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I Am Cinderella…

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papers-to-grade

An actual stack of student papers that is the work of only three of my six classes…

The Struggle is Real…but I have snatched victory from the jaws of defeat!

In this modern age (so different from when I began teaching, back in 1988), student grades are submitted electronically, via computer. That means when grades are due on a particular date, they can be submitted up until midnight…at which point the system will lock you out, preventing any further entries.

In my case, the academic year’s first set of five week “progress report” grades were due today (well, technically yesterday at this point).

I am a HS English teacher.

With 92 students per day.

I bring home a LOT of papers, quizzes, reading logs and daily writing journals to read, correct, write suggestions on, and assess, followed by tabulating and entering averages into the computer, along with the variety of helpful comments that are expected and selected by code (i.e. typing in “300” will print out “A pleasure to have in class” on the report that students receive at home).

I am always behind in my paperwork (as in “I can either have clean clothes/see my kids/make dinner for the family/do the dishes/plan lessons/attend one of their sporting events/sleep for seven hours straight once in a while…or whittle away at the ever-growing pile of papers). Add my own fiction (or blog) writing to the mix, which is necessary for my mental health…and well, you get the idea.

It’s a never-ending battle, and a balancing act that tires me more than seven straight hours a day interacting with/facilitating discussions of/serving as sounding board and mediator for masses of young (sometimes hormonal) people ages 14 – 18. Don’t get me wrong: I love my job and adore my students – really and truly. A few get squirrely now and then, but mostly they are great. I feel privileged to work with them…but I HATE the paperwork.

Tonight, at the stroke of midnight, I entered in the last grade.  I escaped the wrath of the Guidance Office, who would be calling me in consternation tomorrow morning if they opened the system to run grades and some of mine were missing.

I am Cinderella, and I made it out by the time the clock struck 12. 🙂

Goodnight, all…

The Real Things Haven’t Changed…

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A favorite quote by one of my favorite authors:

Laura

“The real things haven’t changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong.”
                                                                    ― Laura Ingalls Wilder

Autumn Moods

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
  Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
  With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
  And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core…”

~ from “To Autumn” by John Keats

I’m in love with Autumn, as anyone who reads my blog can probably tell. I also love Romantic Age poetry, and Keats always seems to grasp the essence of what he writes about, whether it be a Grecian urn, or autumn, as above.

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

Around this time every year, I find myself regularly catching my breath at some new and gorgeous sight, like this bank of trees lining the road north.

I’ve always noticed and appreciated the splendor of autumn where I live, but this year I’m trying to slow down to take stock of it even more. Sometimes it’s an effort to be mindful in the face of my usual worrying, planning, and brewing.

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

But for some reason, the colors, moods, and textures of autumn help me to do that more easily than other seasons. It’s like Nature is putting on one, final, gorgeous show before the chilly north wind sweeps in, and the monochromatic ice, snow, and leafless trees take over the landscape.

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

In the meantime, I’m astounded by the vistas all around me, wherever I drive. I’m sure it helps that while I live in a small city, there is plenty of countryside around me, similar to where I grew up, and the school where I teach is a rural one that allows me to see countless beautiful scenes along the way to and from work. Take a look at these pictures with the varied and to me, at least, breathtaking skies; they almost seem like paintings, they’re so vivid and perfect:

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

Sometimes I look around me as I’m driving and feel a little selfish for having such lush beauty to enjoy; the realization that so many in the world look out at landscapes far more bleak or violent and war-torn is never far from my thoughts. Since there is no resolving that understanding, I do my best to be grateful and aware.

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

Of course, in addition to all the colors of upstate NY autumn, there are some darker, “moody” landscapes as well, like this picture of a kind of swampy area on my way to work. Once in a while I’ll see a few big, dark birds winging through the bare-branched trees.

Sometimes the contrast comes from the sight of dark, billowing clouds in the sky just above a glowing patch of trees decked out in reds, oranges, yellows, and greens. But even these moments are welcome and inspire all sorts of creative thoughts and reflections.

 

 

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

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Photo by: M. Reed McCall

Mostly, though, this season fills me with a sense of awe.

The colors and transitions make me slow down and appreciate what’s all around me, while reminding me to take stock of what matters. To pay attention to the cycles of life in my own little world. Every life has its sunrise, its seasons, and its sunset.

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Sunset on the lake, as seen through the picture window in the living room at the Homestead (Photo by: D. L. Reed)

I don’t want to miss the experience of any of my seasons by looking too far ahead or worrying too much. It’s up to me to enjoy the here and now in all its incarnations – and in autumn that experience has its own vibrant flair, that I wouldn’t trade for all the sun-soaked beaches or palm trees in the world. 🙂

 

Early Autumn Tradition

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I’m the kind of person who loves traditions.

When I was a kid, I loved – no, I guess needed – routine. I liked to be able to count on things, and I thrived on the sense of security my parents and large family of sisters (there were seven of us total, no brothers) provided. Change rattled me, so much so that when two of my older sisters left suddenly, according to my six-year-old perspective (one for college, and one who basically eloped), it threw me for a tailspin emotionally that almost prevented me from finishing my first grade year.

That sounds ominous, I know, and perhaps makes this blog post sound like it’s going to be about doom and gloom, but it’s not.  Everything worked out, and life went on more or less smoothly in the long run (well, I’m still a little odd, but that’s just me, LOL).

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Apple Orchard near my home, picture taken in September 2014

This blog however, is about a tradition I’ve enjoyed for decades and that is one of the perks of growing up and living in upstate New York: Apple-picking! I’ve gone apple-picking every single year of my life. In fact, the joke around my house now is that if we don’t go apple-picking, I don’t make any apple pies that year. Except it’s not a joke. ‘Cause that’s my rule and I’m sticking to it. 🙂

I’m not fussy, though. We don’t have to go to a full blown “real” apple orchard like the one pictured at the left. In fact, before I was married we hardly ever went to a commercial orchard. No, we’d take a drive north to Buck Hill and the state land there, where there was a wild apple orchard, created by nature. The apples were almost always smaller than apple orchard fruit, or pocked and imperfect in other ways – but they also had no pesticides on them and they were tart and crisp, resulting in pies, applesauce, and other baked goods that tasted amazing.

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Pa took this picture of the apple tree in the front yard, full of fruit

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Shaking the tree for fruit

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Me with the apple-picker and a bag full of fruit

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Kitchen at the Homestead, with the long table and Pa at his usual place, just before supper

My parents eventually planted two apple trees in their yard, one in the front, and one in the back, of different varieties. These ended up being very similar to those we’d find in the wild (probably because my father never sprayed them with chemicals). Still plentiful like in commercial orchards, but smaller and imperfect on the outside.  The picture on the left is from quite a few years back, when my father was still alive, and one sister and I  gathered with our families one weekend at the Homestead to pick apples and have supper with Pa and Ma.

Here I am, getting ready to use the apple-picker lying on the ground near me (more on that handy tool in just a minute) and finally just below is one of Pa in his place at the table, talking to my sister before supper.
Okay, so here’s more about the apple-picking tool: When I was dating my soon-to-be-husband, he’d come to visit me at the Homestead, and we’d pile into the van to drive up past Steuben and a Revolutionary War monument there where a tall, wild apple tree with gorgeous golden apples grew. My husband earned a reputation for his skill at wielding that awkward-but-very-useful apple-picking tool….a long wooden handle topped with a curved, coated wire “basket” of sorts, with little spiky fingers of wire to help grasp the high fruits, pluck them from the branch, and bring them safely to the ground. Maybe it’s because he’s tall and has strong arms and back (yeah, I love my guy!), but he could get to just about any apple I asked him to get for me. 🙂

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Pa and me, having a good time – and sampling the fruit – at an orchard years ago)

Over the years, apple-picking has become a beloved tradition that is more about the family and memories made together, than it is about the fruit we gather and pies  or other baked goods that result.  Pa’s death brought those memories into even sharper focus, knowing there will be no new ones to add to the collection.

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Me and Ma at the commercial orchard near my home this past weekend…taking a ride on the tractor back to the apple barn!

And so each year the act of going apple-picking, whether at an orchard, at the Homestead, or in the wild, is both familiar and new – a kaleidoscope of images, feelings, laughter, and the comfort of sharing a simple pleasure with loved ones, and I’m so thankful for the many years I happy times I can think back on.

Traditions like these mark the moments in our lives, giving context to the whole and adding to the beauty of the tapestry. When times are challenging, such memories can bring joy that helps to balance out the rest.

As you can see, I’m a believer in the beauty and value of traditions. 🙂 Seasonal or otherwise, do you have any that you love?

Autumn Nostalgia

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Autumn field on my drive into work

“Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night; and thus he would never know the rhythms that are at the heart of life”

~Hal Borland

So I’ve been feeling nostalgic lately. Autumn, while always my favorite time of year, tends to bring out this emotion in me. Of course, it’s never too far from the surface, anyway. It just seems that the shifting of seasons from the warmth and vibrancy of summer to the cooler evenings and richer colors and textures of fall add an accent note to it all.

Life is incredibly busy at my house. Between my husband’s and my full-time jobs (outside of usual office hours, his requires a bit of travel, mine requires lots of planning and paperwork), our two teenagers with their schedules, homework, sports, or emotional upheavals of various life stages, visiting my widowed mother-in-law in the Alzheimer’s facility a half hour away, or talking on the phone with (and trying to see more frequently) my own widowed mother, the minutes, hours, and days seem to rush by. And then there’s my writing. It’s an integral part of who I am, and so I need to take the time to put some words on the page every day.

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Autumn colors outside my back kitchen door

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The road into the valley where my school district is nestled in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains, Upstate New York

Lately, I’ve been trying to consciously slow down. To notice world around me (even if it’s outside my back door or on the drive to my school district!) I’m also fortunate to live and work in an area not too unlike the place I grew up, with plentiful fields, and trees, and woodlands, wildlife and bodies of water that are easily accessible.

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Horses in a field on my drive to work one morning

There is so much beauty around me, and I’ve resolved not to let the days slip by without taking a few minutes, some deep breaths, and undertaking an effort to cultivate deliberate attentiveness to see it and appreciate it. Nature and I have always had a special connection (well, I’ve had one to her…not sure how she feels about me, LOL). If I’m away from Nature for too long, I feel the absence at an elemental level.

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Corn field in the sun on my way to work

I hear many around me who say they enjoy the colors and activities of autumn, yet they feel a sense of dread and a little bit of darkness creeping into their outlook at the same time, since autumn is the precursor to winter (which around here can indeed be brutal in temperatures and snowfall amounts). But I can’t agree with that philosophy. There is something to be said about appreciating the moments of every season, whether it be in the midst of summer’s white-hot glory, winter’s icy beauty, spring’s fresh verdancy or autumn’s golden bounty. As Mr. Borland noted, they comprise the “rhythms that are at the heart of life.”

Brushes With Authorly “Greatness”

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Me, Lyssa and Julia Q framed

New York City, 2003: Me, NYT Bestselling authors Julia Quinn and Elizabeth Boyle, Adele Ashworth, Susan Kay Law, and Sari Robins with our fabulous editors Lyssa Keusch: Executive Editor at HarperCollins/Avon/Morrow, and May Chen: Senior Editor at Avon/Morrow

So, I’ve been fortunate to have had a few of these “brushes with authorly greatness” in the 21 years since I began pursuing a writing career (the last 14 of them as a published author with HarperCollins and later Cool Gus Publishing). Although I don’t have photos to commemorate all of the occasions,I’m sharing a few here and/or on my “Photos” page, accessed through the link in my sidebar.

The one above is special to me, as, not only does it feature extremely talented and gracious NYT Bestselling author Julia Quinn, who has been so kind as to provide several cover endorsements for my books over the years, but it also shows us after a fun evening out in New York City in 2003 with several other author pals and our fabulous editors Lyssa Keusch and May Chen.

Fortunately for me, my experiences with other talented authors began much earlier; back in 1993, in fact. I had recently earned my Master’s Degree in English literature, but I knew as well as anyone that degrees do not a writing career make. It would take six more years before I would be offered my first publishing contract from HarperCollins, and so in the interim I was in deep learning mode, attending conferences, joining writing organizations like my local chapter CNYRW, and writing. Always writing. Of course I’m still learning all the time – what fun would it be if we didn’t continue to learn and grow throughout our lives and careers? – but back then the gaining knowledge facet of a writing career was my primary focus.

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Me with the fabulous NYT Bestselling Author Teresa Medeiros at a conference in Atlanta, GA in 2006

As is true with most writers, I’ve been an avid reader since childhood, and the kinds of books I enjoy vary greatly, from non-fiction, to literary, to commercial fiction. One of my favorite authors was then and is still now Teresa Medeiros. As a reader, she has taken me on many wonderful journeys of emotion, action, and adventure, and one of my dearest dreams in the early 1990’s was to meet her in person. In 1994 I attended my first National Writing Conference in New York City. At that Conference I was not so fortunate as to meet her, despite my best efforts. I made it to the Bantam authors autographing (her publisher at the time), only to be told she’d had to leave already in order to catch her flight home.

Ultimately, I did meet her at a conference a year later, and she was even more gracious, warm, funny, and welcoming than I had thought she’d be. Years later and much to my delight, I signed with the same literary agency that represents her, and then a few years after that, she and I both ended up being published by HarperCollins/Avon, and so I had more opportunities to rub elbows, chat, and have lovely conversations with her online and at every conference we both attended. This pic is of the two of us in 2006, after the RITA Award ceremony in Atlanta. I had a crushing headache that night, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to take a photo together. 🙂

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Me with Diana Gabaldon in NYC at the Marriot Marquis, 1994

But back for a moment to that NYC conference in 1994: Disappointed but undeterred that I didn’t get to meet Teresa, I continued to visit other authors’ autographing tables and was able to get this lovely snap with the immensely-talented Diana Gabaldon, whose debut OUTLANDER had only been published three years earlier. Of course now it and all of the connected books to it have become an international phenomena, with the television series being broadcast now as well.

In a wonderful turn of the page, 13 years later I had the pleasure of attending an Historical Novelists conference in Albany, NY with Ms. Gabaldon  – only this time as a published author myself. We participated in the autographing session together (albeit at separate tables), and I remember thinking back to that first time I’d met her, and how I’d promised myself I would be autographing books as well someday. It’s funny how things come around, often reflecting the fruition of our goals, if we work at those goals long and hard enough.

There are many others I’ve been fortunate to meet at conferences or cocktail parties and chat with, including Meg Cabot (who like Teresa and I is also represented by the same literary agency), Nora Roberts, Dr. Michael Baden, Marion Roach, Lemony Snicket, Julianne MacLean, Eloisa James, Maggie Shayne, Jacquie D’Alessandro, Emma Cane, Christine Wenger, Molly Compton Herwood, Kris Fletcher, etc. etc. At one cocktail event at OTTO in New York City, I even had the pleasure of meeting and shaking the hand of chef Mario Batali! 🙂

The world of publishing is vastly different from the mostly solitary world of actual writing…the digging in and doing the job of producing words and paragraphs and pages that spill out an author’s innermost thoughts, emotions, and messages that are important and drive the work. Because it’s been a few years since I have actively published any new novels, this interactive, more “public” aspect of my writing career has slowed. I imagine it will pick up a little again with the release of my newest book, whenever and under whatever imprint it ends up being released by. Time will tell. Until then, it’s fun to look back and reflect on the fun times I’ve had, and the brushes I’ve enjoyed with many very talented people.

“A Country Kid”

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The ravine near the Homestead, where I’d find all sorts of natural treasures

I was always proud to bear the designation “country kid”, as opposed to what we’d (affectionately) call our metropolitan counterparts: “city slickers”. For most of my life, I didn’t know many kids from the city. There were only two who had the right to that title in my little world: two sisters from inner New York City who came up to live with our family through the “Fresh Air Fund” every summer. Over the years, those two girls (and later their two younger sisters) became a true part of our family, and we’ve kept in contact with them for the more than four decades since their last “Fresh Air” visit.

In the past five years, though, this term has also applied (in my imagination) to a very important character in my upcoming novel, which is based loosely on my fun, crazy, tragic, poignant always love-filled life growing up as one of seven daughters in an old-fashioned family living in a little “Cape Cod” style house at the foothills of the Adirondacks.  Of course he’s a fictional character, but I had a great time playing with the stereotypes again and utilizing some of the fun and teasing that can develop between people of two different social experiences. Maybe it’s not a surprise that one of my favorite childhood stories was “The Country Mouse and The City Mouse”!

Being a country kid means a lot of things to various people. To me, it meant the opportunity to live much of my childhood outdoors. During school months that meant an hour or two in the evenings and any weekend time not taken up by dance lessons or play rehearsal for whatever production I or my sisters were in…but in summer, it meant hours upon hours roaming the woods, investigating and enjoying nature. Many an evening at dusk, I would come home with burdocks tangled in my hair and dirt smeared on my hands, knees, and usually my shorts (from my unconscious habit of wiping my dirty hands on whatever was covering my legs).

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Me (on the left) with my sister Deb when I was around age 8, with long hair probably hiding snarls just behind my ears, and holding one of the walking sticks we would find and use to hike all over the woods

In fact, until I was around 12 and began to notice boys, I used to try every trick in the book to stop my mother from having to “help” me with my long hair. This included brushing or washing it. I told her I wanted to be a big girl and do it myself (using all of my acting skills) mostly because I didn’t want her to see the ever-growing matted snarls I had that I could never be bothered to comb through, instead just covering them with some brushed out hair over the top of them to hide them.

The picture at the top of the post is a location of much of my summer wandering, sometimes by myself and sometimes with a couple sisters, friends, or Pa (in those days of the late 70’s/early 80’s, we didn’t need to worry about kidnappings and such if we were out there by ourselves…it was a sense of freedom I so enjoyed and regret the loss of for my own children in current society). This is a ravine less than 200 yards from the Homestead. The base of it is dry in this picture, but you can see where the water would run  after snow melt and rains. The ravine was formed when glaciers moved through, carving out the Adirondack mountains after the Ice Age, and I was always finding interesting and wonderful things along its sides and bottom.

More than once, I found evidence of a prehistoric leaf or creature left in the fossilized shale. Growing or fallen along the bottom of the ravine I’d find plants of all kinds, flowers, leaves…and of course the occasional animal or bird carcass or bleached white bones. I learned quite a bit from examining the weathered skeleton of an owl, the skulls or jawbones of several small animals like opossum, fox, or raccoon. And once we stumbled upon the body of a large golden eagle whose wingspan was more than five feet.

I’ve lived and travelled both nationally and abroad, but nothing compares to the wonderful, free, nature-and-love-filled childhood that I enjoyed. I guess the old saying is true: there’s no place like home!

A Gift from the Heart

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Pa sewn art

I stumbled upon this piece of “sewn art” in the attic recently. It’s something I made when I was around seven years old. My sweet mother had recently taught me a bit of hand-sewing, beginning with showing me how to thread a needle and complete simple tasks (like replacing buttons or making hems).

I’m not ashamed to say that as a child I adored both of my parents (and I still do). However, I’m not saying I never got angry or frustrated with them; I did so pretty regularly, all the way into young adulthood. But I kept my frustrations to myself 99.9% of the time, because I respected and loved them. Unlike in the world today, where many young people (whether on TV, in the classroom, or in one’s own family) often seem to have little compunction about speaking whatever they feel at a given moment without any kind of “respect” filter in place, I always tried to treat Pa or Ma with deference for who they were and are as people and the role they play(ed) in my life.

Maybe I was helped in that by being a pretty sensitive kid; the only thing a teacher, the elementary school principal (another story I’ll share soon), or my parents had to do to make me contrite (and sometimes even burst into tears with regret over whatever naughty thing I’d done), was to look stern and tell me they were disappointed in me. I never wanted Pa or Ma to feel that way about me, and so perhaps that’s why I wasn’t much of a rebellious child, teen, or even adult. Oh, I knew how to have a good time, and I did my share of stupid and even risky things in my youth, but the ways I tended to push the boundaries were pretty mild compared to some of my peers in the 80’s.

Anyway, back to this piece of “art”. I can distinctly remember sewing it as a present for my father for either his birthday or Father’s Day in the early 1970’s. I remember the effort the project took, but that I didn’t mind working really hard at it, coming up with the idea and then picking through Ma’s bags of fabric scraps to find just the right colors (regal, dark red and sparkly gold, so it would look important and wonderful when it was finished).

I painstakingly cut out the golden letters and “border” and then sewed it all together, placing a golden bow at the top. This was it: a most elegant and fitting gift for my beloved “Pa”. Looking at it from a more mature perspective, its drawbacks are clear, including how asymmetrical and ragged it is around the edges. But when Pa opened it, he reacted as if it was sewn perfectly and expertly from the finest fabrics…treating it like something precious and even doing me the honor of having it professionally matted and framed, and hanging it on the wall next to his bed.

It hung on that wall for more than four decades, staying exactly where he had placed it, until nearly a year after his death. At that time, my mother decided (with all of her children’s encouragement) that it was time to move forward and redecorate their bedroom. When work commenced and the framed piece was removed from the wall, I received it gratefully. But getting it back marked  the end of an emotional era for me – a time of innocence, love, and respect, both given and received. I cried a little when I got it home…and when the time is right, I can still cry a few bittersweet tears now for all it represents to me of the stern, exacting but also patient man who loved me so unconditionally and taught me so much.

As a child, I made this little banner as a true gift of the heart. As an adult, I realize that as imperfect, flawed, inexpensive, and silly as such gifts might be, they are indeed worth more than all the jewels and gold the world has to offer, and we should cherish them and the memories they evoke forever.

The “Attack” Cows

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Cow

A cow in an autumn field near my current home, looking far more placid than the “wild” cows of my story!

Let me preface this little story by saying that 1. I was raised in the country but not on a farm, and 2. If you’ve ever been close to a cow (or a whole herd of them!), you know that they’re large, solid animals.

Ok, now that that’s out of the way, here’s my (funny and embarrassing) story. I was probably around 14 years old. I’d spent the entirety of my life until then with cows as my favorite animal. Horses were a close second, but there was something about the calm, peaceful, placid sight of cows in the field, chewing grass or their cud that made me happy every time I saw them (and still does).

It was a hot day near the end of a long, dry summer, and I was home alone – an unexpected treat in my rather large family. My mother was at work and my sisters were all elsewhere. My father was due home for lunch soon, but for that hour or so the house was all mine. It was a first taste of independence, and I was reveling in it…until I heard a thumping sound and looked out the window in the kitchen door. A big black and white head blocked out the sun and the creature’s  large, dark eye rolled as it lifted its nose and bawled out a cry. There was a full grown cow standing on the back steps of the house as if it was asking to come in! Suddenly, the cow shifted and banged its head against the window a few times in succession, making me shriek and run back into the living room.

What was I supposed to do? And why was the cow acting like that? Was it scared or angry or…rabid? Tingles went up my spine and the awareness that I was completely alone here shot through me. Before I could gather my wits together, a blur of movement outside the big picture window in the living room caught my attention. Then another out the side windows, looking over the garage. I snuck over to take a peek and almost shrieked again. There was a whole HERD of cows in the yards surrounding the Homestead and coming out of the woods on all sides. They were running, mooing, sometimes banging into the fence or the house like crazed beasts. Large, surprisingly fast-moving crazed beasts.

My heart was in my throat, and I tried to force myself to calm down to figure out what I could do. Should I call the police or what? Something was clearly wrong with the cows; they weren’t acting anything like the gentle animals I’d come to know over my 14 years of loving their peaceful, placid ways. What if one of them actually broke through a window and got in the house?

They’d shifted around into the back yard by now, away from the driveway, and the thought crossed my mind that I should try to make a run for it and see if I could get to the neighbor’s before the cows “got me”.

Just then I heard a motor and some tires on the driveway. Pa was home! He made his way slowly up the driveway, and a new fear swept through me. Oh, no! Pa would be crushed by these stampeding cows! I had to warn him before he got out of his car.

Yanking up the window, I leaned into the screen, waving my hands and shouting as I saw the driver’s side door open. “No, Pa!!  Watch out! Get back in your car! There are cows loose all over the place, and they’ll charge at you!”

Pa turned to look at me, and I could see he was holding back laughter. “It’s all right” he called out to me, before proceeding to grab a stick from along the driveway and walking calmly and steadily in the direction of the “herd”, calling out a sharp “Hiya!” several times as he tapped lightly on one cow or another to guide them back toward the woods from which they’d come.

When they were all gone, he came back into the house, laughing so hard he almost couldn’t catch his breath – thanking me for trying to “save” him, but explaining that cows don’t “attack”. He said that they were probably just thirsty from the hot summer day and had likely broken through the fence of the farmer’s field on the other side of the woods. The knocked over buckets in the yard seemed to attest to that likelihood.

I know my cheeks got red, but I got a good laugh out of it, too, once I got over my mortification. And from that day onward, my family has had some fun ribbing me about the time I tried to save Pa from the “Attack Cows”. 🙂

One Lovely Blog Award

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One_Lovely_Blog_Award

I’m honored to have been nominated by this award by Ema of Food 4 Your Mood. Ema’s blog has a lot of wonderful information about various cuisines and international foods and recipes, accompanied by many beautiful photos. I recommend you take a look at her blog, as there is something for everyone there!

Rules for winning this award are very simple; here they are:-

1. Thank the person who has nominated you. Provide a link to his/her blog.

2. List the rules and display the award pic.

3. Include 7 facts about yourself.

4. Nominate up to 15 other bloggers and let them know that they have been nominated.

5. Display the award logo and follow the blogger who nominated you.

Here are 7 facts about myself:-

1. I am the sixth of seven daughters in my family (I have no brothers but lots of brothers-in-law).

2. My late father was a United States Marine, and after completing active service later worked in civilian capacity for the US Air Force through the Department of Defense. Because of his influence, I studied Russian at the University of Leningrad in the former USSR and originally considered a career in national security.

2. My husband and I travelled to England and Wales for our honeymoon.

3. My childhood dog was a loyal and sweet Collie named (can you believe it?) Lassie.

4. My current dog is a related breed – an English Shepherd – named Cassie..

6. I learned how to cook and bake from scratch from my mother, who whipped up four course meals regularly for 11 people; because of her talents and a food budget that demanded keen accounting better achieved through homemade and not store-bought foods, I never tasted cake made from a box mix until I was in my 20’s.

7. I love words and the nuances and moods one can create with them…and I truly love being an English teacher and published author, for the opportunity both careers afford me to share that love with others.

And now I will nominate:

1. Kristen Lamb’s blog – entertaining and full of writing and social networking tips.

2. Optimistic Kid – soothing colors and uplifting, heartfelt messages and quotes.

3. Kris Fletcher, Author – a wonderful, warm, and witty blog.

4. Write on the River – blog of “factual fiction” author Bob Mayer, founder (along with Jen Talty), of Cool Gus Publishing.

5. Maggie Shayne’s Bliss blog – uplifting, beautiful, and enlightening blog of wonderfully-talented NYT bestselling author.

6. Randy Susan Meyer’s blog – one of my newest author finds and a writer of enjoyable, insightful fiction.

7. The Creative Penn blog – all sorts of great tips for writers.

8. Jane Friedman’s Blog – more wonderful writing advice from the former editor of Writer’s Digest.

9. No Rules Just Write – blog of NYT’s bestselling author C.J. Lyons. Full of great info and inspiration.

10. The History Blog – lots of fascinating stories, background, and facts; for history-lovers like me, there is never enough!

11.Heavenfield – Exploring Early Medieval Landscapes – blog for all things Anglo Saxon and Medieval…wonderful information and pictures.

12. Adirondack Lifestyle Blog – all about the mountains where I grew up…great info and nice pictures.

13. Tracy Chevalier – website and blog by the author of Girl With a Pearl Earring, offering fascinating insights into her writing processes.

14. A Tea Addict’s Journal – lovely pictures and information galore about another of my favorite subjects: tea!

15. Baking Bites – yummy recipes, tips, how-to, tools and gadgets,  and basically a blog about all things baking.