was birthed on a rainy evening in May of 2009. I had spent some time cleaning out a drawer and rereading cards from so many family and friends. If you have never sent a card to a friend, do it now. They might just need a bit of encouragement.

The Gift of Cards

Memories stirred while light spring rain
Falls gently on my window pane.
Cards I read again and see
The blessings God has given me.
Notes of birthday love and cheer,
And some o’er which I shed a tear.
Precious friends, your words still ring
With sweetest blessings that make me sing.
Cards of thanks for some kind deed
Returns to meet my own small need.
Remembering the things now past
Found in little notes that last
Long since the writer has forgot
And dreams no more that written thought.
How very dear these notes now seem
As I fondly read and stop to dream
Of days gone by and years now past
And know God’s love will always last.
Although my friends may go or stay,
They’ve left me sunshine to brighten the day.
And as the rain falls gently down,
Fresh and clean on thirsty ground,
I gather strength to onward press
Reading again these cards that bless.
Thank you Lord for each dear friend,
Who cheered this day with word and pen.

 

Has your brain ever felt crowded?

Do you keep cards and notes?

Are you excited to read my 4th of July story?

Travels of Tracy – Summer

 Hello, FFFs,

It's been a lovely spring week. Yesterday's temperatures reached into the 70s and the sun shone brightly in the sky. Today we might have rain, but that's okay. We've had sun every day this week since Sunday.

Here's a peak into my week:

Saturday– Gathered everything for decorating for the luncheon and then in the afternoon my sister and I joined a few others and set up and decorated for the Widows' Valentine Luncheon that had only been postponed three times. :P

Sunday– Right after church we had the luncheon. We were missing quite a few widows and secret sisters, but we did enjoy finally getting to have it. Afterwards we cleaned up and headed home. I read in the afternoon.

Monday– Cleaning up the decorations and packing them away for next year, or putting things like suitcases and the globe away. Yes, we did a travel theme this year. I also wrote over 2k words that evening on "Phil Wood".

Tuesday– My mom and I took down the rest of the winter decorations and now we're really ready for spring. I know some of you probably don't get spring in March, but we do. Our crocuses are blooming and I expect we'll have daffodils blooming in a few weeks. I wrote again in the evening.

Wednesday– That was Tax Day. Usually I try to get my taxes done in February after the luncheon, but since the luncheon didn't happen until the last of February, taxes didn't happen either. But I got them done! It felt so freeing! More writing done that evening.

Thursday– I got different things worked on, and walked with my best friend and caught up with her. I also wrote again. This story is just over 25k words and the lowest word count I'm aiming for is 30k. Yep, it's almost done. I know the last things that have to happen. At least I think I do.

Today– My nieces and nephews are coming over this morning. We'll actually get to celebrate "Buddy's" birthday on his birthday. (No Buddy isn't his name, just the nickname I gave him.) He's turning 8.

Other odds and ends have gotten done this week. Like preparing for the next writing camp, and working on the "Anything" collection.

I hope you enjoy this summer story about Tracy. I must say I had fun writing her stories and this one made me laugh.

 

Travels of Tracy—Summer

    The hot summer sun shone down on the small, blue Road Runner which was near a wire fence. The windows were rolled down to catch what breeze was blowing over the sparsely vegetated land where the only signs of life were two curious horses. The only occupant of the car to be seen was a young woman whose tawny curls were pulled back in a loose ponytail by a yellow ribbon.
    “Oh, dear,” came a sigh as Tracy Linnet lifted her head from a map she had been poring over and stared about her. “Where on earth are we, Lyn?”
    There was no answer and Tracy looked at the seat beside her where her constant companion, a long-haired, yellow tabby usually rode. But the seat was empty.
    “Madalyn?”
    A light paw batted at her ear and Tracy twisted around to find her cat perched on the back of her seat. Pulling her down into her arms, she gently stroked the fur of her little friend saying, “Oh, Lyn, what are we to do now? I have no idea where we are, and I can’t drive a car that is out of gas, now can I, Lyn?
    A contented purr was the only answer, and Lyn blinked in the warm sunshine.
    “Well, we can’t just sit around here all day waiting for those horses to tell someone about us.” And Tracy tried to glare at the animals in question, but her sweet face wasn’t made for glaring and the most she could manage was a puckered frown. Picking up her purse and snatching her light straw hat from the floor of the car, Tracy opened her door and stepped outside. The glare of the sun was blinding and, after coaxing her cat to her shoulder, Tracy dug through her purse until she found her sunglasses. It was easier to see with them on, and eagerly Tracy peered about hoping to see a house or another car. It was no use. There wasn’t a house or car or other living being there except herself, her cat and the two horses on the other side of the fence.
    Tracy squared her shoulders and gave a nod of her head. “Well, Lyn, we’ll just have to go find someone. But where should we go?”
    Stepping around from one shoulder to the other, the cat’s tail swept over Tracy’s face and she uttered a loud “Meow,” in her ear.
    “If you had told me which direction to go before we got lost,” Tracy scolded as her cat leapt to her arms, “we wouldn’t be lost right now. You never were good at reading maps, Lyn. What will Tad say when I don’t arrive at his uncle’s by four o’clock?”
    Lyn blinked and yawned.
    “Oh, you’re no help. Maybe I’ll get better answers from the horses.” And Tracy timidly stepped near the fence. She had never been on a horse before and the only time she had been this close to one was when she was six.
    “Where do you horses live?” she asked politely, wishing that horses could talk. “I do wish you could take a message to your owner and tell him that a girl is stranded here without gas and helplessly lost. Would you be so kind as to do that?”
    The light colored horses pushed his nose over the fence and gave a half snort.
    “Oh dear, I was afraid you would say that.” Tracy’s shoulders slumped and she moaned, “I wish I were back at home or at college. At least I never ran out of gas there. Or got lost,” she added.
    Feeling the need to do something, she began to think and analyze her situation. If there were horses in a pasture, then somewhere there must be a house. Perhaps if she just followed the fence she would soon find a house and get the help she needed to set her on her way again. Quickly deciding which way looked more appealing, she was about to set off when a sudden movement off in the far distance caught her eye.
    “Is that another horse?” she mused. “Why, I do believe it is and there is a rider on it! Oh delightful! Now if only I could get his attention. Yoo hoo!” she called, but her voice couldn’t cover that length of space.
    “Lyn, we’ll just have to go and ask for help.” Making her careful way to an opening between two posts which would admit her if she slipped in sideways and ducked her head, she hesitated. Looking at the distant rider she was unable to tell which direction he was going. “I just have to reach him,” she decided.
    The horses moved aside as Tracy, after setting her cat carefully down, managed to squeeze through the fence. Calling to her cat, Tracy started off, but much to her dismay, the horses decided to come along. Fearful that her beloved cat might get stepped on, Tracy scooped Lyn up in her arms and began walking quickly.
    So fearful was Tracy over the closeness of the horses and afraid that the rider would disappear before she could get his attention, that she didn’t think to watch where she was stepping. Recoiling suddenly, Tracy closed her eyes and stopped short. Through the open toes of her new wicker boots, she could feel something. She wrinkled her nose and moaned, “Oh dear, not these shoes!” Through flat soles of the boots she noticed for the first time that she could feel each rock and clump of dirt. But this wasn’t dirt, there was no mud in this dry place and this was a pasture! Shuddering, she gingerly stepped forward, trying not to think of what she had just been standing in. She had to get help.
    “Hello!” the sound of a deep voice brought Tracy’s head up so quickly that her hat fell off and one of the horses stepped on it.
    “Hello!” Never had Tracy been so glad to see anyone. “My car is lost and I’ve run out of gas,” she blurted quickly.
    A deep chuckle made Tracy blush as the older man swung down off his horse, but he only said, “Got lost did you? And you’re out of gas? I think I can help. Got a truck just over the rise and there’s a can of gas in the back. Care to ride over with me?”
    Staring in panic at the horse, Tracy drew back, “I think I’d rather walk, thank you. I . . . I have my cat. She doesn’t like horses.”
    The man seemed to understand, for he said he’d take the horses back with him and then would meet her at her car. For this Tracy was grateful and turned to walk back, being very careful of where she stepped this time.
    The man in the truck arrived at the fence at the same time Tracy did and soon her car had enough gas to get her to a nearby town. She also had a very carefully drawn map and written directions from the man. “I hope the rest of your journey is uneventful, Miss,” he said, touching his hat as Tracy started her car.
    “Thank you,” she sighed. Carefully Tracy turned the car around and drove off down the dusty road. “Lyn,” she remarked when at last paved road was under her tires once more, “It’s nearly four! I do hope Tad hasn’t started looking for me yet. And I wish I could change my shoes! Do you think they’ll ever come clean?”

 What did you do this week?

Are you excited for Writing Camp?

Have you ever gotten lost and had to ask for help?

Travels of Tracy - Spring

 Good morning FFFs,

Happy Friday. It's a cloudy morning here. We've had a lot of sunshine this week though, so some clouds aren't bad. And I don't think it is supposed to stay cloudy. We've had lovely spring weather this week. We have some crocuses that are coming up and getting ready to bloom.

This week has felt a bit overwhelming at times. You see, we had to change the date for our Widows' Valentine Luncheon AGAIN! It was scheduled (after being postponed twice) for tomorrow. However, I got a call Monday night saying that the funeral for an older church member had been scheduled by the family for tomorrow morning at church. So . . . we decided to just have the luncheon right after church on Sunday. It's still okay to have a Valentine luncheon on the last day of February, right? So, I've been trying to find out who can now attend this luncheon, and get some new name cards made and take some others away. And trying to figure out the seating arrangement was a bit of a challenge. But I think I've got it now.

Yesterday evening my nieces and nephews came over and we enjoyed spending time with them. I helped my oldest niece brainstorm for the story she had to write for school (finally someone else is writing stories!), played the piano with my oldest nephew, and visited and played with the others.

Writing is going really well. I am now just past 18k for "Phil Wood" and my goal is at least 30k. Hopefully, I can get at least another thousand written today. It's been fun to see what's happening because this story feels more confusing than some of the others.

Oh, I have also been trying to work on proof listening to the audio for Triple Creek Ranch - Together. Yep, the final TCR audio book is almost done!

Well, I hope you all are having a lovely week. Enjoy this next story about Tracy.

 

Travels of Tracy - Spring

    The rain came down in torrents and Tracy, in her small, blue Road Runner, could hardly see. It didn’t help matters any that Madalyn, her long-haired, yellow tabby had decided to comfort herself from the sound of so much water by walking all over Tracy’s lap.
    “Lyn,” Tracy begged, “please stay on your side of the car until we stop.” The pleading did no good, for Lyn’s long, bushy tail swept up and brushed Tracy’s face and the cat, evidently not liking the noise the rain and bits of hail were making on the roof of the car, meowed loudly.
    “I know, Lyn,” Tracy said, attempting to see where the road was. “I wish we weren’t driving during this too. But we have to get home and how was I to know there were storms in the area?”
    There was no reply from her four legged companion save another meow and the feeling of a few sharp little claws dug into her arm.
    The rain continued to pour from the dark sky in buckets, and now and then a jagged flash of lightning would illumine the countryside, but after it was gone everything seemed darker than before. Suddenly, without any warning, Tracy felt the car move in a strange way. She tried putting the brakes on but it made no difference.
    “Oh, Lyn,” she shivered, “I think we might be floating.” Reaching up, she pushed a tawny curl from her face and then gathered her beloved cat into her arms. “Oh, dear,” she sighed, “where are we going?”
    A gentle jar shook the small car and then the motion stopped.
    “Lyn, do you think we’ve reached an island? This is when we need Tad’s fishing boat.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I wonder what he would do?” As the rain drummed on the roof of the car, she thought about her special friend who would probably be home from college already since he lived closer. She was glad to be ending her next to last year of college. Tad had graduated this spring and Tracy would next year.
    “Meow.”
    The voice of her companion brought Tracy back from her daydream to reality. The rain had slacked off and it was beginning to grow lighter. Wind was still blowing, but wind didn’t worry Tracy like the water had. Peering out the windows, she discovered that the road had been flooded and she had been swept off to the side where the car had become situated on a rise of ground near a white rail fence.
    Noticing it was only a light rain falling, Tracy decided to get out and investigate to see if she might get the car back on the road and continue her way home.
    “Now Lyn,” she admonished, setting the cat on Tad’s old high school letter jacket which now served as her traveling bed, “you stay in the car until I get back.” Then reaching back and rummaging around for a moment, Tracy pulled out an umbrella,  “I won’t be long, but you don’t like water.”
    A contented purr was the answer and a moment later Tracy had stepped from the car. The first sensation she had as she shut the car door was that of water rushing into her new white oxfords. As she took a hesitant step forward, she felt mud oozing through the small holes in her shoes and she shuddered.
    “Oh dear,” she sighed aloud, “How will I ever get the car back onto the road again? I suppose I’ll have to sit here until someone finds me.”
    Looking around, she noticed for the first time that the fence her car was beside was part of a  horse pasture and in the dim light she could see what looked like a stable on the far side. Squelching her way around the car and cringing at each new feel of mud, her dress now soaked from the blowing rain clinging to her knees, she gazed around trying to see a house.
    Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds behind her and Tracy gasped at the sight of a rainbow.
    “There’s probably a house right where that rainbow ends,” she remarked, tapping on the car window and trying to get Lyn to look at it, but Lyn was too busy cleaning her paws to notice.
    When Tracy turned again, she gave a cry of alarm for suddenly a white, swirling funnel dropped from the dark clouds and began to snake and dance its way across the treetops, turning grey as it picked things up. It was with thankfulness that she saw the tornado moving away from her.
    She never could be certain how long she stood there watching. It wasn’t until she heard a deep voice that she turned and saw a patrol car pulled to the side of the road.
    “Hey Miss,” the officer called, climbing out of his car. “Are you all right? Do you need some help?”
    “Oh dear, yes,” Tracy cried. “I don’t know how I’m to get my car back to the road. It was raining so hard and I couldn’t see and I was carried right over here by some water.”
    “You should have pulled over if you couldn’t see,” remarked the officer, making his way towards her in his tall boots.
    “I suppose I should have, but it never crossed my mind; I was so busy thinking about getting home and letting Tad know I arrived.”
    “Well, Miss, you might not make it home if you can’t see the road.”
    “I’ll remember that in the future, Sir,” Tracy assured. “Now please don’t scare my cat. She doesn’t like water.” This Tracy added as the officer got in the driver’s seat and started the engine.
    A few minutes later, the little blue Road Runner was back on the road and Tracy, after thanking the patrol officer again for his help, pulled a blanket out of the back to sit on, for she was rather wet, and settled herself to drive the rest of the way home.
    “Oh, Lyn, this dress will dry, but I’m afraid these shoes are ruined forever!” she sighed as she pulled one mud covered shoe off her almost equally muddy foot. “And I did so like these shoes.”
 

How has your week been?

Have you read or listened to the other TCR books?

Have you ever ruined a pair of favorite shoes?

Travels of Tracy - Winter

 Good morning and happy winter!

We have snow still on the ground. Sunday morning it started to snow and church was cancelled. It snowed all day. And it snowed all day Monday. Everyone was asked to stay home unless it was vitally important since the roads were slick and there were quite a few traffic accidents. And it was cold. Down in the single digits with wind chills in the -10º to -20º range. On Tuesday the sun came out! It was still cold. But my best friend and I decided to bundle up and go for a walk in the snow. The snow was powdery, not packing snow like we usually get. It was fun to get out and we stayed quite warm except for parts of our faces. Tuesday night we got more snow. And it snowed half a day on Wednesday. We probably got at least 8 inches of snow since Sunday. (Note: We usually get 1-2 inches of snow at a time in winter.) Yesterday was sunny. But the snow didn't melt much because it was just above freezing for a very short time. We'll see what happens today. It's a clear morning sky, but it's still supposed to be in the 20ºs.

Besides the cold and snow, what have I been up to? Let's see.

• Organizing and cleaning out files on my computer.
• Writing more of "Phil Wood" (it's 1/3 of the way done).
  
• Working on blog posts.
• Postponing our church's Widows' Luncheon again (This is the 2nd time this month!)
  
• Enjoying the snow.
• Reading.
• And normal life.

 Today's story is one I haven't posted for quite some time. I wrote a series of stories about Tracy and the plan was to get them published, but that hasn't happened yet. So, you get to enjoy this story here and now. At least I hope you enjoy it. :)

 

Travels of Tracy - Winter

    “It’s a good thing Tad insisted I get snow tires put on before I tried driving to Grandma’s,” Tracy Linnet remarked. There was no reply, but Tracy didn’t expect one, for her companion who occupied the other front seat of her small, blue Road Runner, was Madalyn, a long-haired, yellow tabby and her almost constant companion.
    The sun was bright in the frosty blue sky and everywhere it could possibly lie, was snow. It was piled on bare branches and rail fences. Large evergreens stood weighted down with heaps of cold, white glitter. Everything looked cold and white.
    “How nice Grandma’s warm kitchen will be, won’t it, Lyn?” Tracy glanced over at her cat who purred from a soft little nest on one of Tracy’s college jackets.
    A sudden noise brought a worried frown to Tracy’s lips and a pucker to her forehead. The car gave a sporadic cough or two and then died.
    “Oh dear,” Tracy sighed, trying in vain to restart the little engine. “Lyn, what are we to do?” Picking up the cat, Tracy squinted about her at the snowy landscape, looking for a house or another car. Nothing but unbroken snow could she see until she saw the little covered bridge. As she peered at it, she thought she could see tracks leading either in or out of the bridge. Where they came from or where they were heading, she couldn’t make out from where she sat.
    “Lyn,” she rubbed her cheek softly against the furry motor that rumbled in her arms, “if you were bigger, you could run the car instead of the real engine, but you aren’t. What should we do? Should we sit here and hope someone comes along? That might not be until tomorrow.”
    Lyn yawned and flicked her tail.
    “That’s what I thought. It might be warm in here now with the sun shining, but it won’t be up many more hours and then it will be cold, and Tad would worry if he tried to call me at Grandma’s. Maybe there is a house on the other side of that bridge, hidden behind that pine tree. At least we can go to the bridge and take a look around.”
    Reaching back and picking up her warm coat from the seat behind her, Tracy managed to pull it on in the close confines of the car. Replacing her jaunty little cap at the correct angle on her head, she tied her scarf, pulled on her gloves and opened the door.
    “Come on Lyn,” she said, turning to scoop up the cat after she stepped out into the snow. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
    Once the car door was shut and the keys were in her pocket, Tracy started forward. She was thankful her new, black GoGo boots came nearly to her knees because some of the drifts she was discovering were quite high. The wind was rather biting and Lyn meowed plaintively.
    “Oh, you poor thing,” murmured Tracy, unbuttoning her coat and tucking her beloved cat inside.
    Soon she came to a rail fence covered with snow. Most of this she brushed off before attempting to climb it. “I’m afraid these clothes weren’t designed for climbing fences,” she sighed as she heard the sound of tearing fabric. “Oh, brrr!” A bit of snow, knocked off the fence, had fallen down the top of her boot. “Perhaps I should have stayed in the car and waited for Tad to come along tomorrow.” Sadly she looked back across the fence at the bright blue car sitting so contentedly in the sunshine.
    Discovering that the footprints didn’t go farther than an unplowed road but returned again to the other side of the bridge, Tracy decided to follow them, but paused to read the sign above the bridge. “Please walk your horses across.” She gave a little laugh. “If I had a horse, I’d be happy to walk him if he just didn’t break down.”
    It was a neat old bridge and had Tracy not been anxious to find help, she would have stopped to admire it. As it was she trudged steadily on, feeling the nippy wind on her face, the rumbling purr of Lyn tucked snuggly in her coat, and the cold, wet snow in her boot.
    At last, rounding a bend in the road, she discovered to her great delight, a house. It wasn’t large, but there was smoke coming from its chimney and someone was outside with a snow shovel.
    “Hello,” Tracy called.
    The figure with the shovel turned around. “Hi! Where did you come from?”
    Tracy couldn’t help but laugh. The boyish figure and the blunt question reminded her of Tad’s younger brother. “I came from down the road. My car is stuck.”
    “In the snow?”
    “No, it just quit running.”
    “Hmm,” the boys pondered this while he leaned on his shovel. “Well, my brother’s at college and Dad’s still at work. Mom can mash potatoes and roast turkeys and bake the best tasting pies you ever had, but she’s no good with engines. Of course there’s Gramps. He can fix anything. Why don’t you come inside and I’ll ask him.”
    To this Tracy nodded agreement.
    “Mom!” the boy hollered as they stepped inside the warm house.
    A clear voice answered, “I’m in the kitchen, Dean.”
    At his beckon, Tracy followed Dean down the hall and into a snug little kitchen with cheery red walls. A pleasant faced woman turned from the sink.
    “Her car’s broke down. Got to see if Gramps’ll fix it.”
    Tracy blinked. The boy had spoken rapidly and then disappeared from the room.
    “Where did it break down?”
    “On the other side of the covered bridge.”
    “And you walked all this way in those shoes. You poor thing.”
    Lyn, disturbed from her nap, tried to stretch and Tracy unbuttoned her coat to let her out asking as she did so, “You don’t have a dog, do you?”
    “No.” The woman turned. “Well, so you carried your cat in your coat!”
    It was only a matter of minutes before Dean came back with Gramps.
    “Gramps’ll fix it.”
    “We’ll go in the truck,” Gramps said and Tracy quickly picked up Lyn, said a quick good-bye and hurried after the two figures.

    The ride in the truck was much quicker and to Tracy’s delight her car’s trouble was fixed in half an hour.
    “Well, Lyn,” she sighed when they were alone. “Here we are again. I wonder what Tad will say tomorrow when I tell him? Maybe I won’t tell him,” she decided. Then, reaching down and unzipping her boot, she pulled it off. Rummaging around in her bag on the back seat, she remarked to Lyn who was washing her face, “I’d rather drive with my slippers on than with a cold leg and foot.” 

How has your weather been?

Have you ever had your car stuck in the snow?

What have you been doing this week?

Lawrence & Lenexa - Part 5

Good morning, FFFs,

Happy almost Valentine's Day. We were supposed to have our Widows' Valentine Luncheon tomorrow, but we postponed it due to the weather. You see, we've had temperatures below freezing since Sunday. And Sunday & Monday we had freezing mist and the roads were slick, and since then it has snowed every day. But, lest you think we have a lot of snow, it feels like we live in a snow globe right now, because it snows almost all day, and things don't melt, yet there isn't much more snow in the evening than there was in the morning. So we aren't sure if the snow is just blowing around and not landing, or what. Anyway, church was cancelled Wednesday night, and we decided to just postpone the luncheon until next Saturday so the ladies didn't have to try and get out in this.

This week has been a little different than I expected because Lawrence & Lenexa got stuck, I have ideas for 3 different stories, and I'm already almost 5k words into one of them. That story is the next Woodbreak book. Yep, Phil Wood is being written. My brain is swirling with ideas and thoughts for it. I'm hoping it all comes together well.

If you haven't taken the time to go find the items in the Scavenger Hunt for Sarah Holman's new book Fanny's Hope Chest, go do it. It's lots of fun! Some of the items are a bit more challenging to find, but I did find them all. So check the post out about it HERE. And yes, I am hosting one of the pictures on Read Another Page.

And don't forget that Fanny's Hope Chest is only $.99 pre-order right now! Saturday is the final day of this price, so grab your copy NOW!

And now I hope you enjoy this next part of this story. I have no idea what I'm going to give you next week, so I guess you'll just have to come back and see.

 

 Lawrence & Lenexa

Part 5

    “Saundra? What would she know about clothes?”
    Lawrence set his glass of water down. “She has some brothers around my age, so I’m sure she would know what kinds of clothes are going to last.”
    “And,” Lenexa went on, trying not to sound too eager, “I’m sure she knows about shopping for girls since she was one once. We could get the easy things, Mom, like the play clothes and swimming suits. Then later, maybe after school is out, you can go with us to get the nicer clothes.”
    “Sounds like a sensible suggestion to me,” Mr. Johnson said before his wife could swallow her bite of food and answer. “You are busy, Camelia, and it is time to teach our children to be responsible.”
    “Yes, but how will they know what they need to get?”
    The conversation went on all through the rest of the meal, but it was finally decided that the twins would make a list of everything they thought they needed and would give it to their mother to look over. Then, if Saundra could be persuaded to change her cleaning day to Friday, and was willing to take charge of Lawrence and Lenexa for their first shopping trip alone, they could go.
    “I suppose I’ll have to get Mrs. Hamstead to call Saundra and see about the change of plans,” Mrs. Johnson sighed. Mrs. Hamstead didn’t like plans to change without at least a week of advance notice.
    “Mother,” Lenexa said, laying her napkin on the table, “since it was our idea, maybe Lawrence or I should call Saundra. I could try her right now.”
    “Use the phone in the den,” Mr. Johnson said. “The number will be in the phone book on the desk.”
    Not waiting for her mother’s permission, Lenexa rose and walked calmly from the dining room. Inside she was elated. If only Saundra would be able to switch her cleaning day and take her and Larry shopping for clothes. “I’ll bet we’d have more fun than with Mom,” she murmured under her breath.

    When the twins went upstairs to finish their studying and go to bed, they hurried into their play room and shut the door. Sagging against it, Lenexa drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “When she didn’t answer I was afraid she wouldn’t be able to do it,” she.”
    “I still can’t believe Mom agreed to such a thing!” And Lawrence shook his head. “Imagine us going shopping for clothes with Saundra instead of Mrs. Hamstead or Mom!”
    “I just hope nothing comes up to change things,” Lenexa said. “Do you think we could get those forms filled out before then so we could mail them when we are out?”
    Lawrence looked thoughtful as he slowly crossed the room. Staring out the window into the leafy branches of the oak tree, he shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to try. But we’ll have to find a good time to get Dad to sign the papers.”
    “I know.” Lenexa joined him. “And we still have school. Ugh. I wish it were over!”
    “Speaking of school, we’d better get to studying for that test tomorrow.”
    “You do bring up the nicest subjects, Larry,” Lenexa remarked with a groan.
    Lawrence grinned. “It wasn’t me; you’re the one who mentioned school.”

    It wasn’t until Friday that the twins found a chance to approach their dad about signing the consent forms for them to attend Mountain View Christian Summer Camp. Mr. Johnson had picked up his children after school.
    “Mom had to go over to help Mrs. Pendergrass get ready for the club meeting tomorrow,” he told them when they climbed into the car. “And Mrs. Hamstead was busy with some mix-up and couldn’t be disturbed.”
    “That’s okay, Dad,” Lawrence said.
    “I like it when you pick up up, Daddy,” Lenexa added, leaning forward to pat her father’s shoulder. “You are always so busy that we don’t get to talk to you much.”
    Mr. Johnson gave a slight chuckle. “Okay, what are you kids wanting now? That flattery was leading into some request.” He glanced in his mirror at the twins.
    “Lexi’s right, Dad,” Lawrence said, using the nickname he’d given his sister years before and never dared using before their mother or Mrs. Hamstead. “We don’t get much time with you.”
    “Uh huh.” Mr. Johnson didn’t look convinced.
    With a slight grin, Lawrence turned to his sister and asked in a loud whisper, “Do you think Dad would take us to get ice cream at Dairy Queen?”
    Lenexa giggled. “Maybe if we promise not to tell Mom.”
    At that Mr. Johnson gave a laugh. “Okay, okay, I can take a hint. Dairy Queen it is. But if I hear the slightest mention of doing such a thing before your mother, I’m cutting your allowances in half for a full month!”
    Lenexa hid a smile behind her hand. Perhaps this evening would be a good time to get those forms signed.
    The ice cream tasted good, and even Mr. Johnson loosened his tie and seemed to enjoyed himself.
    Arriving at home, Lawrence was handed the remaining evidence of their stop for ice cream, and sent around to the kitchen to dispose of it.
    “Got any homework to do, Lenexa?” Mr. Johnson asked as he walked beside his daughter into the house.
    “Only a little. Since school ends next week, we don’t have much.” Lenexa walked in silence for a few more steps. “Daddy,” she asked, looking up at him, “are you going to be busy all evening?”
    “Not too terribly. Why?”
    “Can Larry and I see you about something important?”
    Mr. Johnson raised his eyebrows. “Legal counsel or just advice?”
 

Does your dad ever take you to Dairy Queen or elsewhere for ice cream?

Have you joined the Scavenger Hunt? 

Do you have any ice and snow?