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I enjoyed working with Readers Magnet for additional promotion opportunities. Never Waste (readersmagnet.club)
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I learned that joeys are only about as large as a jellybean when born. They crawl to Mama's pouch and attach themselves to a nipple until they are about 50 days old. Then when those inside sleeping arrangements get too crowded as the joeys grow, at 80 to 90 days, they hitch a ride on Mama's back. Mama not only has to still carry them, but she also must teach them how to find food and shelter. Since opossum's active hours are at night, this Mama must have been heading home, ready for a nice nap.
Hunting Vermin I was also pleased to read that opossums are supposed to be a good thing hanging around backyards. It is estimated they kill 5,000 ticks a season. Since I'd already separated several ticks from human flesh this spring, I welcome Mama and her babies to dine in our yard every night. They're also known for catching and eating cockroaches, rats, and mice. And my favorite reason for having them around is that opossums are resistant to snake venom and prey on them. I'm rooting for you, Mama Opossum! Other Critters We've lived in our current home for a good seven years. It has an open lot on one side and a wooded area behind us. Except for an occasional frog or snake that has gotten into our window wells, we've felt fortunate to have other critters visit us. When we first moved in, we often saw deer nibbling on the trees behind our property. A few times, deer vaulted over our fence into our yard. Wild turkeys also roamed the neighborhood during the day and roosted in giant cottonwoods at night. And it wasn't unusual to hear the yipping of coyotes or sometimes the hoot of an owl when we were lying in bed. When Ron set up a trail camera, it recorded a fox that used the same path our opossum uses now. However, now our area is more populated with human critters, so we don't see as much wildlife as we once did. Sometimes that's a good thing because one of our morning encounters was an unwelcome guest. Ron was having coffee on the patio. I had just stumbled out of bed, thrown on a robe, and went out to tell him good morning. As I turned to go back inside the house, I saw something stir behind a wicker patio chair I had just walked past. When I got a closer look, I panicked! There, a little black furry creature with a white stripe running down his back seemed unaware of our presence. But he was between me and the door I needed to return inside. We debated the best course of action as Ron tried to keep me from further panic. He went first, gingerly stepping past our visitor without incident. When he was safely behind our glass patio door, he tried to coax me into joining him. It took a while, but I had no choice but to go on the same path. I was only two feet from Pepe Le Pew when Ron opened the sliding door, and I ran into the house. After I was safely inside, we realized if Pepe had seen us, he might have scurried inside with me. Birdsong This spring, we've mostly been entertained by the many winged friends that whistle, trill, tweet, and sometimes jeer in the trees behind us. It often becomes a cacophony when their birdsongs combine. However, they are sometimes silenced quickly if a hawk crashes their party by sneaking up on them silently. Ron and I are no longer farm kids. But when nature's critters visit us, it makes us feel we have found the perfect place for our home in the city.
Never Waste Dreams
Last week I wrote about Carl Taylor, one of the characters in two of my novels. In the first scene of the book Never Waste Dreams, Carl finds an abandoned young boy wandering the open prairie. Carl’s words: Never Waste Dreams – page 1 With only the early mornin’ light, I had to rub my eyes afore I could tell it was a two- legged critter, not more than six or seven years of age. His clothes was nothin’ but rags that hung on his skinny little frame. His long hair looked to be as matted and full of cockleburs as Corky’s was the first time I laid eyes on him. He musta been sleepin’ when we come up on him. His eyes opened wide with fear of the dog and grew even bigger when he seen me. He reached down where he’d piled up some rocks, picked them up one at a time, and pelted me and Corky with a couple good hits. When his ammunition run out, he took off. ∻∻∻∻∻ Never Waste Dreams is the continuing saga of two young pioneer couples first introduced in my fictional historical novel, Never Waste Tears. Goodreads Giveaway I will be giving away 100 eBook copies of Never Waste Dreams from Tuesday, June 20, until Thursday, July 20. If you are a Goodreads member, all you have to do to enter is click the “enter giveaway” below. If you are not a Goodreads member, check them out. It’s a connection with others who love to read and discuss books. You may even find other giveaways that you might want to enter. Good luck! Goodreads Book Giveaway
Never Waste Dreamsby Gloria ZachgoGiveaway ends July 20, 2023. See the giveaway details at Goodreads.  Introducing Carl Have you ever read a book and wanted to know more about the people in the book? In my book club, we often have unanswered questions about the characters we’ve read. So, as a writer, I thought it might be fun to share one of the character profiles I used when writing my two historical fiction books, Never Waste Tears and Never Waste Dreams.  The character profiles I develop are usually for my eyes only. They are notes that help me get to know my characters better. However, not all their details are revealed in my books. They are simply an aide to help me know how characters would react to the story as it develops. The character preview below is everything I know about Carl William Taylor. Those who have read his stories might recognize some of his features. ∻∻∻∻∻ Carl William Taylor b. 5-12-1839 m. 3-10-1861 to Hannah Jane Lucas Taylor 22 yrs. old Father – Anton Taylor Mother – Viola Taylor - 9 children (6 brothers – 2 sisters) Brothers – Jacob *(1942) Robert * both killed in war -- Theodor * Philipp * joined the South (never heard from again) -- Evert * returned from war a little before Carl (never talked about war – married Esther) -- Levi * youngest brother stayed on farm w/parents Sisters -- Cora * Elizabeth (married local farmers who survived the war) Born and raised in Illinois on the farm Tall – 6’ 1” light colored brown - starting to bald on top – walks as though he unfolds himself with each step – robin-egg blue eyes – a long but very pleasant face Carl and Hannah married shortly before the war. Carl was a strong believer that all men and women were created equal. He did not believe that a man should beat his wife or own another man. He was 22 years old when the Civil War started and went willingly to fight for the freedom of all men. He had nightmares after the war and found peace in Kansas when he went to visit the mother of a soldier who died in his arms. He killed the man who killed the soldier, and hates any killing. After the war, he and Hannah stayed in Illinois for two and one-half years. Carl wanted to make a claim for free land in Kansas and while Hannah didn’t want to leave her family, she supported him and left willingly. Carl – hard working – honest – has a great understanding of animals and nature He chews on grass when thinking – likes to have a smoke -- Dog – Corky Horses – Bill & Barney Cow – Bossy (calved June 1869) Carl’s Voice: “Maybe that’s for the best – knock on my noggin’ – hiself – yearned for – ever’thing – betwixt – men-folk – ever’body – ’round – gonna be – I didn’t understand it all – my Daddy always had a sayin’ maybe it’s for the best – givin’ it much consideration – the land was thirsty for rain – tinderbox – let’s have a smoke for the day – git for home – I think that’s a fine thing to do -” took it all in Carl William Taylor (May 8, 1868) filed for a homestead claim in Junction City, KS. Traveled by train from Ellsworth, KS – He chose to NOT use his special compensation for his service years so that he wouldn’t have to pay taxes on the land for several years (# 161 NWT) Civil War – April 12, 1861, to April 9, 1865 (last shot fired June 22, 1865) ∻∻∻∻∻
For those of you who have not read Carl’s story in Never Waste Dreams, I will have a Goodreads giveaway starting on Tuesday, June 20, and finishing on Thursday, July 20. This morning I was stumped with one of the word puzzles I do on my phone every day. When I finally had to give up and ask Ron if he’d solved it, he admitted he had guessed it. The word consisted of four different groups of letters that made up an 11-letter word, with the clue: utter nonsense. The answer was flumadiddle. I never did find anything close to the word flumadiddle in my old-fashioned dictionary. So, I Googled it. I found it with several variants: flumaddidle, flumdiddle, flummerdiddle, flummydiddle, and fumaddidle. Wow! Who knew? My source of information considers flumadiddle a noun with slightly varied meanings, such as utter nonsense, trash, foolish, worthless, bauble, and frill. Since I’m often obsessed with a word, I thought I would share this one with others. So, I tried to make some voice notes on my phone. In doing so, I fully understood this word and its meaning. When I dictated the word flumadiddle, my phone translated it as dental flow model. I tried again. The second translation was phlegm and dental. And trying one more time, my cellphone heard Darrel and something, before it quickly erased that translation to phlegm and ditto. Now that is utter nonsense. However, I think maybe it is the perfect word to describe how I feel about so many things happening in our world today. Information, whether correct or not, is instantly at my fingertips. Opinions are abundant on mainstream media or social media, and facts are often overlooked. How is anyone to know for sure what is true and what is bogus? Maybe it is all just flumadiddle.  I’ve been utterly nonsensical to share this worthless frill today. Yet, I’ve had fun writing about a new word I found. I like it, and since I never found the right title for this painting I did some time ago, I think I’ll name it Flumadiddle.  SOMEWHERE IN KANSAS Sunday, Ron and I traveled to the area where we were raised in rural Kansas. The countryside changes a little every time we journey back to our roots. Even though I’ve traveled that route many times, I am amazed at those changes. Contrary to the Kansas reputation of being nothing but flatlands, traveling west on I-70 paints a different picture. As we sped along one of the more significant rolling hills of the countryside, we overtook a big rig slowed by the climb. And though the sky was clear where we were, a blue haze in the distance gave a hint there might be a mist of rain happening somewhere. Little by little, nature has left cedar trees to overtake many pastures while man has taken over the crest of those hills with wind farms. Wind farms also have taken up residence in croplands, and though some see them as clean energy, they are a bone of contention for others. However, they appear to have garnered enough income to significantly help the surrounding small towns and communities. Still surrounded by enormous energy-producing machines, we exited the interstate onto sand and gravel roads that took us to our first stop, where we decorated graves on the farmland where I lived for some time when I was a young child. THE VOSS CEMETERY My maternal ancestors long ago dedicated this land to a gravesite. I suspect it began because of the infant marker I found for Henry, dated 1885 – 1885. I remember a story about a baby dying at birth in a cornfield, and he was buried there. Was this cemetery that cornfield at one time? This has become a community cemetery that many have already decorated. So we add our decorations to several there. Now it’s time to move on to remember Ron’s family. THE VESPER CEMETERY The Vesper Cemetery sets on a hillside not far from a rural highway. Ron’s parents and four-year-old brother are buried there. Though Ron was born after his brother died, he knew him through others’ remembrances, and we’ve always included decorations for him. We wandered amongst the graves where many Zachgos and people from the Vesper community are buried. We also have a plot and a stone there for the day we must be interred. It feels a little strange seeing it, but we made the decision for whoever must bury us when our time on earth is gone. A REUNION Our fun stop is the Zachgo reunion. It has become a yearly tradition we celebrate on the Sunday of Memorial Weekend. It seems fitting to celebrate with relatives that are still living as we remember those who are no longer with us. So, we celebrated with good food and caught up with family news before we went to the last cemetery we visited. GREENWOOD UNION CEMETERY Greenwood Union Cemetery is in Hunter, Kansas, where Ron’s younger brother and his sister-in-law are buried. In our earthly thinking, they left us when they were still too young to go. It was an emotional day of remembering. So when it was time to leave, we took the long way home on roads we traveled when we were younger. REMEMBERING THOSE WHO GAVE ALL As we drove on those country roads and highways on Sunday, every cemetery we passed was decorated with flowers and many, many small flags. The military honors waited until Monday—Memorial Day. The tradition of decorating graves started in the 1860s for those who had died in the Civil War. Today Memorial Day is a federal holiday to commemorate all American military personnel who died in all wars. They are the men and women who gave the ultimate sacrifice so that we Americans might live in freedom. YESTERYEAR’S DOGS Sometimes it’s hard to remember that not everyone has a kinship to dogs. Those of us who do, know the joy they can bring into our lives. I grew up on a farm more than several years ago. Animals of all sizes and personalities surrounded me, and I don’t remember a time when we didn’t have a farm dog. They were never allowed inside our home. Their shelter came from outbuildings, and their food consisted of table scraps and their hunting skills. How different those farm dogs were from the dogs I know today.  SADIE I’m at a bittersweet moment when I write about my son’s family dog. Recently, Sadie, their gentle-badass-German Shepard, left this life. So our hearts are tender for a while. She certainly didn’t have to forage for her food, as her last couple of year’s meals were home-cooked, special for her diet. She was welcomed into her family’s temperature-controlled home, where she slept in total comfort at night and during her naps. We all miss this beauty and will not forget Sadie, who diligently kept guard over those she loved.  OLLIE My daughter’s dog is one and a half years old. He bounces back and forth from his puppy stage to his love of learning. Ollie is an Australian Shepard that “dines” on a diet of frozen meals delivered by men in brown trucks. And, of course, he earns extra treats when he is in training. He loves entertaining our entire family, eagerly showing off his agility talents. And true to his breed that loves to herd, Ollie quickly learned to herd soccer balls into a goal. However, he often forgets he’s not supposed to herd people, and there are times he is as energetic as that Energizer Bunny that doesn’t know when to stop. MORE CANINE FRIENDS
I’ve never written a novel about dogs. However, I’ve never written a book without including at least one dog somewhere in my stories. Meet my canine characters. Blaze—the border collie in The Rocking Horse, is friendly, loyal, and therapeutic to more than one person dealing with grief and heartaches. Toby—the “girl” cocker spaniel puppy in Hush Girl: It’s Only a Dream. She was named after a boy in the pet store. Like our family’s part cocker spaniel I loved in my home, she was adorable and occasionally had accidents before she could get outside to pee. Corky & Rusty—two crossbreed dogs in Never Waste Tears. Corky reminded me of some of the farm dogs I used to know. His loyalty to his first family is undeniable, and with Hannah’s kindness and love, he adapts to his new home and survives the rugged prairie. Rusty was a dog that loved to chase chickens. But, because raising chickens on the prairie meant survival for the settlers, Rusty wasn’t thought kindly of all the time. Yet, he was a lifeline for one woman’s sanity until he tangled with a rabid skunk. Corky, Yippy, & Puff---in the sequel Never Waste Dreams, three dogs played a vital role in the story. Corky discovers and befriends an abandoned child in the particular way a dog can help heal a broken spirit. Yippy & Puff are pups born into a litter too large for one farmer to feed them all. By happenstance, they are rescued from the man’s rifle and taken in by two families, each with a child that needs their love and protection. These canine friends were as real to me as any of my human characters. They had a significant role in my books. Each one touched my heart with his unique personality and characteristic traits, and I loved including them in my stories.  THE FIRST HOHO If you’ve read The Rocking Horse, you know who the original HoHo is. Hand-crafted by a loving uncle, the toy rocking horse plays a prominent role in the book, especially when the wooden toy often starts rocking without assistance. The image on the book cover represents HoHo as he was when two-year-old Jenny Preston received him from her uncle. But he’s aged after the twenty-two years Jenny kept him, much like the other HoHo who now sits in my office.  THE OTHER HOHO The other HoHo was also hand-crafted, this time by my husband, and he often traveled with me to book signings and other author events to represent the real HoHo. This second little guy has worked hard and is now quite scruffy from getting packed and unpacked during our travels. I kind of like him that way because I think he better represents how Jenny’s HoHo looked after some of the trauma he had survived. Here is one example. The Rocking Horse – page 213 She had been very young—maybe five or six years old. Katherine had taken HoHo away from her and thrown “that dirty little toy” out. She had cried and thrown such a fit that Katherine had Maude dig through the trash and find HoHo again. She had almost forgotten that memory. At one time, this other HoHo sat on a sofa table in our living room. I caught my daughter staring at him while visiting us one weekend. She had read about HoHo in the book, and I thought she was admiring the craftsmanship of the second toy rocking horse when she said, “If that thing starts rocking on his own – I’m out of here!” Maybe she was thinking of the following scene from the book. The Rocking Horse – page 42 She walked over to the dresser and placed HoHo there. As she turned back to her suitcase for a clean white shirt, gooseflesh suddenly crawled up her arms. She swung back toward the dresser and stared at HoHo. He was rocking violently on the dresser. What on earth? As she timidly reached for the toy, it stopped rocking as abruptly as it had started. Or perhaps she was thinking of the time the other HoHo was featured in that same scene in the following video.  WORKING TOGETHER I recently wrote about my beginning education and what it meant to me. The little one-room schoolhouse sitting on a two-acre corner of a pasture is one of the things that brought our rural community together. Parents with children that attended Union Valley gathered before Labor Day to prepare the schoolhouse, outbuildings, and grounds for the coming school year. Once the outside pump in front of the building was primed, the women tackled the inside jobs of washing windows, scrubbing grimy desks, and polishing woodwork, while mowing the grounds and seeing to the repair and painting of the buildings was done by the men. The kids were assigned jobs like pounding chalk dust out of blackboard erasers, picking up trash, and my favorite—(not)—scrubbing inside the girl's and boy's two-seater outhouses. Yes, two-seaters. Since the projects often took up an entire day, everyone brought a picnic lunch for the noon hour. This gave them time to visit, catch their breath, and enjoy the accomplishments of getting the job done together. And I like to think the inclusion of getting the kids involved helped teach them how to respect our school and each other. So, how did we coordinate this community project? PARTY LINES Families were often miles apart from their neighbors in our rural area. So, we often communicated by telephone—on a party line. I once tried explaining what a party line was to a young man. He didn't believe me until he looked it up (on his cell phone). So, for those who've only known a cell phone, here's how our phones with a party line worked. The picture shown is the phone my husband's parents had. To make a call, we used the small hand crank (attached to the right side) to ring the party line phones. To answer the phone, the person receiving the call would lift the earpiece off the hook on the left side and speak into the mouthpiece on the face of the phone. Each phone on the party line had an assigned sequence of rings, meaning there were numerous combinations to identify each phone. Each different party knew their delegated assortment of rings. That emergency ring signaled everyone on the party line to pick up their receiver, as there were no 911 calls back then.
Whenever anyone made a call, all phones on the party line would ring, and people could pick up their receiver and 'listen in' on other people's calls. Like a public post on Facebook or Twitter, our phone conversations could quickly spread news and gossip in our community. I can testify to this, as one day my boyfriend called me. Though I don't remember what we talked about, he stopped mid-sentence. There was a slight pause. "Do you have any corn?" he asked. "What? Why do you want corn?" "To feed all these old hens on this line." Oops! We heard many clicks as receivers hung up. He laughed at the time. However, one of those "old hens" listening also talked to his mother the next day. He survived her wrath, and today I call him my husband. FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS Sometimes calling on our phone wasn't necessary. Impromptu visits were not unusual in those days, and people rarely let us know before they dropped by. When that happened, Mom always had refreshments to welcome them, and if she didn't, she'd whip up something before they'd leave. It's what the women in our area did, and I can still remember one family we visited. Caught unaware, while we visited, the woman of the house simply baked us the most delicious upside-down apricot cake I've ever tasted. My husband once told me he thought it was strange when a certain group of my neighbors was expected to show up uninvited and unannounced for birthday parties because there were no calls or planning—people simply showed up at the house of the birthday celebrity. No gifts were expected or given, though everyone brought something for a 'lunch' that usually consisted of sandwiches, fruit-filled kolaches, Jell-O salads, cookies, ice cream, and a birthday cake—always a birthday cake. I've always felt blessed to have been part of that community. Our communications were nothing even close to the cell phones we know today. However, through party lines on the wooden wall phones, we kept in touch with friends and neighbors. |
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