County Fair Memories

I actually have been working on a book now and then. It seems there are so many things that got in the way of writing in the last few weeks. We live on an acreage that keeps us working with a garden, chickens and livestock. We're in the middle of a terrible drought now so we spend a lot of time watering the garden, trees and flowers. I actually had enough cucumbers to make 15 quarts of dill pickles, a few jars at a time. Though I have the fifth Amish book in my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series well underway, I stopped working on it to work on another project. In the last two years, I've written two family history books, one for my family and the other for my husband's family. Both books were for just the families, because I didn't see a reason anyone would be interested in all the family pictures, memories and stories. Awhile back, it came to me that the history from 1900 to 1960 in Vernon County, Missouri might be of interest to those that weren't living when radio and telephones came in to use. When the Great Depression and World War 2 happened or the struggle of farming families in the Ozarks during those sixty years. For those who do remember, they can read the stories and think, I remember what that time was like. So I'm in the process of combining the stories from both family history books. I thought it might be a quick project but combining and editing takes time. Speaking of memories, we stopped at the county fair Thursday morning in Vinton, Iowa. It has been years since we walked around the grounds and through the livestock barns. It seemed like a good time to do it just to see what had changed. This was the first pleasant day we had seen in days, and we missed the crowded part of the day which was later in the afternoon and evening. However, we didn't miss the 40th RAGBRAI which is Iowa's Great Bike Ride across the state in a week. When we were in town that day, fifteen thousand bikers rode through Vinton's downtown and eat lunch on their way to Cedar Rapids for an overnight stay. The bikers don't come along all at once. It takes hours depending on when they left the last overnight spot and how slow they are so the way we went home was traffic controlled by a deputy sheriff. The route is different each year. Always on roads that aren't heavily traveled and through mostly small towns. The roads are blocked off so the bikers don't have to worry about traffic, and the towns love to see them come. What the bikers spend is a boost for the local economy. For years, my husband and I belonged to a two county sheep producers organization in Benton and Iowa Counties. I was elected president for a couple years. One of my duties was to organize the fair's lamb food booth. That consisted of buying all the supplies, signing up volunteers and spending five long days from 9 a.m to midnight in the booth. My husband grilled outside, and I cooked inside while volunteers handled the customers. The booth had been used for years without repairs. The year I took charge, my husband did the carpentry to screen in the cooking area to keep the flies out. We repainted the building and covered up the large black Suffolk sheep across the front under the counter. I did the free hand painting to replace the sheep. We have just gone through one of the hottest summers in record keeping, and it may not be over yet. Back then it always seemed like the county fair was scheduled on very hot days the last of July. Our sheep booth was the only food booth that kept ice cubes for the pop. The sheep exhibitors came after ice in a quart baggy several times to cool down their overheated fat lambs. Twenty years ago, the sheep producers group broke up. Our booth was torn down to make room for something else. The sheep barn has nicely painted metal pens instead of the splintering wooden gates now. The grooming table was in the aisle with a tethered Suffolk patiently waiting for his grooming to finish. Only half the barn was pens with sheep in them. The other half was pens of goats. Seems they have become a popular choice for FFA projects. The whole fair grounds had the fresh scent of wood shavings mingled with the smell of the various livestock. A person raised on a farm with livestock can walk through one of the fair barns blindfolded and know which animals are housed in each by the smell. My favorite is the sheep and goats. My husband likes the horses, but we checked out the calf barn and fowl and rabbit barns, too. It's fun to see all the different breeds of chickens, ducks, turkeys and rabbits. We watched the young people who take such pride in making their projects special. One boy was instructing another, evidently a first timer, on what to expect when the judge came by his chicken cage. We ate lunch at the pork booth. The grilled loin sandwiches were delicious, and the lemonade hit the spot. Then we went across the grounds to the 4-H exhibits. I enjoyed looking at all the different photography entries. The children have great imagination. One took a colorful picture of a tree top with very blue sky and white cotton clouds above it. Another picture was a horse's eye. There were many more pictures and other exhibits such as clothes, posters and food. I can't imagine how the judges picked the exhibits to go to the state fair. By the time we looked at all those exhibits, I worked up enough room to have a milk shake. We sat in the shaded bleachers at the cattle arena and watched people go by while we ate our shake. One happened to be our neighbor girl, a senior this year. I can't believe she has grown up. A man stopped to visit and told us we missed a running of the bull. Just one bull, but I was glad to hear the story second hand and not be on that end of the grounds when it happened. A exhibit of open steers had been brought in earlier. They were wild. Two jumped the pen fence and ended up in the bean field by the fair grounds. One was surrounded and brought back before the beef had time to get to the nearby houses. The other steer was determined not to be caught. When the men tried to get around him, the steer took after one of them. When that man out run him, he went after another man. The storyteller said the man came out of the bean field with a pasty white face. He didn't want to go back. The vet was called to tranquilize the steer. Some men kept an eye on the steer while they waited. By this time, the steer was very hot and panting hard. The vet came and looked for his tranquilizers to load the gun. He had forgotten to put them in his pickup so he left to go get them. While he was gone the steer laid down and stopped moving. One of the men mustered up the courage to go near enough to see why. The steer had died of heat exhaustion. I loved the days we spent working at the fair. So many people to talk to that we didn't see very often. So much going on with the carnival and grandstand events like stock car races, the demo derbies and tractor pulls. A calliope of noises of motors, tinny music, animals, talking and laughter that was only repeated once a year in that fair ground. Then there were the unexpected, exciting moments like the running of the bulls.

Recalling and Making Memories

I hope everyone had an enjoyable fourth of July even if we were baking under the hot sun. This is the first summer we have had an air conditioner in our home. I do enjoy the relief it gives me from the heat. Last year we spent so much of the summer chasing the shade in our front yard that I was having trouble working on a book. This summer I can enjoy being inside and am coming along well on the fifth Amish book in my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series. State tuned for new details as I get farther along. It's good to take a break now and then from writing, the heat and home. We spent July fourth afternoon visiting with my husband's mother and sister in Belle Plaine. At first I didn't enjoy the oven the car had turned into by the time we headed home to do chores until the AC cooled us down. Town was busy. Full of people for the 150 year celebration coinciding with the fourth. We came home, and after dark we braved the heat long enough to sit on our front porch to watch the fireworks miles from the city heat. We had a good visit and took a tour of my husband's 91 year old mother's large garden and vast amount of flower beds. We commiserated about how hard it has been to raise a garden this year and flowers. It seems the wild critters and birds are even hungrier this year than most. Probably has something to do with the drought and heat. They are looking for an easy meal. My husband's sister is always coming up with new story lines for my books. I always appreciate her help. She reads a lot and told me about a library book she was reading and liked. She wished she had a copy. I ordered her and myself one and am eagerly waiting for the books to get here. The book is Up A Country Lane by Evelyn Birkby. The author lives in southwestern Iowa. In the forties and fifties she had a recipe call in radio show in Shenendoah, Iowa. The book is about her life in those days on the farm while she raised her family, and recipes are scattered throughout the book. Simple recipes back when women used the few seasonings kept in the cupboard to make casseroles and dishes from vegetables they raised. Friday was a delightful day for us. My brother brought his grandson to visit. My great nephew is a city boy so we love to show him the animals and chickens. His favorite is the cats, but right now they are suffering from the heat as all other animals are. They weren't in the mood to play like they did last year when he visited. In an effort to take his ten year old grandson down memory lane, we went for a ride so my brother could show his grandson where we lived growing up near Keystone, where we went to school in Keystone, and we visited a couple cemeteries. In the one near Keystone, our parents are buried. We took pictures of my great nephew as he put a bouquet of pink roses in my mother's vase. All the while, we talked about how we used to make the annual visit with his great grandparents to many cemeteries in southern Missouri and listen to our parents tell tales about each ancestor. We stopped at the Belle Plaine cemetery. My brother said he hadn't been there in years so I helped him fine our grandparents graves. We took pictures of my nephew by the stone as we explained what fun we had at the grandparents house on weekends. We were country kids that looked forward to going to the movie on Saturday night, eating Grandma's cooking and her huge sugar cookies. The treat of the weekend might have been that long, round about, country ride Grandpa took us on to get us back home. Our grandparents were country people too so they enjoyed those rides. For us, it was the lingering of time with our grandparents before we were home and back into the routine. It was lunch time when we arrived in Belle Plaine so we ate lunch at the Lincoln Cafe, newly remodeled and a historical spot on the Lincoln Highway tour. We could have gotten ice cream dessert with our walleye special, but my brother had noticed a sign at the Mini Mart in Keystone on their way to our house that offers malts. He wondered if the malts were good. His grandson perked up and turned down the ice cream. He wanted to wait until we got to the Mini Mart and find out. I agreed. Before we left Belle Plaine we took a tour of the north end of town, looking at the two homes our grandparents lived in when we went for those overnight visits. Then we were off to Keystone's Mini Mart for that malt. I couldn't believe I had room for one after that large walleye meal, but I made room. Since then I have stocked up on ice cream and milk. I don't have malt but a milk shake will do just as well. When I drink that shake I will think of the great day we had with my brother and his grandson. I'm not sure how much my great nephew enjoyed the day or the stories we told, but I received a big hug when he was ready to leave. Whether he retains the memories we shared, or enjoyed the sites we showed him, I think he liked visiting his aunt and uncle. We can't wait until he can come back again.

Make Your Offer

Take a look at this ebook selling site in the UK and see if it is a fit for you as an Independent author. We need all the venues we can find to sell our books and ebooks and get exposure. I spent all last week getting my ebooks in order and downloading them to the site. On Make Your Offer, customers can dicker over the price of your book with you and settle on a lower price or you can use fixed price option. I've never been able to bargain with anyone on the price of anything so I'm better off with the fixed price on my books. There are many low priced books well worth the money on this site. No need to ask for a lowered price on most of them when you think about all the long hours, slaving over the computer went into these ebooks. I kept my books prices the same as I have them on other sites. My books sell at that price even in the UK on one other site. I'm a big believer in word of mouth. Once someone reads one of my books and passes the information along that the book or ebook was worth buying my sales increase. I like the fact that there is a friendly feel about Make Your Offer site. I was sent a welcoming email message when I entered two of my books. I liked that but feared I might not be so welcomed when I suggested I could downloaded fifteen more right away. I was wrong. Any amount is welcome so now seventeen of my ebooks are for sale. This site has groups to join, discussion groups to explore and other members to befriend like social sites except with this site many of the people you talk to are authors. I've already found I have a lot in common with some of the authors. They have discussed with me that they write wholesome books, because they believe there is a growing market for the clean and not so violent stories. I like that there are authors in this group that shared with me their passion for writing stories they believe in. I've said many times I like to write books with a story line similar to books I like to read. My books are wholesome with a mixture of serious at times and make you laugh out loud at other times. I started out to write one Amish story about Nurse Hal and wound up continuing in a series, because readers liked the characters so well, they didn't want to say good bye with one book. The same with my mystery series. Readers that are looking for a story with humor in it keep coming back for another book about Gracie Evans. The readers tell me my books are a break from the more serious problems that are always facing us. What I found with continuing with the same characters is that the books are easier to write now that I feel like I know the fictional people I'm writing about. So if you are an Indie author check out the site. Downloading is free, fast and easy. Just sit back and wait for the royalty to start coming in. Enjoy the company of others sharing the site. If you are a book buyer looking for a bargain try shopping at Make Your Offer. Discover the talented authors and their works.

A Road Trip To Centerville, Iowa

A week ago last Friday was cool, sunny and spring like - the perfect day to go for a day long outing. My husband and I picked up my aunt in Belle Plaine, Iowa and went on a two hour drive south of us to Centerville, Iowa to visit another aunt. We haven't made that trip nearly often enough in the last few years. Two hours passes fast when we're talking all the way. My husband has a running game with my aunt about who sees the first deer and turkeys along the road. He usually spots one first but my aunt is good at seeing them, too. We arrived in Centerville mid morning in time to try out an individual cup coffee pot my aunt received for Christmas. You're probably familiar with the kind. You insert a small container under a lid and coffee spews into your cup. That was my first experience with this invention. I must admit I like my old percolator better. There's no waiting. We have the coffee pot on a timer. By the time we get out of bed, twelve cups has perked. For lunch my aunt treated us at Manhattan Steak House with a cousin and her husband. It's an all you can eat buffet restaurant on the edge of the Centerville golf course. A large variety of good food to select from and for dessert soft serve ice cream with a variety of toppings, cakes and cookies. As much as I love the choices for the meal, I always save room for dessert. After lunch, we went for a drive south of Bloomfield on highway 63 to an Amish grocery store we've taken my aunts to for years. Times are changing for the Amish, but just a little slower than they do for the rest of us. The grocery store used to be in an old house moved to the spot and surrounded by a large house, a large barn and a harness shop. Across the road and up the hill is an Amish school. In all the rooms, I took note of the aged wallpaper and electric wiring hanging from the ceiling where a light bulb had been and wondered what kind of stories past families had to tell. On the main room wall behind the counter was a sign. No stealing allowed. God might not notice, but a Yoder will. Around the tables filled with groceries, young Amish woman might be pushing a much smaller size grocery cart with a toddler in it and then there was the rest of us. I'm always looking on the shelves to see what merchandise is different from where I usually shop. We call the large bags bulk shopping, but most Amish families are large. They need to buy in bulk. About seven years ago, we drove to the spot we expected to find the old house grocery store and right on by. The farm buildings were there but not the store so we thought we missed it. When we reached the Missouri line we knew we had traveled too far. We turned around and on the way back found the grocery store had been moved on the opposite side of the road from the farm buildings. Now the store is a large, tin building, usually used on farms to store machinery, with a cement floor. To the side of the store is a LP gas tank to run a generator. We knew we had the right place because of the grocery store sign. So here we were again after a few years absence. Inside are rows of items, many in bulk, and bins along the wall holding fruits and vegetables. Coolers were at the end of the bins. Looking at the woman in Amish dress behind the counter using an electric cash register let us know we for sure had the right place. When we were leaving, it must have been time for a change in shifts. A buggy drove up. A young woman and small boy came in the back door, leaving a young girl in the buggy. The clerk climbed in beside her and took the reins. As they rolled away, I thought what a perfect spot for a grocery store that serves people who still drive buggies. Traffic is brisk so customers might be just passing through or local farmers like the couple shopping while we were there, but for those that still use horses this store is a safer place to shop. A new building, a LP tank and generator to furnish electricity for the cash register and coolers is an improvement for sure, but no matter how many times we visit I don't expect to see the clerk using one of those new fangled one cup at a time coffee pots behind the counter very soon. We continued on our country drive back to Centerville and passed one farm where there was a gathering of children playing in the yard and women coming out of the house to leave. Put my mind to wondering if they had a quilting bee or what other project were they working on together. The children amuse themselves by playing outdoors. Some were gathered around a black pony. One girl hopped on the pony, ready to take her ride. Smaller children were playing in a large sandpile under a shade tree. No couch potatoes in that group. It's fun to hear my books get around further than I do. One of my cousins, Gene Foust, has a niece in a Cedar Rapids, Iowa Half Price book store. Recently she said she remembered seeing my name on books in her store. Gene is the very talented family artist. Look for his paintings online at Fine Art America. In this picture a cousin, Heather Graham, sent me she shows me she's reading one of my books on a relaxing day at the beach in Stump Pass State Park near Englewood, Florida. Amazon has made an improvement for indie authors and opened up a way to print books overseas. All I had to do was sign up and my books can now be bought easier in other countries. No custom fees and this means quicker shipping for the customers. Must work because I'm selling more books in the United Kingdom. For everyone in this country you can find my paperback books on Amazon, Smashwords and in my online bookstore at www.booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com If you are looking for ebooks look in the Kindle store, Nook store or Smashwords. You can always catch up with my blog posts on my Amazon author page, Facebook, blogger or alerts on Twitter. My author site is at www.writersownwords.com/booksbyfay complete with descriptions of my contemporary Nurse Hal Among The Amish series and my historical mystery series Amazing Gracie Mysteries plus other genres I've written, book events and my blog.So buy one of my books and read it in an interesting place like Heather did. Send me a picture and I'll post it on my blog.

I Write Like - SUPRISE

I've heard the expression that every author finds his or her own voice after they've written for awhile. I've never been sure what my voice is though I've hoped it might become one that make readers think of me when they read a book I didn't write. I suspect it would be hard for any author to liken his own work to another. So if I had to choose an author that I write similar to I wouldn't know how to do it. That's why it was fun to try out a site G.H. Monroe told me about on Facebook in his Writers Depot section. The site is called I Write Like. There is a free test analyzer that tells the author which famous author their work is most like. I've come to the conclusion after several tries that the analyzer picks more by subject matter than writing style. Sounded like fun to try. I submitted a dramatic chapter of my latest Nurse Hal Among The Amish book - As Is Her Name So Is Redbird. In this chapter, a young Amish girl is accidentally shot while she is driving a buggy. The horse finds the way home, but the girl dies. I clicked the button, and the answer was J.D. Salinger. His only book was a hit with teenagers in the 1950s as I remember, but not well received by those that didn't care for foul language and promiscuous behavior. The choice of this author was not well received by me. I want my books to be known for the wholesome material in them which is totally the opposite of Catcher In The Rye. Thinking I should give the test another try, hoping for a result I'd like better, I picked a humorous chapter in the same book. Nurse Hal is asked by an Amish farmer to deliver lambs. His reasoning is the vet is too far away to get to his farm to save the lambs. This is an emergency. However, he misleads Nurse Hal, and she thinks she's going to be assisting the farmer's wife in a home birthing. Too late, she sees who Nancy is and feels she can't refuse helping the farmer. Which author did the test pick this time? David Foster Wallace best known for his book Infinite Jest. I'm not familiar with this author so I looked him up. The subject matters in his book didn't appear to be humorous such as drug addition. The subjects he wrote about I don't have the expertise to write. By now I'm thinking maybe there is another form of my work that might give me a better analysis answer. After all I've written several different genres. I put in the first chapter of my latest historical book - Tread Lightly Sibby. This introduction to the Ozark characters as the Civil War is ending begins with Sibby, a mother for the fourth time, rebelling against staying in bed much to the midwife's irate warnings. The story starts with a blizzard which Sibby's husband is out in. She is worried about his safety. Now the test picked an author that I was very happy with. Margaret Mitchell the author of Gone With The Wind. This was her only book and has been popular throughout the ages. It is my favorite. No matter how scheming and dishonest spoiled Scarlet O'Hara became I always rooted for her. She had large strikes against her - a woman in a man's world and the Civil War. She prevailed by telling herself hopefully there was always tomorrow. Scarlet made me believe her life would improve beyond that last page. Now I'm thinking it wasn't my writing but the fact that my book has a southern setting in the same era that triggered the test result. Maybe I should have quit now that I had a test result I liked, but I decided to continue. So I picked chapter four in my historical book Tread Lightly Sibby. Sibby's husband is commandeered to lead two deputy sheriffs and two horse thieves through a forest. He's with the deputies when they decide to scare the thieves and wind up hanging them. Brice goes home, resigned to keeping quiet. When the bodies are found dangling from trees, the fingers point at Brice, and he's found guilty of murder. The test result was an unlikely one according to me, but maybe not. That would be for the readers to decided I guess. It was Lewis Carroll, the author of Alice In Wonderland. I hadn't meant for that chapter to sound like fantasy. My take on the submission was scary and violent in very real, rough vigilante and lawless days after the Civil War. So now I wanted to see what answer another genre I've written might bring me. I picked chapter one and two from my historical mystery series Amazing Gracie Mysteries - Locked Rock, Iowa's Hatchet Murders. The chapters introduce the characters and their hesitation to like the newcomer to the retirement home they live in. My series is meant to be mystery stories with humor and set in the Midwest at the start of the 20th century. Now this time I was happy with the test pick - Mark Twain. Again one of my favorite authors. I loved his Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn books as a kid. We were both from Missouri and though we grew up in different times I can identify with Twain. My fictional town in Iowa and my characters might have triggered a likeness to Hannibal, Missouri in Twain's books. Okay now I'm expecting a different answer for chapters ten through eleven of the same book if the test answers are always going to change. The newcomer, from New York, thinks the best way to get an answer for a murder is to go to a seance and ask for the victim to come forward and tell the ladies who the killer is. It leads to a nervous situation for the elderly Locked Rock residents, unfamiliar with a seance. The seer is so good at her job she brings forth many dead people they remember before the victim appears. Who am I like this time? Again Mark Twain. It was then I remembered he wrote a ghost story about being stuck in a New York hotel with a ghost. I can see how my seance seemed like that. So now I decided to try a western - Small Feet's Many Moon Journey. I chose chapter two and three. As with most husbands on a trip, Stringbean Hooper gets lost when he takes his wife on a horseback vacation from their Montana ranch to California. They stray onto an Indian reservation and are captured in the middle of a Ghost Dance celebration. A friend who happens to be the white widow of an Indian brave dresses Stringbean and Theo like Indians in hopes of sneaking them out during the dance. Theo finds herself next to a young brave who thinks she'd make him a suitable squaw and that almost ends all hope of them escaping. Test result - Mark Twain. By then I was more than satisfied with writing my historical books like Mark Twain, but I wondered what would be the answer for my nonfiction book about my father's life when he had Alzheimer's disease - Hello Alzheimer's Good Bye Dad. I submitted chapter one which introduces my family and our learning about Alzheimer's. Result of test - again David Foster Wallace. Maybe because the serious subject matter was in tune with David Foster Wallace's book. Alzheimer's is a widely discussed fatal disease with no cure. I decided I should try again for an author pick for this book that I might like better. I submitted chapter 27 and 28 about my parents coping to live with Dad's failing health. He tries to plow with a push plow down their long garden rows and uproots beets and carrots. Both vegetables he dislikes. My mother was angry. She asked me to get him out of the garden before he did more damage. I defended this as an accident because of his failing eyesight and poor coordination. Mom declared Dad plowed up the two vegetables he didn't want her to feed him. Results for this one really surprised me - Stephenie Meyer - author of the Twilight series. I'm not fond of vampires so I haven't read her works. She must bring her characters to life as real people by the way teenagers go for the books and movies. Perhaps in that respect, we might be similar, but like I said I haven't read her work. This isn't the end of the testing for me. I'm pretty sure most authors improve as they work at writing. So when I finish each new book I'm going to submit a portion to see who I'm like next. Since the test works for blog posts I submitted this post. The author I'm most like now is H.P. Lovecraft. He wrote horror, fantasy and science fiction and died at a young age in 1937. I'll bet if he could submit to the I Write Like test the answer for him would not be me but Edgar Allen Poe. Hopefully, I bypass some of the authors I just mentioned with some of my next submissions. Though I haven't a favorite author choice for my next tests, I'd just like to be pleasantly surprised.

Chapter 1 Sibby Monroe swiped a brown curl out of her bright blue eyes. She was just plain bored. She didn't like staying in bed nine days after birthing. She'd done it before with her other three children, because Granny Pinkney always told her that was the rule. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why she bothered to mind Granny. She wanted to get out of bed and go to the parlor to sit with her children. She heard the child like laughter. Some rough housing, too, until Granny Pinkney scolded the children to be quiet so they wouldn't wake up their ma and the new baby. Sibby smiled at the baby girl beside her as she ran her finger around the tiny face and over the downy, yellow fuzz on top her perfect little head. She whispered, "You are so lucky you weren't a boy, Dandelion Abigail. Your daddy would have named you Jefferson Davis for sure. Oh, I understand mind you, that it's a way to honor his hero. After all, the man was President for all of us that were on the side of the Confederacy. Matter a fact, that's how your brother got the name Robert Lee. Having that name tacked on him by his daddy don't mean a thing to Bobby Lee. He don't know who Robert E. Lee is, and he don't care one lick that your daddy served in the Confederate Army. That won't stop your daddy. Next boy I have will be Jefferson Davis. I can just about guarantee that." Even with all the quilts heaped on her, Sibby shivered, causing goose bumps to pop out on her arms and legs. The bedroom was getting colder by the minute. She snuggled deeper under the covers, but even that didn't help warm her up much. The few flakes of snow she'd seen speckle the window earlier had turned to a whiteout. The flakes fell fast and furiously. The wind howled mournfully as it whipped the snow against the house and plastered the window pane white. The intensity of the storm gave Sibby cause to worry. Right after dinner, Brice left for the post office in Houston, Missouri. He'd been gone a good long while. She hoped he made it home before dark. It must be hard to see where he was going right now. In the dark, he'd get lost for sure. With a blizzard going on outside it was no wonder the room was so cold. She didn't see why she should stay put in this frigid room when the parlor was toasty warm. She'd get up and sit by the heating stove. That's what she'd do. Before she brought the baby back to bed for the night, she'd have Brice start a fire in the bedroom fireplace to take the edge off. She slipped out of bed, took a step forward on the cold wood floor and wobbled backward. Her head was fuzzy, and her feet felt like they were full of nettles. She straightened up and took a deep breath, waiting for the weakness to pass. When she felt ready, she walked slowly over to the wall, pulled a dress and petticoat off a peg and quickly tossed the garments over her head. She ran the tortoiseshell brush that laid on the dresser through her flighty hair. With the baby in her arms, she peeked into the parlor. The time was right. Bobby Lee and Estelle had their noses stuck to the parlor window, watching the snow. Sibby tiptoed over by the heating stove and sat down in the rocker. The baby woke up and mewed like a newborn kitten. Bobby Lee and Estelle turned around. "Mama!" Eight years old Estelle said in alarm. "What are you doing up?" "Hi, Mama," Six years old Bobby Lee greeted. He saw nothing at all wrong with her joining them. Mildred, ten years old, looked up from the book she was reading and smiled. Sibby put a finger to her lips and hissed for them to hush up but too late the elderly midwife, Granny Pinkney, appeared in the kitchen door. "Serbina Ellen Monroe, you get right back in yer bed," ordered the wizen woman. She wore her gray hair in a heavy braid looped around and penned on top her head. Her blue cotton dress, dotted with small red roses, was made from the latest print on the flour sacks at the general store. "It's too cold in there, Granny. Besides, I was lonesome," pleaded Sibby as she unbuttoned her dress top so the baby could suckle. "It sounded like the younguns were having too much fun out here without me." With her hands on her hips, Granny marched over to stand beside Sibby, looking as if she wasn't used to being disobeyed. "I'll have no sass. You know better than this. It's just been a scant three days since I ketched that baby. You could be doing yerself a world of hurt getting up like this." "I won't stay up long. Promise. Sit and visit with me a spell," invited Sibby. "Bobby Lee, go in the bedroom and bring the cradle out by the stove so the covers will warm up. Estelle, bring Granny a chair." As the children scattered, Granny shook her head and grumbled, "I ain't helpless. I could get my own chair if there were a need." "Much obliged, Estelle." Sibby winked at her daughter. "Now sit with me, Granny. As soon as Brice gets home, he can start a fire in the bedroom fireplace to warm the room up. I'll go back to bed when it's tolerable in that room for the baby. I promise." "No telling when Brice will be getting home. The snow is mounting up in deep drifts. Most likely hard going for a horse and sled to travel through which is bound to slow him down. You cain't wait up that long," Granny fretted. The way her forehead wrinkled up Sibby knew she was worried about Brice, too. "Brice will make it. He always does," Sibby said. Her voice filled with confident pride when she spoke about her husband, but she had a fluttery feeling she best wait and see. "Good thing you wasn't planning on going home for a few days yet. Got any other babies to ketch right away?" "Not for a couple weeks. Mrs. Newcome is due about then." "Thank goodness, Granny, that you're able to help all of us. I don't know what women around here would do without you at birthing time," confided Sibby as she tugged a wrinkle out of the baby's belly band. "Nonsense. I ain't the only one that does it. Some women have their mamas to take care of them," Granny sputtered. "Maybe so, but then there's women like me that moved away from their mamas. Times like this I wished we lived in Tennessee close to my folks when I'm ready to have a baby." Sibby gave a homesick sigh. "Never thought of that when Brice said we should move to Missouri to start farming on free homesteaded land." "Same reason Most folks moved here away from their kin I reckon," agreed Granny. "Reckon you miss that big house of yer folks and all them colored servants some, too." "Nah, not anymore. When we were traveling in a covered wagon pulled by that team of oxen in rain and heat, I sure thought about my folks and what I left behind to marry Brice. Now I'm settled in a home of my own, and it's my folks I worry about. They have lost everything they had to the Yankees, including the plantation house and servants. If the bunch of us had known that war was going to tear this country in two like a rotted pitch fork handle snapping under a heavy load, maybe those politicians in Washington would have done something different," declared Sibby. "Don't reckon it was any easier during the war in Tennessee than it was here. I figure folks there had a rough time staying alive. Maybe a lot worse than we did. That's all almost behind us now. We're going to be all right as soon as this war is over. It may take a few years, but we'll put this land right again. You wait and see," vowed Granny. "It sure don't stop me from thinking about how close I came to losing Brice. That musket ball he took in the shoulder could have killed him. Thousand wonders he didn't get blood poisoning in that wound before he made it home." "Thank the Lord, he didn't. Now stop borrowing trouble," scolded Granny. "I'm just thankful Brice didn't want to turn around and go right back into the fighting again like some men did. My brother, Talford, is still out there somewhere. Not a word from him in months. I don't know if he's alive or ----." She bit her lower lip. She couldn't bring herself to say the word as she looked at her sleeping baby. She buttoned her dress top with one hand while she slowly rose from the rocker. Sibby laid the baby back into the cradle near the pot bellied stove and pulled the little blankets up over her. Ignoring Granny's tongue clicking, Sibby walked over and peered out the parlor window at the three feet drift banked around the house. The snow had stopped now. A brisk wind whipped over the drifts, picking up a swirl of flakes and scattering the snow through the air which caused a thick haze. It was early December 1864. Dark came quickly this time of year and was almost upon them. How close to home was Brice? That's what Sibby wished she knew. Disturbed by the children's loud voices, the baby whimpered. Bobby Lee and Estelle were arguing. Those two needed something to do to keep them from fighting. Otherwise, the baby wouldn't stay asleep. She walked slowly across the room and eased back into the rocker, frowning from her older two children to her baby. "I've sit long enough. If I ain't going to change yer mind about getting in bed, I ought to get busy. Got work to do in the kitchen," Granny said, patting Sibby's arm. "Much obliged for the talk. Bobby Lee, watch out that window for your father, and let me know when he comes,"Sibby ordered, hoping that kept her feisty son busy for a few minutes. "Yes, Mama," the boy said. With his shock of black hair and dark eyes, it pleased Sibby that he looked like a miniature version of his father. The argument forgotten, Bobby Lee skipped across the room to stand at the window. "Estelle, would you please rock the cradle for me. The baby is having trouble getting back to sleep." Sibby considered this daughter a combination of her and Brice with her brown hair and dark eyes. She was a pretty child. Heaven help the boys whose hearts she broke when she grew up. A glance at Mildred, the very likeness of herself, brought a smile to Sibby's face. That brown haired, blue eyed child was curled up on the settee, reading. Sibby never had to worry about doling out a chore to keep her busy. Give her one of her father's books and like her father, that girl stayed with it until she finished reading it. "Mildred, maybe you should lay that book aside and see if Granny Pinkney could use some help in the kitchen." "Sure, Mama," Mildred replied with a frown at being interrupted. Sibby leaned her head back against the rocker, suddenly feeling done in. She sat up and tried to look perky when she caught Granny standing in the kitchen doorway staring at her. "You a sight! That's for certain, Missy. You get yourself back in your bed before we have to carry you there," scolded Granny, shaking an arthritic finger at her. "I reckon it wouldn't hurt to lay down until Brice comes home, but I'm leaving the baby in here where it's warm," said Sibby as she rose from the rocker. The bed was icy cold when she slid between the covers. She'd just warmed up her hole in the feather tick when Granny called, "Sibby, company's coming." "Is it Brice?" Granny stuck her head in the doorway. "No, it's Abby and Shelton Harris on their sled. Just wanted to let you know. Now you let them say their howdies and shoo them for home. You hear? You ain't spry enough for long winded company." "Yes, ma'am," Sibby said obediently. "Go open the door for them, will you please?" Granny gave a loud harrumph as she disappeared. Sibby's cousin and best friend, Abigail Harris, was a delight with her chirpy voice and flitting movements. She reminded Sibby of a happy, brown wren, making a nest in the spring. Shelton Harris was just Shelt, a happy go lucky fellow known to be a little on the irresponsible side. The total opposite of her dependable Brice, but Abby thought the world of her husband. That was all Sibby cared about. Abigail was happy with Shelt. As soon as Sibby heard the elderly woman walk away, she climbed out of bed and slipped into the parlor. Granny let the Harrises in and turned around to show them to the bedroom. The old woman froze in her tracks when she saw Sibby in her rocker. With a frown, she said, "This is the hardest woman to keep down I ever did see. I'd swear she was in her bed resting." "Hey, Abby and Shelt, come over by the fire and warm up," Sibby greeted. "I'd have thought everybody would be home where it's safe. What brings you out on such a terrible day?" Shelt grinned. "We hear tell we have a new neighbor on the ridge. Figured to come introduce ourselves." "How did you hear that?" Sibby asked. "Brice stopped by on his way to town," Abby explained as she hovered over the cradle. "Can I hold her?" "You can," Sibby said proudly. Shelt looked over Abby's shoulder as she unwrapped the blanket. "Say ain't she a dandy. What did you name her?" "We're going to call her just what you said. Dandy. Her real name is Dandelion, and I gave her the middle name Abigail for you, Abby," Sibby said softly. "Oh my. I'm right proud," Abby said, tearing up. Shelt scratched his head, looking serious. "I'd a never figured to give a baby such a name." Abby looked at him crossly. "You don't like that this baby has my name?" "Oh no, I know better than to say such a thing in my wife's present. That would get me in big trouble. I've always reckoned Abigail is a fine name but ain't dandelion a weed?" Sibby laughed heartedly. "A weed that makes a pretty yellow flower. Look at that babe's topknot. See all that bright yellow hair the color of a dandelion." "Shelt, when Sibby's right, she's right. Welcome to the neighborhood, Dandy," Abby said softly. Granny edged up beside Abby. "This woman needs to be in bed." Once, she'd had her say she marched back to the kitchen. "Why are you out here?" Abby asked. "We could have come in the bedroom to visit." "That room is so cold I was getting chill blaines. I brought the baby out here by the fire. I want Brice to light a fire in the fireplace for me when he gets home to warm the room up. After that, I'll feel better about being in there," Sibby excused. "Granny is blowed up like a toad. I best make that fire while I'm here, before she has a real fit. Won't take long and Abby can help you back into bed. Don't do to get Granny's dander up if she's going to be around for awhile," Shelt warned. He said softly behind his hand, "I hear she can be right mean when she's mad." Sibby and Abby giggles ceased when they saw the old woman standing in the kitchen doorway, listening to them. Fiery sparks lit up Granny's faded brown eyes. After the old woman was out of sight, Sibby brightened up and whispered, "Are you two going to be here for Christmas this year?" "What about Granny?" Shelt asked, nodding toward the kitchen. "Don't worry. I'll ask her to come," Sibby said innocently. "You know what Shelt meant," Abby said in a hushed voice. "You just had a baby. Ain't Christmas too soon to be having company?" "Sibby said. "The children will be disappointed if we don't have our Christmas party. Speaking of which, where are your kids?" "Our younguns had a fit when we told them they had to stay home, but it was such nasty weather, we didn't think they needed to be out," Abby said. "If you have your mind set on asking everyone for Christmas again this year, I'm coming over early to help out." "I'd love that," Sibby said. "Now, Shelt, before you take off on me if you'd like to built that fire for me in the bedroom I'd just let you so I can get back in bed after Brice gets home." "Yes, ma'am. I'm going to do that very thing right now," Shelt replied.

I hope you have enjoyed a peek at my latest book "Tread Lightly Sibby". You'll find the story in paperback on Amazon. The ebooks are in the kindle and nook stores. Take a look at my online bookstore for a signed paperback and check out all the other books I have for sale.