winterslights

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  says
• 

  Patrick Haggerty says

  Just Shelfari being flakey I guess. Ah well, nothing new there :-)
  
  Right after I first joined I wrote up a detailed set of comments for the Shelfari people on issues and some suggestions on how to fix them, since my area of expertise is building web based applications. They totally ignored everything, ha. Ah well.

  Posted yesterday. ( send a note )

• 

  Patrick Haggerty says

  Ha. I'm off to see it tomorrow night!

  Posted 2 days ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Mara B says

  Congratulations on your graduation! :)

  Posted 6 days ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Patrick Haggerty says

  I've been on such a JD Jag :-)

  Posted 9 days ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Auntie Nanuuq . says

  This is a photo of a mandala I painted @ the Library's Mandala Workshop. Is basically a louts.

  Posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Jonetta (Ejaygirl) says

  I didn't read the blurb beforehand, either (well, not after I originally posted it months ago).

  Posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Jonetta (Ejaygirl) says

  Lol! You've nailed it.

  Posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Jonetta (Ejaygirl) says

  I just checked it out. Though she seemed to have given stuff away, it's what's included in the book blurb. No harm done.
  
  I agree, though...historical mystery? Not getting that one.

  Posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Jonetta (Ejaygirl) says

  She must have posted in both as it's in the Mystery & Suspense group, too. Since I read the book and saw she didn't like it, I didn't read her review.

  Posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Jonetta (Ejaygirl) says

  Which book in particular? In the Mystery & Suspense group?

  Posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Jonetta (Ejaygirl) says

  No problem! I certainly understand as I pulled out of one today.

  Posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Tracey says

  Hi Gayle, here is the link to Jonetta's profile: http://www.shelfari.com/ejaygirl and here is the link to the Nora Roberts group: http://www.shelfari.com/groups/11385/about
  
  Tracey

  Posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Len Francis Monahan says

  Hi Winterslights - I love your Lady Claire picture. Yes, I'm notifying folks about my new book Rattlesnakes, Ghosts and Murderers. It's kind of humorous - I hope. - Len

  Posted 2 months ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Lauren B says

  Thanks

  Posted 2 months ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Evelyn S says

  Hi , I don't know what you first name is, I have sent you a doc via two different emails, 1 - 2 and 3 -4. I hope they come throu as I am not a lot of good. Daughter helped me (without chouting, that is good). Let me know if they don't. They are not properly edited, so there will be mistakes
  /typoes etc. EWhen I edit, I also add and take away stuff. But this is how it will go, sort of.
  Evelyn S

  Posted 2 months ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Evelyn S says

  You can get like that at times, This might be my last one for a while, we shall see. Would you like to read the start of my novel? I am sending it here anyway.
  Those Tangerine Hills.
  
  Chapters 1 - 4
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  
  
  Laura picked up her cup of coffee and walked over to the large window that looked out over the lake. At seven a.m. on a Fall morning, it was calm. No wind to ruffle its glass-like surface that gleamed like silver in the grey light just a little after dawn. A couple of tiny boats motored down to the other end of the finger of water towards the town, their wakes drawing fine white lines across the surface of the lake.
  The house was quite cool. She felt the cold more these days. Forty two was not old. She kept telling herself that. But she felt old. Old and frumpy. These days the town was full of young people who were into fashion. She raised one hand and brushed back the curling shoulder length brown hair and wondered if she needed it cut? Her figure was more rounded now. Not seriously overweight but comfortable, as Peter would have said. No, she thought, don’t think of Peter!
  She stood in front of the window, gazing at the panorama. The house was built on a rise and beyond the decking, the lawn sloped away down to the water’s edge, a few stunted bushes determining the end of the property and the pathway belonging to the Municipal Roadways where the lake waters washed the tiny sandy beach. It wasn’t sand of course, but crystalline pieces of shale and stone, the lake had, over millennia, worn to tiny particles that gave the appearance of sand.
  Three tall birch trees stood like sentinels just this side of the bushes. Their white bark standing out against the grey of the water. One had been hit by lightning and could topple any time. A large branch had fallen off last year and lay rotting in amongst the tall grasses. Laura wondered how long the rest of the tree would stand, or should she get someone to chop it down? Another of the million things she had to think about living back here in the country.
  The pathway, further along to the right, led to the historical old Fort, rebuilt some years ago to preserve the area’s heritage. Visitors came to view the place, (this was a vacation area after all) bringing in dollars to be spent in town and at the historical sites in the general area. Even the Pope visited a church a few miles to the north back in the 1980s.
  Across the waters, on the far side of the lake, the roadway mirrored this side. The waters had bled into the valley way back in time. A natural sinkhole, like a bubble, from the great lake called Georgian Bay which in itself was a large bubble off Lake Huron.
  To her left, just beside the deck of the house stood a large tree upon which two squirrels were racing up and down, chittering to each other as they stopped momentarily to investigate something on the thick ridged bark.
  Laura smiled a little, then sighed. Sleep had eluded her and now, waiting, her coffee growing cool, she felt a lassitude creeping over her. It was as if she gave herself up to some unknown quantity, hoping for a rebirth.
  Then it came, so subtly that she almost missed it. The first rays of sunshine hitting the tops of the trees on the ridge of the slope across the lake.
  Like gold at first, glinting, blinding the eyes almost, a whole swathe of the brightest colour right down the Sound. As the minutes rolled by, Laura became engrossed at the sight. It only happened in the Fall and only when the sun’s angle was right. It was like a miracle of light. The deciduous trees, in their Fall colours of yellow, red, bronze mixed in with the dark green conifers, touched by the sun, became a glowing tangerine swathe of colour. As the sun rose, the light dropped slowly down the hillside until it reached the road and the whole hillside was emblazoned with this tangerine shade of orange.
  Once the light hit the water, it changed to a normal sunlight shade and the phenomenon vanished like a surreal dream.
  Laura breathed deeply drawing that scene into her mind, her body, as if it were some kind of deeply needed food to sustain her. But her reverie was soon broken. A noise that came from behind brought her back to herself.
  “Coffee,” the voice barked.
  “Yes Pa,” Laura replied and moved towards the kitchen. “Are you O.K.?” she asked, praying that he was.
  “I’m fine,” he lied. But then, he always did. In her heart, she knew what was wrong.
  Frank walked slowly to his chair and sank into it. Was it today he was due to visit the hospital, he wanted to know? Laura would tell him. Meanwhile, a coffee would see him right. Staring across the room and out of the window he could make out the trucks and cars way across the other side of the lake, making their way into town. They were like toys from this distance. Busy people with busy lives. He had been busy, once!
  Frank Currier had been a handsome man once. Tall, black haired with a frame that was sparce but strong. He had married Laura’s mother when her step-brother was a small child, his father having gone off and left her. They had never been married so it was easy to see how Alice Zacot had fallen under Frank’s spell. He had looked after them all. Kept a roof over there heads and food in their belly, some of it gleaned from the woods up north. He loved to hunt. But that was the way of it in a small country town. Then Laura arrived and he was the father of two. Two kids that needed watching. Well James needed watching as he was jealous of Laura, that was plain to see. Now he had visibly shrunk as he approached seventy. His face was lined, his skin tanned like leather and his health was not good.
  “Laura! You gonna be all day with that coffee?” he shouted. She could never hear him back in the kitchen. Suddenly he was struck with a coughing fit. His chest hurt. His throat constricted. Damn the girl! “Laura”, he yelled louder.
  Laura pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders and with a resigned look on her face, she took the cup of coffee in to her father. She surreptitiously glanced at his face. It was pale and he looked tired. The coughing fits did not help. He was always weaker after he’d had one. This morning was no different. Perhaps the doctor would tell her more today?
  “Sorry Pa. Here’s your coffee.” she said.
  “Hmm!” he barely replied as his breathing returned to normal.
  “Breakfast?” She asked.
  “Not hungry.”
  “You have to eat. They said so.” Laura did not wait for the reply she knew would come. She went back to the kitchen and started some scrambled eggs It was light and his stomach should be able to take it. She added two strips of bacon to hers. The aromas of coffee and cooking bacon filled the kitchen and bled into the lounge as she carried both plates into the room where her father sat, coffee in hand.
  She brought out his special table and set the food on it. She gave him the fork and left him to it. Placing her plate on the large table, she sat and began to eat her breakfast. She ate with a grace she didn’t feel. A leftover from her younger days. It was just before 8 a.m. and there was plenty to do before she drove Frank to the hospital for his 10.30 a.m. appointment. It was going to be a nice day, which was good. Easier to get her Pa sorted out in good weather.
  Laura was washing up the breakfast things when she heard the knock. They seldom got visitors at this time of day. She was surprised as none of the neighbours knocked that early. Come to think of it, they rarely knocked at all. Often just calling out her name or Frank’s. Wiping her hands, she walked to the front door.
  “Hi,” he said. “Can you tell me where Beach Road is. I’m lost and I have a job to do there today.”
  For a moment Laura could not open her mouth other than to gawp at this handsome man in dungarees. He had twinkling blue eyes that seemed at odds with his ruffled curly dark brown hair. Blond hair would knock ten years off, she reckoned.
  She abstractedly wiped her hands down her sides suddenly feeling the extra flesh that had accumulated on her hips. She became flustered and her face began to redden. Finally she found her voice.
  “I….I’m sorry. What did you say?” Her breathing was tight. Her heart seemed to flutter. Silly! She was too old to feel this way over a stranger.
  “Beach Road? I cannot find it. My GPS is out. Can you help me?” His voice whilst being deep and rich, was also mellow, smooth, inviting.
  Evelyn S

  Posted 2 months ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Evelyn S says

  You can get like that at times, This might be my last one for a while, we shall see. Would you like to read the start of my novel? I am sending it here anyway.
  Those Tangerine Hills.
  
  Chapters 1 - 4
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  
  
  Laura picked up her cup of coffee and walked over to the large window that looked out over the lake. At seven a.m. on a Fall morning, it was calm. No wind to ruffle its glass-like surface that gleamed like silver in the grey light just a little after dawn. A couple of tiny boats motored down to the other end of the finger of water towards the town, their wakes drawing fine white lines across the surface of the lake.
  The house was quite cool. She felt the cold more these days. Forty two was not old. She kept telling herself that. But she felt old. Old and frumpy. These days the town was full of young people who were into fashion. She raised one hand and brushed back the curling shoulder length brown hair and wondered if she needed it cut? Her figure was more rounded now. Not seriously overweight but comfortable, as Peter would have said. No, she thought, don’t think of Peter!
  She stood in front of the window, gazing at the panorama. The house was built on a rise and beyond the decking, the lawn sloped away down to the water’s edge, a few stunted bushes determining the end of the property and the pathway belonging to the Municipal Roadways where the lake waters washed the tiny sandy beach. It wasn’t sand of course, but crystalline pieces of shale and stone, the lake had, over millennia, worn to tiny particles that gave the appearance of sand.
  Three tall birch trees stood like sentinels just this side of the bushes. Their white bark standing out against the grey of the water. One had been hit by lightning and could topple any time. A large branch had fallen off last year and lay rotting in amongst the tall grasses. Laura wondered how long the rest of the tree would stand, or should she get someone to chop it down? Another of the million things she had to think about living back here in the country.
  The pathway, further along to the right, led to the historical old Fort, rebuilt some years ago to preserve the area’s heritage. Visitors came to view the place, (this was a vacation area after all) bringing in dollars to be spent in town and at the historical sites in the general area. Even the Pope visited a church a few miles to the north back in the 1980s.
  Across the waters, on the far side of the lake, the roadway mirrored this side. The waters had bled into the valley way back in time. A natural sinkhole, like a bubble, from the great lake called Georgian Bay which in itself was a large bubble off Lake Huron.
  To her left, just beside the deck of the house stood a large tree upon which two squirrels were racing up and down, chittering to each other as they stopped momentarily to investigate something on the thick ridged bark.
  Laura smiled a little, then sighed. Sleep had eluded her and now, waiting, her coffee growing cool, she felt a lassitude creeping over her. It was as if she gave herself up to some unknown quantity, hoping for a rebirth.
  Then it came, so subtly that she almost missed it. The first rays of sunshine hitting the tops of the trees on the ridge of the slope across the lake.
  Like gold at first, glinting, blinding the eyes almost, a whole swathe of the brightest colour right down the Sound. As the minutes rolled by, Laura became engrossed at the sight. It only happened in the Fall and only when the sun’s angle was right. It was like a miracle of light. The deciduous trees, in their Fall colours of yellow, red, bronze mixed in with the dark green conifers, touched by the sun, became a glowing tangerine swathe of colour. As the sun rose, the light dropped slowly down the hillside until it reached the road and the whole hillside was emblazoned with this tangerine shade of orange.
  Once the light hit the water, it changed to a normal sunlight shade and the phenomenon vanished like a surreal dream.
  Laura breathed deeply drawing that scene into her mind, her body, as if it were some kind of deeply needed food to sustain her. But her reverie was soon broken. A noise that came from behind brought her back to herself.
  “Coffee,” the voice barked.
  “Yes Pa,” Laura replied and moved towards the kitchen. “Are you O.K.?” she asked, praying that he was.
  “I’m fine,” he lied. But then, he always did. In her heart, she knew what was wrong.
  Frank walked slowly to his chair and sank into it. Was it today he was due to visit the hospital, he wanted to know? Laura would tell him. Meanwhile, a coffee would see him right. Staring across the room and out of the window he could make out the trucks and cars way across the other side of the lake, making their way into town. They were like toys from this distance. Busy people with busy lives. He had been busy, once!
  Frank Currier had been a handsome man once. Tall, black haired with a frame that was sparce but strong. He had married Laura’s mother when her step-brother was a small child, his father having gone off and left her. They had never been married so it was easy to see how Alice Zacot had fallen under Frank’s spell. He had looked after them all. Kept a roof over there heads and food in their belly, some of it gleaned from the woods up north. He loved to hunt. But that was the way of it in a small country town. Then Laura arrived and he was the father of two. Two kids that needed watching. Well James needed watching as he was jealous of Laura, that was plain to see. Now he had visibly shrunk as he approached seventy. His face was lined, his skin tanned like leather and his health was not good.
  “Laura! You gonna be all day with that coffee?” he shouted. She could never hear him back in the kitchen. Suddenly he was struck with a coughing fit. His chest hurt. His throat constricted. Damn the girl! “Laura”, he yelled louder.
  Laura pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders and with a resigned look on her face, she took the cup of coffee in to her father. She surreptitiously glanced at his face. It was pale and he looked tired. The coughing fits did not help. He was always weaker after he’d had one. This morning was no different. Perhaps the doctor would tell her more today?
  “Sorry Pa. Here’s your coffee.” she said.
  “Hmm!” he barely replied as his breathing returned to normal.
  “Breakfast?” She asked.
  “Not hungry.”
  “You have to eat. They said so.” Laura did not wait for the reply she knew would come. She went back to the kitchen and started some scrambled eggs It was light and his stomach should be able to take it. She added two strips of bacon to hers. The aromas of coffee and cooking bacon filled the kitchen and bled into the lounge as she carried both plates into the room where her father sat, coffee in hand.
  She brought out his special table and set the food on it. She gave him the fork and left him to it. Placing her plate on the large table, she sat and began to eat her breakfast. She ate with a grace she didn’t feel. A leftover from her younger days. It was just before 8 a.m. and there was plenty to do before she drove Frank to the hospital for his 10.30 a.m. appointment. It was going to be a nice day, which was good. Easier to get her Pa sorted out in good weather.
  Laura was washing up the breakfast things when she heard the knock. They seldom got visitors at this time of day. She was surprised as none of the neighbours knocked that early. Come to think of it, they rarely knocked at all. Often just calling out her name or Frank’s. Wiping her hands, she walked to the front door.
  “Hi,” he said. “Can you tell me where Beach Road is. I’m lost and I have a job to do there today.”
  For a moment Laura could not open her mouth other than to gawp at this handsome man in dungarees. He had twinkling blue eyes that seemed at odds with his ruffled curly dark brown hair. Blond hair would knock ten years off, she reckoned.
  She abstractedly wiped her hands down her sides suddenly feeling the extra flesh that had accumulated on her hips. She became flustered and her face began to redden. Finally she found her voice.
  “I….I’m sorry. What did you say?” Her breathing was tight. Her heart seemed to flutter. Silly! She was too old to feel this way over a stranger.
  “Beach Road? I cannot find it. My GPS is out. Can you help me?” His voice whilst being deep and rich, was also mellow, smooth, inviting.
  Evelyn S

  Posted 2 months ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Evelyn S says

  Hervie de Montroi and his younger brother Alexander it oons up in the tourney fields of France/Normandy and is set around 1180. The brother was sent to be. Monk and he was abused. Hervie has a tourney friend, Arnaud who has ghis if and teenage daughter with him. Alexander saves a knight and help him to safety, that knight is John Marshall, cousin of the great William Marshall. King Richard is in prison in Germany. That is as far a I have read.
  Evelyn S

  Posted 3 months ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Evelyn S says

  I am now on Elizabeth Chadwick's 'The Champion'
  Evelyn S

  Posted 3 months ago. ( send a note )

• 

  Jane L says

  Sounds good!

  Posted 3 months ago. ( send a note )