Signs of Spring Maybe

Signs of Spring Maybe Usually my first thought of spring comes with the robins. Might be too early for them to show up though. I suppose they're held up somewhere south by the Missouri snowstorms. However, I've been paying attention to other signs right here at home. Two weeks ago one evening after dark, I looked out the window and noted the Case tractor in the machine shed was glowing in the dark. It might have been the way the yard light on the barn shone on it. So I poked my head out the back door for another look. The west end of the machine shed was lit up all right, but no way was I going to tread through ice and snow in the dark to turn of a light when I knew I'd come face to face with a raccoon. The next morning when I turned off the light, one of the two wild hens who spent the winter in the machine shed was missing. That night the machine shed was lit up again. The next morning the other wild hen was gone, and both ends of the machine shed was lit up this time. I knew the reason was a wiley raccoon. He left tracks in the mud the size of a dog. He weighed almost as much as a dog, too. I'd say his eyesight and smell were failing him if he needed the lights on to catch the hens. Yesterday I noticed seven eagles in the cornfield across the road. They always show up in February, and each year the number of the flock increases. They spend a month or so in a small timber by us and go on to one of the rivers to nest and fish for food. The flock looked to be in a conference about how to get a chicken or one of my cats. They may have already had a rabbit dinner. The two rabbits I've seen scampering around here haven't been sighted for a few days. Not that it bothers me. The rabbits can eat their weight in garden plants and then some. Three days ago I let the chickens loose. They didn't care about the strong north wind, and that it was cold underfoot. Freedom felt good after being shut up since October. I've found they have good memories. Odd Man rooster headed for the barn, ready to go to his second home. I had the doors shut so he went on a sit down strike in front of the walk in door. He crowed for hens to join him. None did so he sat all day with a cold north wind ruffling his feathers as he stared wistfully at the door and crowded for me to open it up. At dusk, I shut the chicken house door and thought Odd Man went in. Next morning there he was just after sunrise, stubbornly doing his sit down strike again in front of the barn door. I don't what snow bank he hid behind, but he'd hid out. I was determined he wasn't going to be a raccoon's meal so I didn't open the barn door. That evening I didn't see Odd Man anywhere. Before I shut the chicken house door I peeked in. Odd Man was close to the door as if he might bale out if one of the roosters gave him a hard time. Two nights of being outside was enough. I felt as if we'd played a game of chicken for two days, and I won. Yesterday afternoon. was the goat revolt. I was about to leave home when I looked out the west window. All eleven head of goats were grazing by the garden. They had been shut in the barn for months. When Oliver Billy decides he has had enough of being closed in by four walls, he does something about it. This wasn't his first escape. He'd butted the roll door until he could squeeze though a crack, and every nanny followed him. I have wanted to let them go, but right now there is an ice berg in the gate hole, and the gate is open. The snow was supposed to blow on through and across the lot. That didn't happen. The goats came over the drift and were free, proving they always find an open gate hole. I picked up a two gallon pail I keep on the porch and walked outside where they could see me, calling, "Come on." The herd came running, but would only go over the icy mound if I went first so I walked them back to the barn and shut them in. I knew that wouldn't work for long so I improvised by using what I could find to close the gate hole. Note the picture and realize I'm not an experienced fence maker. Don't laugh until you had to get in a billy and his nannies.

Just as I was leaving for the third time to get the plywood, one of the nannies squeezed out the roll door again. She ran to me and followed me. I knew if I didn't hurry I'd have to get the other ten in again. Once I had the plywood in place, I opened the roll door and let the goats go. Even the freedom to roam where they live didn't satisfy Oliver Billy. He nosed my fence and butted the plywood to see if it would fall over. I popped him on the head with my pail. He got the message for the moment and backed up to follow the nannies to graze in the hay field.

What I found this morning was Oliver's message about my gate. He knocked the plywood down and went back to the barn to wait for to be fed. Just proves to me, I'm never going to win playing a game of chicken with him. Tomorrow is to be a warm spring day. Hopefully, the ice berg melts fast or softens up so I can shovel out enough of it to close the gate. If not, I'm going to be chasing goats daily and even in my dreams. If these are signs of spring, I'd rather go back to the tried and true signs like robins and morel mushrooms. The story I just posted about signs of spring is one of the many experiences that I've had taking care of animals. These real life experiences are what I use in my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series by Fay Risner. Nurse Hal has had many livestock related incidents that actually happened to me first. Want to read any of the Nurse Hal series and try to pick out what really happened to me first? Starting March 1st for a week my ebooks are going to be on sale for half price at smashwords.com.

Meet Curious Cat - continued

My cats are barn cats, very independent and usually appear for food, stand back until I feed them and then dig in. In no time, they disappear again. Curious Cat is different from the rest of the pack. My first sight of her last spring was when I headed for the chicken room in the loft. I reached the top of the stairs and saw the long haired, gray mother cat stretched out on the floor letting five kittens nurse. One a long haired gray like Mama, two black and whites, a dark gray and a long haired black kitten. I exclaimed to the alert mama that they were a pretty bunch. The sound of my voice sent the kittens racing to wedge themselves in a space behind two hay bales. All but one that is. One of the black and white kittens came toward me. I'm guessing they were two weeks old since they had lost the wobbly gait of newborns. I picked the kitten up and patted her, wondering why she was so friendly, and she began to purr. It's not usual to find a kitten that small that will take up with people. Usually, they hiss, spat and growl to keep people way from them. It occurred to me this kitten should be doing just that. She needed to be cautious if she was to make it to a adult cat. I took her to the spot I saw the others head and sat her down with them, hoping the hissing and spatting her siblings aimed at me taught the kitten what to do. A couple weeks later, the kittens were out of the loft and exploring the barn. Dangers were many in the barn such as wild animals after the cat food and stray tom cats. I spoke to the kittens. They scattered for cover all except the black and white kitten. She came to me. As I patted her, I heard a ruckus at the foot of the loft stairs. A grumpy, sitting hen came from the loft after some food and water. The long haired black kitten ran over her feet in his haste to hide. She mistook him for a rat and before I got to them the kitten was a goner. Lesson number one for the other four kittens. Grumpy sitting hens have the right to be irritable. They lay eggs for three weeks and spend three more weeks sitting on their eggs in a dark hiding place, only coming out for something to eat and drink. The next phase of the kittens lives I enjoyed watching. They spent hours tumbling over each other and batting at grass or a feather. Finally, the time came for the kittens to be taught how to hunt. Long haired Mama cat took the mirror image of her and headed to the machine shed to have him spend three weeks in training. She taught the kitten how to tight rope on the rafters to catch roosting sparrows and to sneak up on mice skittering on the dirt floor in the dark. She might not have been so selective, but he was the only one who seemed interested in learning. The dark gray and the black and white male didn't think they needed help. The friendly kitten preferred to hang out with me in the barn which wasn't teaching her how to be a cat. Finally, Sideways cat convinced the kitten to hunt with her. I didn't mind as long as they stuck to the hay field or the garden, but I worried about the kitten when I saw Sideways cat streak across the road without looking either way, down in the ditch and up the other side with the kitten behind her. They disappeared into the cornfield. I feared Sideways cat might get lost or lose the kitten. There was a reason I felt that way. She has a few loose screws from what happened three years ago. Sideways cat darted across the road and was struck by a vehicle. I didn't see it happen but know that must have been the cause of her infirmity. For a long time she was stiff and sore enough she rarely moved. I carried her food and water. When she could walk, the cat walked sideways. Her head went right and her backend listed to the left. I wanted to pass her many a time and was never sure which side to go around. Her peculiar gait finally got better, but her head cocks over to the side, and she twists her neck to look up at me. I shouldn't have worried. She took good care of the kitten, and soon the hunting lessons ended. One day while I made up the next morning's feed, the kitten showed me how much she'd learned from Sideways by batting at loose hay, smelling for mice and inspecting the corn sack. At that moment, I was hoping she didn't come up with a mouse. I've had experience with many of the fast, furry rodents jumping up to run away as I screamed and went the opposite direction. The kitten went back to following me while I d0 chores. She jumps up on the cat food container and rides with the lid over to the top of a lambing pen. As soon as I feed the cats, she rides back to the container and jumps down to gobble a few bites before she catches up to me to watch me feed the goats. She follows me upstairs and waits for me outside the chicken room. She has adopted me so I decided it was time to name her. I pondered how she stretches her neck out as she watches my every move closely. It's almost like she is job shadowing, but since she can't carry a bucket or hay bale I decided she must be just curious about what I do. So her name is Curious cat. Actually that name wasn't my first choice. Nosy cat came to mind, but I didn't stick with it. I was afraid I'd hurt her feelings.

Meet Curious Cat

Leona's Christmas Bucket List by Fay Risner

I have one more Christmas book to share. This one is on Amazon, kindle, Barnes and Noble and nook and smashwords. We’re always hearing the phrase bucket list, but I hadn’t thought about making one until I was in Walmart one day. The store had just changed the soap dispensers to hand activation in the bathroom. I was looking for a button or lever, not paying any attention to the lady next to me until I noticed her hands were soapy. I asked how she got the soap. She said just wave my hand under the dispenser. It worked. She laughed and told me I could erase that off my bucket list. She left and I found myself with bigger worries. I’m studying myself in the mirror wondering what made her think I needed a bucket list. Ideas began to turn into a story which was helped along by a newspaper article about a woman and her doll. The winter's pace poem waa a Christmas writing by nephew Shane Herman and I asked him if I could use it in my book. It fit perfectly.

synopsis When Leona Krebsbach found out just before Thanksgiving she didn't have long to live, she took charge of her life like she had always done since the doctor thought she might die in a month. She bought a small spiral notepad and titled it Christmas Bucket List. On each page of the notepad, Leona listed something she needed to get done while she still had time. Details like her funeral headed the list. She didn't want to leave anything for her daughters to have to worry about after she was gone. She kept her illness a secret until after Thanksgiving when she had all but one thing completed on her bucket list. Finally, she was as ready to die as she was ever going to get. She called her daughters and invited them to a tea party. Now was the time to tell them. At her age with a long life behind her, Leona Krebsbach wished she felt better prepared mentally for the end. She should have been ready to go, because she would be with her beloved Clarence. If only she had managed to atone for that one regretful time that happened so many years ago. If that didn't weigh on her, she knew her mind set would be different, but she couldn't change the past. Even if she wanted to, she didn't have enough time. She reasoned her bucket list wasn't designed to take care of that one regret unless a miracle happened to change Leona's Christmas Bucket List. RRA Winter's Pace By Shane D. Herman The summer air and springtime flowers have quickly been replaced By that time of year more cold and frigid A kind of arctic place The ice nips at your fingers and bites at your toes As falling snowflakes kiss at your face So light up the tree and hang all the stockings And drape all the holiday lace As Christmas approaches with unbridled cheer And the people shopping make haste It is when friends and family come together as one That makes this a season to embrace So from me and mine to you and yours And everyone else in the holiday race I invite you all to take in the moment As we all move at a Winter's Pace. Chapter 1 Goose feather size snowflakes glittered in the street lamp's golden glow, floating lazily like crystalline down. The ground outside the basement window of Limestone City, Minnesota's United Methodist Church turned white in a hurry. The scene made Leona Krebsbach imagine angels in Heaven with a wing shedding problem. Suddenly, the elderly woman felt light headed. She leaned her thin frame against the window sill for support and frowned. Please not now. The sinking feeling brought annoyance with it. Here in church of all places. Why couldn't this wait to happen until she was home? Why did she have to be bothered while she wanted to enjoy the winter view? Leona knew full well the weak spell made her face head on, that after years of watching similar scenes, this would be the last time she'd see a first snowfall. She wouldn't stand at this basement window ever again, gazing out at the dead grass between the church and the parsonage as the ground turned white. Out of all the snowfalls in a winter, she aways favored this first quiet, slow snowfall of the season. Quiet except for the banging of the lanyard against the flagpole in the post office yard across the street. Heavy nostalgia built as agonizingly as any pain might in her chest. At least, she hoped that was the cause of the unwanted pressure. With all the twinges she'd had lately, she couldn't be sure these days if she needed to brace herself for the end right away or not. So far the twinges had been false alarms. When the feeling passed, Leona sighed deeply and straightened back up. She took a deep breath and tried to bolster herself to face the fact she had to get ready for far worse moments yet to come. She had already decided she didn't have any intention of immediately taking to her sick bed and going quietly from this world. Not as long as she had the energy left to keep up her winter's pace. No telling how long she would have stood at the window, mesmerized by the gently falling snow, if Pastor Jim Lockwood hadn’t cleared his throat softly. Slowly, Leona turned to face him. The minister gave her a warm smile. He probably wondered why she hadn't left yet so he could lock the church basement exit door and go back home. The rest of the bible study group had cleared out some time ago. Leona admired the dark haired, dark eyed young minister. He was just like the son she'd wanted to give her husband, Clarence, and couldn't. She wished Jim Lockwood could grow old as pastor of this church while her grandchildren needed guidance, but she knew that didn’t usually happen. After a few years, ministers always got the call to go far away to another church. They moved out of the lives of the parishioners that had grown fond of them, leaving the congregation to have to get used to another minister. At her age, Leona knew she was a fine one to talk about getting used to changes. She figured out a long time ago she shouldn't mind changes in everyone else's life if the changes were for the better. In fact, she always looked forward with excitement to the new changes she made in her own life over the years. Like the time when she went back to school at the community college to learn to use a computer so she'd be able to carry a conversation with her grandchildren. She had to learn about the digital age after her grandchildren said her typewriter was as extinct as dinosaurs. These days when she made herself think about the changes ahead of her she wished time could stand still. She knew that was an impossible thing to ask the Lord to do for her, but she still wished just for a short time she didn’t have to face the inevitable. Putting off telling everyone that needed to know wasn't going to make a difference. She was pretty sure if she kept her illness a secret that wouldn't stop her death from happening. That would be a cruel thing to do to her family. She had to suck in how she felt and get up the courage to tell everyone that mattered in her life her days on earth were numbered. The twinges she'd felt lately were just a warning signal to prepare her. Her disclosure better be soon. At her age with a long life behind her, she admonished herself that she should feel better prepared for the end than she did. If only she had managed to atone for that one time she regretted so many years ago. If not for that moment in time, she knew her mind set would be different, but she couldn't change the past no matter how much she would like to do it. No bucket list was designed to take care of a tall order like that one, especially on such short notice like the one she'd been given. Leona gave the minister a wan smile. “You been standing there long?” “Didn’t want to sneak up on you and startle you while you were deep in thought,” he said as he crossed the room to look out the window with her. “You looked very pensive. Are you thinking about anything in particular?” “Several things. Life for one,” Leona said. “I was thinking how the seasons are like my life. I remember with fondness the spring time of my youth with loving parents and siblings. In the summer of my life, I married a wonderful man and raised two great daughters. Sharing the years of fall with a loving husband, that left me too soon, gave me many memories to keep me warm in the winter of my life. I've lived a long time and have been truly blessed thanks to God.” Pastor Jim put a hand on Leona's back as he stared at the snow. “You always manage to have a parable or story to fit the moment. Beautiful outside, isn’t it? God designed nature to paint everything white in time for the holidays. If only the snow covered landscape could stay pristine all winter instead of turning a dirty brown.” Leona chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean, but no way can we criticize the dust that blows in from the fields. That dirty farm land is what makes the income for farmers and businesses around here. Not unless you’re willing to make due with smaller collection plates.” “Smaller collections are a given this time of year anyway. Especially with the way the economy is now. The whole community has had to learn to make do, but we must keep praying that times will get better soon.” Pastor Jim gave Leona a sincere look. “I'm sure you know how to make do better than my generation. You had experiences in your life with tougher times then the rest of us will ever know. Times when you had to make do.” Leona sighed. “I expect that’s right. Make do and do without sometimes, too. That's something younger people today have no idea how it was. If the same thing happened to them, I fear they wouldn't know how to cope with the struggle. During the depression in the thirties, I saved everything, even broken items just in case I had a use for them or needed parts off the junk for later on. Clarence and I were savers just like the Krebsbachs before him and my family before me, the Palmers. My daughters would tell you I still save too many useless things even now when I shouldn't worry about finances. That's why my house has so many cluttered closets, and the outbuildings still hold things that Clarence couldn't bear to throw away. When I was first married, Clarence and I didn’t have money to buy writing paper so I could keep in touch with my parents. They were just two counties over, but we didn't have time to go see them as much as I would have liked. Sometimes, it was a matter of not having enough money in the budget to buy gas for the car. I wrote my mother as often as I could. I made do by tearing pages out of old Sears and Roebuck catalogs. I’d write my letters on the margin. Even then, I still had to sell enough eggs to pay for the envelopes and stamps.” “I’m sure your parents were happy to hear how Clarence and you were getting along no matter what your message was written on,” Pastor Jim assured her. “In those days, faith in the Lord, a good husband, loving family and friends put our struggles into perspective. I always felt rich in ways that counted. That rosy outlook is what kept Clarence and me going and looking forward hopefully to a promising future. That outlook paid off as you can see,” Leona told him. “Well put. I'm working on a Thanksgiving sermon to emphasize that very thing, wise lady. We should all learn to count our blessings just like you had to do in hard times, and I'm sure you still do now. When days are difficult, we have to learn to look forward to better days. Once a lesson is learned, we don't soon forget it, do we? My parents saved many things just like you did. No one knows how to save these days, and we do need to learn to recycle more than we do. I hear all the time that this nation is a country of wasteful people.” “Clarence always said you can look in the review mirror and lament the past. Or, learn from hardships faced by others, meaning our parents, and do a better job in your life time,” Leona said sagely. Pastor Jim nodded agreement. “A wise man, your Clarence. If you don’t mind, I'd like to quote you.” “I don't mind.” “Have a good attendance at bible study today?” He asked. “Yes.” Leona fiddled with the straps on her black purse. Assuming she was nervous about the drive home, Pastor Jim cautioned, “Drive carefully going back to the farm. Doesn’t take long for a wet snow like this one to make the roads slick. With night coming on, black ice is hard to see when it forms on the salt brined pavements.” Leona glanced out the window. The snow hadn't let up. If anything the flakes were coming down faster. “I’m a safe driver. I've had long years of winter driving practice to prove it.” She clutched her purse to her waist and turned to face the minister. “Pastor, I’m not ready to leave yet. I've been waiting for you to show up, because I have something I need to talk to you about.” “You sound serious. Now we must be going to get to the real reason you were so pensive when I came in. Let’s sit down.” Pastor Jim took her elbow and led her over to the black folding chairs lined up around one of the long white tables. He pulled out two chairs and held onto one until Leona eased into it. Leona plopped her purse and bible onto the table. As Pastor Jim sat down, she shifted the chair to face him. She had to look him in the eyes so she could use his strength to get her words out. “I need to tell you this will be my last time leading bible studies.” “What? Th -- this is so sudden. I hate to hear you want to stop. What will we do without you?” He blurted out, flustered. “Don’t worry.” Leona patted his hand reassuringly. “I’m not leaving you in the lurch. I took the liberty of asking Becky Smallwood to take my place. I thought I would make my leaving easier on you if I help you find someone else.” “Thank you for thinking about me. Becky’s okay, but just the same no one can take your place. You've been the best teacher for the job for so many years,” Pastor Jim said adamantly. “Besides, I’ll miss talking to you on Wednesday nights.” “I appreciate that. I know I’ve been as predictable as this snow, showing up here for years. Don't worry. Becky will be a fine teacher. She is very knowledgeable about the bible and a fast learner.” Leona licked her lips, mustering up the courage to continue. “Things have to change from time to time. That’s just the way life is. Sometimes, we aren’t given a choice so we have to make the best of it.” “Did someone say you can’t lead bible study anymore? Tell me who it is. I’ll have a talk with that person right away. I don't want you to stop teaching,” demanded Pastor Jim. “Actually, I was talking about you in regard to your accepting this change. You're right though. Someone did let me know I had to stop teaching bible study classes.” Leona paused, giving the minister an amused look. “I wager you talk to that someone every day, Pastor. Just the same, no amount of your pleading or praying will change the fact that I have to quit. What I need to tell you now is the hardest part, the reason why I'm quitting.” Looking into her sad, brown eyes, Pastor Jim's brow furled. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” “Probably not. Don't feel bad though. I’ve had trouble facing this myself so I know how you will feel when you hear my news. It's time to start talking about this problem out loud so I picked you to be the first. I want to practice on you. I hope you don't mind. I need to face this dilemma I have head on, but it has been hard taking the first steps. So in order to help me stay motivated, I've made a bucket list.” “A bucket list,” Pastor Jim echoed. “Yes, I have many details I have to take care of right away. Actually, I don't have much time to do get them done you see. One of the first details on the list is now taken care of, finding my replacement for bible studies.” “Making a list to remind you to get things done for the holidays is fine, but calling this list a bucket list might be a poor choice of words,” Pastor Jim reproached. Leona gave him a doleful look. “No, I used the right words.” “What’s wrong?” Pastor Jim croaked. “I’m going to die soon. I have liver cancer,” Leone said bluntly. The young man combed his hand through his hair and fixated on the floor. “I've felt something was wrong for a while now. You’ve lost weight, and your complexion is pale. I hated to bring it up. Knowing how efficient you are, I prayed you were on top of the situation and going to the doctor.” “Your prayers must have worked. I did get checked out. The doctor said there wasn't anything that could be done for me. You see I didn’t have much warning. Apparently, I'd had the cancer for some time and didn't know it. The doctor said I have only a short time left to live.” Leona rifled through her purse and brought out a small spiral notepad with Christmas decorations scrawled over the cover. “So just to show you I'm not joking, this is my bucket list, and I have to get the list completed as quickly as I can. Actually, I'm calling this a Christmas Bucket List, because that might be my deadline,” she said with dry humor. Pastor Jim combed his shaky fingers through his dark hair again. “I want to do anything I can to help you. Is there some of that list I can take care of to help you complete it?” Leona flipped through the notepad pages. “On page two of my bucket list is get details out of the way for my funeral to take the burden of details off my two daughters. Of course, I want to ask you if you will conduct the funeral service here.” The minister took her hand. “That’s a given, dear friend.” “Good. Now for scriptures, since I've lived in the country my whole life I've always been partial to the twenty-third psalm. You can pick the rest of the scriptures you want to fit into the service. The two songs I want the choir to sing are Amazing Grace and How Great Thou Art. If my girls have a hymn they like, they can add their favorites to make them feel better if they want to do that.” “All right. Done,” Pastor Jim said briskly as if they were planning details for a soup supper. While she read the items aloud, Leona was busy checking off the details in her notepad. “I was going to ask Becky Smallwood to sing a solo, but I didn’t have the heart to heap bible study duties on her and burden her with my demise and performing at my funeral all at the same time. So maybe she could lead the choir.” “What did you have in mind for her to sing just in case?” “Becky nails any song she sings. How about The Wind Beneath My Wings?” Leona asked. “I think everyone likes that one.” “That would be a super choice and fitting for you. Please allow me to work on these details in this bucket list of yours,” Pastor Jim insisted. “All right. I still have to contact the pallbearers I decided on to make sure they are prepared when Arlene calls them. I’ve already been to the funeral home, made arrangements there for the visitation and settled the bill. The casket I picked out is very pretty. It's dark pink with roses on both sides the handles.” Leona stopped to catch her breath. “You have been very thorough, I see. Not that I'm surprised. This is just the way you tackle everything you have always set out to do. Head on,” Pastor Jim said softly. “Yes, I’ve managed my life the way I wanted until now. I don’t see any reason to leave the details of my funeral for my family to have to do,” Leona assured him. “Besides, there’s some comfort in knowing how my life will end, and what will happen at my funeral.” “Not many people have your courage to face the end, planning like this, dear lady,” Pastor Jim said admiringly. “Well, it took some doing to get to this point. I’ve reasoned with myself about dying. You see, I've done my best to live a decent life. At least for the most part, I think my family will be proud of the way I lived. I think I know where I’m headed, and that's a comfort,” Leona said, pointing a finger toward the ceiling. “Carrying out my final details for my daughters so they won't have to gives me peace of mind.” “I can vouch for the honorable way you have lived your life. I'm as sure as you are that you will go to Heaven. I've always admired your self control that allows you to take charge of any task. Even at such a difficult time in your life as this one. You have the presence of mind to make your final plans by yourself, and do whatever else needs to be done. You always handle adversity head on, because you're a very strong woman,” Pastor Jim complimented. She cocked her head to the side. “I think the modern term the grandchildren and my daughters use for me is control freak. I've always put myself in charge, and I figure on doing that until the end so I know everything is done right to my satisfaction and goes smoothly.” “When it concerns the end of your life, no matter what anyone would say I will stand with you on this. I think you’re entitled to run the show the way you want it,” he joked with a weak smile. “Thank you,” Leona said as she reached over and patted his arm. “Somehow I just knew you would be on my side.” Pastor Jim looked worried. “Always, dear lady. This is upsetting to me to say the least. How is your family taking the news?” With averted eyes, Leona said, “They don't know yet.” “What! Your daughters need to be told. You should do that soon, before they hear the news from someone else,” Pastor Jim cautioned. “I will. So far the people that know, I told to keep this to themselves until I've had time to tell my family. I'm dreading that so much, but I plan to tell them right after Thanksgiving is over. Arlene will want to smother me with kindness or boss me around. Diane will be a basket case that we'll all have to take care of. So why spoil the last holiday we'll have together for the rest of the family,” Leona explained. Pastor Jim nodded. “I understand that, but you've been their rock for all these years. This will seem like a sudden blow to your daughters and hard for the whole family to absorb for a while. I guess you will not be able to come to church soon. Where will I find you for visits? The farm?” “No, my health will decline fast. I’ll need medical care very soon, and I don't want to burden my daughters and their families. Right after Thanksgiving, I’m moving into The Willows, a hospice house on the outskirts of town. Come there to see me whenever you have time.” Pastor Jim took a deep breath before he spoke. “Can I borrow your bible? I didn’t realize there would be a need to bring mine with me from the parsonage just to lock the church door.” Leona handed her worn thin bible to him. “Let’s pray,” he said, already bowing his head. She glanced out the window. The wind moaned a wailing cry as it whipped around the building, churning the snow into a furious haze. She needed to head for home right away. All she left home with was her handbag, and a prayer that this winter day would go well. She wasn't sure that would be enough to guarantee her a safe return home the way the storm had intensified. Other winters, she had always put an emergency supply kit in the car, but she hadn't gone to the bother this time. “I appreciate the prayer, but you know you don’t have to pray for me right this minute. I’ve accepted what is coming, and I certainly do expect you to be by my side to bolster me later on when I weaken,” Leona insisted. Gripping her bible in his hands, Pastor Jim said, “And I will be very glad to be there anytime you need me, dear lady. Just bear with me this once. I'm not only praying for you. I have to pray for strength for me so that I will be able to help you. I'm not going to be able to take your news too well until I get used to it,” he said, his eyes a misty blur. Leona laid a frail, blue veined hand on the pastor’s strong one. She said with a touch of humor, “Can you make it a short one, Pastor? I need to head for home soon. Like you said the roads will be slick. You see I can’t die in a car wreck today. I haven’t finished all the arrangements for my funeral yet, and I still have to complete the rest of my bucket list.” A few minutes later, Leona turned off the tree lined street and drove down Main Street. She noticed the last minute shopper hustle that always went on the day before Thanksgiving. Almost every parking place had a vehicle in it. That wouldn't change now until after Christmas shopping was over. Loretta Abbas hustled along the sidewalk, her arms loaded with bags. She stopped by her car and looked up as Leona drove by. Loretta fumbled with her car door, got it opened, set the bags on the back seat and managed to wave at Leona all in a heartbeat. Loretta was probably in a hurry to get home before dark, too. Seeing the woman was a reminder that Leona needed to call her. She wanted Loretta to head up a coat and clothes drive from one year to the next for the Indian Settlement. If Loretta turned her down, maybe the woman would be kind enough to find someone that did have time to volunteer. Suddenly, Leona felt maudlin about not being able enjoy the Christmas holiday. She had always looked forward to Arlene and Diane's yearly visit right after Thanksgiving. They spent a day with her, putting up the tree and decorating the house just like they did when they were children. Leona relished buying just the right gift for each member of the family and baking Christmas cut out cookies with the grandchildren. She made a large amount of fudge and divinity so the girls could take a box home. After a few failed attempts over the years, Arlene and Diane gave up trying to make candy. They told her they would rather enjoy the candy she made. The effort Leona put forth to make the holiday special for her girls and their families when they came home had always been a labor of love. After this, the girls and their families would have to make due with special memories from this Thanksgiving. She wouldn't be doing anything about Christmas except taking care of her bucket list if it wasn't done by then. Suddenly, Leona realized she was coming up to the grocery store parking lot. If she was going to make pumpkin pies, she needed more milk and eggs. Leona stepped on the brakes and fishtailed. She negotiated the turn into the parking lot and realized the lot was full of cars. Near the entry door, Leona spotted an empty handicap parking spot. She shouldn't park there. She wasn't legally able to, but she considered this an exception. She had to be careful. Falling on the slick concrete and breaking a hip wouldn't enhance her Thanksgiving plans. Luckily, Leona found one shopping cart left in the corral. She grabbed it and took off for the milk and egg section. By staying in the middle of the aisles, she dodged past the other shoppers, lingering along the sides. There weren't too many jugs of milk left. Leona put one in her cart. She thought better of that and picked up another. Her grandchildren drank milk. She was reaching for an egg carton when someone tapped her shoulder. Leona turned and found her son-in-law, Steve, grinning at her. “Fancy meeting you here, Leona.” “I guess. Looks like most of the town is in here right now. I was lucky to find one shopping cart not in use.” Steve nodded agreement. “Me, too. So about ready for the big day tomorrow?” “You bet and looking forward to every minute of it,” Leona assured him. “I thought you might be.” Steve turned serious. “Leona, how you feeling these days?” Leona questioned sharply, “Where did that come from?” “My secretary said she saw you coming out of Dr. Crane's office last week.” Steve shrugged. “Arlene hasn't mention you not feeling well so I thought I should ask.” Leona fumbled around with the egg carton, trying to find just the right place for it in the cart. “Leona, are you stalling?” “I might be,” Leona said stiffly. Steve came along side her cart so he could see her face. “There is something wrong, isn't there?” “Steve, you're a dear to worry about me. I plan on talking to Arlene and Diane right after Thanksgiving about my doctor visit. Can you keep what your gossiping secretary saw to yourself until then?” Steve grinned. “Sure.” “Promise me. I know how hard it is to keep from telling Arlene something like this, but this is important to me,” Leona implored. “All right, I promise, but only until after Thanksgiving. I might break my promise if Arlene doesn't get an explanation from you soon,” Steve said earnestly. “Now aren't you the hard taskmaster,” Leona teased. Steve shrugged. “I'm just concerned about you. Is there anything I can do for you until you talk to Arlene?” “Just enjoy tomorrow with me,” Leona said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I'll handle the rest in my own good time.” “Fine, but like I said make it soon. You're right. I don't like keeping secrets from Arlene. You know, driving isn't great tonight. Out in the country it has to be hard to see where you're going. You want me to take you home? We could leave your car in the parking lot, and Jason could drive it out tomorrow as we come,” Steve suggested. “Certainly not. If it's hard driving now, then you would have to come back to town by yourself. It will probably be even worse after dark. I don't want to have to worry about you making it home. I'll be careful. This isn't my first experience at driving on slick roads you know,” Leona chided. “Now I best get to the checkout lines. Might be a long wait for my turn. See you in the morning.”

Christmas is coming and winter will be upon us soon. We will be wanting to spend more time inside, trying to find something to occupy us on a snowy day or long evenings when the days are shorter. If you are a fan of Amish stories you might like this one - Christmas Traditions. What better Christmas gifts to get someone you think might have everything than a book or a gift certificate for a download of an ebook of their choice. Books are great gifts for residents at nursing homes, too. I have given away quite a few of my books to residents. I've written some holiday books and thought I might share them with you. You can find them on smashwords.com. Nook and Barnes and Nobel, Amazon and kindle plus other sites you can Google.

It's funny what triggers thoughts for me that turn into a book. My first Amish book was a Christmas story. I bought a box of Christmas cards to send out and studied the picture. It was a couple in a sleigh on a snowy day pulling up in front of a house that didn't have electricity. The house looked Amish to me. So I'm thinking why would a couple visit an Amish house on Christmas day? That couple turned into one woman out on her own in a horse drawn sleigh to visit the Yoder farm in my story, and the story evolved from there. It was selling that book that made me realize there was a market for Amish books. That's what spurred me on to write my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series. When I started hearing from readers about Christmas Traditions, they said they wanted another book about Margaret Goodman Yoder so they would know what happened to her. Since I was knee deep in Nurse Hallie Lindstrom Lapp's story I decided to move Margaret to Iowa. By making her a good friend to Nurse Hal, it helped Nurse Hal, an Englisher, adjust to Amish life easier. Margaret and Hallie had a lot in common. I enjoyed hearing the comments when the readers realized Margaret Goodman was living by Nurse Hal. They said it was like getting reacquainted with an old friend. I was glad that I came up with a solution for the readers and Margaret Goodman future. So enjoy the first chapter of Christmas Traditions – An Amish Love Story. Synopsis Fay Risner brings readers the story of an Amish man and a once Amish woman. Follow the twists and turns in their lives while they make each other miserable. At the same time they try to carry out their Christmas Traditions for the little boy they both love. Levi Yoder threatens to make this Margaret's last visit. A visit which proves to be very different from all the others. A terrifying fire sets a girl's dress on fire during the Amish Christmas school program, and Margaret struggles to save a girl that falls into an icy creek. If that isn't enough excitement, a Yoder cow nearly kills Margaret. While forced to nurse Margaret back to health, Levi rethinks his buried feelings for this woman he once loved. Chapter 1 That Monday afternoon, Margaret Goodman’s destination seemed forever away even though the Yoder farm was only seven miles from Brightwell, Pennsylvania. She was traveling alone so she was thankful for the tranquil, winter conditions. If a snowstorm had threatened before she left town, she wouldn’t have been brave enough to make the trip on her own. Watching the pristine countryside slide by her bright red sleigh helped just a little to soothe her frayed nerves. She slid under the snow laced trees that loomed over the packed road. In the swift breeze, weighed down branches swayed like stick skeletons, dancing a jig which let loose snowy clumps on her. Drifted, white mounds rolled across the pastures, making a colorful contrast with the black and red cattle milling about brown, frazzled hay stacks. Along the way, the recent snowstorm turned homesteads, set against the dark blue sky, into scenes lovely enough to paint on Christmas cards. The Pennsylvania countryside really was beautiful in the winter. Not that Margaret was in any mood to enjoy what she slid by. In her heart, she knew she couldn’t appreciate anything around her until she managed to live through this coming week and escape back to Brightwell. The road was invisible, covered with packed snow rutted with sleigh runners and buggy tracks. If it hadn’t been for the rows of snow capped, cedar fence posts on either side of her, she’d have felt like she was on a great adventure, blazing her own trail across the frozen tundra. She knew all the beauty that surrounded her would have put anyone else in a festive mood for Christmas coming Monday next, but not her. She bounced around somber thoughts about what dreaded incidents could happen from one day to the next in the week ahead of her. When the time came, Margaret planned to muster up the strength to pretend to be joyful. She wouldn’t bother to do that until after she stopped the sleigh in front of the Yoder house. Just thinking about it, her mood turned despairing to say the least. She felt unsettled and anxious. The winter scenery couldn’t change the turmoil that churned inside her. She wasn’t sure anything would. Like bad tasting medicine, she had to accept whatever happened in the next few days and handle each situation the best she could. The freezing breeze whipped her dark brown, curly hair away from her head, causing a chill to run through her. Margaret felt goose bumps pop up on her legs. She huddled down in the seat, holding the reins in one hand long enough to tug her walnut dyed, wool lap robe up higher. That done, she went back to worrying. She was a day later than usual. Would it matter to any of them at the Yoder farm that she hadn’t arrived on Sunday afternoon? Had any of the Yoders worried about why she hadn’t shown up yet? When she did arrive, would the fact that she was late make Levi Yoder’s opinion of her worse than it already was? She'd waited until that morning to prepare for the journey. Rushing to gather everything she wanted to take, she packed the sleigh at the last minute in haste. Now way down the road, she had the feeling she might have forgotten something. She did a mental check list. Christmas gifts covered the back seat, a large, wicker basket full of food sat next to her and beside her feet was her clothes stuffed, tan, tapestry valise. She’d hidden Faith’s journal under the sleigh seat out of Levi’s sight until she could give it to his son, Luke. This year that diary was what she had to remember to pack above all other things. If she forgot anything else she’d meant to bring it was certainly too late now. She would have to make due without whatever it was. She couldn’t help arriving late, and she wasn’t about to offer an explanation. Her private life wasn’t up for discussion. Nothing she said would do any good anyway as far as Levi Yoder was concerned. She just hoped what plans Levi, his father, Jeremiah, and son, Luke, made to celebrate Christmas, for Luke’s sake, didn’t include something she would regret missing. Unlike the hustle and bustle in town, the quiet countryside embraced peacefulness. The only sounds were made by her red sleigh and the four white stocking hooves on her black horse, Pie Face. The runners crunched, slicing through the ice crusted snow. The sleigh bells jingled in time to the horse’s steamy, labored snorts and rhythmic tromp as he moved at a fast pace. In the last mile, Margaret whipped the horse to hurry him to race the sinking sun. The words, Please let me get to the farm before dark, played over and over in her head like an out of tune song. Nightfall was one more reason for her to worry over her late start. She told herself she'd feel less anxious when she finally spotted a column of light, gray smoke spiraling up above the Yoder hickory and mulberry grove. The tree lined lane was just ahead to the right. Margaret pulled back on the reins, bringing Pie Face to a walk. She entered the shaded lane, traveling under the entwined glittery white, soft snow covered branches that made a shaded tunnel. Half way down the lane, a rabbit darted out of his nest in the drifted snow and zigzagged past the horse. Startled, Pie Face shied sideways. Margaret pulled back on the reins and brought the horse to a stop. She could feel her heart racing. She took a deep, calming breath and flicked the reins over Pie Face’s back. No time to panic now. She was almost to the house. Margaret tossed away the worry about dark over taking her like so many empty pea pods when she finally came into view of the large, two story, snow capped, farm house, but she still had plenty more worries to take its place. Pulling back on the reins, she stopped the horse by the split rail fence that surrounded the yard. Luke’s brown and white beagle, Moses, bounced off the porch and down the path. He stood on his hind legs and looked in the sleigh while he woofed a high pitched greeting. “Hello, Moses. How have you been?” Margaret answered back. “Woof, woof.” The beagle wagged his tail with such speed that his chubby backend swayed. Bouncing off the sleigh, he took off in a run. He circled the sleigh while he did a sniffing inspection. “So you’re happy to see me. That’s encouraging.” Margaret said under her breath. She looked up at the house roof. The stone chimney chugged pale gray, smoke plumbs that floated higher and higher into the sky, turning into hard to see thin wisps. A sudden change in the wind brought a down draft drifting toward her that smelled of hickory wood. Someone had recently stoked the fire. The two story, farm house, with peeling, white paint and sun bleached wood, had a grossdawdi haus built on the east side. The addition was added for Levi’s father, Jeremiah, when Levi married Margaret’s sister, Faith. The outhouse, smokehouse, chicken house, and pig pen were ahead of her. The large, red barn complete with granary and root cellar stood off to the left. Levi Yoder, tall, muscular and handsome, stalked through the deep snow toward her from the woodpile by the barnyard split rail fence. He carried an armload of lengthy fire wood propped on his shoulder. Even though she fought with herself not to feel hopeful, her heart raced faster at the sight of him. As Levi came closer, his rugged features were just like she imagined in her thoughts and dreams over the last year. A lump formed in her throat as she watched the sinking, fiery sun behind his back create rosy streaks in his straw colored hair where it curled on his coat collar. As Levi walked close enough for Margaret to get a good look at his face, any growing excitement she felt spiraled backward to dread again. It only took a quick glimpse to make her tense up. Any sparse drop of hope she’d had that Levi would welcome her this time faded as fast as the dimming daylight. Any brief thought that the man might be worried because she was a day late, she could discard like dirty wash water out the back door just from watching his foreboding posture as he marched at her. She tried to hold back the mounting anguish that wanted to creep onto her face. She should have known better than to expect any change in that strong willed man. Nothing about him ever changed. She had to face it. He never would change. At that moment, his piercing eyes and high boned cheeks above his bushy, blond beard appeared to be chiseled by a stonemason. The scowl on his face, Margaret knew for sure, even if he never said so out loud, had been brought on by her arrival. In all these years, her presence always had the same affect on Levi Yoder. Why did she ever hope that he would change in a year’s time? That man ever changing his opinions on anyone or anything was never going to happen. The wood Levi carried was too long to go into the cookstove. He must be ready to prepare the fireplace in the meeting room. Would it have hurt him to warm the room up before I arrived, ran through Margaret’s mind. The meeting room was only used on a Sunday once in a blue moon when it was the Yoders turn to have church. Just for her, the room was opened more days in a row the once a year she visited. However, she’d arrived a day late. Maybe Levi hoped she wouldn’t show up at all. This year of all the years would be the one that he definitely wouldn’t want to face her. He probably hoped she’d changed her mind about going through with her plan concerning the journal. In that case, he might have reasoned that she’d decide to skip her appearance at the Yoder farm this year if the journal had been her initial reason for the visit. There would be no need for him to bother going through the chore of opening up the meeting room that he only did begrudgingly for her. Well, Levi was wrong. It made her blood boil to think, in all the years they had known each other, that man never understood her concern had always been for what was best for Luke. Anything she tried to do to improve the situation between Levi and her wasn’t enough to make him want to try to get along with her. Quickly, Margaret glanced around to see if Jeremiah or Luke were coming to greet her. She didn’t want to start out this visit with only Levi’s cold, reluctant help and snappish greeting. She’d mentally tried to prepare herself for what could happen at the Yoder farm, but Margaret realized while that fair haired man strode toward her, she needed more time to steel herself for the strife to come. Although in the back of her mind, she already knew she had no real way to prepare for the clashes between Levi and herself. Like always, she’d do her best to stand up to the man and hope her bluff worked. As she watched Levi approach, she felt like prey stalked by a lion. In the next week, it was going to take all the courage and bravo she could muster to keep from being eaten alive by this angry, sullen man. Levi’s father, Jeremiah, stood in the barn door. His bent back was to her. Locks of gray hair peeked out from under his black, flat crowned, big brimmed hat. With a touch of panic, Margaret wondered where the boy was. She didn’t make the effort to travel this far one time a year in the dead of winter, Levi allowed her, for any other reason than to see Luke. Especially not this time when she had to make the trip from town without her husband, Harry. Particularly this year when this visit was more important than all the other trips. Because if Levi remembered she was bringing the journal to Luke, he’d be against her showing up. She knew he'd fight her every step of the way, and she was determined to come anyway. “Aunt Margaret, you are here!” The boy shouted from the kitchen doorway. He dropped the empty water pail and the egg bucket in order to wave at her. Making a leap off the porch, Luke ignored the clatter behind him. He was long gone by the time the buckets shot off the porch and pitched noiselessly into the snow piled by the path. With Moses right behind him, the boy sprinted through the gate hole so fast his wide brimmed hat flew from his head. It landed in the drift at the base of the yard fence. He was so excited he didn’t realize he had lost his hat, but Moses did. He halted long enough to sniff Luke’s hat, before he scampered over to bounce off the sleigh. In his haste, Luke’s mop of yellow hair, the color of corn kernels, flapped away from his ears. He skidded to a halt by the sleigh and jumped up and down. Excitement gleamed in the boy’s glittering, blue eyes. “Wilkcom! It’s so late in the afternoon, and you didn’t come yesterday. You might not be coming, I feared. Hurry up and get down.” Margaret put her hand on her chest to slow her thudding heart. It was such a comfort to see this boy, a younger version of Levi. She just had to look into his smiling face to know that he very much wanted her here. Bolstered by his greeting, Margaret teased, “Sorry I’m late, Luke. You need not have worried. I’ve never missed being here for Christmas yet, have I?” “Not ever, Aunt Margaret,” Luke stated with zeal. Feeling a little more sure of herself, Margaret laughed at the child’s enthusiasm while she tossed the lap robe aside. She drew her red cape tighter around her shoulders and pulled her trapped, freeze dried tresses out on top of the cape. Gathering up her dark brown, wool skirt in one hand, she held the other hand out to the boy. “Please, Luke, help me down. My legs and feet are so stiff and numb from the cold, I may have trouble walking.” The frozen snow crunched under the weight of her stinging toes. The tingle in her chilled feet contrasted drastically with the sudden heat that bored into her back from Levi’s eyes. Margaret twisted to look through the steamy vapors rising above the horse’s back. The man watched the exchange between his son and her, but no way could she make out what he was thinking. His face was as blank as a freshly, washed blackboard. “Hello, Levi.” Her husky voice sounded mechanical to her ears as she looked into the man’s cold as ice, unwavering, blue eyes. She turned back to see Luke’s worried expression. He glanced at his father and back at her. At least in front of the boy, she had to make a stab at being civil to Levi for this precious child’s sake. Besides the week would seem a terminally, long visit if she let Levi get to her at the very beginning of her stay. She smiled down at Luke and patted his head to reassure him. Levi must have thought the same thing as he watched his son. “Wilcom, Margaret Goodman. Best get inside and warm up,” he said, his tone quietly clipped. Margaret glanced over her shoulder. If Levi’s short pretense at an invitation hadn’t been remote enough, his face, emotionally frigid as this winter day, told her she was not really welcome in his home but tolerated for his son’s sake. Margaret concentrated on the boy. That always took away the sting of Levi’s words. She pointed to the wicker basket on the sleigh seat. “Luke, please carry that inside for me. I’m ready to warm up and have a cup of tea right now.” Margaret forced cheerfulness into her voice. “First, let me give you a proper hello. You’ve grown so much. You must be a foot taller than last year.” She drew Luke to her, engulfing him in an enthusiastic, bear hug. “Only four inches,” corrected the boy. “All out of tea,” Levi put forth shortly. He looked straight ahead as he marched past Luke and her. “Figured that. That’s one of the things I brought with me in the basket,” Margaret shot back at Levi’s ramrod, straight back as she trailed after him. Setting the basket down, Luke picked up his hat. He beat it against his leg to rid it of snow and put it back on. Margaret paused to look back at the western sky while she waited for the boy. The sun had slipped half way below the horizon, creating long, red fingers across the sky. In the fading daylight, the old man still leaned in the barn door, but he faced the house now. No doubt watching with interest the underlying discord between Levi and her. She could imagine that he might not want to be any closer than the barn during their initial meeting. “Jeremiah Yoder, come in out of the cold if you have time. Have a cup of tea with me,” she hailed, beckoning to him with a wave of her hand. Moses stopped his inspection of the sleigh when he heard Margaret’s voice. The dog caught up to her and whined for attention as he sniffed at her skirt. She reached down and patted his head before she turned and trudged with Luke on the snow packed path toward the house. Behind her, she heard the chickens squawk in alarm. Jeremiah must have scattered the flock as he walked across the barnyard. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to ease away some of the tension that had built up in her all day. She was so very thankful that Jeremiah chose to come when she called. He never liked to take sides between Levi and her. Just the same, Margaret needed that old man to be near her at first as a buffer until she had time to get use to the chilliness that radiated off Levi. It had always helped bolster her spirit to know that Jeremiah liked her to visit almost as much as Luke did. Jeremiah did his best to respect his son’s wishes and Amish law when he was at the Plain people gatherings, but in the privacy of his own home, he wasn’t afraid to show how much he thought of her.

Christmas With Hover Hill - Holiday book by Fay Risner

November is here, and holiday books are in the stores. I have one I thought might interests readers. The title is Christmas With Hover Hill. Set in small town Iowa, this book is humorous, romantic and even a little weird with the presences of an obnoxious house servant named Hover Hill. Look in Amazon and Barnes and Noble for the paperback in regular and large print, and kindle, nook and smashwords for the ebook. Here is the synopsis for the book Elizabeth Winston grew up not caring about Christmas. This Christmas is going to be much worse than the holidays she and her brother, Scott, shared with her divorced parents. Her former boyfriend, Steven Mitchell, showed up to pester her about renewing their relationship now that his marriage has ended and Elizabeth vows that is not going to happen. Elizabeth always looks forward to sharing Christmas with her brother, Scott, but he says he won't be able to spend Christmas with her this year. He has a business trip. His present for her is an expensive and obnoxious robot house man by the name of Hover Hill that he says will make life easier for his sister. Just her luck to be stuck with a mechanical man to share the holidays with. To make matters worse, Elizabeth is fit to be tied when she figures out the robot was planted by ex-boyfriend Steven Mitchell to brainwash her into taking him back. Her brother, Scott, betrayed her when he helped Steven by saying the robot was his gift. She's so mad at both men she slips out of town, taking Steven's expensive robot with her and leaving her old life behind only to walk into a new set of problems. She just wanted to hide out for six months, but that isn't easy in small Wickenburg, Iowa. Gossip about her flies faster than the rumors that come out of the Silver Dollar Tavern. Susie, at the Maidrite Diner, bragged to her customers she got a good look at the handsome man that Elizabeth is shacking up with. The minster's wife complained local farmer, Bud Carter, hasn't been to church for a month of Sundays. She wondered what his problem was. Holly, from the Antique Store, said the reason why is Bud's spending more time at the pretty newcomer's house than he is his place. The grocery store checker said Elizabeth acts nervous like she's hiding out from someone. If Steven Mitchell or her brother comes to town looking for her, with all the attention Elizabeth is getting now, she fears all they have to do is ask, and they can get directions from anyone in town to the old Carter house before she makes it through Christmas With Hover Hill. My husband and I were at the Kalona, Iowa salebarn one time during a carriage auction, and I spotted the Cinderella coach I used on the cover of this book. I would never have believed that such a thing existed, but there it was. I never knew the story behind that carriage but have always been on the lookout for book cover pictures. Most of the time, I don't know what book I will use the picture on until much later. When I was writing Christmas with Hover Hill and cynical Elizabeth Winston tells handsome farmer, Bud Carter, she doesn't believe in fairy tale romances, it made perfect sense to me that the Cinderella coach was the perfect cover for the story. Of course, I added the bows to make the coach festive for the holiday when it plays a part in the story.

Sideways Cat

Just one of many animal stories I have used in my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series. If I had paraskevidekatriaphobia, a word I can't pronounce, which happens on Friday the 13th during a full moon, I'd have sent Harold to shut the chickens up Friday night. Weather man says it will be 30 years before Friday the 13th and a full moon happen on the same night. So it is a circumstance so rare we rarely hear of anyone who had bad luck. I'm just glad I didn't miss the pleasant, late summer evening which reminds me how much I love living where we do. Sideways cat was waiting on the back door step as usual to escort me to the chicken house. I didn't bother to tell her I found my way there and back all last week without her when she took off on vacation. I'd wondered what she was up to and supposed she was looking for better living conditions than a barn and plenty of cat food handy. Since she's back, I suspect she found we are the only ones in the neighborhood that doesn't have dogs. Besides, the cat food buffet is open all the time in our barn. It was a cool 65 degrees and no wind at seven forty five. In the middle of June, I had to wait until nine twenty. I imagine the farmers started the saying going to bed with the chickens back in the day when they worked from dawn to dusk without the aid of headlights. At dusk, it's bedtime for chickens no matter what a clock says, and at daylight, the roosters are crowing let us out. For some reason, that night Odd Man roosted under the bench on the front porch. He may have had a narrow escape from a raccoon or possum, or he has paraskevidekatriaphobia and was just playing it safe by hiding. The peaceful quiet clued me in that I no longer heard the deafening buzz o f locusts. I'm not missing the demise of those fortune tellers of cold weather. What I did notice was the peeper frogs, that sing in a high pitch choir each spring to tell us warm weather is coming, have now moved from the pine tree grove into the hayfield. I don't know what they are trying to tell us about fall. I understand these inch and a half frogs can be heard from a mile away. I believe it, and the song is not nearly as pretty when the tiny frog is giving a distress call by our upstairs bedroom door in the middle of the night, but that's another story. Sideways cat stopped to get a drink out of the chicken trough while I shut the hen house door. Being an escort for me must be thirsty work. She watched me come toward her and went through the gate hole ahead of me, headed for the house. To the west, the sun had disappeared over the fiery horizon, and to the east, peeking over the corn field was the amber full moon that kept the night lit for all the chicken predators. We passed under the butternut tree just as a sparrow let out a loud cheep and rustled leaves as it settled down to roost. I'm thinking it was a sparrow anyway. All the pretty song birds have migrated already. Sideways cat twisted her neck, turned her head over as only she can do and stared into the tree with her tail twitching, but she kept going. Once we reached the back door, her job was done. She turned and headed back to the tree, thinking she might get a snack on her night hunt now that the sparrow was in his roosting stupor. She has learned her lesson. This is a safer hunt than the ones in the ditches or on the road. Why do I call her Sideways Cat. It's because her head, cocked sideways, is always in front of my left foot and her back end is in front of my right foot. Harold thought maybe on one of her night hunts a couple of years ago she was hit by a car. I'm never sure which direction to go around her so she doesn't trip me. It's safer to let her she lead and I follow.