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Carla Olson Gade: Romancing the Snow

11/4/2012

64 Comments

 

This week we welcome Carla Olson Gade to Author Memories.

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A native New Englander, Carla Olson Gade grew up in an historic Massachusetts town and now lives in rural Maine with her husband and two young adult sons. Her love for writing and eras gone by turned her attention to writing historical Christian romance. 

Carla enjoys graphic design, photography, history, and genealogy. And she loves the snow, except when it gets dirty by the end of the winter. Throughout the years, Carla has taught workshops on Biblical topics, genealogy, writing, and adult literacy.


Romancing the Snow
by Carla Olson Gade 

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Romance: 
M
arked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is
heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized.


A native New Englander, I am no stranger to snow.  As a child, I always looked forward to that first snow which seemed like a miracle to me. Catching snowflakes on my tongue as they drifted down from the heavens. Tunneling through snow banks taller than I. We made snow forts and snowmen, and would slide for hours on end down steep hills. It was always worth the long trip climbing back to the top, in snow up to our knees, just to go down one more time. When our mittens were soaked, and feet nearly frozen, we’d go in for a cup of hot chocolate, put on fresh mittens and dry socks and head back outside. We’d make snow angels and imagine that they mysteriously appeared in the unscathed landscape. Or so it seemed. Snow always made everything look fresh and new. Pure, and like a dream. A blank palette for a romantic imagination such as mine.

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“As the last belated cloud legions...were passing overhead...they
contribute a few more choice examples of snow crystal architecture
as souvenirs of the skill of the Divine Artist.”

~ Wilson A. "Snowflake" Bentley
Snow, like a story, begins with something so small and delicate and can transform into a wonderland.  Like the uniqueness of every individual snowflake, we too, have our own experiences, memories, and stories to be told. Like the times I picnicked beneath the shelter of a bowing pine covered in snow. Desiring to recreate this memory with my own sons when they were young, we took a picnic a short distance from our home following a blizzard. All bundled up, we carried a thermos of cocoa and peanut butter crackers and found a spot underneath a snowy pine. The cozy moment did not last long upon my realization that a badger was snuggled within the trunk of the tree. We let this sleepy creature lay in his wintery cocoon.
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In the 19th century, Currier and Ives gave us images of a romantic New England winters with landscapes of sloping hills of snow, ice skating, and horse drawn sleighs. With every picture, I see a story and often long to put words to the scenes portrayed. This notion is cemented for me further as my great-grandfather Amos Currier was a cousin to the famed lithographer Nathaniel Currier. I know that the scenes were often inspired by true events and the culture of rural New England that my ancestors experienced.
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"The Road, Winter", N. Currier, 1853
Another ancestral cousin, poet John Greenleaf Whittier, put imagery to pen when he wrote Snow-Bound:  A Winter Idyl in 1866. The poem recounts his childhood memories of being secluded in their stormy haven, as his family gathered by the warmth of the fireside hearth to hear legends of old, including those of our shared ancestors. Snow-Bound was one of the most popular publications of its day, lending much to the nostalgia for which good folk longed.

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All day the gusty north-wind bore
The loosening drift its breath before;
Low circling round its southern zone,
Through dazzling snow-mist shone. . .

And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own. . .
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Carla Olson Gade: My mother and grandfather on a sleigh ride in 1942.
 “There is something soft and tender in the fall of a single snow-flake,
but when it comes out crawling out in the morning and shoveling
away a big drift, it’s ornery, mean and disgusting.”
~
G.L. Adams, The Fowlerville Review, 1879

Each generation has its own recollections,  some more romantic than others. The romance is often a myth. Nostalgia at its  best. Choosing to hold on to the best memories. Or, looking to the past to redeem a treasure from the deep. Like snow angels and sledding instead of shoveling mountains of heavy wet snow, trudging through the blizzard with a pail of water and grain to feed our horse, recalling the concussion my brother got when the toboggan slammed straight into a tree. Despite the temporary hardships that are endured by so many during nature’s most alarming furies, I must confess that to spend an evening reading by the light of an oil lamp, a candle, or the soft glow of the fireplace, kindles my imagination like nothing else. And, thus, it was for me in my 16th year, during the famed northeast “Blizzard of 1978.”
 
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Hailed the "Storm of the Century," the February blizzard dumped over 27 inches of snow on the Boston area, my family residing directly in its path. The Commonwealth was immobilized and many, like our family were left without heat, electricity, and telephone. The snow drifts were so deep that we could see but 6 inches of antenna of our car which was at the bottom of our driveway. It felt as though we were trapped inside our house, but the sun shone and we ventured outdoors to dig out after the two day storm. I recall walking uptown on the snowy streets, absent of vehicles, dragging our sled so we could return with groceries; providing any stores were open in our small community. Our historic town with clapboard homes and steepled church was clad in white. So picturesque, surreal even, like a Currier and Ives scene. And so pleasant, as many typically reserved New England neighbors greeted one another along the way. And though many were trapped on the interstate by the snowy onslaught and cities shut down for a week, I cling to my own experiences. But I could never keep from wondering how a great snow would affect those who lived in earlier times. Though their lives were not reliant on electricity and such, tremendous snow still created significant hardship . . .  and perhaps other romantic notions.
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18th century woodblock print depicting The Great Snow of 1717.
I’ll leave you with a true tale of my 9th great-grandparents Abraham Adams & Abigail Peirce who endured “The Great Snow” of 18th century Massachusetts. 
 The year 1717 “is rendered memorable, by the unusual quantity of snow, which fell on the twentieth and twenty-fourth of February. In these two storms, the earth was covered with snow, from ten to fifteen feet, and, in some places, to twenty feet, deep. Many one-story houses were covered, and, in many places, paths were dug, from house to house, under the snow. Many visits were made, from place to place, by means of snow shoes, the wearers having first stepped out of their chamber windows, on these excursions. ‘Love,’ we know, ‘laughs at locksmiths,’ and, of course, will disregard a snow-drift. Tradition informs us, that a Mr. Abraham Adams, wishing to visit his ‘ladye love,’ Miss Abigail Peirce, mounted his snow shoes, took a three miles’ walk, for that purpose, and entered her residence as he left his own, namely, by the chamber window. He was the first person the family had seen from abroad, for more than a week. Cotton Mather has left in writing a particular account of ‘the great snow,’ and the many marvels and prodigies attending it.”

(From: A Sketch of the History of Newbury, Newburyport, and West Newbury, from 1635 to 1845 By Joshua Coffin, Joseph Bartlett, 1845)

“As mighty a snow, as perhaps has been known 
in the memory of man, is at this time lying on the ground.”
~ Cotton Mather, early American preacher and historian


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Carla Olson Gade: My ancestor’s home in Newbury, MA (Spencer-Peirce-Little House, c. 1690 which was covered in snow up to the second floor in 1717. Photo courtesy: Karen Lynch. http://www.karenlynchphotos.com/
Have you ever been in a blizzard or other great snow?
 
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GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, Nov 11th
to be entered to win a copy of Carla's  giveaway,
Colonial Courtships
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Colonial Courtships:
Carving a Future by Carla Olson Gade
Barbour Publishing, October 2012
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Unexpected adventure catches the Ingersoll
brothers by surprise-and brings unexpected love into their lives. Nathaniel has his sights set on becoming a master figurehead carver, until he risks everything for a woman. Jonathan's merchant trade and his new love are in jeopardy from a brother's animosity. Micah expects to settle down to peace after a life of fighting on the frontier but finds a young woman hiding from an abductor. Alden is press-ganged into tending an ailing naval captain, then catches sight of the captain's fetching niece. Will the unexpected end in four courtships?

The  novella collection begins with Carving a Future, set in 1753. Ship figurehead carver Nathaniel Ingersoll has apprenticed for many years under his Uncle Phineas and hopes to become a master ship carver in his own right. Indentured servant Constance Starling arrives on the Connecticut coast too ill for anyone to accept. Has Nathaniel jeopardized the future he has worked hard to achieve for the welfare of a weakly servant?

Excerpt: http://carlagade.com/CarvingaFutureChapter%201.pdf

Carla is the author of the Heartsongs Presents novel, The Shadow Catcher's Daughter, as well as the novella “Carving a Future” in Colonial Courtships. Carla is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers. 
Connect with Carla at:
Carla's website
Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
Goodreads
Colonial Quills group Blog
If you are interested in ancestry, Carla invites you to check out her Genealogy blog at http://familyhistory.wordpress.com.

64 Comments

Ruth Axtell: Graveyard Treasures

8/12/2012

69 Comments

 

This week we welcome Ruth Axtell to Author Memories.

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Ruth Axtell has loved stories set in the 19th century ever since she read Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre and other 19th century classics in junior and senior  school. Like many romance writers, Ruth decided to write her own in order to read the kind of story she liked best. Ruth has published 13 historical romances under the name Ruth Axtell Morren. 
Currently, Ruth lives on the downeast coast of Maine with her three children and two rescue cats. She enjoys the challenge of vegetable and flower gardening in a cool, foggy climate, long
walks along the Maine coast, reading, watching British period dramas like Downton Abbey, and doing historical research for her novels.
   


Graveyard Treasures
by Ruth Axtell

Names and family histories are interesting things. Here in New England, we have some pretty old gravestones in the local cemetery. It’s a shame to see many of the stones falling over after each winter. Many are covered in lichen, the inscriptions so worn they are hardly legible. 
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Neglected Headstones, New England, photo by Ruth Axtell
But it’s a great place to find historical names when one is writing about the area in the 1800s. For one of my first published books, Wild Rose, I found my heroine’s name, Geneva, off one of these gravestones. I pretended it was short for Genevieve. 
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Geneva, photo by Ruth Axtell
This past spring, my father died at the ripe old age of 100. My brother and I had not been to the family plot in Connecticut since we were teenagers, so we hardly even knew where it was. But when we went there for the funeral, I was fascinated to read the names of my father’s forefathers on his mother’s side: Hopsons, Cornwalls and Hubbells—all solid English names.
 
On my next trip I visited another family plot where my grandfather’s side of the family is buried. These were Pattersons (a surname I used in Wild Rose, making my heroine Geneva
Patterson).
 
Here in this part of Maine, there are some names that hark back to the founding of this village back in the 1700s: Cates, Maker, Ackley, Corbett are some of the surnames that appear on many gravestones. 
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Obed Cates, photo by Ruth Axtell
Many times a man had both his wives listed, so you could tell he’d been widowed. Others had a few lines of verse denoting their sadness in their departed loved ones but hopes for an eventual reunion in Heaven and rest from their earthly toils.
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Headstone Verses, photo by Ruth Axtell
Asleep in Jesus!  Blessed sleep, 
From which none ever wake to weep! 
A calm and undisturbed repose, 
Unbroken by the last of foes.
Many of the tombstones not only listed the age of the departed one in years, but in years, months and days! I was amazed to see two who had died in the 1830s who’d lived to 90 and another to 86. There must have been something in the water! More common were deaths in people’s twenties, thirties, or sixties (in the mid-1800s). Some were children’s gravestones.
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90 years, 7 months, 21 days. Photo by Ruth Axtell
It’s fascinating to think about these many lives before us. People who walked these same roads (rutted horse tracks back then, I’m sure) or sailed the seas I see out my kitchen window. They must have been quite hardy and long suffering.
 
What are some of the thoughts old cemeteries and gravestone inscriptions invoke for you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, Aug 19th
to be entered in a draw for a copy of  
 
Ruth Axtell's new Historical Romance,
Her Good Name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Her Good Name
Moody River North, Aug 2012

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1890 - Maine 
In the 1890 thriving coastal town of Holliston, Maine, the leading lumber baron's son, Warren Brentwood, III, returns from his years away at college and traveling to take up his position as heir apparent to his father's business empire. 
 
Esperanza Estrada is the daughter of a Portuguese
immigrant fisherman who has grown up surrounded by a brood of brothers and sisters and a careworn mother. Unable to pretend she is anything but "one of those Estradas," Espy has no chance with Warren, no matter how striking she is. When she overhears of a position to clean house at a local professor's home on Elm Street, she jumps at the opportunity, hoping to be able to run into Warren Brentwood now and again as well as to imbibe the cultural and intellectual atmosphere of the Stocktons.

When rumors about Espy and this respected, married gentleman of the community begin to circulate, the entire church congregation and then the community pronounce judgment on her behavior. The man Espy is in love with, Warren, believes the lie and his loss of faith in her  causes Espy to give up without a fight. She leaves her family and hometown for the nearest city with little money and no acquaintances and is forced to spend the night on the street. A man who heads a mission for the homeless finds Espy and offers her shelter. Espy finds the true love of God while working at the mission. Will she be able to forgive the townspeople and return home?

Sample Excerpt

More about Ruth:
It was a long road to publishing, a journey as much spiritual as dependent on learning the craft of writing. Ruth studied comparative literature at Smith College with a concentration in French and English literature, and spent her junior year in Paris. After college, she spent a year in the Canary Islands as an au pair. Shortly after coming back to the U.S., she committed her life to Christ. Fourteen years later, she committed her writing to Him. Since then she has lived in the Netherlands and on the coast of Maine.

She was a Golden Heart finalist in 1994. Her second published book, Wild Rose, was a  Booklist “Top Ten Christian Fiction” selection in 2005. Her books have been translated into Dutch, Italian, Polish, Czech and Afrikaans. She is a member of ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers), RWA (Romance Writers of America) and its local Maine chapter. 

Her Good Name, a historical romance set on the 1890s Maine coast, from River North/Moody Publishers will be her first book under Ruth Axtell. In March 2013, Moonlight Masquerade, a regency romance set in London, will be out with Baker/Revell Books.

You can find Ruth online at:

http://christianregency.com/blog/

https://www.facebook.com/ruth.axtell1
http://ruthaxtell.blogspot.com/

69 Comments

Vintage Dolls, Vintage Recipe

6/10/2012

48 Comments

 

This week we welcome Louise M. Gouge to Author Memories.

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Award-winning Florida author Louise M. Gouge writes historical fiction, calling her stories “threads of grace woven through time.”
 
With her great love of history and research, Louise has traveled to several of her locations to ensure the accuracy of her stories’ settings. When she isn't writing, she and her husband love to visit historical sites and museums.

Her favorite Bible verse is “He shall choose our inheritance for us” (Psalm 47:4), a testimony to her belief that God has chosen a path for each believer. To seek that path and to trust His wisdom is to find the greatest happiness in life.

 

Vintage Dolls, Vintage Recipe
by Louise M. Gouge

When my father went away to war (WWII), my mother and three older siblings moved in with my widowed, maternal grandmother, Lacy Cain. 
 
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Grandmother Lacy Cain at 104 yrs old
I was born soon after that, and Grandmother was an important part of my life from that moment until she died at 104. Everyone in the family says she spoiled me, and I suppose that’s true. But she also set an example of patience and goodness that has stayed with me all these years. Once when someone was rude to her, she gave a gentle reply. Later I asked her why she
didn’t tell that person off. She quoted the Scripture, “A soft answer turneth away wrath.”  (Proverbs 15:1 KJV). While I must admit her answer annoyed me (I was about ten years old, so
maybe that was conviction about my own unruly temper), I have never forgotten her Christ-like attitude.
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Lacy Cain, 20 yrs old, circa 1895
Grandmother was born in 1875, and she was a true Victorian lady, despite modest means. She was an excellent seamstress and made many of my clothes. She also crocheted. When I was about five years old, she crocheted some beautiful doll clothes for me and put them on small display dolls.
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While the dolls were long ago broken from being played with often, I still display the clothes on new dolls. I also made a shadowbox containing Grandmother’s picture and a few of her belongings. Each time I pass this little display, I think of Grandmother and the way she
chose to live her 104 years of life for Jesus Christ.
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Another enduring legacy my grandmother left is one I passed on to my children and grandchildren. When she was young, a neighbor gave her a recipe for Lepkuchen, German Christmas cookies. These delicious molasses cookies are best made up in late November, then stored to age.

Grandmother Cain’s Lepkuchen (Christmas Cookies)

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Photo credited to The Opulent Opossum (permission pending)
2 quarts of molasses
1/2 to 3/4 lb. of citron or mixed candied fruits
1  1/2 lb. shortening
1 quart to 3 pints chopped nuts (mixed, pine or walnut)
1 ounce nutmeg
1/2 cup cinnamon
3 tablespoons ground cloves
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup soda
2 cups sour milk (or cultured buttermilk)
2 cups hot water
1  1/2 oz. Lemon extract
1 box raisins
10 lbs. of flour (pre-sifted is good)
 

Make dough up stiff at night.

Next morning, divide into batches.

Roll as thin as possible.

Cut into squares.

Bake in pre-heated 350 degree oven for about 12 minutes.

 ***Long ripening improves the flavor of these cookies.

If desired, an icing of confectioner’s sugar and water may be spread thinly over
cookies.
 
Loosely translated, Lepkuchen means “sweets of happiness.”
Recipe comes from Grandmother Lacy Aris Neal Cain (1875-1979) and was handed down to daughters and subsequent generations. Original recipe comes from Germany by way of Lydia Pregge, or Prague, (not known to be related to Cain family) in Sedalia, Missouri, on November 12, 1922.
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address
by midnight, June 17th
to be entered in a draw for a copy of  
Louise M. Gouge's latest Love Inspired Historical,
A Proper Companion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Proper Companion, Love Inspired Historical, June 2012

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Back Cover Blurb

With her father’s death, Anna Newfield loses everything—her home, her inheritance, and her future. Her only piece of good fortune is a job offer from wounded major Edmond Grenville, whose mother requires a companion. The Dowager Lady Greystone is controlling and unwelcoming, but Anna can enjoy Edmond’s company, even if she knows the aristocratic war hero can never return her love.
 
Even amid the glittering ballrooms of London, nothing glows brighter for Edmond than Anna’s gentle courage. Loving her means going gainst his family’s rigid command. Yet how can he walk away when his heart may have found its true companion?


Ladies in Waiting series by Harlequin’s Love Inspired Historical imprint:
Three young ladies come to London to work as companions for wealthy women, but
find romance instead.

Book One - A Proper Companion (June 2012)
Book Two - A Suitable Wife (will be released in December 2012)
Book Three - TBA  

In addition to numerous other awards, Louise M. Gouge is the recipient of the prestigious
Inspirational Readers’ Choice Award for her 2005 novel, Hannah Rose.

You can find Louise online at her website and blog:
 http://blog.Louisemgouge.com


 
Thank you for sharing your grandmother and her recipe with us, Louise.
48 Comments

Cat, Dog or Pony? & Winner's Choice Giveaway

5/13/2012

10 Comments

 

Cat, Dog or Pony?

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What's your history with pets?

This early 50's photo of Uncle Paul, my mom's brother, gave me the idea for a post on pets - those animals we've loved and shared our homes with.

Although I don't know the names of Uncle Paul's cat and dog, they look similar to ones I've shared companionship with in the photos below of my childhood.

This photo reminds me of the dog Mamma and Pappa had during my visits with them. They called him Koira (with a rolled 'r'). I thought it was a beautiful name until Mamma said Koira is really the word 'dog' in the Finn language. 

Another photo of Paul when he was even younger, is the one below where he's standing with Valentine, a milk calf, who was only a couple days old.

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Young Paul with Valentine who was a couple days old when this was taken.
Back in the late '60s we lived in Port Arthur, Ontario (now Thunder Bay) at the head of Lake Superior. The summer before I turned 12 we moved to a farm 7 miles out and that's where the following photos were taken.

When we lived in town, Dad had bought us mini-bike, but we weren't allowed to drive it. Within a few weeks of moving to the farm, he'd traded the mini-bike to the neighbours for a pony.
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Anita Mae, 12 yrs old
Flicka was a Shetland pony and because Dad brought her home the day before my 12th birthday, I always - secretly - considered her my horse. It was just as well because none of the other kids wanted to ride or take care of her. It was possible they didn't want to put up with her antics.

When I look at the above photo now, I see that I was kind of big for her, but at the time she seemed the perfect size.  Except for her width. Shetlands are known for their wide bellies, which is why many people buy the narrower Welsh ponies for their kids. Sheltlands are also known for their...ah... not-so-nice dispostion. This proved true when Flicka put up such a fuss whenever I tried to give her the bit and then saddle her. I can't tell you how many times she nearly stepped on my toes while I was trying to tighten up the cinch. And that was another thing -  I never could get the cinch tight enough because she extended her belly and then seemed to suck it in later when I was bouncing around on her back.  Flicka never ran, she trotted everywhere and I'm sure I looked like a sack of potatoes up there. She almost lost me and the saddle a few times. But what I really didn't like was when she turned her head to snap at my knees without warning.

All things considered though, I had a horse and wasn't about to complain about it.

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Buttons in front with Peter 4, Bonnie 14, and Anita Mae 12,
The cat in this photo is Buttons. I remember someone handing Buttons to me on one of our moving trips to the farm. I was told to put a towel over her head so that she couldn't see where we were taking her or she'd try to make her way back home.

Buttons was a short-haired domestic with a nice disposition. Although I'm not a cat person, I didn't mind when Buttons jumped on my lap and cuddled while I read my books in my playhouse. There was no glass and Buttons would go through the window and sleep on the chair when I wasn't around. One time, I smelled skunk as I neared my playhouse. Buttons was lying on the chair, all perfumed up in the worst way. Of course my chair took on the odor. We tried bathing Buttons, but in the end decided to keep our skin and let her clean herself. It tooks weeks before I could go inside and read.

In the next photo, the outbuilding behind Johnny was my playhouse. Originally a grainary, it might have been used for a playhouse by the family who lived there before us. About 5'x5', it contained an over-stuffed chair and small bookcase although I can't remember if they were there when we moved in or if my parents moved them there from the house.

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Suzie with 9 yr old Johnny in 1969, Thunder Bay, Ontario

Dad brought Suzie home just after we moved to the farm. She was our guard dog and protector and was only let loose during the night. I didn't spend much time with her because I didn't like dog smell. And whenever I petted Suzie on the way to my playhouse, Buttons acted like I betrayed her.

Yet I felt safe knowing Suzie was protecting us. Especially after I saw a timber wolf out strolling near the barn one Saturday during the winter. A thick layer of snow already covered the ground and more was softly falling. I looked out the kitchen window and saw the grayish movement on the white landscape. That day was so still, it was eerie. The wolf padded across the snow toward the barn and then behind it. I don't know why Suzie didn't raise the alarm. Within seconds, the wolf appeared on the other side of the barn and kept going toward the west. That's my only wolf sighting to date and I'm fine with not seeing another one that close. I may have been in the safety of the house, but I knew danger when I saw it.

What about you? What pets did you have in your childhood? And if  you didn't have one, what would you have liked to have?


Related Author Memories posts with Pets or Playhouses:
Penny Zeller -
The Dream House (playhouse)
Christa Allan - Camellia Manor: Back to the 1840s (1890 photo of girl and cat)
Valerie Hansen -
Writin' and Ropin' (pony)
Jennifer AlLee -
A Girl's Best Friend (chihuahua saves the day)


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GIVEAWAY - Winner's Choice!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, May 20th
to be entered in a draw for a book from my giveaway pile.
If you're the winner, I'll email you the list and you can pick. 

The pile contains an assortment of books including inspirationals, mainstream,
autobiographies, self-help, devotionals and children's books, all new.

And yesterday I added the latest Dean Koontz novel, What the Night Knows, to the pile. 
Winner beware!
I haven't read Dean Koontz, but I understand his books are NOT of the inspirational genre, nor are they for the faint of heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And how did I end up with a Dean Koontz novel? That's a story in itself...
If you read Regency, you probably know the works of NYT best selling author, Mary Balogh. Mary and I often travel to meetings of the Saskatchewan Romance Writers (SRW) together. This past Saturday when I stopped to pick her up, she thunked a small suitcase into the back of my van and told me she was running away from home. She was joking.

It turned out this generous author was bringing copies of her new hardcover novel,
The Proposal, as well as a paperback copy of Dean Koontz' latest novel,
What the Night Knows, to give each member in attendance.
(Lesson: if you don't attend the meeting, you might miss something great!) 

I took a photo of Mary signing her own book, and
another one with Mary holding her book with the cover facing us. 
I sent to the later one to Mary, and it now appears on her Facebook page  
as well as the official explanation of why she's promoting DK.
(Hint - she received his in error)
 
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10 Comments

Penny Zeller: The Dream House & Giveaway

5/6/2012

50 Comments

 

This week we welcome Penny Zeller to Author Memories.

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Penny Zeller is the author of several books and numerous magazine articles, which are listed at the bottom of this post.

Penny is an active volunteer in her community, devoting her time to assisting and nurturing women and children into a closer relationship with Christ. Her passion is to use the gift of the written word that God has given her to glorify Him and to benefit His kingdom.

When she's not writing, Penny enjoys spending time with her family and camping, hiking, canoeing, and playing volleyball. While she is generally a health nut, Penny does have one small weakness: hot tamales (yes, the little red candy kind!)


The Dream House
By Penny Zeller

I gazed at the brown and white playhouse with the pointed roof. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it - after all, it even had a crafted railing surrounding its own porch! A narrow white door led to the interior and I let myself imagine what it might be like inside this miniature dreamhouse.

“Do you want to look in the windows?” my dad asked, as if reading my mind. I could only nod. My mouth was wide open, but I couldn’t utter a word.

Dad led my mom, sister, brother, and me around the back of the playhouse where two windows, complete with screens, begged me for a peek within them.

I looked through the lower window. The miniature house was carpeted with brown carpet, and the builder had paneled the walls in a soft beige color. My imagination went to work deciding where I would put furniture, pictures, writing paper, and toys.  If only this was my playhouse!

Dad lifted me so I could see inside the top window. An upstairs? I couldn’t believe it! I imagined a rounded staircase… Later I would discover it was a bunk and not an upstairs, but for the moment, I allowed my mind to wander.

“They’re selling raffle tickets to win the playhouse. It’s for a good cause,” Dad said, interrupting my thoughts.

“Did you buy some?” I asked, my question coming out more like a whispered gasp.

“Yes,”Dad said, rubbing his hand along the smooth outdoor brown and white siding.“I’m going to win this for you kids.”

“Eddie, don’t make promises like that,” I heard my mom whisper.

Dad only winked at me and I dared to believe just for a second that he was right.

For the next several days, I couldn’t get my mind off of that  playhouse. The possibilities of home ownership at the age of 10 were just too great. 
Picture
Penny at age 10
Then one day, it happened. A large semi truck from my dad’s employment pulling a forklift drove down our dirt road. And what was strapped to the trailer of the semi? The playhouse!

My heart stopped and the volleyball I had been playing with fell to the ground. I rubbed my eyes. Surely, I was dreaming, as I had so many times before of this moment. (After all, I was known for my daydreams!)  
 
We were a one-income family and my parents didn’t have much money. How then could Dad have purchased enough raffle tickets for us to win? Surely it was a miracle!

Minutes later, I realized it was true and not a dream. I saw the smile on Mom’s face and heard the squeals of my younger brother and sister as the semi truck made its way slowly down the road, down the hill, and into our backyard.
 
Picture
Penny's cousin Katie stands by the dream house shortly after it was won
My imagination knew no limits, especially when it came to the playhouse. It was like a small Swiss chalet with its pointed roof, and it stood proud in our backyard next to the swingset and sandbox. My siblings, cousins, and I moved chairs onto the porch and lounged on hot summer days eating popsicles.

Inside the dream house, Mom hung two chalkboards on the wall for those times when we wanted to play school. (And yes, I was the teacher!) Dad put a desk and some shelves inside where we kept our books, stationery (for writing my stories!), and our special piggy bank fund for the less fortunate children. 
 
My cousins were our neighbors and together we took great pride in our “new home.”  We had sleepovers, played restaurant –complete with a drive-thru window and a decorated porch for outdoor dining. We moved our Fisher Price sink and oven into the playhouse to prepare special made-to-order meals (made almost exclusively out of different types of crackers).


We girls held special meetings, stayed up all night telling stories during sleepovers while eating a wide array of treats, and hid from our pesky younger brother and boy cousins during the day when they threatened to “torment” us.

 
Picture
Penny, age 10 (center) with her brother, Luke, age 4 (left) and sister Becky, age 7 (right) goofing around with some wigs their aunt gave them.
Many years have passed since those days spent in the playhouse. We no longer have our little dream house, but one thing we do have is all the wonderful memories that were created and won’t ever be forgotten. I now share whose memories with my own children about that day when one of my most-wished-for wishes came true.


Did you have a special place you have fond memories of when you were young? Any secret clubs? Do you have a special place you go to now?


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, May 13th
to be entered in a draw for a copy of 
Penny Zeller's Kaydie.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kaydie, Whitaker House, Sep 2011

Picture
For the first time in years, Kaydie Worthington Kraemer can breathe easily. Although she is still haunted by memories of her abusive husband, Darius, she takes comfort in knowing the man is dead. Staying with her sister McKenzie and brother–in–law, Zach Sawyer, at their ranch, Kaydie is still wary of men,  especially now that she has another life inside of her to protect. As she looks forward to her baby's birth, she builds a protective wall around herself that won't be easy to tear down.

Ranch hand Jonah Dickenson views his boss,  Zach, like a brother. He does not, however, envy Zach's new role as a husband. Deserted by his mother at a young age and forever despised and rejected by his own father, Jonah has few close relationships. But there's something about Kaydie that draws him to her and makes him question his decision to remain a bachelor.

When Cedric Van Aulst, an old friend of Kaydie's, comes to town, an unforeseen prospect of marriage arises. Cedric is someone Kaydie trusts. Will she settle for a safe union with him, or can she trust God to guard her heart and her life in the arms of Jonah?

Kaydie is part of the Montana Skies Historical Romance Series from Whitaker House:

Book 1 - McKenzie, Sep 2010
Book 2 - Kaydie, Mar 2011 (Book trailer above)
Book 3 - Hailee, Sep 2011 (Book trailer below)

Along with her Montana Skies series, Penny Zeller is the author of 
77 Ways Your Family Can Make a Difference: Ideas and Activities for Serving Others. 
 
She is also the author of the blog "A Day in the Life of a Wife, Mom, and Author"
at www.pennyzeller.wordpress.com 
where she provides weekly doses of inspiration and humor,
along with movie reviews from a Christian worldview, and interviews with some of her favorite author friends. 

Penny loves to hear from her readers at her website,
www.pennyzeller.com
and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/pennyzellerbooks.  

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