Where do get your ideas?

1valchloesmall Anne here. The question above is probably the most common question an author gets asked. And when an author first gets published, people who don't know her — and sometimes people who do — assume that if the events and characters from her books don't come from history books, they must come from her life.

I can't speak for other authors, but for me, this is far from the truth. Not one character I've ever written has ever existed outside my imagination. And my life hasn't been nearly as exciting or adventurous as that lived by most of my heroines. And, alas, the heroes that walk my pages are not hanging around my house. Even the occasional dog that appears in a book wasn't one of my dogs. Really, I often just dream up scenes and stories and I have no idea where that comes from — I only know it's not from history books and it's not from my life. 

What I do often take from life, however, are the small details that "furnish" the book, the things, for instance that evoke a scene and a mood. The scent of herbs drying or bread baking, of new cut grass, or of damp dog. The fragrance of a wood fire, the crackle and hiss of burning wood, the settling of coals and the dancing of shadows on the walls when the only light is firelight.  

I think I'm lucky in that I have very vivid memories from childhood, many of which can be used in historical novels. I've lived in places where there was no electricity, where an open fire was the only heating. Some of my relatives were farmers, and my parents went through a back-to-nature phase where we tried to live self-sufficiently and kept hens and vegetable gardens and a cow and a goat. 

Accweddingmed
In THE ACCIDENTAL WEDDING, my new book (out tomorrow — yay! And isn't that the most beeyoutiful cover!) Ahem, back to the blog…
I'll explain where some of the details I used in the book —my new book (out tomorrow!) —come from. This, in a nutshell is the set up:
 An injured man, a desperate woman… 
She saves his life. He fakes amnesia…

But of course it's never so simple as that. Maddy, my heroine is well born, but poverty stricken  She does what she can to make ends meet. She keeps bees. I grew up with hives in the back yard and the fresh, sharp, clean scent of beeswax at harvesting time. Like my father, Maddy grows vegetables and worries about protecting her seedlings from frosts and storms — and her chickens from foxes. She does hat makeovers, which I remember  my grandmother doing, remaking her church hats to give them a new lease of life. Details furnished from my life.

The cottage Maddy lives in is based on one that the 18th century explorer Captain James Cook lived in as a boy with his parents and many siblings. It was dismantled many years ago and reassembled in a public garden in Melbourne. It's amazingly tiny — seriously poky and claustrophobic to those of us used to modern houses and apartments. No wonder he was comfortable in a ship. Here it is:
Cookscott
Maddy has young half-bothers and sisters to care for.  The youngest is a little girl obsessed with fairy tales — don't we all know kids who live out their stories? Little Lucy knows exactly how to deal with a handsome, unconscious hero.

 “He’s a prince,” Lucy insisted. “And he needs a princess to kiss him and then he’ll wake up.”
“That’s Sleeping Beauty, silly,” Susan told her.
“Same thing,” Lucy declared stoutly.
“No, because Sleeping Beauty is a girl and he’s a man.”Henry joined in. “And a man can’t be a beauty.”
“Why not?”
“Because he can’t,” Henry said. “Only ladies can be beautiful.”
Maddy smiled to herself. She disagreed. This man was wholly male, and beautiful.

Sometimes the inspiration for a scene will begin with a picture, a photo or collection of photos. I've spoken before about how I use collages to help me form the world of the book. Here's the collage for THE ACCIDENTAL WEDDING. Nashcollage2

Sometimes it's a song. I was listening one day to a song, "When You Taught Me How to Dance" by UK singer songwriter Katie Melua. Instantly a scene came to mind. Maddy is a girl who's never been to a party, never danced in public, and doesn't know how to waltz. So my hero, Nash, offers to teach her. They make a time, but Maddy arrives late… and finds the hero with her four year old half-sister.The song is here:

Here's a little bit of the scene:
 She watched Nash Renfrew now, tall and elegant and as handsome a man as she’d ever dreamed of. He bowed gracefully to his very diminutive partner.
Lucy made a deep, wobbly curtsy, then bounced up in triumph. She gripped his hands and carefully climbed onto his feet, standing with one small foot on each large boot. Maddy swallowed.
“Ready?” Nash asked the little girl.
Lucy nodded. Tibby played the opening bars and off they danced, tall man and tiny girl standing on his feet, her little hands clinging to his in an excited death grip.
They circled, first in a very slow clump-clump-clump, clump-clump-clump, then faster and faster as Lucy became used to the rhythm and the movement. Soon they were stepping to the music, then twirling around the room.
Maddy’s eyes misted up. Lucy was so proud, so thrilled. Once, Nash swept her up in an arc through the air and she squealed with delight, then he settled her deftly back on his boots and they continued as before.
Lucy caught sight of her and shrieked gleefully, “Maddy, Maddy, look at me, I’m dancing!” 
Maddy laughed and clapped and nodded, halfway to tears.

(If you want to read more about THE ACCIDENTAL WEDDING, out tomorrow! With a gorrgeous cover 😉 click here)

So my ideas come from everywhere, I pick them up like fluff, and I furnish the stories with details not just from research books, but from life and pictures and music and imagination and from memories.
It's raining outside, and that and writing this blog has made me think of a camping trip in my childhood, where it rained and rained, and the smell of the wet canvas and the sound of the heavy, flapping tent and the wind whistling through the guy ropes, as I lay in the dark wondering if the tent would fall down… Who knows, it just might furnish a scene in the current book I'm writing…

What's a memory you have from your childhood? I'm giving away a copy of my new book THE ACCIDENTAL WEDDING to someone who leaves a comment.

220 thoughts on “Where do get your ideas?”

  1. On the 9th of March 1956, HMS Queen Elizabeth docked in Southampton and our transatlantic crossing ended. We transferred to the station with an enormous trunk and various suitcases and waited for the train that would take us to London. The train that puffed into the station had me in fits of laughter as it looked like my idea of a toy train, similar to those my dad would have running around the basement floor on a Saturday night. I had just come over from the States where everything was ‘bigger and better’, the trains streamlined with no puffing chimneys. It was to be my first cultural shock…

    Reply
  2. On the 9th of March 1956, HMS Queen Elizabeth docked in Southampton and our transatlantic crossing ended. We transferred to the station with an enormous trunk and various suitcases and waited for the train that would take us to London. The train that puffed into the station had me in fits of laughter as it looked like my idea of a toy train, similar to those my dad would have running around the basement floor on a Saturday night. I had just come over from the States where everything was ‘bigger and better’, the trains streamlined with no puffing chimneys. It was to be my first cultural shock…

    Reply
  3. On the 9th of March 1956, HMS Queen Elizabeth docked in Southampton and our transatlantic crossing ended. We transferred to the station with an enormous trunk and various suitcases and waited for the train that would take us to London. The train that puffed into the station had me in fits of laughter as it looked like my idea of a toy train, similar to those my dad would have running around the basement floor on a Saturday night. I had just come over from the States where everything was ‘bigger and better’, the trains streamlined with no puffing chimneys. It was to be my first cultural shock…

    Reply
  4. On the 9th of March 1956, HMS Queen Elizabeth docked in Southampton and our transatlantic crossing ended. We transferred to the station with an enormous trunk and various suitcases and waited for the train that would take us to London. The train that puffed into the station had me in fits of laughter as it looked like my idea of a toy train, similar to those my dad would have running around the basement floor on a Saturday night. I had just come over from the States where everything was ‘bigger and better’, the trains streamlined with no puffing chimneys. It was to be my first cultural shock…

    Reply
  5. On the 9th of March 1956, HMS Queen Elizabeth docked in Southampton and our transatlantic crossing ended. We transferred to the station with an enormous trunk and various suitcases and waited for the train that would take us to London. The train that puffed into the station had me in fits of laughter as it looked like my idea of a toy train, similar to those my dad would have running around the basement floor on a Saturday night. I had just come over from the States where everything was ‘bigger and better’, the trains streamlined with no puffing chimneys. It was to be my first cultural shock…

    Reply
  6. Thanks, Linda. I hope I haven’t given too much away. I never know how much info about a book is too much.
    Suzy, what a fantastic memory and what a wonderful description. Those huge trunks and suitcases — hasn’t travel changed? It sparked a memory in me, too — when I was 8 we went to scotland for a year and we went by ship because my dad had a friend who was a manager of the line and got us cheap tickets. It was an Italian shipping line and we stopped at Genoa and Naples on the way home to Australia, and hundreds of people boarded, migrating to Australia. I still remember the crowded rail, with a million streamers running from the ship to the wharf, and people weeping and weeping and the whole crowd swaying back and forth, and singing “Arrivaderci Roma.” And the grief as one by one the streamers broke. They thought they’d never see their families again. Such courage to cross the world and make a new life.

    Reply
  7. Thanks, Linda. I hope I haven’t given too much away. I never know how much info about a book is too much.
    Suzy, what a fantastic memory and what a wonderful description. Those huge trunks and suitcases — hasn’t travel changed? It sparked a memory in me, too — when I was 8 we went to scotland for a year and we went by ship because my dad had a friend who was a manager of the line and got us cheap tickets. It was an Italian shipping line and we stopped at Genoa and Naples on the way home to Australia, and hundreds of people boarded, migrating to Australia. I still remember the crowded rail, with a million streamers running from the ship to the wharf, and people weeping and weeping and the whole crowd swaying back and forth, and singing “Arrivaderci Roma.” And the grief as one by one the streamers broke. They thought they’d never see their families again. Such courage to cross the world and make a new life.

    Reply
  8. Thanks, Linda. I hope I haven’t given too much away. I never know how much info about a book is too much.
    Suzy, what a fantastic memory and what a wonderful description. Those huge trunks and suitcases — hasn’t travel changed? It sparked a memory in me, too — when I was 8 we went to scotland for a year and we went by ship because my dad had a friend who was a manager of the line and got us cheap tickets. It was an Italian shipping line and we stopped at Genoa and Naples on the way home to Australia, and hundreds of people boarded, migrating to Australia. I still remember the crowded rail, with a million streamers running from the ship to the wharf, and people weeping and weeping and the whole crowd swaying back and forth, and singing “Arrivaderci Roma.” And the grief as one by one the streamers broke. They thought they’d never see their families again. Such courage to cross the world and make a new life.

    Reply
  9. Thanks, Linda. I hope I haven’t given too much away. I never know how much info about a book is too much.
    Suzy, what a fantastic memory and what a wonderful description. Those huge trunks and suitcases — hasn’t travel changed? It sparked a memory in me, too — when I was 8 we went to scotland for a year and we went by ship because my dad had a friend who was a manager of the line and got us cheap tickets. It was an Italian shipping line and we stopped at Genoa and Naples on the way home to Australia, and hundreds of people boarded, migrating to Australia. I still remember the crowded rail, with a million streamers running from the ship to the wharf, and people weeping and weeping and the whole crowd swaying back and forth, and singing “Arrivaderci Roma.” And the grief as one by one the streamers broke. They thought they’d never see their families again. Such courage to cross the world and make a new life.

    Reply
  10. Thanks, Linda. I hope I haven’t given too much away. I never know how much info about a book is too much.
    Suzy, what a fantastic memory and what a wonderful description. Those huge trunks and suitcases — hasn’t travel changed? It sparked a memory in me, too — when I was 8 we went to scotland for a year and we went by ship because my dad had a friend who was a manager of the line and got us cheap tickets. It was an Italian shipping line and we stopped at Genoa and Naples on the way home to Australia, and hundreds of people boarded, migrating to Australia. I still remember the crowded rail, with a million streamers running from the ship to the wharf, and people weeping and weeping and the whole crowd swaying back and forth, and singing “Arrivaderci Roma.” And the grief as one by one the streamers broke. They thought they’d never see their families again. Such courage to cross the world and make a new life.

    Reply
  11. Where do you get ideas indeed? fascinating how author can weave their tales and get the readers hooked..
    I have read Catch a Bride and it was the most unforgettable story I have ever read, I just love it and how it brought me into that moment in time.

    Reply
  12. Where do you get ideas indeed? fascinating how author can weave their tales and get the readers hooked..
    I have read Catch a Bride and it was the most unforgettable story I have ever read, I just love it and how it brought me into that moment in time.

    Reply
  13. Where do you get ideas indeed? fascinating how author can weave their tales and get the readers hooked..
    I have read Catch a Bride and it was the most unforgettable story I have ever read, I just love it and how it brought me into that moment in time.

    Reply
  14. Where do you get ideas indeed? fascinating how author can weave their tales and get the readers hooked..
    I have read Catch a Bride and it was the most unforgettable story I have ever read, I just love it and how it brought me into that moment in time.

    Reply
  15. Where do you get ideas indeed? fascinating how author can weave their tales and get the readers hooked..
    I have read Catch a Bride and it was the most unforgettable story I have ever read, I just love it and how it brought me into that moment in time.

    Reply
  16. One memory that I carry from my childhood in a small village in up-state New York is the smell of lilacs. We had a border of lilacs in our back yard and whenever I catch the smell I think of summer and lemonade and playing outside in the sunshine!
    When my husband and I moved into our first home the one thing I planted a small purple lilac. My in-laws lived across the street and my mother-in-law hated the smell of lilacs. That was 36 years ago and to this day I still think that she did something to it because it’s the only tree or plant that ever died and we still live in the same house!

    Reply
  17. One memory that I carry from my childhood in a small village in up-state New York is the smell of lilacs. We had a border of lilacs in our back yard and whenever I catch the smell I think of summer and lemonade and playing outside in the sunshine!
    When my husband and I moved into our first home the one thing I planted a small purple lilac. My in-laws lived across the street and my mother-in-law hated the smell of lilacs. That was 36 years ago and to this day I still think that she did something to it because it’s the only tree or plant that ever died and we still live in the same house!

    Reply
  18. One memory that I carry from my childhood in a small village in up-state New York is the smell of lilacs. We had a border of lilacs in our back yard and whenever I catch the smell I think of summer and lemonade and playing outside in the sunshine!
    When my husband and I moved into our first home the one thing I planted a small purple lilac. My in-laws lived across the street and my mother-in-law hated the smell of lilacs. That was 36 years ago and to this day I still think that she did something to it because it’s the only tree or plant that ever died and we still live in the same house!

    Reply
  19. One memory that I carry from my childhood in a small village in up-state New York is the smell of lilacs. We had a border of lilacs in our back yard and whenever I catch the smell I think of summer and lemonade and playing outside in the sunshine!
    When my husband and I moved into our first home the one thing I planted a small purple lilac. My in-laws lived across the street and my mother-in-law hated the smell of lilacs. That was 36 years ago and to this day I still think that she did something to it because it’s the only tree or plant that ever died and we still live in the same house!

    Reply
  20. One memory that I carry from my childhood in a small village in up-state New York is the smell of lilacs. We had a border of lilacs in our back yard and whenever I catch the smell I think of summer and lemonade and playing outside in the sunshine!
    When my husband and I moved into our first home the one thing I planted a small purple lilac. My in-laws lived across the street and my mother-in-law hated the smell of lilacs. That was 36 years ago and to this day I still think that she did something to it because it’s the only tree or plant that ever died and we still live in the same house!

    Reply
  21. I found this book on Saturday and finished it late, late on Sunday night. (If I fall asleep at my desk today, this is why!) Loved it!! I totally want to see books for Jane and Lucy!! And of course Luke and Marcus…
    Childhood memory:
    Dad teaching me how to swim on my back…and also flipping us in the air so we could do back flips in the water.
    Dad teaching me how to waltz–I don’t think he let me stand on his feet though. I was a little older than Lucy, I believe.
    Going riding on the motorcycle with Dad over the pasture–and never worrying about being without a helmet. *LOL*
    Lilacs is also a childhood memory of mine too. We have lilac bushes in my backyard (where I grew up) and Dad would pick lilacs for mom when they were in bloom. The house would smell like lilacs. Daffidils are also good for memories.

    Reply
  22. I found this book on Saturday and finished it late, late on Sunday night. (If I fall asleep at my desk today, this is why!) Loved it!! I totally want to see books for Jane and Lucy!! And of course Luke and Marcus…
    Childhood memory:
    Dad teaching me how to swim on my back…and also flipping us in the air so we could do back flips in the water.
    Dad teaching me how to waltz–I don’t think he let me stand on his feet though. I was a little older than Lucy, I believe.
    Going riding on the motorcycle with Dad over the pasture–and never worrying about being without a helmet. *LOL*
    Lilacs is also a childhood memory of mine too. We have lilac bushes in my backyard (where I grew up) and Dad would pick lilacs for mom when they were in bloom. The house would smell like lilacs. Daffidils are also good for memories.

    Reply
  23. I found this book on Saturday and finished it late, late on Sunday night. (If I fall asleep at my desk today, this is why!) Loved it!! I totally want to see books for Jane and Lucy!! And of course Luke and Marcus…
    Childhood memory:
    Dad teaching me how to swim on my back…and also flipping us in the air so we could do back flips in the water.
    Dad teaching me how to waltz–I don’t think he let me stand on his feet though. I was a little older than Lucy, I believe.
    Going riding on the motorcycle with Dad over the pasture–and never worrying about being without a helmet. *LOL*
    Lilacs is also a childhood memory of mine too. We have lilac bushes in my backyard (where I grew up) and Dad would pick lilacs for mom when they were in bloom. The house would smell like lilacs. Daffidils are also good for memories.

    Reply
  24. I found this book on Saturday and finished it late, late on Sunday night. (If I fall asleep at my desk today, this is why!) Loved it!! I totally want to see books for Jane and Lucy!! And of course Luke and Marcus…
    Childhood memory:
    Dad teaching me how to swim on my back…and also flipping us in the air so we could do back flips in the water.
    Dad teaching me how to waltz–I don’t think he let me stand on his feet though. I was a little older than Lucy, I believe.
    Going riding on the motorcycle with Dad over the pasture–and never worrying about being without a helmet. *LOL*
    Lilacs is also a childhood memory of mine too. We have lilac bushes in my backyard (where I grew up) and Dad would pick lilacs for mom when they were in bloom. The house would smell like lilacs. Daffidils are also good for memories.

    Reply
  25. I found this book on Saturday and finished it late, late on Sunday night. (If I fall asleep at my desk today, this is why!) Loved it!! I totally want to see books for Jane and Lucy!! And of course Luke and Marcus…
    Childhood memory:
    Dad teaching me how to swim on my back…and also flipping us in the air so we could do back flips in the water.
    Dad teaching me how to waltz–I don’t think he let me stand on his feet though. I was a little older than Lucy, I believe.
    Going riding on the motorcycle with Dad over the pasture–and never worrying about being without a helmet. *LOL*
    Lilacs is also a childhood memory of mine too. We have lilac bushes in my backyard (where I grew up) and Dad would pick lilacs for mom when they were in bloom. The house would smell like lilacs. Daffidils are also good for memories.

    Reply
  26. I’m another Upstate New Yorker, and lilacs are definitely a Very Big Deal there. They would bloom for my birthday. Here in Maryland, they’ve come and gone by then, and they’re just another pretty bush, alas.
    I know what you mean about making up the characters, but using the texture and details of real life to make a story come alive. Unlike you, Anne, when I put a cat in a book, it’s a real cat. *g* The people are all invented, though.
    Given Captain Cook’s role in Australian history, I love that his childhood home was moved to Melbourne and reassembled there. A tribute that he could never have imagined, I’m sure.
    And every time I look at the cover, Anne, I think it is one of the most totally gorgeous I’ve ever seen!

    Reply
  27. I’m another Upstate New Yorker, and lilacs are definitely a Very Big Deal there. They would bloom for my birthday. Here in Maryland, they’ve come and gone by then, and they’re just another pretty bush, alas.
    I know what you mean about making up the characters, but using the texture and details of real life to make a story come alive. Unlike you, Anne, when I put a cat in a book, it’s a real cat. *g* The people are all invented, though.
    Given Captain Cook’s role in Australian history, I love that his childhood home was moved to Melbourne and reassembled there. A tribute that he could never have imagined, I’m sure.
    And every time I look at the cover, Anne, I think it is one of the most totally gorgeous I’ve ever seen!

    Reply
  28. I’m another Upstate New Yorker, and lilacs are definitely a Very Big Deal there. They would bloom for my birthday. Here in Maryland, they’ve come and gone by then, and they’re just another pretty bush, alas.
    I know what you mean about making up the characters, but using the texture and details of real life to make a story come alive. Unlike you, Anne, when I put a cat in a book, it’s a real cat. *g* The people are all invented, though.
    Given Captain Cook’s role in Australian history, I love that his childhood home was moved to Melbourne and reassembled there. A tribute that he could never have imagined, I’m sure.
    And every time I look at the cover, Anne, I think it is one of the most totally gorgeous I’ve ever seen!

    Reply
  29. I’m another Upstate New Yorker, and lilacs are definitely a Very Big Deal there. They would bloom for my birthday. Here in Maryland, they’ve come and gone by then, and they’re just another pretty bush, alas.
    I know what you mean about making up the characters, but using the texture and details of real life to make a story come alive. Unlike you, Anne, when I put a cat in a book, it’s a real cat. *g* The people are all invented, though.
    Given Captain Cook’s role in Australian history, I love that his childhood home was moved to Melbourne and reassembled there. A tribute that he could never have imagined, I’m sure.
    And every time I look at the cover, Anne, I think it is one of the most totally gorgeous I’ve ever seen!

    Reply
  30. I’m another Upstate New Yorker, and lilacs are definitely a Very Big Deal there. They would bloom for my birthday. Here in Maryland, they’ve come and gone by then, and they’re just another pretty bush, alas.
    I know what you mean about making up the characters, but using the texture and details of real life to make a story come alive. Unlike you, Anne, when I put a cat in a book, it’s a real cat. *g* The people are all invented, though.
    Given Captain Cook’s role in Australian history, I love that his childhood home was moved to Melbourne and reassembled there. A tribute that he could never have imagined, I’m sure.
    And every time I look at the cover, Anne, I think it is one of the most totally gorgeous I’ve ever seen!

    Reply
  31. Hello, Anne! Memories are very important, especially after loved ones are no longer with us.
    The best jelly that I have ever eaten was made with wild grapes. My grandmother was the greatest cook ever, and she also knew the names and uses for so many flowers and plants. We used to go on walks and she would point things out to me and explain what they were. One day we found a patch of wild grapes, small and reddish, and I asked her if she could make jelly. I didn’t realize how many grapes it would take to make jars of jelly to line up on the pantry shelf. My wonderful Gran was able to take our small little treasure of grapes and make one perfect jar of jelly. One of the short, small quilted-glass jars. I can still see it and remember the taste of that sweet jelly. When I held the jar up to the sunlight coming through the window, it glowed like a garnet gem.

    Reply
  32. Hello, Anne! Memories are very important, especially after loved ones are no longer with us.
    The best jelly that I have ever eaten was made with wild grapes. My grandmother was the greatest cook ever, and she also knew the names and uses for so many flowers and plants. We used to go on walks and she would point things out to me and explain what they were. One day we found a patch of wild grapes, small and reddish, and I asked her if she could make jelly. I didn’t realize how many grapes it would take to make jars of jelly to line up on the pantry shelf. My wonderful Gran was able to take our small little treasure of grapes and make one perfect jar of jelly. One of the short, small quilted-glass jars. I can still see it and remember the taste of that sweet jelly. When I held the jar up to the sunlight coming through the window, it glowed like a garnet gem.

    Reply
  33. Hello, Anne! Memories are very important, especially after loved ones are no longer with us.
    The best jelly that I have ever eaten was made with wild grapes. My grandmother was the greatest cook ever, and she also knew the names and uses for so many flowers and plants. We used to go on walks and she would point things out to me and explain what they were. One day we found a patch of wild grapes, small and reddish, and I asked her if she could make jelly. I didn’t realize how many grapes it would take to make jars of jelly to line up on the pantry shelf. My wonderful Gran was able to take our small little treasure of grapes and make one perfect jar of jelly. One of the short, small quilted-glass jars. I can still see it and remember the taste of that sweet jelly. When I held the jar up to the sunlight coming through the window, it glowed like a garnet gem.

    Reply
  34. Hello, Anne! Memories are very important, especially after loved ones are no longer with us.
    The best jelly that I have ever eaten was made with wild grapes. My grandmother was the greatest cook ever, and she also knew the names and uses for so many flowers and plants. We used to go on walks and she would point things out to me and explain what they were. One day we found a patch of wild grapes, small and reddish, and I asked her if she could make jelly. I didn’t realize how many grapes it would take to make jars of jelly to line up on the pantry shelf. My wonderful Gran was able to take our small little treasure of grapes and make one perfect jar of jelly. One of the short, small quilted-glass jars. I can still see it and remember the taste of that sweet jelly. When I held the jar up to the sunlight coming through the window, it glowed like a garnet gem.

    Reply
  35. Hello, Anne! Memories are very important, especially after loved ones are no longer with us.
    The best jelly that I have ever eaten was made with wild grapes. My grandmother was the greatest cook ever, and she also knew the names and uses for so many flowers and plants. We used to go on walks and she would point things out to me and explain what they were. One day we found a patch of wild grapes, small and reddish, and I asked her if she could make jelly. I didn’t realize how many grapes it would take to make jars of jelly to line up on the pantry shelf. My wonderful Gran was able to take our small little treasure of grapes and make one perfect jar of jelly. One of the short, small quilted-glass jars. I can still see it and remember the taste of that sweet jelly. When I held the jar up to the sunlight coming through the window, it glowed like a garnet gem.

    Reply
  36. Sherrie here. Childhood memories. The older I get, the more precious they become. When we were kids, one neighbor had a color TV, and the entire neighborhood–adults and kids–used to gather at their house on Sunday nights to watch Ed Sullivan and the Disney show. I remember the laughter and comaraderie as many people from all walks of life gathered in friendship under one roof.
    Along this same line, we neighborhood kids used to climb waaaaayyyyy high up in the huge Douglas fir trees in the pasture, so that we could watch the big movie screen at the drive-in theater about 3/4 mile away. One neighbor sent her teenage son to get us out of the trees because it was dinner time. He climbed up and joined us, instead. She then sent her husband, with the same result. We all got cold dinners after the movie! *g*
    Another memory: my mother standing at the open bedroom window cawing at the crows, with them cawing back. We kids were mortified. What if the neighbors heard?
    I also remember a church youth group outing to the mountains where we went inner-tubing on the snow. My brother came roaring down the hill at a frightening speed, out of control. We watched in horror as he became airborne, headed straight for the parking lot full of of cars. Miraculously, he landed unharmed in the only open area of the lot, missing all the cars, and we kids were convinced we had just witnessed a “miracle.” *g*
    And a very personal memory for me: there used to be a 55 gallon drum behind the house, filled with small rocks. In the winter, the rocks would absorb the sun’s rays, and I would go sit on that barrel of warm rocks with a book, my back against the side of the house. It was a private and special place of solitude for me. Sometimes I just leaned my head against the house and closed my eyes, enjoying the reds and maroons of a cold winter sun against my eyelids.

    Reply
  37. Sherrie here. Childhood memories. The older I get, the more precious they become. When we were kids, one neighbor had a color TV, and the entire neighborhood–adults and kids–used to gather at their house on Sunday nights to watch Ed Sullivan and the Disney show. I remember the laughter and comaraderie as many people from all walks of life gathered in friendship under one roof.
    Along this same line, we neighborhood kids used to climb waaaaayyyyy high up in the huge Douglas fir trees in the pasture, so that we could watch the big movie screen at the drive-in theater about 3/4 mile away. One neighbor sent her teenage son to get us out of the trees because it was dinner time. He climbed up and joined us, instead. She then sent her husband, with the same result. We all got cold dinners after the movie! *g*
    Another memory: my mother standing at the open bedroom window cawing at the crows, with them cawing back. We kids were mortified. What if the neighbors heard?
    I also remember a church youth group outing to the mountains where we went inner-tubing on the snow. My brother came roaring down the hill at a frightening speed, out of control. We watched in horror as he became airborne, headed straight for the parking lot full of of cars. Miraculously, he landed unharmed in the only open area of the lot, missing all the cars, and we kids were convinced we had just witnessed a “miracle.” *g*
    And a very personal memory for me: there used to be a 55 gallon drum behind the house, filled with small rocks. In the winter, the rocks would absorb the sun’s rays, and I would go sit on that barrel of warm rocks with a book, my back against the side of the house. It was a private and special place of solitude for me. Sometimes I just leaned my head against the house and closed my eyes, enjoying the reds and maroons of a cold winter sun against my eyelids.

    Reply
  38. Sherrie here. Childhood memories. The older I get, the more precious they become. When we were kids, one neighbor had a color TV, and the entire neighborhood–adults and kids–used to gather at their house on Sunday nights to watch Ed Sullivan and the Disney show. I remember the laughter and comaraderie as many people from all walks of life gathered in friendship under one roof.
    Along this same line, we neighborhood kids used to climb waaaaayyyyy high up in the huge Douglas fir trees in the pasture, so that we could watch the big movie screen at the drive-in theater about 3/4 mile away. One neighbor sent her teenage son to get us out of the trees because it was dinner time. He climbed up and joined us, instead. She then sent her husband, with the same result. We all got cold dinners after the movie! *g*
    Another memory: my mother standing at the open bedroom window cawing at the crows, with them cawing back. We kids were mortified. What if the neighbors heard?
    I also remember a church youth group outing to the mountains where we went inner-tubing on the snow. My brother came roaring down the hill at a frightening speed, out of control. We watched in horror as he became airborne, headed straight for the parking lot full of of cars. Miraculously, he landed unharmed in the only open area of the lot, missing all the cars, and we kids were convinced we had just witnessed a “miracle.” *g*
    And a very personal memory for me: there used to be a 55 gallon drum behind the house, filled with small rocks. In the winter, the rocks would absorb the sun’s rays, and I would go sit on that barrel of warm rocks with a book, my back against the side of the house. It was a private and special place of solitude for me. Sometimes I just leaned my head against the house and closed my eyes, enjoying the reds and maroons of a cold winter sun against my eyelids.

    Reply
  39. Sherrie here. Childhood memories. The older I get, the more precious they become. When we were kids, one neighbor had a color TV, and the entire neighborhood–adults and kids–used to gather at their house on Sunday nights to watch Ed Sullivan and the Disney show. I remember the laughter and comaraderie as many people from all walks of life gathered in friendship under one roof.
    Along this same line, we neighborhood kids used to climb waaaaayyyyy high up in the huge Douglas fir trees in the pasture, so that we could watch the big movie screen at the drive-in theater about 3/4 mile away. One neighbor sent her teenage son to get us out of the trees because it was dinner time. He climbed up and joined us, instead. She then sent her husband, with the same result. We all got cold dinners after the movie! *g*
    Another memory: my mother standing at the open bedroom window cawing at the crows, with them cawing back. We kids were mortified. What if the neighbors heard?
    I also remember a church youth group outing to the mountains where we went inner-tubing on the snow. My brother came roaring down the hill at a frightening speed, out of control. We watched in horror as he became airborne, headed straight for the parking lot full of of cars. Miraculously, he landed unharmed in the only open area of the lot, missing all the cars, and we kids were convinced we had just witnessed a “miracle.” *g*
    And a very personal memory for me: there used to be a 55 gallon drum behind the house, filled with small rocks. In the winter, the rocks would absorb the sun’s rays, and I would go sit on that barrel of warm rocks with a book, my back against the side of the house. It was a private and special place of solitude for me. Sometimes I just leaned my head against the house and closed my eyes, enjoying the reds and maroons of a cold winter sun against my eyelids.

    Reply
  40. Sherrie here. Childhood memories. The older I get, the more precious they become. When we were kids, one neighbor had a color TV, and the entire neighborhood–adults and kids–used to gather at their house on Sunday nights to watch Ed Sullivan and the Disney show. I remember the laughter and comaraderie as many people from all walks of life gathered in friendship under one roof.
    Along this same line, we neighborhood kids used to climb waaaaayyyyy high up in the huge Douglas fir trees in the pasture, so that we could watch the big movie screen at the drive-in theater about 3/4 mile away. One neighbor sent her teenage son to get us out of the trees because it was dinner time. He climbed up and joined us, instead. She then sent her husband, with the same result. We all got cold dinners after the movie! *g*
    Another memory: my mother standing at the open bedroom window cawing at the crows, with them cawing back. We kids were mortified. What if the neighbors heard?
    I also remember a church youth group outing to the mountains where we went inner-tubing on the snow. My brother came roaring down the hill at a frightening speed, out of control. We watched in horror as he became airborne, headed straight for the parking lot full of of cars. Miraculously, he landed unharmed in the only open area of the lot, missing all the cars, and we kids were convinced we had just witnessed a “miracle.” *g*
    And a very personal memory for me: there used to be a 55 gallon drum behind the house, filled with small rocks. In the winter, the rocks would absorb the sun’s rays, and I would go sit on that barrel of warm rocks with a book, my back against the side of the house. It was a private and special place of solitude for me. Sometimes I just leaned my head against the house and closed my eyes, enjoying the reds and maroons of a cold winter sun against my eyelids.

    Reply
  41. Congratulations on your new book out tomorrow! A lot of my memories are of my mom cooking in the kitchen and the good smells chocolate chip cookies) and bad smells (when I knew something I did not like was going to be for dinner).

    Reply
  42. Congratulations on your new book out tomorrow! A lot of my memories are of my mom cooking in the kitchen and the good smells chocolate chip cookies) and bad smells (when I knew something I did not like was going to be for dinner).

    Reply
  43. Congratulations on your new book out tomorrow! A lot of my memories are of my mom cooking in the kitchen and the good smells chocolate chip cookies) and bad smells (when I knew something I did not like was going to be for dinner).

    Reply
  44. Congratulations on your new book out tomorrow! A lot of my memories are of my mom cooking in the kitchen and the good smells chocolate chip cookies) and bad smells (when I knew something I did not like was going to be for dinner).

    Reply
  45. Congratulations on your new book out tomorrow! A lot of my memories are of my mom cooking in the kitchen and the good smells chocolate chip cookies) and bad smells (when I knew something I did not like was going to be for dinner).

    Reply
  46. Congrats on the new book!
    I remember one time going out by boat to a beach. We were there for a few hours when the weather changed suddenly and we had a really bad storm.

    Reply
  47. Congrats on the new book!
    I remember one time going out by boat to a beach. We were there for a few hours when the weather changed suddenly and we had a really bad storm.

    Reply
  48. Congrats on the new book!
    I remember one time going out by boat to a beach. We were there for a few hours when the weather changed suddenly and we had a really bad storm.

    Reply
  49. Congrats on the new book!
    I remember one time going out by boat to a beach. We were there for a few hours when the weather changed suddenly and we had a really bad storm.

    Reply
  50. Congrats on the new book!
    I remember one time going out by boat to a beach. We were there for a few hours when the weather changed suddenly and we had a really bad storm.

    Reply
  51. Congrats on your (almost) new release!
    And a memory from my childhood is of watching The Wizard of Oz for the first time. It freaked. Me. Out. Seriously. I was convinced that the wicked witch was my granny’s nurse. No joke. Actually, I’m still not convinced she wasn’t….;-)

    Reply
  52. Congrats on your (almost) new release!
    And a memory from my childhood is of watching The Wizard of Oz for the first time. It freaked. Me. Out. Seriously. I was convinced that the wicked witch was my granny’s nurse. No joke. Actually, I’m still not convinced she wasn’t….;-)

    Reply
  53. Congrats on your (almost) new release!
    And a memory from my childhood is of watching The Wizard of Oz for the first time. It freaked. Me. Out. Seriously. I was convinced that the wicked witch was my granny’s nurse. No joke. Actually, I’m still not convinced she wasn’t….;-)

    Reply
  54. Congrats on your (almost) new release!
    And a memory from my childhood is of watching The Wizard of Oz for the first time. It freaked. Me. Out. Seriously. I was convinced that the wicked witch was my granny’s nurse. No joke. Actually, I’m still not convinced she wasn’t….;-)

    Reply
  55. Congrats on your (almost) new release!
    And a memory from my childhood is of watching The Wizard of Oz for the first time. It freaked. Me. Out. Seriously. I was convinced that the wicked witch was my granny’s nurse. No joke. Actually, I’m still not convinced she wasn’t….;-)

    Reply
  56. Anne
    Lovely post and I gotta say i am soo looking forward to the new book Whoo Hoo.
    Childhood memories are really great aren’t I have memories from when my grandparents had a little farm on the Central Coast of NSW and I was on holiday up there when the pig my grandfather had bought that we named Betsy had 9 piglets and then we also used to help pick the vegies he grew to sell to the fruit shops although he used to try and stop me from picking the beans because he said I ate more than I put in the basket LOL.
    Congrats on the release
    Have Fun
    Helen

    Reply
  57. Anne
    Lovely post and I gotta say i am soo looking forward to the new book Whoo Hoo.
    Childhood memories are really great aren’t I have memories from when my grandparents had a little farm on the Central Coast of NSW and I was on holiday up there when the pig my grandfather had bought that we named Betsy had 9 piglets and then we also used to help pick the vegies he grew to sell to the fruit shops although he used to try and stop me from picking the beans because he said I ate more than I put in the basket LOL.
    Congrats on the release
    Have Fun
    Helen

    Reply
  58. Anne
    Lovely post and I gotta say i am soo looking forward to the new book Whoo Hoo.
    Childhood memories are really great aren’t I have memories from when my grandparents had a little farm on the Central Coast of NSW and I was on holiday up there when the pig my grandfather had bought that we named Betsy had 9 piglets and then we also used to help pick the vegies he grew to sell to the fruit shops although he used to try and stop me from picking the beans because he said I ate more than I put in the basket LOL.
    Congrats on the release
    Have Fun
    Helen

    Reply
  59. Anne
    Lovely post and I gotta say i am soo looking forward to the new book Whoo Hoo.
    Childhood memories are really great aren’t I have memories from when my grandparents had a little farm on the Central Coast of NSW and I was on holiday up there when the pig my grandfather had bought that we named Betsy had 9 piglets and then we also used to help pick the vegies he grew to sell to the fruit shops although he used to try and stop me from picking the beans because he said I ate more than I put in the basket LOL.
    Congrats on the release
    Have Fun
    Helen

    Reply
  60. Anne
    Lovely post and I gotta say i am soo looking forward to the new book Whoo Hoo.
    Childhood memories are really great aren’t I have memories from when my grandparents had a little farm on the Central Coast of NSW and I was on holiday up there when the pig my grandfather had bought that we named Betsy had 9 piglets and then we also used to help pick the vegies he grew to sell to the fruit shops although he used to try and stop me from picking the beans because he said I ate more than I put in the basket LOL.
    Congrats on the release
    Have Fun
    Helen

    Reply
  61. Ellen, thanks so much for that compliment on To Catch A Bride. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
    Jeanne, scents are so evocative, aren’t they – and lilacs smell so beautiful. What a terrible thing to do to a lilac — they are normally so robust. Plant another one.
    It’s spring here in australia and I have a lilac tree in the back yard. Right now the fat purple buds are just starting to burst, and soon I’ll bring some in to keep in a vase and the scent of lilacs will be all through the house. I’ll waft some scent your way.

    Reply
  62. Ellen, thanks so much for that compliment on To Catch A Bride. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
    Jeanne, scents are so evocative, aren’t they – and lilacs smell so beautiful. What a terrible thing to do to a lilac — they are normally so robust. Plant another one.
    It’s spring here in australia and I have a lilac tree in the back yard. Right now the fat purple buds are just starting to burst, and soon I’ll bring some in to keep in a vase and the scent of lilacs will be all through the house. I’ll waft some scent your way.

    Reply
  63. Ellen, thanks so much for that compliment on To Catch A Bride. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
    Jeanne, scents are so evocative, aren’t they – and lilacs smell so beautiful. What a terrible thing to do to a lilac — they are normally so robust. Plant another one.
    It’s spring here in australia and I have a lilac tree in the back yard. Right now the fat purple buds are just starting to burst, and soon I’ll bring some in to keep in a vase and the scent of lilacs will be all through the house. I’ll waft some scent your way.

    Reply
  64. Ellen, thanks so much for that compliment on To Catch A Bride. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
    Jeanne, scents are so evocative, aren’t they – and lilacs smell so beautiful. What a terrible thing to do to a lilac — they are normally so robust. Plant another one.
    It’s spring here in australia and I have a lilac tree in the back yard. Right now the fat purple buds are just starting to burst, and soon I’ll bring some in to keep in a vase and the scent of lilacs will be all through the house. I’ll waft some scent your way.

    Reply
  65. Ellen, thanks so much for that compliment on To Catch A Bride. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
    Jeanne, scents are so evocative, aren’t they – and lilacs smell so beautiful. What a terrible thing to do to a lilac — they are normally so robust. Plant another one.
    It’s spring here in australia and I have a lilac tree in the back yard. Right now the fat purple buds are just starting to burst, and soon I’ll bring some in to keep in a vase and the scent of lilacs will be all through the house. I’ll waft some scent your way.

    Reply
  66. Hellion, thank you for that. I’m so glad you enjoyed the book. See it’s a bonus — a gorgeous cover AND something inside. heh heh.
    Loved your memories of your dad. They evoked mine, too, of swimming and doing back flips. And I don’t so much remember the smell of daffodils, but jonquils now — a lot of people don’t like them. Not me. I love that smell.
    Probably my favorite spring flowers though are freesias, the small creamy ones with the divine scent.

    Reply
  67. Hellion, thank you for that. I’m so glad you enjoyed the book. See it’s a bonus — a gorgeous cover AND something inside. heh heh.
    Loved your memories of your dad. They evoked mine, too, of swimming and doing back flips. And I don’t so much remember the smell of daffodils, but jonquils now — a lot of people don’t like them. Not me. I love that smell.
    Probably my favorite spring flowers though are freesias, the small creamy ones with the divine scent.

    Reply
  68. Hellion, thank you for that. I’m so glad you enjoyed the book. See it’s a bonus — a gorgeous cover AND something inside. heh heh.
    Loved your memories of your dad. They evoked mine, too, of swimming and doing back flips. And I don’t so much remember the smell of daffodils, but jonquils now — a lot of people don’t like them. Not me. I love that smell.
    Probably my favorite spring flowers though are freesias, the small creamy ones with the divine scent.

    Reply
  69. Hellion, thank you for that. I’m so glad you enjoyed the book. See it’s a bonus — a gorgeous cover AND something inside. heh heh.
    Loved your memories of your dad. They evoked mine, too, of swimming and doing back flips. And I don’t so much remember the smell of daffodils, but jonquils now — a lot of people don’t like them. Not me. I love that smell.
    Probably my favorite spring flowers though are freesias, the small creamy ones with the divine scent.

    Reply
  70. Hellion, thank you for that. I’m so glad you enjoyed the book. See it’s a bonus — a gorgeous cover AND something inside. heh heh.
    Loved your memories of your dad. They evoked mine, too, of swimming and doing back flips. And I don’t so much remember the smell of daffodils, but jonquils now — a lot of people don’t like them. Not me. I love that smell.
    Probably my favorite spring flowers though are freesias, the small creamy ones with the divine scent.

    Reply
  71. Virginia C, I loved your description of the wild grape jelly – just beautiful in its quilted glass jar. How patient and special your gran must have been to make just one jar for you. Certainly a treasured memory. Thank you for sharing it.

    Reply
  72. Virginia C, I loved your description of the wild grape jelly – just beautiful in its quilted glass jar. How patient and special your gran must have been to make just one jar for you. Certainly a treasured memory. Thank you for sharing it.

    Reply
  73. Virginia C, I loved your description of the wild grape jelly – just beautiful in its quilted glass jar. How patient and special your gran must have been to make just one jar for you. Certainly a treasured memory. Thank you for sharing it.

    Reply
  74. Virginia C, I loved your description of the wild grape jelly – just beautiful in its quilted glass jar. How patient and special your gran must have been to make just one jar for you. Certainly a treasured memory. Thank you for sharing it.

    Reply
  75. Virginia C, I loved your description of the wild grape jelly – just beautiful in its quilted glass jar. How patient and special your gran must have been to make just one jar for you. Certainly a treasured memory. Thank you for sharing it.

    Reply
  76. Sherrie, I’m so glad you shared that TV memory — the way people used to gather around a TV is something that’s almost been forgotten. I experienced it in Greece where there were only a couple of TVs in the whole village and for certain shows, everyone would cram into a house to watch. It was such fun, having a whole room of people watching and laughing together.
    That story of your mother cawing at the crows shows me that you’re a chip off the old block — not that I know whether you caw at crows, but you do fun things unselfconsciously, and I love that. Loved your inner-tube whizzing story, too. And your special, private warm reading spot. I love hearing about things like that.

    Reply
  77. Sherrie, I’m so glad you shared that TV memory — the way people used to gather around a TV is something that’s almost been forgotten. I experienced it in Greece where there were only a couple of TVs in the whole village and for certain shows, everyone would cram into a house to watch. It was such fun, having a whole room of people watching and laughing together.
    That story of your mother cawing at the crows shows me that you’re a chip off the old block — not that I know whether you caw at crows, but you do fun things unselfconsciously, and I love that. Loved your inner-tube whizzing story, too. And your special, private warm reading spot. I love hearing about things like that.

    Reply
  78. Sherrie, I’m so glad you shared that TV memory — the way people used to gather around a TV is something that’s almost been forgotten. I experienced it in Greece where there were only a couple of TVs in the whole village and for certain shows, everyone would cram into a house to watch. It was such fun, having a whole room of people watching and laughing together.
    That story of your mother cawing at the crows shows me that you’re a chip off the old block — not that I know whether you caw at crows, but you do fun things unselfconsciously, and I love that. Loved your inner-tube whizzing story, too. And your special, private warm reading spot. I love hearing about things like that.

    Reply
  79. Sherrie, I’m so glad you shared that TV memory — the way people used to gather around a TV is something that’s almost been forgotten. I experienced it in Greece where there were only a couple of TVs in the whole village and for certain shows, everyone would cram into a house to watch. It was such fun, having a whole room of people watching and laughing together.
    That story of your mother cawing at the crows shows me that you’re a chip off the old block — not that I know whether you caw at crows, but you do fun things unselfconsciously, and I love that. Loved your inner-tube whizzing story, too. And your special, private warm reading spot. I love hearing about things like that.

    Reply
  80. Sherrie, I’m so glad you shared that TV memory — the way people used to gather around a TV is something that’s almost been forgotten. I experienced it in Greece where there were only a couple of TVs in the whole village and for certain shows, everyone would cram into a house to watch. It was such fun, having a whole room of people watching and laughing together.
    That story of your mother cawing at the crows shows me that you’re a chip off the old block — not that I know whether you caw at crows, but you do fun things unselfconsciously, and I love that. Loved your inner-tube whizzing story, too. And your special, private warm reading spot. I love hearing about things like that.

    Reply
  81. Thanks Maureen. Oh yes, the smell of cooking takes you back. I just made chocolate chip cookies the other day — a new recipe for me, using condensed milk. YUM!
    Chey, the weather at sea can change so quickly. Must have been scary at the time, but also nice to be home safe and warm and telling the story. I always wanted to have a boat, and my grandad did have one, but it was for serious fishing, not fun (or so he claimed) and small girls didn’t get to go out in it unless they were willing to kill fish. And I wasn’t. 🙁

    Reply
  82. Thanks Maureen. Oh yes, the smell of cooking takes you back. I just made chocolate chip cookies the other day — a new recipe for me, using condensed milk. YUM!
    Chey, the weather at sea can change so quickly. Must have been scary at the time, but also nice to be home safe and warm and telling the story. I always wanted to have a boat, and my grandad did have one, but it was for serious fishing, not fun (or so he claimed) and small girls didn’t get to go out in it unless they were willing to kill fish. And I wasn’t. 🙁

    Reply
  83. Thanks Maureen. Oh yes, the smell of cooking takes you back. I just made chocolate chip cookies the other day — a new recipe for me, using condensed milk. YUM!
    Chey, the weather at sea can change so quickly. Must have been scary at the time, but also nice to be home safe and warm and telling the story. I always wanted to have a boat, and my grandad did have one, but it was for serious fishing, not fun (or so he claimed) and small girls didn’t get to go out in it unless they were willing to kill fish. And I wasn’t. 🙁

    Reply
  84. Thanks Maureen. Oh yes, the smell of cooking takes you back. I just made chocolate chip cookies the other day — a new recipe for me, using condensed milk. YUM!
    Chey, the weather at sea can change so quickly. Must have been scary at the time, but also nice to be home safe and warm and telling the story. I always wanted to have a boat, and my grandad did have one, but it was for serious fishing, not fun (or so he claimed) and small girls didn’t get to go out in it unless they were willing to kill fish. And I wasn’t. 🙁

    Reply
  85. Thanks Maureen. Oh yes, the smell of cooking takes you back. I just made chocolate chip cookies the other day — a new recipe for me, using condensed milk. YUM!
    Chey, the weather at sea can change so quickly. Must have been scary at the time, but also nice to be home safe and warm and telling the story. I always wanted to have a boat, and my grandad did have one, but it was for serious fishing, not fun (or so he claimed) and small girls didn’t get to go out in it unless they were willing to kill fish. And I wasn’t. 🙁

    Reply
  86. Thanks, Chelsea B. That movie IS scary, I agree. And she probably was your granny’s nurse. LOL.
    I think quite a few movies made for children are scary, actually. A friend of mine’s little boy used to love the Lion King and I was babysitting him once and he wanted to put it on. I knew he’d watched it a stack of times, so I said yes. Guess which one of us was scared. Not the four year old.

    Reply
  87. Thanks, Chelsea B. That movie IS scary, I agree. And she probably was your granny’s nurse. LOL.
    I think quite a few movies made for children are scary, actually. A friend of mine’s little boy used to love the Lion King and I was babysitting him once and he wanted to put it on. I knew he’d watched it a stack of times, so I said yes. Guess which one of us was scared. Not the four year old.

    Reply
  88. Thanks, Chelsea B. That movie IS scary, I agree. And she probably was your granny’s nurse. LOL.
    I think quite a few movies made for children are scary, actually. A friend of mine’s little boy used to love the Lion King and I was babysitting him once and he wanted to put it on. I knew he’d watched it a stack of times, so I said yes. Guess which one of us was scared. Not the four year old.

    Reply
  89. Thanks, Chelsea B. That movie IS scary, I agree. And she probably was your granny’s nurse. LOL.
    I think quite a few movies made for children are scary, actually. A friend of mine’s little boy used to love the Lion King and I was babysitting him once and he wanted to put it on. I knew he’d watched it a stack of times, so I said yes. Guess which one of us was scared. Not the four year old.

    Reply
  90. Thanks, Chelsea B. That movie IS scary, I agree. And she probably was your granny’s nurse. LOL.
    I think quite a few movies made for children are scary, actually. A friend of mine’s little boy used to love the Lion King and I was babysitting him once and he wanted to put it on. I knew he’d watched it a stack of times, so I said yes. Guess which one of us was scared. Not the four year old.

    Reply
  91. Anne, I hope there are no typos in this comment, because you’ve got me in tears with your dancing scene! It brought back one of my fondest childhood memories of my late father, who loved to dance everything from Irish step dancing to a waltz to a square dance. I remember trying to learn the jitterbug with Dad, dancing a few squares at a family party – and waltzing to Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” at my wedding.
    I look forward to reading the new book. Loved all the others!

    Reply
  92. Anne, I hope there are no typos in this comment, because you’ve got me in tears with your dancing scene! It brought back one of my fondest childhood memories of my late father, who loved to dance everything from Irish step dancing to a waltz to a square dance. I remember trying to learn the jitterbug with Dad, dancing a few squares at a family party – and waltzing to Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” at my wedding.
    I look forward to reading the new book. Loved all the others!

    Reply
  93. Anne, I hope there are no typos in this comment, because you’ve got me in tears with your dancing scene! It brought back one of my fondest childhood memories of my late father, who loved to dance everything from Irish step dancing to a waltz to a square dance. I remember trying to learn the jitterbug with Dad, dancing a few squares at a family party – and waltzing to Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” at my wedding.
    I look forward to reading the new book. Loved all the others!

    Reply
  94. Anne, I hope there are no typos in this comment, because you’ve got me in tears with your dancing scene! It brought back one of my fondest childhood memories of my late father, who loved to dance everything from Irish step dancing to a waltz to a square dance. I remember trying to learn the jitterbug with Dad, dancing a few squares at a family party – and waltzing to Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” at my wedding.
    I look forward to reading the new book. Loved all the others!

    Reply
  95. Anne, I hope there are no typos in this comment, because you’ve got me in tears with your dancing scene! It brought back one of my fondest childhood memories of my late father, who loved to dance everything from Irish step dancing to a waltz to a square dance. I remember trying to learn the jitterbug with Dad, dancing a few squares at a family party – and waltzing to Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” at my wedding.
    I look forward to reading the new book. Loved all the others!

    Reply
  96. Anne, do you remember when I wrote you after I read The Stolen Princess? One of the questions I asked then was if you were planning to write stories for Nash and Marcus. I’m delighted that you wrote Nash’s. I love The Accidental Wedding. I look forward to Marcus’s story and to Luke’s.
    And how wonderful to know that you drew inspiration from “When You Taught Me How to Dance”! The first thing I did after seeing Miss Potter the first time was download that song. I have it on my iPod and on my computer still and listen to it often.
    As for childhood memories, the sight of a lightning bug or the smell of honeysuckle takes me back to summer evenings in the neighborhood where I grew up. Kids of all ages would play dodge ball or softball as long as there was enough light left to see the ball. When it grew too dark to play ball any longer, we’d gather in someone’s backyard for dishes of homemade ice cream from an old, hand-turned freezer. Nothing in all the years since has measured up to the first stolen taste when the paddle was lifted from the freezer. Later, I loved listening to the grownups tell stories as the stars came out. Chigger bites from sitting in the grass was a small price to pay for the thrill of those tales. And I’ve never felt more secure that I did walking home with my parents and younger brother and sister, and no sleep has ever been as sound as that which followed warm, soapy baths, prayers and lying on sun-dried sheets, pleasantly tired and filled with dreams.

    Reply
  97. Anne, do you remember when I wrote you after I read The Stolen Princess? One of the questions I asked then was if you were planning to write stories for Nash and Marcus. I’m delighted that you wrote Nash’s. I love The Accidental Wedding. I look forward to Marcus’s story and to Luke’s.
    And how wonderful to know that you drew inspiration from “When You Taught Me How to Dance”! The first thing I did after seeing Miss Potter the first time was download that song. I have it on my iPod and on my computer still and listen to it often.
    As for childhood memories, the sight of a lightning bug or the smell of honeysuckle takes me back to summer evenings in the neighborhood where I grew up. Kids of all ages would play dodge ball or softball as long as there was enough light left to see the ball. When it grew too dark to play ball any longer, we’d gather in someone’s backyard for dishes of homemade ice cream from an old, hand-turned freezer. Nothing in all the years since has measured up to the first stolen taste when the paddle was lifted from the freezer. Later, I loved listening to the grownups tell stories as the stars came out. Chigger bites from sitting in the grass was a small price to pay for the thrill of those tales. And I’ve never felt more secure that I did walking home with my parents and younger brother and sister, and no sleep has ever been as sound as that which followed warm, soapy baths, prayers and lying on sun-dried sheets, pleasantly tired and filled with dreams.

    Reply
  98. Anne, do you remember when I wrote you after I read The Stolen Princess? One of the questions I asked then was if you were planning to write stories for Nash and Marcus. I’m delighted that you wrote Nash’s. I love The Accidental Wedding. I look forward to Marcus’s story and to Luke’s.
    And how wonderful to know that you drew inspiration from “When You Taught Me How to Dance”! The first thing I did after seeing Miss Potter the first time was download that song. I have it on my iPod and on my computer still and listen to it often.
    As for childhood memories, the sight of a lightning bug or the smell of honeysuckle takes me back to summer evenings in the neighborhood where I grew up. Kids of all ages would play dodge ball or softball as long as there was enough light left to see the ball. When it grew too dark to play ball any longer, we’d gather in someone’s backyard for dishes of homemade ice cream from an old, hand-turned freezer. Nothing in all the years since has measured up to the first stolen taste when the paddle was lifted from the freezer. Later, I loved listening to the grownups tell stories as the stars came out. Chigger bites from sitting in the grass was a small price to pay for the thrill of those tales. And I’ve never felt more secure that I did walking home with my parents and younger brother and sister, and no sleep has ever been as sound as that which followed warm, soapy baths, prayers and lying on sun-dried sheets, pleasantly tired and filled with dreams.

    Reply
  99. Anne, do you remember when I wrote you after I read The Stolen Princess? One of the questions I asked then was if you were planning to write stories for Nash and Marcus. I’m delighted that you wrote Nash’s. I love The Accidental Wedding. I look forward to Marcus’s story and to Luke’s.
    And how wonderful to know that you drew inspiration from “When You Taught Me How to Dance”! The first thing I did after seeing Miss Potter the first time was download that song. I have it on my iPod and on my computer still and listen to it often.
    As for childhood memories, the sight of a lightning bug or the smell of honeysuckle takes me back to summer evenings in the neighborhood where I grew up. Kids of all ages would play dodge ball or softball as long as there was enough light left to see the ball. When it grew too dark to play ball any longer, we’d gather in someone’s backyard for dishes of homemade ice cream from an old, hand-turned freezer. Nothing in all the years since has measured up to the first stolen taste when the paddle was lifted from the freezer. Later, I loved listening to the grownups tell stories as the stars came out. Chigger bites from sitting in the grass was a small price to pay for the thrill of those tales. And I’ve never felt more secure that I did walking home with my parents and younger brother and sister, and no sleep has ever been as sound as that which followed warm, soapy baths, prayers and lying on sun-dried sheets, pleasantly tired and filled with dreams.

    Reply
  100. Anne, do you remember when I wrote you after I read The Stolen Princess? One of the questions I asked then was if you were planning to write stories for Nash and Marcus. I’m delighted that you wrote Nash’s. I love The Accidental Wedding. I look forward to Marcus’s story and to Luke’s.
    And how wonderful to know that you drew inspiration from “When You Taught Me How to Dance”! The first thing I did after seeing Miss Potter the first time was download that song. I have it on my iPod and on my computer still and listen to it often.
    As for childhood memories, the sight of a lightning bug or the smell of honeysuckle takes me back to summer evenings in the neighborhood where I grew up. Kids of all ages would play dodge ball or softball as long as there was enough light left to see the ball. When it grew too dark to play ball any longer, we’d gather in someone’s backyard for dishes of homemade ice cream from an old, hand-turned freezer. Nothing in all the years since has measured up to the first stolen taste when the paddle was lifted from the freezer. Later, I loved listening to the grownups tell stories as the stars came out. Chigger bites from sitting in the grass was a small price to pay for the thrill of those tales. And I’ve never felt more secure that I did walking home with my parents and younger brother and sister, and no sleep has ever been as sound as that which followed warm, soapy baths, prayers and lying on sun-dried sheets, pleasantly tired and filled with dreams.

    Reply
  101. Mary Jo, of course all your cats are real! I never doubted it. I suspect I’ve met at least one of them.
    And all this talk of lilac has made me go and pick a couple of sprigs from the lilac bush and the scent here at my desk is delicious.
    I’m very glad they brought Captain Cook’s cottage to Melbourne — it’s the only chance I get to just run down the road and do some building research, whereas Nicola and Jo can do that at the drop of a hat. I’m not envious, no sir (she says greenly)

    Reply
  102. Mary Jo, of course all your cats are real! I never doubted it. I suspect I’ve met at least one of them.
    And all this talk of lilac has made me go and pick a couple of sprigs from the lilac bush and the scent here at my desk is delicious.
    I’m very glad they brought Captain Cook’s cottage to Melbourne — it’s the only chance I get to just run down the road and do some building research, whereas Nicola and Jo can do that at the drop of a hat. I’m not envious, no sir (she says greenly)

    Reply
  103. Mary Jo, of course all your cats are real! I never doubted it. I suspect I’ve met at least one of them.
    And all this talk of lilac has made me go and pick a couple of sprigs from the lilac bush and the scent here at my desk is delicious.
    I’m very glad they brought Captain Cook’s cottage to Melbourne — it’s the only chance I get to just run down the road and do some building research, whereas Nicola and Jo can do that at the drop of a hat. I’m not envious, no sir (she says greenly)

    Reply
  104. Mary Jo, of course all your cats are real! I never doubted it. I suspect I’ve met at least one of them.
    And all this talk of lilac has made me go and pick a couple of sprigs from the lilac bush and the scent here at my desk is delicious.
    I’m very glad they brought Captain Cook’s cottage to Melbourne — it’s the only chance I get to just run down the road and do some building research, whereas Nicola and Jo can do that at the drop of a hat. I’m not envious, no sir (she says greenly)

    Reply
  105. Mary Jo, of course all your cats are real! I never doubted it. I suspect I’ve met at least one of them.
    And all this talk of lilac has made me go and pick a couple of sprigs from the lilac bush and the scent here at my desk is delicious.
    I’m very glad they brought Captain Cook’s cottage to Melbourne — it’s the only chance I get to just run down the road and do some building research, whereas Nicola and Jo can do that at the drop of a hat. I’m not envious, no sir (she says greenly)

    Reply
  106. Cynthia, lovely comment. It sounds like your dad and mine were of the generation that grew up dancing those “proper partner” dances (unlike me.) My parents did most of their courting on dance floors and when they danced together it was something special to watch, it was so smooth and instinctive and intimate. Even into old age, they still danced at every opportunity, even just a quick turn about the kitchen to music on the radio.

    Reply
  107. Cynthia, lovely comment. It sounds like your dad and mine were of the generation that grew up dancing those “proper partner” dances (unlike me.) My parents did most of their courting on dance floors and when they danced together it was something special to watch, it was so smooth and instinctive and intimate. Even into old age, they still danced at every opportunity, even just a quick turn about the kitchen to music on the radio.

    Reply
  108. Cynthia, lovely comment. It sounds like your dad and mine were of the generation that grew up dancing those “proper partner” dances (unlike me.) My parents did most of their courting on dance floors and when they danced together it was something special to watch, it was so smooth and instinctive and intimate. Even into old age, they still danced at every opportunity, even just a quick turn about the kitchen to music on the radio.

    Reply
  109. Cynthia, lovely comment. It sounds like your dad and mine were of the generation that grew up dancing those “proper partner” dances (unlike me.) My parents did most of their courting on dance floors and when they danced together it was something special to watch, it was so smooth and instinctive and intimate. Even into old age, they still danced at every opportunity, even just a quick turn about the kitchen to music on the radio.

    Reply
  110. Cynthia, lovely comment. It sounds like your dad and mine were of the generation that grew up dancing those “proper partner” dances (unlike me.) My parents did most of their courting on dance floors and when they danced together it was something special to watch, it was so smooth and instinctive and intimate. Even into old age, they still danced at every opportunity, even just a quick turn about the kitchen to music on the radio.

    Reply
  111. What lovely, lovely excerpts. I cannot WAIT to read this book !!
    Until we moved to England when I was nine I spent my early years in the Deep South – Florida, Alabama. My brothers and I had never experienced snow. We lived in a small English village in Suffolk with a walled in back garden with a gate into a huge rhubarb field. This was during the Vietnam War and my father was away quite a bit on assignment. But he happened to be home the Saturday morning of the first big snow. He woke us up bright and early more excited than any little kid I’ve ever seen. Mom, a true steel magnolia, fussed and fussed as she dressed us in our newly bought winter weather gear. It seemed to take forever and Dad had already gone back outside. Finally we raced out into the garden and were immediately pelted by snowballs! The air was so cold and clean you could taste it. The snow was up to our knees!! My baby brother who was only three kept falling over and laughing and laughing. We had a huge snowball fight with Dad and then some boys from next door joined in and it was an all our war.
    We lost my father 12 years ago and the memory of that winter morning in Suffolk keeps him with me always.
    (And the Yanks won the snowball fight, by the way!)

    Reply
  112. What lovely, lovely excerpts. I cannot WAIT to read this book !!
    Until we moved to England when I was nine I spent my early years in the Deep South – Florida, Alabama. My brothers and I had never experienced snow. We lived in a small English village in Suffolk with a walled in back garden with a gate into a huge rhubarb field. This was during the Vietnam War and my father was away quite a bit on assignment. But he happened to be home the Saturday morning of the first big snow. He woke us up bright and early more excited than any little kid I’ve ever seen. Mom, a true steel magnolia, fussed and fussed as she dressed us in our newly bought winter weather gear. It seemed to take forever and Dad had already gone back outside. Finally we raced out into the garden and were immediately pelted by snowballs! The air was so cold and clean you could taste it. The snow was up to our knees!! My baby brother who was only three kept falling over and laughing and laughing. We had a huge snowball fight with Dad and then some boys from next door joined in and it was an all our war.
    We lost my father 12 years ago and the memory of that winter morning in Suffolk keeps him with me always.
    (And the Yanks won the snowball fight, by the way!)

    Reply
  113. What lovely, lovely excerpts. I cannot WAIT to read this book !!
    Until we moved to England when I was nine I spent my early years in the Deep South – Florida, Alabama. My brothers and I had never experienced snow. We lived in a small English village in Suffolk with a walled in back garden with a gate into a huge rhubarb field. This was during the Vietnam War and my father was away quite a bit on assignment. But he happened to be home the Saturday morning of the first big snow. He woke us up bright and early more excited than any little kid I’ve ever seen. Mom, a true steel magnolia, fussed and fussed as she dressed us in our newly bought winter weather gear. It seemed to take forever and Dad had already gone back outside. Finally we raced out into the garden and were immediately pelted by snowballs! The air was so cold and clean you could taste it. The snow was up to our knees!! My baby brother who was only three kept falling over and laughing and laughing. We had a huge snowball fight with Dad and then some boys from next door joined in and it was an all our war.
    We lost my father 12 years ago and the memory of that winter morning in Suffolk keeps him with me always.
    (And the Yanks won the snowball fight, by the way!)

    Reply
  114. What lovely, lovely excerpts. I cannot WAIT to read this book !!
    Until we moved to England when I was nine I spent my early years in the Deep South – Florida, Alabama. My brothers and I had never experienced snow. We lived in a small English village in Suffolk with a walled in back garden with a gate into a huge rhubarb field. This was during the Vietnam War and my father was away quite a bit on assignment. But he happened to be home the Saturday morning of the first big snow. He woke us up bright and early more excited than any little kid I’ve ever seen. Mom, a true steel magnolia, fussed and fussed as she dressed us in our newly bought winter weather gear. It seemed to take forever and Dad had already gone back outside. Finally we raced out into the garden and were immediately pelted by snowballs! The air was so cold and clean you could taste it. The snow was up to our knees!! My baby brother who was only three kept falling over and laughing and laughing. We had a huge snowball fight with Dad and then some boys from next door joined in and it was an all our war.
    We lost my father 12 years ago and the memory of that winter morning in Suffolk keeps him with me always.
    (And the Yanks won the snowball fight, by the way!)

    Reply
  115. What lovely, lovely excerpts. I cannot WAIT to read this book !!
    Until we moved to England when I was nine I spent my early years in the Deep South – Florida, Alabama. My brothers and I had never experienced snow. We lived in a small English village in Suffolk with a walled in back garden with a gate into a huge rhubarb field. This was during the Vietnam War and my father was away quite a bit on assignment. But he happened to be home the Saturday morning of the first big snow. He woke us up bright and early more excited than any little kid I’ve ever seen. Mom, a true steel magnolia, fussed and fussed as she dressed us in our newly bought winter weather gear. It seemed to take forever and Dad had already gone back outside. Finally we raced out into the garden and were immediately pelted by snowballs! The air was so cold and clean you could taste it. The snow was up to our knees!! My baby brother who was only three kept falling over and laughing and laughing. We had a huge snowball fight with Dad and then some boys from next door joined in and it was an all our war.
    We lost my father 12 years ago and the memory of that winter morning in Suffolk keeps him with me always.
    (And the Yanks won the snowball fight, by the way!)

    Reply
  116. Thanks, Janga, and I do indeed remember you writing to me about Nash and Marcus. Fingers crossed for Marcus. I’m glad you enjoyed Nash and Maddy’s story.
    I still haven’t seen Miss Potter. I must rent the dvd.
    As for your descriptions of your childhood memories, just beautiful — thank you for sharing. There’s a lesson right there for any aspiring writer in how to evoke a place and time with the use of small particular detail. Thank you.
    I’m blown away by the writing talent of some of our wenchly readers. There have been some really beautiful comments today.

    Reply
  117. Thanks, Janga, and I do indeed remember you writing to me about Nash and Marcus. Fingers crossed for Marcus. I’m glad you enjoyed Nash and Maddy’s story.
    I still haven’t seen Miss Potter. I must rent the dvd.
    As for your descriptions of your childhood memories, just beautiful — thank you for sharing. There’s a lesson right there for any aspiring writer in how to evoke a place and time with the use of small particular detail. Thank you.
    I’m blown away by the writing talent of some of our wenchly readers. There have been some really beautiful comments today.

    Reply
  118. Thanks, Janga, and I do indeed remember you writing to me about Nash and Marcus. Fingers crossed for Marcus. I’m glad you enjoyed Nash and Maddy’s story.
    I still haven’t seen Miss Potter. I must rent the dvd.
    As for your descriptions of your childhood memories, just beautiful — thank you for sharing. There’s a lesson right there for any aspiring writer in how to evoke a place and time with the use of small particular detail. Thank you.
    I’m blown away by the writing talent of some of our wenchly readers. There have been some really beautiful comments today.

    Reply
  119. Thanks, Janga, and I do indeed remember you writing to me about Nash and Marcus. Fingers crossed for Marcus. I’m glad you enjoyed Nash and Maddy’s story.
    I still haven’t seen Miss Potter. I must rent the dvd.
    As for your descriptions of your childhood memories, just beautiful — thank you for sharing. There’s a lesson right there for any aspiring writer in how to evoke a place and time with the use of small particular detail. Thank you.
    I’m blown away by the writing talent of some of our wenchly readers. There have been some really beautiful comments today.

    Reply
  120. Thanks, Janga, and I do indeed remember you writing to me about Nash and Marcus. Fingers crossed for Marcus. I’m glad you enjoyed Nash and Maddy’s story.
    I still haven’t seen Miss Potter. I must rent the dvd.
    As for your descriptions of your childhood memories, just beautiful — thank you for sharing. There’s a lesson right there for any aspiring writer in how to evoke a place and time with the use of small particular detail. Thank you.
    I’m blown away by the writing talent of some of our wenchly readers. There have been some really beautiful comments today.

    Reply
  121. Louisa, what a beautiful story! I can almost feel the crisp splat of those snowballs. What a wonderful memory of your dad to treasure. Thank you for sharing it.
    I am so impressed with all this wenchly reader writing talent!
    I remember my first real snow, too — also in England. Our train going to Scotland stopped in the middle of the night and my brother and i got off the train and made snowballs. Everyone thought we were insane — and looked to my mother to stop us and be sensible. But she laughed her head off and then joined in. It’s what happens when you grow up without snow.

    Reply
  122. Louisa, what a beautiful story! I can almost feel the crisp splat of those snowballs. What a wonderful memory of your dad to treasure. Thank you for sharing it.
    I am so impressed with all this wenchly reader writing talent!
    I remember my first real snow, too — also in England. Our train going to Scotland stopped in the middle of the night and my brother and i got off the train and made snowballs. Everyone thought we were insane — and looked to my mother to stop us and be sensible. But she laughed her head off and then joined in. It’s what happens when you grow up without snow.

    Reply
  123. Louisa, what a beautiful story! I can almost feel the crisp splat of those snowballs. What a wonderful memory of your dad to treasure. Thank you for sharing it.
    I am so impressed with all this wenchly reader writing talent!
    I remember my first real snow, too — also in England. Our train going to Scotland stopped in the middle of the night and my brother and i got off the train and made snowballs. Everyone thought we were insane — and looked to my mother to stop us and be sensible. But she laughed her head off and then joined in. It’s what happens when you grow up without snow.

    Reply
  124. Louisa, what a beautiful story! I can almost feel the crisp splat of those snowballs. What a wonderful memory of your dad to treasure. Thank you for sharing it.
    I am so impressed with all this wenchly reader writing talent!
    I remember my first real snow, too — also in England. Our train going to Scotland stopped in the middle of the night and my brother and i got off the train and made snowballs. Everyone thought we were insane — and looked to my mother to stop us and be sensible. But she laughed her head off and then joined in. It’s what happens when you grow up without snow.

    Reply
  125. Louisa, what a beautiful story! I can almost feel the crisp splat of those snowballs. What a wonderful memory of your dad to treasure. Thank you for sharing it.
    I am so impressed with all this wenchly reader writing talent!
    I remember my first real snow, too — also in England. Our train going to Scotland stopped in the middle of the night and my brother and i got off the train and made snowballs. Everyone thought we were insane — and looked to my mother to stop us and be sensible. But she laughed her head off and then joined in. It’s what happens when you grow up without snow.

    Reply
  126. The wood “fort” in my backyard & the wood dowel & plywood “rifles” my dad made. They were painted red, blue, yellow & green. It was a fort made of privacy fencing & had two “towers” to climb up in…. very cool & imaginative. Perfect place for a perfect childhood memory!
    I’m looking forward to reading this book!

    Reply
  127. The wood “fort” in my backyard & the wood dowel & plywood “rifles” my dad made. They were painted red, blue, yellow & green. It was a fort made of privacy fencing & had two “towers” to climb up in…. very cool & imaginative. Perfect place for a perfect childhood memory!
    I’m looking forward to reading this book!

    Reply
  128. The wood “fort” in my backyard & the wood dowel & plywood “rifles” my dad made. They were painted red, blue, yellow & green. It was a fort made of privacy fencing & had two “towers” to climb up in…. very cool & imaginative. Perfect place for a perfect childhood memory!
    I’m looking forward to reading this book!

    Reply
  129. The wood “fort” in my backyard & the wood dowel & plywood “rifles” my dad made. They were painted red, blue, yellow & green. It was a fort made of privacy fencing & had two “towers” to climb up in…. very cool & imaginative. Perfect place for a perfect childhood memory!
    I’m looking forward to reading this book!

    Reply
  130. The wood “fort” in my backyard & the wood dowel & plywood “rifles” my dad made. They were painted red, blue, yellow & green. It was a fort made of privacy fencing & had two “towers” to climb up in…. very cool & imaginative. Perfect place for a perfect childhood memory!
    I’m looking forward to reading this book!

    Reply
  131. Skittles, that fort sounds brilliant. You must have had some wonderful battles in that. And painted rifles — verrry fancy and cool! And anything with a tower gets my vote for the ultimate childhood place — not only childhood, actually. I still love the idea of turrets and towers.

    Reply
  132. Skittles, that fort sounds brilliant. You must have had some wonderful battles in that. And painted rifles — verrry fancy and cool! And anything with a tower gets my vote for the ultimate childhood place — not only childhood, actually. I still love the idea of turrets and towers.

    Reply
  133. Skittles, that fort sounds brilliant. You must have had some wonderful battles in that. And painted rifles — verrry fancy and cool! And anything with a tower gets my vote for the ultimate childhood place — not only childhood, actually. I still love the idea of turrets and towers.

    Reply
  134. Skittles, that fort sounds brilliant. You must have had some wonderful battles in that. And painted rifles — verrry fancy and cool! And anything with a tower gets my vote for the ultimate childhood place — not only childhood, actually. I still love the idea of turrets and towers.

    Reply
  135. Skittles, that fort sounds brilliant. You must have had some wonderful battles in that. And painted rifles — verrry fancy and cool! And anything with a tower gets my vote for the ultimate childhood place — not only childhood, actually. I still love the idea of turrets and towers.

    Reply
  136. Anne, what a lovely blog and what lovely memories people are sharing! There’s a radio programme on here at the moment that has a section called “sound sculptures” where listeners describe the sounds that are evocative of their childhood. For me it’s the clinking noise made by the masts of yachts in the harbour in Wales where I used to go on holiday as a child. We lived a long way from the sea and so it felt very exciting to lie there at night (we rented a cottage on the harbout) and listen to the wind in the rigging. Made me think of wide horizons and adventure!

    Reply
  137. Anne, what a lovely blog and what lovely memories people are sharing! There’s a radio programme on here at the moment that has a section called “sound sculptures” where listeners describe the sounds that are evocative of their childhood. For me it’s the clinking noise made by the masts of yachts in the harbour in Wales where I used to go on holiday as a child. We lived a long way from the sea and so it felt very exciting to lie there at night (we rented a cottage on the harbout) and listen to the wind in the rigging. Made me think of wide horizons and adventure!

    Reply
  138. Anne, what a lovely blog and what lovely memories people are sharing! There’s a radio programme on here at the moment that has a section called “sound sculptures” where listeners describe the sounds that are evocative of their childhood. For me it’s the clinking noise made by the masts of yachts in the harbour in Wales where I used to go on holiday as a child. We lived a long way from the sea and so it felt very exciting to lie there at night (we rented a cottage on the harbout) and listen to the wind in the rigging. Made me think of wide horizons and adventure!

    Reply
  139. Anne, what a lovely blog and what lovely memories people are sharing! There’s a radio programme on here at the moment that has a section called “sound sculptures” where listeners describe the sounds that are evocative of their childhood. For me it’s the clinking noise made by the masts of yachts in the harbour in Wales where I used to go on holiday as a child. We lived a long way from the sea and so it felt very exciting to lie there at night (we rented a cottage on the harbout) and listen to the wind in the rigging. Made me think of wide horizons and adventure!

    Reply
  140. Anne, what a lovely blog and what lovely memories people are sharing! There’s a radio programme on here at the moment that has a section called “sound sculptures” where listeners describe the sounds that are evocative of their childhood. For me it’s the clinking noise made by the masts of yachts in the harbour in Wales where I used to go on holiday as a child. We lived a long way from the sea and so it felt very exciting to lie there at night (we rented a cottage on the harbout) and listen to the wind in the rigging. Made me think of wide horizons and adventure!

    Reply
  141. Nicola, thanks for dropping by. I do think the BBC has some wonderful programs — the idea of sound sculptures is most intriguing. I might look for it on line.
    Loved your memory of the wind in the rigging. I guess you’ve been getting a fair bit of adventure and wide horizons these days — I just caught up on your interview with Jo and your trip to the arctic. It sounds amazing and the photos were stunning. Can’t wait to read the book.

    Reply
  142. Nicola, thanks for dropping by. I do think the BBC has some wonderful programs — the idea of sound sculptures is most intriguing. I might look for it on line.
    Loved your memory of the wind in the rigging. I guess you’ve been getting a fair bit of adventure and wide horizons these days — I just caught up on your interview with Jo and your trip to the arctic. It sounds amazing and the photos were stunning. Can’t wait to read the book.

    Reply
  143. Nicola, thanks for dropping by. I do think the BBC has some wonderful programs — the idea of sound sculptures is most intriguing. I might look for it on line.
    Loved your memory of the wind in the rigging. I guess you’ve been getting a fair bit of adventure and wide horizons these days — I just caught up on your interview with Jo and your trip to the arctic. It sounds amazing and the photos were stunning. Can’t wait to read the book.

    Reply
  144. Nicola, thanks for dropping by. I do think the BBC has some wonderful programs — the idea of sound sculptures is most intriguing. I might look for it on line.
    Loved your memory of the wind in the rigging. I guess you’ve been getting a fair bit of adventure and wide horizons these days — I just caught up on your interview with Jo and your trip to the arctic. It sounds amazing and the photos were stunning. Can’t wait to read the book.

    Reply
  145. Nicola, thanks for dropping by. I do think the BBC has some wonderful programs — the idea of sound sculptures is most intriguing. I might look for it on line.
    Loved your memory of the wind in the rigging. I guess you’ve been getting a fair bit of adventure and wide horizons these days — I just caught up on your interview with Jo and your trip to the arctic. It sounds amazing and the photos were stunning. Can’t wait to read the book.

    Reply
  146. Thank you, Anne! I hadn’t thought of it but perhaps that was one of the reasons that I do enjoy travel so much now. The sound sculptures feature is part of Saturday Live on Radio 4 and it’s available online.
    I have just received my copy of The Accidental Wedding from the Book Depository and have jumped straight in!

    Reply
  147. Thank you, Anne! I hadn’t thought of it but perhaps that was one of the reasons that I do enjoy travel so much now. The sound sculptures feature is part of Saturday Live on Radio 4 and it’s available online.
    I have just received my copy of The Accidental Wedding from the Book Depository and have jumped straight in!

    Reply
  148. Thank you, Anne! I hadn’t thought of it but perhaps that was one of the reasons that I do enjoy travel so much now. The sound sculptures feature is part of Saturday Live on Radio 4 and it’s available online.
    I have just received my copy of The Accidental Wedding from the Book Depository and have jumped straight in!

    Reply
  149. Thank you, Anne! I hadn’t thought of it but perhaps that was one of the reasons that I do enjoy travel so much now. The sound sculptures feature is part of Saturday Live on Radio 4 and it’s available online.
    I have just received my copy of The Accidental Wedding from the Book Depository and have jumped straight in!

    Reply
  150. Thank you, Anne! I hadn’t thought of it but perhaps that was one of the reasons that I do enjoy travel so much now. The sound sculptures feature is part of Saturday Live on Radio 4 and it’s available online.
    I have just received my copy of The Accidental Wedding from the Book Depository and have jumped straight in!

    Reply
  151. I remember tastes – my grandmother made a fsih dish with white fish fillets, sliced tomato and onion and cheese scattered on top. I didn’t really like it but I always ate it because it was food and put in front of me – but I still remember the taste.

    Reply
  152. I remember tastes – my grandmother made a fsih dish with white fish fillets, sliced tomato and onion and cheese scattered on top. I didn’t really like it but I always ate it because it was food and put in front of me – but I still remember the taste.

    Reply
  153. I remember tastes – my grandmother made a fsih dish with white fish fillets, sliced tomato and onion and cheese scattered on top. I didn’t really like it but I always ate it because it was food and put in front of me – but I still remember the taste.

    Reply
  154. I remember tastes – my grandmother made a fsih dish with white fish fillets, sliced tomato and onion and cheese scattered on top. I didn’t really like it but I always ate it because it was food and put in front of me – but I still remember the taste.

    Reply
  155. I remember tastes – my grandmother made a fsih dish with white fish fillets, sliced tomato and onion and cheese scattered on top. I didn’t really like it but I always ate it because it was food and put in front of me – but I still remember the taste.

    Reply
  156. As usual, I”m late to the party, but I think I work a lot like you, Anne. People inhabit my imagination, but settings and senses come from memory.
    I’ve already downloaded ACCIDENTAL WEDDING into my Nook, prepared to read for the flight to Florida. I’ve been looking forward to this!

    Reply
  157. As usual, I”m late to the party, but I think I work a lot like you, Anne. People inhabit my imagination, but settings and senses come from memory.
    I’ve already downloaded ACCIDENTAL WEDDING into my Nook, prepared to read for the flight to Florida. I’ve been looking forward to this!

    Reply
  158. As usual, I”m late to the party, but I think I work a lot like you, Anne. People inhabit my imagination, but settings and senses come from memory.
    I’ve already downloaded ACCIDENTAL WEDDING into my Nook, prepared to read for the flight to Florida. I’ve been looking forward to this!

    Reply
  159. As usual, I”m late to the party, but I think I work a lot like you, Anne. People inhabit my imagination, but settings and senses come from memory.
    I’ve already downloaded ACCIDENTAL WEDDING into my Nook, prepared to read for the flight to Florida. I’ve been looking forward to this!

    Reply
  160. As usual, I”m late to the party, but I think I work a lot like you, Anne. People inhabit my imagination, but settings and senses come from memory.
    I’ve already downloaded ACCIDENTAL WEDDING into my Nook, prepared to read for the flight to Florida. I’ve been looking forward to this!

    Reply
  161. Oh, yes, Alison — tastes are very evoctive, I agree. My mother used to make a dish a lot like that one, except without fish — just tomatoes, onions and breadcrumbs in layers, dotted with butter and baked as an accompaniment to a roast dinner. It was yummy. I must make it some time.
    Pat, that’s it exactly — people inhabit my imagination. Have a wonderful time at the NINC conference in Florida — I soooo wish I was going, too.

    Reply
  162. Oh, yes, Alison — tastes are very evoctive, I agree. My mother used to make a dish a lot like that one, except without fish — just tomatoes, onions and breadcrumbs in layers, dotted with butter and baked as an accompaniment to a roast dinner. It was yummy. I must make it some time.
    Pat, that’s it exactly — people inhabit my imagination. Have a wonderful time at the NINC conference in Florida — I soooo wish I was going, too.

    Reply
  163. Oh, yes, Alison — tastes are very evoctive, I agree. My mother used to make a dish a lot like that one, except without fish — just tomatoes, onions and breadcrumbs in layers, dotted with butter and baked as an accompaniment to a roast dinner. It was yummy. I must make it some time.
    Pat, that’s it exactly — people inhabit my imagination. Have a wonderful time at the NINC conference in Florida — I soooo wish I was going, too.

    Reply
  164. Oh, yes, Alison — tastes are very evoctive, I agree. My mother used to make a dish a lot like that one, except without fish — just tomatoes, onions and breadcrumbs in layers, dotted with butter and baked as an accompaniment to a roast dinner. It was yummy. I must make it some time.
    Pat, that’s it exactly — people inhabit my imagination. Have a wonderful time at the NINC conference in Florida — I soooo wish I was going, too.

    Reply
  165. Oh, yes, Alison — tastes are very evoctive, I agree. My mother used to make a dish a lot like that one, except without fish — just tomatoes, onions and breadcrumbs in layers, dotted with butter and baked as an accompaniment to a roast dinner. It was yummy. I must make it some time.
    Pat, that’s it exactly — people inhabit my imagination. Have a wonderful time at the NINC conference in Florida — I soooo wish I was going, too.

    Reply
  166. Hi Anne – Just finished reading The Perfect Rake, (my first of yours), and thoroughly enjoyed it. Gideon was just so scrumptious…lol. I look forward to reading The Accidental Wedding, (did anyone mention the gorgeous cover!!! 🙂
    After reading all these wonderful stories of childhood memories, so many similar ones of my own have come flooding back.
    The smell of mum’s baking every Tuesday afternoon as we got home from school, golden syrup biccies, ANZACs, shortbread…yum!
    Walking home everyday from primary school, past a very old house, down a long driveway, with a massive leafy tree at the end of it. From the dark recesses of the tree hung a swing, and once someone had made the comment that an old witch lived there…..we swore we could see her sitting on the swing every time we walked very quickly by.
    The sound of the water washing up on the shore of lake Rotorua (NZ) at night when the wind got up. We stayed in a cabin there every family holiday and the water was within spitting distance of the deck. Such wonderful times.
    I also find every favourite song has a way of transporting me right back to what was going on when it first came out.
    So many memories lie just below the surface, waiting for something to jog them back into life. *g*

    Reply
  167. Hi Anne – Just finished reading The Perfect Rake, (my first of yours), and thoroughly enjoyed it. Gideon was just so scrumptious…lol. I look forward to reading The Accidental Wedding, (did anyone mention the gorgeous cover!!! 🙂
    After reading all these wonderful stories of childhood memories, so many similar ones of my own have come flooding back.
    The smell of mum’s baking every Tuesday afternoon as we got home from school, golden syrup biccies, ANZACs, shortbread…yum!
    Walking home everyday from primary school, past a very old house, down a long driveway, with a massive leafy tree at the end of it. From the dark recesses of the tree hung a swing, and once someone had made the comment that an old witch lived there…..we swore we could see her sitting on the swing every time we walked very quickly by.
    The sound of the water washing up on the shore of lake Rotorua (NZ) at night when the wind got up. We stayed in a cabin there every family holiday and the water was within spitting distance of the deck. Such wonderful times.
    I also find every favourite song has a way of transporting me right back to what was going on when it first came out.
    So many memories lie just below the surface, waiting for something to jog them back into life. *g*

    Reply
  168. Hi Anne – Just finished reading The Perfect Rake, (my first of yours), and thoroughly enjoyed it. Gideon was just so scrumptious…lol. I look forward to reading The Accidental Wedding, (did anyone mention the gorgeous cover!!! 🙂
    After reading all these wonderful stories of childhood memories, so many similar ones of my own have come flooding back.
    The smell of mum’s baking every Tuesday afternoon as we got home from school, golden syrup biccies, ANZACs, shortbread…yum!
    Walking home everyday from primary school, past a very old house, down a long driveway, with a massive leafy tree at the end of it. From the dark recesses of the tree hung a swing, and once someone had made the comment that an old witch lived there…..we swore we could see her sitting on the swing every time we walked very quickly by.
    The sound of the water washing up on the shore of lake Rotorua (NZ) at night when the wind got up. We stayed in a cabin there every family holiday and the water was within spitting distance of the deck. Such wonderful times.
    I also find every favourite song has a way of transporting me right back to what was going on when it first came out.
    So many memories lie just below the surface, waiting for something to jog them back into life. *g*

    Reply
  169. Hi Anne – Just finished reading The Perfect Rake, (my first of yours), and thoroughly enjoyed it. Gideon was just so scrumptious…lol. I look forward to reading The Accidental Wedding, (did anyone mention the gorgeous cover!!! 🙂
    After reading all these wonderful stories of childhood memories, so many similar ones of my own have come flooding back.
    The smell of mum’s baking every Tuesday afternoon as we got home from school, golden syrup biccies, ANZACs, shortbread…yum!
    Walking home everyday from primary school, past a very old house, down a long driveway, with a massive leafy tree at the end of it. From the dark recesses of the tree hung a swing, and once someone had made the comment that an old witch lived there…..we swore we could see her sitting on the swing every time we walked very quickly by.
    The sound of the water washing up on the shore of lake Rotorua (NZ) at night when the wind got up. We stayed in a cabin there every family holiday and the water was within spitting distance of the deck. Such wonderful times.
    I also find every favourite song has a way of transporting me right back to what was going on when it first came out.
    So many memories lie just below the surface, waiting for something to jog them back into life. *g*

    Reply
  170. Hi Anne – Just finished reading The Perfect Rake, (my first of yours), and thoroughly enjoyed it. Gideon was just so scrumptious…lol. I look forward to reading The Accidental Wedding, (did anyone mention the gorgeous cover!!! 🙂
    After reading all these wonderful stories of childhood memories, so many similar ones of my own have come flooding back.
    The smell of mum’s baking every Tuesday afternoon as we got home from school, golden syrup biccies, ANZACs, shortbread…yum!
    Walking home everyday from primary school, past a very old house, down a long driveway, with a massive leafy tree at the end of it. From the dark recesses of the tree hung a swing, and once someone had made the comment that an old witch lived there…..we swore we could see her sitting on the swing every time we walked very quickly by.
    The sound of the water washing up on the shore of lake Rotorua (NZ) at night when the wind got up. We stayed in a cabin there every family holiday and the water was within spitting distance of the deck. Such wonderful times.
    I also find every favourite song has a way of transporting me right back to what was going on when it first came out.
    So many memories lie just below the surface, waiting for something to jog them back into life. *g*

    Reply
  171. I think it is interesting to read all of the comments about memories asssociated with fathers. My memory is about my fahter’s garden. Vegetables and wonderful roses in the backyard in Brooklyn. Everything was covered for the winter under these great big glass jars.
    My birthday is April 29, and every year my father would make a point of uncovering all of the plants on my birthday. I remember only one year when it snowed after that date.

    Reply
  172. I think it is interesting to read all of the comments about memories asssociated with fathers. My memory is about my fahter’s garden. Vegetables and wonderful roses in the backyard in Brooklyn. Everything was covered for the winter under these great big glass jars.
    My birthday is April 29, and every year my father would make a point of uncovering all of the plants on my birthday. I remember only one year when it snowed after that date.

    Reply
  173. I think it is interesting to read all of the comments about memories asssociated with fathers. My memory is about my fahter’s garden. Vegetables and wonderful roses in the backyard in Brooklyn. Everything was covered for the winter under these great big glass jars.
    My birthday is April 29, and every year my father would make a point of uncovering all of the plants on my birthday. I remember only one year when it snowed after that date.

    Reply
  174. I think it is interesting to read all of the comments about memories asssociated with fathers. My memory is about my fahter’s garden. Vegetables and wonderful roses in the backyard in Brooklyn. Everything was covered for the winter under these great big glass jars.
    My birthday is April 29, and every year my father would make a point of uncovering all of the plants on my birthday. I remember only one year when it snowed after that date.

    Reply
  175. I think it is interesting to read all of the comments about memories asssociated with fathers. My memory is about my fahter’s garden. Vegetables and wonderful roses in the backyard in Brooklyn. Everything was covered for the winter under these great big glass jars.
    My birthday is April 29, and every year my father would make a point of uncovering all of the plants on my birthday. I remember only one year when it snowed after that date.

    Reply
  176. finished the book last night. This is the first book I can think of where the cover was really accurate. The artist read the book. The hair and lace are just perfect.
    Looking forward to I guess Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  177. finished the book last night. This is the first book I can think of where the cover was really accurate. The artist read the book. The hair and lace are just perfect.
    Looking forward to I guess Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  178. finished the book last night. This is the first book I can think of where the cover was really accurate. The artist read the book. The hair and lace are just perfect.
    Looking forward to I guess Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  179. finished the book last night. This is the first book I can think of where the cover was really accurate. The artist read the book. The hair and lace are just perfect.
    Looking forward to I guess Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  180. finished the book last night. This is the first book I can think of where the cover was really accurate. The artist read the book. The hair and lace are just perfect.
    Looking forward to I guess Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  181. Lyn, thanks, but I’m afraid it wasn’t so much that the cover artist read the book, it’s that I was sent the cover image in time to tweak the book to fit the dress and necklace on the cover. I like to have a cover that reflects the book, too.
    And yes, it’s Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  182. Lyn, thanks, but I’m afraid it wasn’t so much that the cover artist read the book, it’s that I was sent the cover image in time to tweak the book to fit the dress and necklace on the cover. I like to have a cover that reflects the book, too.
    And yes, it’s Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  183. Lyn, thanks, but I’m afraid it wasn’t so much that the cover artist read the book, it’s that I was sent the cover image in time to tweak the book to fit the dress and necklace on the cover. I like to have a cover that reflects the book, too.
    And yes, it’s Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  184. Lyn, thanks, but I’m afraid it wasn’t so much that the cover artist read the book, it’s that I was sent the cover image in time to tweak the book to fit the dress and necklace on the cover. I like to have a cover that reflects the book, too.
    And yes, it’s Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  185. Lyn, thanks, but I’m afraid it wasn’t so much that the cover artist read the book, it’s that I was sent the cover image in time to tweak the book to fit the dress and necklace on the cover. I like to have a cover that reflects the book, too.
    And yes, it’s Luke’s story next.

    Reply
  186. Kim, I’m so glad you enjoyed my Gideon. I do love a bad boy hero. And thanks for sharing your childhood memories. Made me want to go and bake ANZACs.
    Laura, what a lovely memory of your father. Thanks for sharing it.

    Reply
  187. Kim, I’m so glad you enjoyed my Gideon. I do love a bad boy hero. And thanks for sharing your childhood memories. Made me want to go and bake ANZACs.
    Laura, what a lovely memory of your father. Thanks for sharing it.

    Reply
  188. Kim, I’m so glad you enjoyed my Gideon. I do love a bad boy hero. And thanks for sharing your childhood memories. Made me want to go and bake ANZACs.
    Laura, what a lovely memory of your father. Thanks for sharing it.

    Reply
  189. Kim, I’m so glad you enjoyed my Gideon. I do love a bad boy hero. And thanks for sharing your childhood memories. Made me want to go and bake ANZACs.
    Laura, what a lovely memory of your father. Thanks for sharing it.

    Reply
  190. Kim, I’m so glad you enjoyed my Gideon. I do love a bad boy hero. And thanks for sharing your childhood memories. Made me want to go and bake ANZACs.
    Laura, what a lovely memory of your father. Thanks for sharing it.

    Reply
  191. I’m sure I’m too late for the give-away, although I’d love to have a copy of your book, esp. with such a lovely cover! I think that’s the prettiest book cover I’ve ever seen!
    I also love your collage idea. I’m going to have to adopt that idea for myself. Seems like it might be a good way to get back into the world of the book when you’ve had to take a break from it, as I frequently do with my four kids and job! 🙂
    Little Lucy reminds me a bit of myself when I was little. I loved to play dress-up and had a bunch of dresses left over from my mom’s college and grad school vocal recitals, including one with a bustle and one with hoops. My usual boyfriends were “Bo” from Dukes of Hazard and Rick Springfield. *g* Many hours of fun playing dress-up and pretending to have a boyfriend. 🙂

    Reply
  192. I’m sure I’m too late for the give-away, although I’d love to have a copy of your book, esp. with such a lovely cover! I think that’s the prettiest book cover I’ve ever seen!
    I also love your collage idea. I’m going to have to adopt that idea for myself. Seems like it might be a good way to get back into the world of the book when you’ve had to take a break from it, as I frequently do with my four kids and job! 🙂
    Little Lucy reminds me a bit of myself when I was little. I loved to play dress-up and had a bunch of dresses left over from my mom’s college and grad school vocal recitals, including one with a bustle and one with hoops. My usual boyfriends were “Bo” from Dukes of Hazard and Rick Springfield. *g* Many hours of fun playing dress-up and pretending to have a boyfriend. 🙂

    Reply
  193. I’m sure I’m too late for the give-away, although I’d love to have a copy of your book, esp. with such a lovely cover! I think that’s the prettiest book cover I’ve ever seen!
    I also love your collage idea. I’m going to have to adopt that idea for myself. Seems like it might be a good way to get back into the world of the book when you’ve had to take a break from it, as I frequently do with my four kids and job! 🙂
    Little Lucy reminds me a bit of myself when I was little. I loved to play dress-up and had a bunch of dresses left over from my mom’s college and grad school vocal recitals, including one with a bustle and one with hoops. My usual boyfriends were “Bo” from Dukes of Hazard and Rick Springfield. *g* Many hours of fun playing dress-up and pretending to have a boyfriend. 🙂

    Reply
  194. I’m sure I’m too late for the give-away, although I’d love to have a copy of your book, esp. with such a lovely cover! I think that’s the prettiest book cover I’ve ever seen!
    I also love your collage idea. I’m going to have to adopt that idea for myself. Seems like it might be a good way to get back into the world of the book when you’ve had to take a break from it, as I frequently do with my four kids and job! 🙂
    Little Lucy reminds me a bit of myself when I was little. I loved to play dress-up and had a bunch of dresses left over from my mom’s college and grad school vocal recitals, including one with a bustle and one with hoops. My usual boyfriends were “Bo” from Dukes of Hazard and Rick Springfield. *g* Many hours of fun playing dress-up and pretending to have a boyfriend. 🙂

    Reply
  195. I’m sure I’m too late for the give-away, although I’d love to have a copy of your book, esp. with such a lovely cover! I think that’s the prettiest book cover I’ve ever seen!
    I also love your collage idea. I’m going to have to adopt that idea for myself. Seems like it might be a good way to get back into the world of the book when you’ve had to take a break from it, as I frequently do with my four kids and job! 🙂
    Little Lucy reminds me a bit of myself when I was little. I loved to play dress-up and had a bunch of dresses left over from my mom’s college and grad school vocal recitals, including one with a bustle and one with hoops. My usual boyfriends were “Bo” from Dukes of Hazard and Rick Springfield. *g* Many hours of fun playing dress-up and pretending to have a boyfriend. 🙂

    Reply
  196. Anne, it IS a lovely cover, isn’t it? (I’ve been gushing shamelessly I know.)
    The collage really does help you return to the world of the book. At one stage a few ytears ago I was trying to write my own book and also adapt the scripts of the TV series The Tudors to make a novel of it, and in the end I made a collage of the Tudors, not for the story, which was already written by the script writer, but to help plunge me back into that world.

    Reply
  197. Anne, it IS a lovely cover, isn’t it? (I’ve been gushing shamelessly I know.)
    The collage really does help you return to the world of the book. At one stage a few ytears ago I was trying to write my own book and also adapt the scripts of the TV series The Tudors to make a novel of it, and in the end I made a collage of the Tudors, not for the story, which was already written by the script writer, but to help plunge me back into that world.

    Reply
  198. Anne, it IS a lovely cover, isn’t it? (I’ve been gushing shamelessly I know.)
    The collage really does help you return to the world of the book. At one stage a few ytears ago I was trying to write my own book and also adapt the scripts of the TV series The Tudors to make a novel of it, and in the end I made a collage of the Tudors, not for the story, which was already written by the script writer, but to help plunge me back into that world.

    Reply
  199. Anne, it IS a lovely cover, isn’t it? (I’ve been gushing shamelessly I know.)
    The collage really does help you return to the world of the book. At one stage a few ytears ago I was trying to write my own book and also adapt the scripts of the TV series The Tudors to make a novel of it, and in the end I made a collage of the Tudors, not for the story, which was already written by the script writer, but to help plunge me back into that world.

    Reply
  200. Anne, it IS a lovely cover, isn’t it? (I’ve been gushing shamelessly I know.)
    The collage really does help you return to the world of the book. At one stage a few ytears ago I was trying to write my own book and also adapt the scripts of the TV series The Tudors to make a novel of it, and in the end I made a collage of the Tudors, not for the story, which was already written by the script writer, but to help plunge me back into that world.

    Reply
  201. It’s going to sound funny after all the talk of flowers and jelly but…mothballs! I had a friend in middle school who’s house always smelled of mothballs (okay, just the closet nest to her room, but still!) Every time I smell mothballs, I think of her and can still see her house/room from the summer I spent so much time over at her house. It actuall took me almost a year in college to place what the smell was and figure out what I was recalling it from, but now I always see that image with that smell 🙂

    Reply
  202. It’s going to sound funny after all the talk of flowers and jelly but…mothballs! I had a friend in middle school who’s house always smelled of mothballs (okay, just the closet nest to her room, but still!) Every time I smell mothballs, I think of her and can still see her house/room from the summer I spent so much time over at her house. It actuall took me almost a year in college to place what the smell was and figure out what I was recalling it from, but now I always see that image with that smell 🙂

    Reply
  203. It’s going to sound funny after all the talk of flowers and jelly but…mothballs! I had a friend in middle school who’s house always smelled of mothballs (okay, just the closet nest to her room, but still!) Every time I smell mothballs, I think of her and can still see her house/room from the summer I spent so much time over at her house. It actuall took me almost a year in college to place what the smell was and figure out what I was recalling it from, but now I always see that image with that smell 🙂

    Reply
  204. It’s going to sound funny after all the talk of flowers and jelly but…mothballs! I had a friend in middle school who’s house always smelled of mothballs (okay, just the closet nest to her room, but still!) Every time I smell mothballs, I think of her and can still see her house/room from the summer I spent so much time over at her house. It actuall took me almost a year in college to place what the smell was and figure out what I was recalling it from, but now I always see that image with that smell 🙂

    Reply
  205. It’s going to sound funny after all the talk of flowers and jelly but…mothballs! I had a friend in middle school who’s house always smelled of mothballs (okay, just the closet nest to her room, but still!) Every time I smell mothballs, I think of her and can still see her house/room from the summer I spent so much time over at her house. It actuall took me almost a year in college to place what the smell was and figure out what I was recalling it from, but now I always see that image with that smell 🙂

    Reply
  206. It doesn’t sound funny at all to me, Vicky — smell is such an evocative sense. My nana’s bedroom always smelled of lavender with a hint of mothball and to this day whenever I smell mothballs I think of Nana.

    Reply
  207. It doesn’t sound funny at all to me, Vicky — smell is such an evocative sense. My nana’s bedroom always smelled of lavender with a hint of mothball and to this day whenever I smell mothballs I think of Nana.

    Reply
  208. It doesn’t sound funny at all to me, Vicky — smell is such an evocative sense. My nana’s bedroom always smelled of lavender with a hint of mothball and to this day whenever I smell mothballs I think of Nana.

    Reply
  209. It doesn’t sound funny at all to me, Vicky — smell is such an evocative sense. My nana’s bedroom always smelled of lavender with a hint of mothball and to this day whenever I smell mothballs I think of Nana.

    Reply
  210. It doesn’t sound funny at all to me, Vicky — smell is such an evocative sense. My nana’s bedroom always smelled of lavender with a hint of mothball and to this day whenever I smell mothballs I think of Nana.

    Reply

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