Penny, our narrator, lands her “dream” job, working at The Dallergut Dream Department Store. She finds Mr. Dallergut kind and fair as he manages the five-story repository housing different types of dreams for purchase on every floor. To Penny’s delight, she also meets some of the Dream Designers who provide the store with a constant stream of unique and varied dreams: Babynap Rockabye, Wawa Sleepland, and Yasnoozz Otra. Penny and her coworkers, Speedo, Mogberry, and Weather, spend each workday helping both people and animal customers choose just the right dream. Some dreams are even designed specifically for naps!
I requested this book through NetGalley, intrigued and excited by the description. I couldn’t wait to start it! That said, I feel a little let down after having read it. The episodic story had no underlying plot. Only the novel’s characters and the department store link the chapters. Except for Penny and Mr. Dallergut, even the characters seem flat and one dimensional. The choice of names and the naiveté of the writing style are reminiscent of a middle-grade novel.
However, this author has created a unique, in-depth world! The idea behind this book has infinite possibilities and is untouched ground in fantasy. Several sobering and tear-inducing chapters toward the end give a sweet glimmer at this book’s full potential! Perhaps, a sequel will rise to fulfill all the possibilities The Dallergut Dream Department Store promised?
I’m adding a new aspect to my blog. I have been doing a great deal of Book Reviewing since I retired. I’d like to share my favorites with you! These three were published by Penguin Random House LLC. All books were provided by the publisher which does not effect my ability to give an honest review.
The Bletchley Riddle by Ruta Sepetys and Steve Sheinkin 5 Stars
Irrepressible 14-year-old, Lizzie Novis will stop at nothing to discover the truth behind the mystery of her missing mother, an embassy employee sent to Poland in 1939. Undeterred by her grandmother and older brother, Jakob, she searches for clues to negate her mother’s reported death. Jakob, recruited by an ultra-secret faculty dedicated to breaking Nazi codes, works long, frustrating hours and has little time to devote to Lizzie’s pursuit. Only the strange, coded messages they begin to receive unite them.
Having read all Ruta Sepetys’ books, this one was a pleasure. While not minimizing the tension and terror of The Battle of Britain, this novel, aimed at a younger audience, lacks the pervading hopelessness and sorrow of some of her other books. Lizzie’s determination and unflagging optimism are charming! The historical backdrop, where Britain recruited very young mathematicians as codebreakers will have great appeal to high school students. The method behind the cracking of the Nazi Enigma machine is fascinating. The cohesive front of the English people behind Churchill paints a great portrait of a nation united against an aggressor. Overall, a wonderful book for YA Book Discussions!
a bear, a bee, and a honey tree by Daniel Berstrom 5 Stars
Bright, vivid illustrations portray the tale of a hungry bear who steals honey from the hardworking bees who have made it! Never have so few words effectively told a story! The bee, who looks grumpy to start with, goes from grump to aggressor as soon as the bear tastes his first lick of honey! It’s all downhill from there. The bear is chased by a swarm of hundreds of bees, each with an furious expression, until he hides in a clump of weeds. The hungry bear goes to sleep with a grumbling tummy, while the grumpy bee keeps watch!
Little ones will love this Board Book. It is ideal for reading one on one or using for an interactive Storytime with kids portraying the bear and the bees! The illustrations express both the bear’s and the bee’s facial expressions perfectly. The vibrant pictures are amazing! Every library deserves to have a copy!
Outdoor Farm, Indoor Farm by Lindsay H. Metcalf 4 Stars
Told through verse and letters, two children, Emma and Efrem, converse about their farms. Emma’s family owns a traditional farm in the country. She has a dog named Bob, who catches Erem’s interest. The children point out similarities about their farms and differences, too. Country farms have tractors to work the soil; city farms have no soil at all! The sun provides light for growing vegetables on Emma’s farm. Efrem’s farm has lights of different colors. Each farm not only provides food to eat but also earns a living for a family. The country farm enjoys a break during the winter, but Erem’s indoor farm grows food year-round. An appendix explains why farms are changing. It also lists activities, videos, photos, and sources. This simple NF book packs a great deal of information with a unique approach.
The last two weeks have been hard on my barn cats. Near zero temperatures and snow have made life miserable for them. The constant threat of packs of coyotes has me counting cats at every meal, to be sure they are all still present and accounted for. In the fall of 2022, I had 21 barn cats and by the spring of 2023 the coyotes had trimmed them down to 13. Now I count those 13 twice a day.
My cat collection has not come about intentionally. Kittens and pregnant mamas are often dropped off in my driveway. Some people think that a house with a barn must need their unwanted cats. Some cats come up from the woods behind the barn, feral and afraid. I feed them and care for them, neuter and spay them. Sometimes, a very special one steals my heart and becomes a house cat. One of my great worries is what will happen to the cats if I have to downsize once I retire?
Not only do I care for the cats, but they care for each other. If a cat is sick or hurt, the other cats pile around him for warmth until he is feeling better. I was also the recipient of that tender care last week when I had a stomach bug. I spent two days in bed because I felt so awful. My five house cats piled right into bed with me and slept ON me not beside me. I felt as though I was part of the monster pile from Where the Wild Things Are!!
I don’t actually feed the cats in the barn anymore because I’m afraid of slipping on the snow or ice. I have one group who eats at the kitchen door and one group who eats on the front porch. I have had to use takeout containers and change them twice a day because they constantly freeze. The ice makes very interesting patterns, almost like tree branches.
I have a heated water bowl on the porch that Dennie bought. Very often, one of the cats will dump the water and sit in the bowl for warmth!! One white cat sleeps all night beside the chimney by the kitchen door. I worried about him until I discovered that the chimney is quite warm. He has a very toasty little corner!
The raccoons and groundhogs are gone for the season. Only the baby possum remains to steal cat food when he can. Poor thing, I think his mother died last year before she taught him to forage because he comes morning and evening for kitty food. The cats just accept him as another hungry creature, and he eats beside them.
I think winter came hard this year because there was no prelude. Fall lasted through Christmas and even the beginning of January was mild. Now, neither the plant life nor the animals are ready to face the cold and snow. Neither am I.
Since spring bulbs have ceased their riotous glory in yards and parks, another kind of beauty has spread more quietly across our Western Pennsylvania landscape. Dame’s Rocket has paraded her blooms of purple, lavender, and white along our roadsides. You may have mistaken it for Phlox but Dame’s Rocket (Hesperis matronalis) has four petals and Phlox has five. While on many states’ invasive species lists, it’s beauty this time of year cannot be denied. I remember it fondly from my childhood. Picking huge bunches, I would bring them in to delight my mother who always put them in a vase on our breakfast room table, even though the petals fell quickly to dot the tablecloth!
One day last week I opened the kitchen door and was overwhelmed by the sweet scent of roses. I knew none of my cultivated roses were blooming yet and literally looked further afield for the source. Our horse pasture has become a lovely collection of wildflowers! The metal frame that held round bales was overflowing with white wild roses. The scent permeated not only the pasture but the yards around the house. I felt lucky to have such beauty within steps of my back door.
On the way back to the house, I discovered two more wildflowers blooming in the pasture. The first, at a distance, I mistook for buttercups. But up close they proven to be something else entirely. I believe from my research that it is Birds-foot Trefoil, another species considered invasive in Pennsylvania. It is, however, a source of food for bees and butterflies. The flowers themselves are quite delicate and beautiful and I can’t feel too upset with it for being invasive!
Last, I came across clusters of Common White Yarrow. Each cluster looks like a sumptuous wedding bouquet for a tiny fairy bride. Traditionally used by native Americans for its healing properties, Yarrow has a long history of medicinal use. According to some, it was Yarrow that provided Achilles with his invincibility. Now, in pastures like mine, Yarrow provides food for bees and certain butterflies.
I often find myself missing our horses, who were such a big part of our lives for so many years. I’ve mourned the loss of fence sections downed by falling trees over the winters and the overgrown pasture which was kept cropped and green all summer long. Now I see it has another purpose. Not only does it bring color and beauty to my property, but it makes my “pollinator garden” look measly in comparison. The entire pasture is a welcome site for bees, butterflies, and moths and brightens my daily walks!
If you are the type of person who throws out your tree the day after Christmas, you may as well stop reading this post now! I leave my Christmas decorations up through Epiphany at least, and sometimes lots longer!
When I was growing up we didn’t even decorate our tree until Christmas Eve. In my mother’s household, the door to their playroom was closed and locked several days before Christmas. A note appeared saying, “At seven o’clock and not before, you’ll find the key to unlock this door…” Poor Santa not only delivered the toys, he put up the tree and decorated it, too! No wonder he didn’t want anyone coming in before 7AM!
Times have changed and trees go up before Thanksgiving. (I personally believe Thanksgiving deserves its own decorations of pumpkins, leaves, and corn stalks.) It is often derailed by the fast approaching Christmas Express! Maybe because I don’t put my decorations up immediately after Thanksgiving, I feel as though I need to spend more time with them after Christmas.
I do have artificial trees. That was something I gave into because evergreens gave Dennie asthma. They do allow me the flexibility to choose when I want to take them down. This year there are only two. One in the family room and one in the living room. (I have put up as many as five!) The few ornaments I put on the living room tree have been removed daily by the cats. And yes, even though I bought a smaller tree and put it on a table, they still snapped a limb off!!
I’m not sure who designated evergreens as being for Christmas. Yes, they are the primary green living thing in the dead of winter but why only enjoy them in December? The lights are much more soothing than the evening news and the house is so much more cheerful with the accents of red and green. When we remodeled our kitchen, I had the cabinets painted dark red specifically because they look lovely at Christmas!
When Dennie and I were first married, a life insurance agent came to see us in mid January. Of course our tree was still up! Dennie explained that I loved Christmas and didn’t want to take it down yet. When the agent returned in March with our policies, he looked meaningfully at the living room. “Where’s the Christmas tree?” He asked.
The message of Christmas is surely meant to be held in our hearts throughout the coming year, why not allow the beauty of the Christmas tree to linger, too?
I told my daughters, Mollie and Elizabeth, when they were very small that it is the Christmases which are different that we remember. All the perfect Christmases blend into one lovely memory.
This entire year has been about as imperfect as it could be. Early in the year I was diagnosed with aggressive, invasive thyroid cancer. It shocked me because both my parents’ families have remained almost cancer free. I shed a few tears but having been assured that surgery and radiation would take care of it went on with my life.
The real blow fell in August, when my younger daughter, a Presbyterian minister, was diagnosed with a invasive rectal cancer. I thought my heart would stop. Four surgeries and six weeks of daily radiation for her bring us to the week before Christmas.
I have been staying with Elizabeth since Wednesday when she had her fifth surgery. The Polar Express was predicted to gust into town at 4AM Friday morning. She had her first chemo scheduled at 8AM following a flash freeze, winds of 50 MPH, and snow. I stayed alone at her house while a friend and Elizabeth booked a hotel near the hospital Thursday night. I waited on pins and needles for them to return safely. I have remained here to watch over my child, because she will always be my child, no matter how old she is!
Elizabeth’s house is festively decorated, only because her friend from Chicago, a fellow minister, brought her two daughters and trimmed her tree and house! There are no better friends to have than pastors!
My house is a shambles but I don’t care. This is where I need to be and will remain (with periodic trips to feed my kitties).
Ultimately, Christmas is about love: our Father God’s love for his children, that he sent his son to save us. This Christmas there is no place I would rather be than caring for Elizabeth. The best gift I could receive is spending time with my daughter! I will take every minute I can get! Merry Christmas to you all!! Cherish your loved ones. They are what makes this life worth living!
In January, when Duffy was six months old, I had him neutered. On his first scheduled appointment, I set my alarm for 6AM to have him at the clinic by 7:30. He saw the carrier and bolted. I didn’t see him again until supper time and that was only because he wanted to eat! I rescheduled. This time I set the carrier upright and dumped him in. I worried about him all day. When I picked him up, I was disturbed to find him wearing a cone. I thought I would take it off when I opened the carrier. The patient who wasn’t supposed to climb or go upstairs, raced through the carrier door, up the stairs, to his secret, secret hiding place.
I had to work the next morning. Duffy caught his cone on his food and water bowl. He banged into furniture. He wouldn’t let me get close enough to help him. He was miserable. I left for work. When I came home, I couldn’t find him. I looked everywhere. I finally walked into the pantry and saw him in the litter box. He had somehow shoved his cone in, but it wouldn’t come back out! I reached down and worked loose the two latches on the collar. The litter box was stifling inside. I could only assume he had been there for hours. When I thought he was free, I coaxed him forward. He shot out of the box as though it were a cannon! The cone had transformed into a cape, flapping freely on both sides, and Duffy went flying upstairs, nearly airborne!
That night I fell into an uneasy sleep. At 2AM, I was wakened by Clara, Duffy’s sister scratching by the fireplace and then a pitiful chittering sound I recognized – a flying squirrel! I turned on the light. The squirrel jumped into the brass kindling bucket. Clara started madly throwing dry pinecones in the air, trying to find him! This was not my first flying squirrel. I turned off the light and rolled over to try to go back to sleep.
At 4AM, I heard a thump. Duffy was crying. I turned the light on, again. He was stuck under the ottoman. I got up, lifted the ottoman on one end, and released the cat. He bounded off, cone flapping, as though I were the person he hated most in the world. At 8AM, I called for reinforcements. I asked my younger daughter, Elizabeth, to come help me catch Duffy and release him from his horrible instrument of torture!
Oddly enough, he dove under the ottoman when Elizabeth came into the room to save him. He yanked the cone off himself!! Cats 1 Humans 0. She installed herself on the hearth in front of the fire in the kitchen. I sat down at the island. All of a sudden, she said, “Mum, there’s a squirrel sitting beside me.”
I started to laugh because in all the excitement with Duffy’s cone, I had completely forgotten the squirrel! I explained that he had come down the chimney in the night, Clara had chased him, and I was glad he was okay.
Elizabeth said, “I’m glad he is okay, too, but what if he crawls up my pant leg.”
I assured her that he wouldn’t. Just then, Clara and Duffy came dashing around the corner and chased him – right into an Amazon box! Elizabeth quickly shut the lid and carted him outside! He scurried gratefully up a tree!
This is not the first flying squirrel Elizabeth has rescued at my house! She’s getting really good at it!
The last several months have been way too exciting! I was extremely late putting up my Christmas decorations. I followed a formula I have used before when there are kittens in the house and decked the living room tree with fall leaf and berry garlands and some pretty gilded leaves. This combination has never resulted in breakage of anything, until this year with Clara and McDuff in the house.
It all started when my nephew really wanted a calico kitten. In July, one happened to be born in the barn. Clara was beautiful and long-haired, too. She seemed just perfect! She had a long-haired brother, a gorgeous gray and white kitten! I brought him in, too, to keep her company. Oh, what a bad idea!
They were the two fastest growing kittens on the planet!! By the time they were 6 months old, they had outgrown my biggest house cat. They were HUGE! And they loved the Christmas tree! They not only climbed the tree but they tore off the garlands and chewed up the artificial bittersweet berries. This wasn’t once or twice but several times a day!
The mornings began with them leaping out of the tree from its 8′ top. They were both so heavy that they bent the branches. Trying to pull the kittens out only resulted in more damage to the tree and the garlands. I finally took everything off, thinking I would just enjoy the lights but that was doomed.
The lights became the next thing to catch their interest. They found some way of pulling them down from the top of the tree and collecting them all on the bottom branches. This was followed by wearing the light strings like harnesses as they pulled away from the tree and watched it teeter back and forth. It soon became apparent that neither the garlands, the tree, or the lights would survive Christmas, perhaps the cats, themselves, were in danger!
When the tree skidded into the middle of the doorway. The lights came off! Their spree was over! But the climb to the top of the tree and the leaps to the ground had not ended. The trouble is that I needed help to take the tree apart and put it in storage upstairs where the furry little monsters couldn’t get at it.
They then moved on to extracting all the individual bags that kept the nativity figures cushioned in two big boxes. They ate part of the boxes and shredded the bags, covering the floor with the paper and packaging.
All I can say is, I’m glad I didn’t put up my usual number of decorations. I might have lost my mind!! I’m just exhausted trying to keep up with the two of them! They are like toddlers and they never seem to get tired.
Heat and humidity dragged relentlessly into September. In Western Pennsylvania summer seemed determined not to end. And then finally the maples thrust forth their first glorious colors and fall was here – for a few short weeks. It is my favorite season but it never lasts long enough.
October’s “bright blue” weather took on the gloom of London fog. The month remained grey and moody even though the leaves were brilliant. Then a few days of heavy rain and temperatures down in the low 20’s and the leaves tumbled. Before we had cherished enough of their light and color, they were gone. Black tree trunks and branches stand bare now to the wind.
The Norway Maples always save their glory for November, bless them. They line my driveway and have sent their prolific seedlings to populate the road across from the house. When only the softer, sober colors of the oaks are left, the Norway Maples line the road in gold! But even they are not immune to time and temperature. It seems unfair that autumn is so fleeting.
Today I pressed daffodil bulbs into the cool, moist soil. They were late in coming or I would have had them planted a month ago. How unlike summer flowers they are – homely dry bulbs that must go deep in the earth. There is no expectation of blooms anytime soon. No buds or half opened flowers to predict the colors they will show. They are like writing. I write because I must. Because I feel compelled to record the ideas in my head. I don’t know whether my words will fall like autumn leaves or bloom by spring. Half the fun is in the uncertainty!
Those of you who know me personally realize why I quit writing abruptly after my trilogy, The Wolves of Lise was finished. In October of 2017, when Before Winter was out in ebook but not yet in paperback, my husband died very suddenly of a heart attack. In the months and then years that followed, I found it impossible to write. It seemed that the creative part of me had died, too.
Now that I have put some time and distance between that horrible October night and now, I understand better why my creativity seemed to be gone for such a long time after his death. What has brought this all to mind now was the recent death of Prince Phillip. I dated Dennie for 6 years and we were married for almost 45. I can’t even imagine what Queen Elizabeth is going through without her partner, having been married for 73 years!
I don’t know if you have ever thought of love and marriage as being artistic, but it is. Somehow, when you combine the right two people, you create something more lovely than either of them could ever have been alone. Long years of marriage refine those qualities into something only newlyweds can dream of. My husband’s constant encouragement and interest in my writing was certainly beneficial to me. I hope my cheering him on in his theater work was as rewarding to him. Together we were an unbeatable team. We only had to look at one another to know what the other one was thinking. A squeeze of a hand could mean more than an hour long talk and just a touch on the shoulder meant “I love you” as clearly as though the words were said out loud. Love provides a fertile cradle for creativity and artistry to grow.
Dennie would come home from work and walk upstairs to what used to be my older daughter’s bedroom, where I wrote. “How many words did you write today?” he would ask. “Did you kill anyone off?” And then he’d laugh because he knew I hated writing anyone out of a book. He was there to tell me when it was 2AM and I needed to quit writing and go to sleep. And never once did he object to dinner being late if I was writing. Usually, he would get take-out so I didn’t have to stop to cook.
It was no wonder the cogs and wheels of my brain simply couldn’t tackle storytelling without him. They had probably ground to a resounding stop! I used to say when I had a new idea for a book, that I had to let it “perk” for a while in my brain before I was ready to write anything down. I believe now that part of that process was being able to talk it through with Dennie.
So where does that leave me now? Last year I made several tentative attempts to get back to writing. None were successful, at the time. I sent out two proposals and a couple things to magazines. In January 2021, I hit the new year running. I’ve sent one proposal in, I’m collaborating with an illustrator on a picture book, I have a novel started, and I’m working on a proposal for another series that’s nearly finished.
Is it going to be as easy to write without Dennie? No. Will it be as much fun? No, it won’t be! But Dennie would have wanted me to keep writing and I’m going to do the best I can on my own! And when I am letting things “perk” I truly believe that he’ll still give me a nudge in the right direction every once in a while. That’s another mysterious thing about love. It lives on long after a person has passed away. I will always be waiting for a touch on my shoulder or a squeeze of my hand because love lasts forever.
fairysockmother 