It's hard to believe, but summer is just around the corner. The other day, I read that June 1st is National Barefoot Day, which reminded me of a children's poem I had written years ago, entitled, unsurprisingly, A BAREFOOT DAY.

Today would have been my wonderful father's 96th birthday, and oh, how I miss him. Fortunately, the many memories of my father spending time with my sister and me have continued to warm our hearts over these many years he's been gone, and undoubtedly, they will continue to do so through all of the years to come.

This year will be a little different at the DeVos household for Easter. Usually, my husband and I roll out of bed about 5:00 a.m., to attend our church’s sunrise service at the apple orchard. Afterward, about ten of us—all bleary-eyed and coffee deprived—gather at our house for a wonderful breakfast, where everyone brings a dish, including two of our friends who raise chickens.

As a writer, I'm fascinated by words; the proper use of them, the correct pronunciation of them, as well as sentence structure, of course. When I hear a word I don't know the meaning of, I run to a dictionary or pull it up on Google.

My writing has been sluggish at best in the last couple of years. It shifted into low gear once Covid set in. Being “holed up” at home didn’t help the creative juices flow, and according to other artists of varying mediums, they went through the same thing.

Recently, I was asked to join a group of 7,000+ authors on the website, Shepherd.com, who have each shared a list of five books that are, to their minds, the “Best Books” in a certain category, theme or mood, and that in some way reflect the topics they write about.

I keep reading people’s blogs, etc. about what their plans are for 2023, and, I must admit, I’m a little annoyed with their ambitious enthusiasm over the goals they’ve set for themselves, as well as their “must-do” lists for this year.

Well, they’ve rolled around again; the holidays have arrived. Each year, they seem to come around faster than they did the year before and, as I learned, there’s a reason for that. I once read in a magazine (ironically, it was either Life or Time), that that part of our brain that measures time changes as we age, thus, each year will seem to pass more quickly than the one before, and the one before that, and so on. Scary, isn’t it?

Thanksgiving coming up this week, deciding which tasks will be done on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, in order to make the “big day” a success, run through my mind constantly. To some, that’s called obsession, for me that’s called preparation and organization.

My husband broke his foot last week, and our shower sprung a very bad leak, all in the same day.

My husband was hurriedly trying to get his foot into his sneaker, but rather than taking three extra seconds to loosen the laces, he tried forcing his foot in.

As my eyes heal from the cataract surgery (they're doing great, I'm just waiting for my computer and reading glasses to come in), I thought I'd dip into the old blog vault and pull out one I wrote some years ago. If you've already read it, I hope you'll enjoy it again. And if you haven't, welcome to my chessboard world.

I got my left cataract removed this week, thus I’m writing in huge font because I have to keep one eye closed in order to see the computer screen. The light is killing my newly cleared eye, and I feel unbalanced, like I just “fed my head” in Alice’s Wonderland.

Recently, one of our WordWranglers suggested that as part of a new feature to our blog site that we do regular book reviews.  We all jumped on board.  Undoubtedly, a plethora of wonderful romance novels, cozy mysteries, and even an interesting biography or two might be offered up as suggested future reading, however, most of those suggestions will not be coming from me. 

Over the years, I’ve been asked countless times if I had any writing tips to offer up, and because I think each writer has his or her own unique way of finding inspiration, it’s hard to answer that. However, there are a couple of things that I firmly believe every writer needs to do to bring authenticity to their stories, as well as to give those stories interesting layers so that they’re not flat-lined, so to speak.

When summer arrives in theses mountains, so do the tourists and seasonal residents. It’s always wonderful to see people I haven’t seen in six months or so, and, somehow, those six months that they spend here fly by at warp speed. A friend once said that when July 4th was over, the summer nearly was, too, and I have found that to be true.

 When summertime rolls around, I immediately think of cookouts, trips to the beach, vacations to places unknown, and, of course, curling up in the shade somewhere with a frosty favorite and a great book.  Life doesn’t get much better than that as far as I’m concerned.  Recently, I got into a book that I not only spent a few hours with one lazy summer afternoon, but the better part of a couple of nights, too. 

Our favorite summer recipes is the theme on the table (hardy har har) for this month at WordWranglers, and immediately, Ina Garten’s Summer Garden Pasta comes to mind.  I’m all for summer dishes that help me escape from the heat by not tying me to a hot stove all afternoon, and with Ina’s recipe, I’m not committed to that kitchen appliance for any more time than it takes to boil up a pot of angel hair pasta.   

The WordWranglers’ theme for this month is writing about something we’re working on.  As a subtopic of such, I thought I’d write about the people behind some of my characters in stories I’ve written about, or are working on now.  

The theme for April, at WordWranglers, is new beginnings, and it’s the perfect topic for me because this weekend my husband and I, with our two Bassets in tow, are spending the night in our lake house for the first time.  

Last week, six of us gathered at our friends’ beautiful home for dinner for the last time, and since life has a way of moving along at the speed of light, we knew that this supper might possibly be the last time our group was able to meet up as a whole.