“Let us read, and let us dance; these two amusements will never do any harm to the world.”—Voltaire
I hope I have started this year’s reading list on a good note—I think I have! I have read John Grisham’s “A Time for Mercy” and Anita Shreve’s “The Stars Are Fire” and have launched into Shreve’s “The Weight of Water”. A book I have on ‘standby’ is Grisham’s “The Reckoning”. I have read it before so it may be put aside for a while. I plan on reading a variety of authors and genres, fiction and non-fiction (I love a good biography) this year. What are you reading? Or maybe a better question is “What would you love to read next?” A little Christmas story for you! Enjoy and Merry Christmas and a very happy, healthy, loving New Year!
Simple Things Jenny stepped up to the door of the bookstore, framed her eyes with her hands and peered in. There was little visibility to the interior, but the lights were on which led her to think the shop was open. Tall bookshelves lined the walls of the large room and a set of shorter shelves occupied the center. Boxes of books stacked one on top of the other, the bottom ones sagging under the weight, were pushed into the corners and with all the disarray, she thought it looked like the store was under renovation or perhaps just not opened for business yet. Suddenly the door opened, setting off a shopkeepers bell which tinkled in greeting. A small man stood just inside the doorway, one hand on the latch and the other grasping the top of a simple wooden cane. He was thin and seemed frail and spent from life, his skin wafer-thin and streaked with bluish veins. Wisps of hair curved around his round head and sprouted, stubble-like, on the bald top of it. Plaid suspenders held up pants that seemed too large for him and as Jenny looked down, she noticed he had only a stained, tattered pair of slippers on his feet. The old man adjusted a pair of wireframed glasses that were set far down on his nose and leaned towards Jenny as if to get a better look. Suddenly, a wide smile erupted on his face. “My dear, come in, come in!” he exclaimed, opening the door wider and motioning Jenny into the poorly lit room. “Merry Christmas!” Jenny smiled in return. “Merry Christmas to you, sir! I wasn’t sure you were open yet. There were no hours posted on the door.” “Well, we are open whenever we want you see,” he explained, selecting a book from a precarious stack by the door. He peered over his glasses at its spine as he shuffled away. He turned back and motioned for Jenny to follow. “That is the beauty of being the proprietor of one’s own little bookshop, don’t you think?” Jenny’s eyes soon adjusted to the dim light of the room and she began to notice signs of Christmas; small, subtle nods to the season, but lovingly placed. A miniature Christmas tree in a clay pot, dotted with tiny red and green balls and wrapped with a feathery string of lights sat on the end of an old wood and glass display counter at the back of the store. A plastic wreath of faded green with an equally washed-out red velvet bow, wrinkled and flat, hung down the front of the counter, secured with a short piece of tape. A dusty cut-glass bowl filled with hard candy, stuck together from age, had been placed next to the little tree. The old man stepped behind the counter. “Now, what is it you are looking for today, my dear? A classic perhaps? A romance or maybe a mystery?” He waved his hand around the room. “We have a bit of everything!” Jenny thought for a moment. She hadn’t planned on buying a book that day. She was on her way to the hardware store next door to pick up hammer and nails, blue-gray paint and paint rollers and brushes. The porch on the farmhouse needed repair and she was the only person who could manage it now—if managing was the right word. She was barely surviving, let alone managing anything. But the thought of tools and paint and brushes in her hands at least gave her the hope that she could accomplish something positive in the next few days. A book would most likely sidetrack everything but the thought of curling up in the rocker on the porch, watching the sunset across the wide fields held a comforting promise, too. Maybe it was possible to do both and she stepped over to a stack of books on a small table. The sign propped up against them said “Buy one, get two free”. “Is this right?” she asked. “Buy one, get two free?” “Yes, yes,” the old man responded gleefully. “Fill your bookshelves for the new year! Collect them, give them away! A book is a bargain at any price don’t you think?” Jenny wholeheartedly agreed with him as she launched a search through the stack. Rebecca was on top and she picked it up and opened to the title page. She breathed in sharply when she saw a scrawled signature across the title. “This is signed!” she exclaimed. “Signed by Daphne De Maurier herself?” “Yes, yes-take that one, please! Have you read it?” Had she read it? Jenny had devoured the library copy as a teenager, several times over. She flipped through the pages now, sighing over familiar passages. She closed it and quickly tucked it under her arm and picked up the next one. “Pride and Prejudice,” she whispered. It was not signed but simply opening the book evoked memories of green grass under an oak tree on a summer’s day, her dog Einstein sleeping at her side as she absorbed the blossoming romance of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. She tucked it under her arm next to Rebecca. She sat down in a small chair next to the little table and continued her search. To Kill a Mockingbird, Gone with the Wind, The Princess Bride. The stack seemed never ending as if more books replaced the ones she had stuffed in her arms, growing instead of shrinking. The old shopkeeper brought her a box, and she began to place the books in it as she marveled at the memories welling up with each new title. He brought another box and Jenny looked up at him. “I think I should probably stop at one box,” she said. He patted her hand. “If you think so, my dear. You have chosen well.” But she had not been the one to choose the books, it seemed. It seemed that he had placed the books, all of her beloved favorites, there, just for her, every one a treasured piece of her past, whose brilliant phrases had jumped from the pages to be forever lodged in her brain, whose characters had become close friends, whose stories were lives, sometimes more real, and better, than her own. She reluctantly got up from the little chair and carried the box of books to the counter. The old man wrote each title and its price on a sales slip, noting which ones were to be paid for and which ones were free. “It seems you have one more free book to choose,” he said. “May I suggest one?” He had not been wrong about her favorites yet, so she nodded. “Yes, please.” He went to a tall bookshelf near the counter, reached up high, his fingers barely reaching the shelf. He nudged the spine of a thin book until it tumbled out. He caught it and brought it back to Jenny as if for her approval. “A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. Of course, that would be perfect,” she said. Jenny paid the old man, thanked him for the books, wished him a Merry Christmas and walked to the door, the box full of books seeming light in her hands. “Merry Christmas, my dear!” he called after her. “And a Happy New Year!” Jenny set the box of books in the trunk of her car and went on to the hardware store. She picked up a hammer and nails, blue-gray paint and paint brushes and rollers. And she bought several pieces of plywood, a saw, screws, and a screwdriver. She drove home, to the farmhouse with its peeling paint, ragged bushes and sagging porch. She set the box of books next to the small, undecorated Christmas tree in the large front room and set a pot of coffee to brew. She brought the box of supplies from the hardware store to the garage, discovered two sawhorses under an old tarp, and pulled them out to the driveway. She had no idea what she was doing but by the end of the day, as the sun set across the fields, she carried a perfect blue-gray bookshelf to the porch. When the paint dried, the books would be lined up alphabetically by author, or maybe by title, or just maybe randomly placed with no thought at all. She could sit in the rocker and reach for any book she wanted and know now that she could manage anything—anything at all. Check out the Holiday Open House at Campbell Road Nursery 2804 Campbell Road, Raleigh, NC
Saturday, DECEMBER 5 8-11 am live broadcast, Weekend Gardener ~10 am - Therapy mini horses Kiwi and Lola 11:30 - 1:30 food will be served to you throughout the day... Nancy Wakeley, local author will be onsite to sign copies of her latest book - gift idea gift idea!! http://www.nancywakeley.com/ https://www.amazon.com/Heirlo.../dp/B08964DF3H/ref=sr_1_1... Plenty of plants, sales, Christmas plants for your selection... There will be people directing you for parking. Please be watchful. --Reminder -- our retail parking lot has a one way flow, counter clockwise, do not exit out the "in" side. You may be directed to parking across Campbell road, parking in the wholesale area. Be prepared and watchful. Enjoy! I am so thrilled today to have a "Meet the Author" book signing event at The Cocoon Gallery, 221 N. Salem Street, Apex, NC! The Gallery is the place to go for your Christmas shopping--Cynthia Mollenkopf has a wonderful selection of artisan wares and wearables.
Today is Small Business Saturday so I hope that you will support the small businesses in your town today! Apex businesses are open and ready to help you select just the right gift-for you or for family or friends! It is so critical for us, especially now, to partner with them in their success! I am looking forward to meeting you there! I will be there from 10 AM to 4 PM today. "Heirloom", for me, speaks about real life--it is about the losses we all face in our journeys, but it is also about overcoming the loss, and finding strength when we need it--not just from ourselves and our own inner convictions but accepting the strength offered from others and allowing that help to be a source of healing. Kate grows into her own in "Heirloom" when she understands that others need her, too, and this gives her a sense of purpose. She grows as she discovers that she must fight for what is rightfully hers and while it is a battle she never expected to have, she meets it head on.
Here are two of my favorite reviews from a reader: "I just finished Heirloom and had to tell you how much I LOVED it! I'm kind of sorry I finished it because every page had me wanting to read more. Your characters were so real and your imagery brought everything to life. I can't wait until your next book!" "I finished it last night. Loved it. I hated that it ended! I want the story to keep going." I know that you will love the small town feel, the quirky characters, that secrets that Kate discovers about herself....and I will leave the rest to you! "The Kate Tyler novels" will be a series so watch for more adventures with Kate! I am happy to announce that I will be at the State Farmer's Market Restaurant in Raleigh, North Carolina this weekend, October 3 and 4 from 9-2:30 for a book signing event so come by, get yourself a great meal and stop by my table for a chat about the book and get your own personalized copy! I am thrilled with the reviews so far--people are loving it and I know you will too!
For some reason I always think that something profound needs to be said when showing photos of the ocean. This photo was taken last October at the beach in North Carolina and I caught it just as the waves were breaking over the wall of water beneath them. The term “wall of water” emphasizes the strength of what is created by the combination of the depth of the water, the contours of the land beneath it and the weather. Surfers can glide down a wall of water. Towns and people can be destroyed by a wall of water. The best built boats can be sunk by a wall of water. If we are lucky, we can stand safely on the shore and simply marvel at the expanse of the ocean in front of us, the constancy of it and yet the ever-changing shades of the surf as it reaches us. We can let it lap over our toes or let the foamy surface wrap around our ankles and feel the sand as it disappears from underneath our feet, pulled back to the ocean again and again. I never tire of it and very thankful that I am able to experience it once in a while. So here is your bit of ocean wonder for this morning-I hope you all experience some joy today!
Another milestone for Heirloom! It has been featured on the North Carolina Writers Network Book Buzz!
https://ncwriters.org/index.php/our-members/book-buzz It is a great way for authors to gain "buzz" for their new books within the writing community. And I can speak for all of us when I say "Thank you! Always appreciated!" I have learned, through this book writing process, that there are so many resources available for authors, both new and experienced. Joining the NCWN was a wonderful solution for me when I needed it! The book will also be shared on their social media. A lot has happened since my last post—and a lot HASN’T happened! As you all are aware, we are still fighting the COVID-19 virus. We are still searching for a vaccine although progress is definitely being made. The country is in various stages of shut-down or re-opening, going back to school, either virtually or in person. Some businesses are thriving, others are shuttered. People are finding new ways to do their everyday lives—some are becoming used to the new ways, others are growing weary of it.
We, my husband and I, are somewhere in the middle. His job allows him to work. My retirement allows me to stay home and write and still go out when necessary. Some of you have suffered unimaginable, heartbreaking losses during this time. You have had to put off graduations, weddings, memorial services, vacations—each one of these life events are so important—celebrations, remembrances in the face of loss, much needed getaways to revive and refresh us or simply to visit family and friends. Nothing is really normal anymore. Travel is restricted (or maybe the better word for it is discouraged) even between some states which, in my lifetime, except maybe on 9/11, has never happened. It feels wrong in our country to not be able to go where we want, when we want, in whatever mode of transportation we want. It just doesn’t feel right, disconcerting, restrictive. But all for a good cause. We are using “the ends justify the means” philosophy for most of the restrictions which is necessary in a pandemic I guess. You can either agree or disagree with the wisdom of the restrictions and recommendations or even the validity of the reporting on the virus itself. It is for each of us to decide in a society where information is available to us and we have the freedom to make our own decisions about things. But if, at the heart of any of our personal and collective decisions, we seek to 1-do no harm, 2-love our neighbors, 3-seek the truth, we will be able to get through this together. The photo here is from the garden at the governor’s mansion in Colonial Williamsburg. It is my version of “there is a light at the end of the tunnel”. My tunnel is green and shaded from the summer heat with a bench that allows rest along the journey. Be kind to yourself and others. I hope you find a bench that allows rest along the way. |
AuthorDebut novel Heirloom published July 14, 2020! Archives
November 2023
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