fairysockmother

The front door of my farmhouse faces directly east, with an additional door opening in each of the other directions: north, south, and west. It is the sole remaining building of a large farm and acreage that wound its way between layers of limestone down to the infamous Slippery Rock Creek.

The barn, that met its end before my parents purchased the property in 1940, was built of stone. Though a few remnants of its former construction can be found under the twists and tangles of knee high grass across the road, the majority of the stone was used to build extensive walls around the house. A high stone wall supports the front yard, making two 45 degree turns to accommodate wide stone steps that lead down to the road where our rural mailbox stands.

The driveway is lined with stone walls which have been adjusted many times over the years as cars have become wider. Currently a pile of extra stone lies at the foot of the driveway in a heap around al Maple tree. My husband had always intended to ring the tree to make me another flower bed. I may still ask his cousin to do it.

The left wall of the driveway wraps around and follows the back walk. It rises almost 3 feet and is the home to chipmunks, mice, voles, moles, and the occasional snake. It too, hosts lovely stone steps and terminates in the rock garden where my mother tended her wildflowers for years.

The one step into our family room is a huge foundation stone. I fell and broke my kneecap on it once but that never dimmed it’s beauty for me. The step up onto the front walk through the arbor of trumpet vine is a lintel from the old barn. It is a gorgeous old relic and I feel like patting it whenever I go by.

Each of these stones is living a second life – not the one they were (literally) cut out for. They no longer house horses and cows feeling their moist breath misting the walls in winter. Nor do they hold the sweet smell of newly baled hay in summer. Now they lie in the summer sun, a fine furry moss dusting their angles. They are no less valuable, no less beautiful. Were they crushed for gravel, they would still be useful and I have no doubt that children would fill their pockets with the most beautiful specimens. We could never be so placid among life’s changes but then rocks don’t have feelings. Or do they?

Photo by Burst on Pexels.com

After a sizzling summer in Western Pennsylvania, September has entered in with enough rain to drench us to the core. I feel guilty complaining when others are dealing with hurricanes but this has been a year of overabundance – just too much of everything. I find I haven’t used my porch much at all because it was too hot. The fabric for new porch furniture cushions is in a bag by the sewing machine. Maybe next year I will make them.

I feel I have left a long list of unfinished chores this year. I was going to paint the wicker chairs and couch, also the black metal table. I had a tall cupboard I was going to antique, closets to declutter, and a whole lot of writing to do. Unfortunately, none of it has been done.
Today, I had no appointments so I sat myself down and spent the afternoon writing. I wrote 1000 words on a Work in Progress and I’m catching up on my blog. I’ve decided that maybe things aren’t accomplished in great swathes of time. (As when my dear brother, sister-in-law, and sister took a week of their summer to help me get my grounds in order since I no longer have my husband to help me.) Maybe, just maybe, some things can be done in 15 minutes or half an hour. Maybe, a pillow can be cut out, not sewn, or stuffed, just cut after dinner. Maybe some editing can happen in half an hour, or three shirts folded and put in a box for Goodwill.
I know God made the world in 6 days but I think he had much better organizational skills than I do. I’m tired when I get home from work. I have a huge amount of reading to do but I think I can find 15 minutes or half an hour every day to accomplish something on my list. And I think it will make me feel better about myself if I do! I’m going to try anyway. I’ll let you know how it’s going.

On September 21, Harper Voyager UK is releasing Before Winter, the third book in the Wolves of Llisé trilogy. Before Winter arrives as “digital first” and Harper Voyager has also discounted both of the first two eBooks: Among Wolves and Grim Tidings, so you can acquire the whole set inexpensively!

Although I placed the trilogy in an imaginary empire, the narrative has a strong French flavor. This story has allowed me to air my political and social views about the importance of education, health care, and the plight of the poor. But there has been another thread running through all three books: my characters are not only Christian but Catholic. Perhaps, that seems like an odd quirk coming from a Presbyterian!

Catholicism has always played a strong part in my life. My father, an architect who specialized in Catholic schools, brought priests home to dinner on a regular basis. As a very small child, I knew them simply as kindly men, who brought me stuffed bunnies and promised to build me a treehouse, as soon as my father drew up the plans!

That gentle early impression led me to spend my first two years at a Catholic College. I spent my last two at a Presbyterian school but emerged as a kindergarten teacher, welcomed back to Catholicism when I was offered a job at our local Catholic School. It was the icing on the cake that my father had designed the building!

I felt completely at home with the ritual of Mass, welcomed it really because it seemed to call to something basic and traditional inside of me. I tried hard to show Devin’s love for his church. I, also, have a set of rosary beads. I found them with my mother’s jewelry after she died. I immediately wanted to keep them, but wondered where they had come from. I still don’t know, but I realize she must have cherished and valued them, too. I use Anglican Prayer Beads almost every night and I wanted Devin to cherish his rosary just as much as I did mine.

Writing books gives authors the rare privilege to tentatively show readers what matters most in their own lives. We bare our souls a bit with each new story. I hope you can find something in my characters that touches your heart, as well. I have given my heart to them to share with you.