When the Storms Roared Through

When the Storms Roared Through

  Another past President has died. President George H. W. Bush died last night in Texas. It’s always sad to see someone go and remember the times that were associated with him. Indeed, the storms roared through last night. Tornadoes touched down in places. A friend in Oklahoma had major damage from the tornado, but, […]

Coming Home at Night

Coming Home at Night

  As you read your favorite books, I’m sure there are certain parts that you enjoy more than others; maybe, you read them more than once. The same is true of authors:, at least, it is true of this author. The following excerpt is from the fourth Darcy and Flora cozy mystery, Grave Heritage. I […]

The Monster Roaming the Countryside

The Monster Roaming the Countryside

  The wind, Sunday, was a monster, tossing leaves here and there, scooting them down the street, swirling them in piles in the corners of  buildings, flinging them back into the trees. It was  cold, relentless, unfeeling, tugging at people’s coats, carrying away the furry hats, breathing its shivery breath down collars. It blew up […]

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

Today, I’m reminded to be grateful for all the many friends I’ve met through the Manos Mystery books. And, I am. People–you, my family and friends, are what is important in this old world. Happy Thanksgiving from Darcy, Flora, Ned, and me!  

Ned’s Close Encounter of the Decker Kind

Ned’s Close Encounter of the Decker Kind

Among all my Thanksgiving blessings, I am thankful for you, the friends of Darcy, Flora, and Ned. This morning, I’m posting a chapter from By the Fright of the Silvery Moon, when Ned was thankful to just be alive. Chapter 5 The next day passed peacefully. I kept an eye out for questionable people, invited […]

The Meadow: Nature’s Canvas

The Meadow: Nature’s Canvas

  Autumn moves through the meadow, rearranging it in muted colors. As the sun shines on tall grasses, they gleam with the silver of seed tufts. Thistles, whose purple crowns swayed in the breeze only a few weeks ago, now wear cotton thatches. Goldenrod, touched by frost, bows its bronzed blooms. The meadow mirrors passing […]