I recently finished tweaking a few lines of my children's book, "A Nothing To Do Day," and then sent it off to my editor for review. It's great working with my editor, Amy Quale, at http://www.wiseinkpub.com/

Soon to come, "A Nothing To Do Day" webpage. As soon as I'm at the promotional steps of my book, my page will become public--in the meantime, I will be working at designing this page. Photos and all.

SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT HEARTOFAWRITER.COM  --follow this page by clicking on the "Follow Button" in the right column and share on your Facebook page and Google+ page.  My goal 100 followers by the end of August.

The Campfire

Sitting around a campfire is one of Summer's popular pastime.There is something mesmerizing about the flames as they take on a life of their own. The other evening, my husband, Brad and I decided to have a fire in our portable fire pit. It started out huge--each flame bursting from the logs, as if reaching up to break free from the pit in which it was imprisoned. My husband prefers to have the lid on the screen, but I asked him to remove it so the fire could dance at free will, and look more like a good ol' fashioned campfire. I'm a little nostalgic that way.

We opted to stay home Friday night instead of watching the fireworks in town. When we started the campfire, we had an hour to go before the fireworks were to start a mile down the road at the Middle School. In the meantime, my cozy campfire created its own sparkling firework display, and to my delight, fireflies put on quite the fireworks show as they flickered throughout the back yard. To make the evening all the more relaxing, the Minnesota state bird of prey (mosquito) hardly made a showing.

Campfires calm me...they allow my mind to wander as I gaze at the burst of flames and crackling sparks as they shoot from the fire, and gently fall to the ground where they slowly burn out in the dew covered grass.

Ah, but the best is yet to come as the flames ebb into a small dance among the red glowing logs. Everything becomes peaceful and I hold my husband's hand. I would trade an evening of a pyro-technic firework display for this moment, with my best friend, in front of a glowing fire and a glass of strawberry-lime margarita.

The plot thickens, though, when the city fireworks show begins, and the booming sound ignites to the north and then echoes seconds later to the west. To our delight, we are able to see most of the fire works above the tree tops....our "ooohs" and "ahhhs" begin between us.

This was an evening of entertainment for only the cost of a bottle of pre-mixed margarita mix that will last us several evenings around the campfire.

I love a good campfire that brings back memories of going to camp as a child and camping with my kids. Each campfire story is different, because the place and time are different with a new story to tell, or dream to talk about.

The smell of the campfire lingers on my clothes and memories awaken the following morning when I put yesterday's clothes in the washer. It's almost like a good cologne---so good I wish there were a way to package it and call it the "Woodsman." This is a light-hearted comment, but true to how I feel.

Most of us all have our own campfire store, or thought to share. I welcome your comments on this.


Jewel

Meeting with my Publisher/Editor

I met with my publisher and editor, Amy Quayle, yesterday at the WiseInk office in Minneapolis. It was an great meeting. We discussed items that will be given away with my book promotion, such as tattoos of characters in the book, and finger puppets. She also gave me ideas on how to fund raise to help support my project. We ended the meeting talking about the editorial process.

I will keep you posted as the publishing process progresses. In the meantime, I invite you to follow my blog and to sign up for email notifications of new posts.

Jewel

There's Something About the Train

There's something about the sound of a train's whistle that provokes me to reminisce about my childhood. It is a melancholy sound that momentarily transports me back to over 45 years ago, when Eagan, Minn., my hometown, was farmland and pastures. As a child, I would often sit on the back porch and listen to the sound of the train in the distant-just beyond the red barn on the eastern horizon. This is but one of many nostalgic memories I have of the sound of a train.

The train I hear today, as I stand outside my New Prague home, just blocks from the tracks, is more than a whistle or the rumbling and screeching noise as it comes to a stop along side the Minneapolis and St. Louis Railroad Depot at the west end of New Prague. The train is the live history of New Prague, as well as the here and now. Its low whistle announces that the birth of the town started here and it's still alive with commerce that affects countless people and businesses.

I hear the Union Pacific as it whistles and rolls to a stop over Hwys 19/13 around the 7:00 a.m. hour on a Monday morning. I'm sure this causes many commuters to grumble anxiously as they wait for the crossing bar, with its red blinking lights, to lift so they can get on with their morning commute to work.

The railroad has had a lasting influence on the growth of New Prague. It's a piece of the past that has shaped the future of this small town. According to the New Prague walking tour guide, "In the early 1930s, New Prague was served by ten regular freight trains and six passenger trains daily." Though passenger trains no longer stop in New Prague, freight trains, which stop at the local ConAgra Mill or Chart Industries, are still going strong with loads of freight to transport to towns around the country.

If the railroad was a catalyst for the growth of New Prague, then it's part of our heritage, so why not celebrate it at Dožínky Festival -perhaps a guided tour of the depot from a direct descendant of a railroad or mill worker who may still live in the New Prague area. Perhaps they have family stories to pass down to the next generation.

Times have changed since the railroad first came to town in 1877, but as long as the train continues to stop in New Prague, it will continue be a significant part of New Prague's live history.



Photo Photo of the New Prague Depot
photographer R.G. Smedley


#NewPrague #Dozinky #Train #Trainwhistle #history #Americana

Oh no, Green Bananas!

I love bananas! And because I love bananas, I expect to have a gently ripe, yellow banana available to me at any given time. If I see that my banana bowl is empty, I make a run to the grocery store in order to satiate my craving for my favorite tropical fruit.

The other day, I did my banana run to the grocery, only to be stopped in my tracks by a massive amount of GREEN BANANAS taking over the banana stand. Not one gently ripe, yellow banana among the whole bunch!

This leads to tremendous frustration--wait, that's not descriptive enough! This leads to intense exasperation (that's better). I am offended that GREEN bananas are my only choice of banana; however, I am even further offended by the over-ripe, brown-spotted bananas situated in the front corner of the banana stand—perhaps it's the grocer's silent, yet desperate ploy to entice the church ladies to buy them for banana bread to be sold at the church festival.

I’m referring to the kind of green bananas that could add a bright, punch of color to display on a retro-70s dining room table. The kind of green banana that is so hard, the skin clings desperately to the banana as if crying out, “NO!  I’m not ready!!”

What can I do with a bunch of green bananas other than bring them home and let them ferment from green, to over-ripe, within 48 hours on my kitchen counter. As the point-of-no-return ripeness takes over, my only choice is to eat bananas with every meal before they are ripe enough for the fruit flies.

My suggestion to the local grocer: Go ahead, display your gaudy, green bananas for the few souls who will eat them, but give me my yellow bananas.

#bananas #greenbananas

The World Goes 'Round

While I was taking a walk around the neighborhood this evening, I caught the gentle scent of apple blossoms. I looked above me, and although the sun had set, and I had only the moonlight and distant street light to show the way, I noticed pink apple blossoms draping over my head. Of course, in the dim light, they appeared white. The sweet scent immediately caused me to reflect on something I mentioned to a friend the other day, "We should write about 'What makes the World Go 'Round?'"  I suggested this because he, too, blogs. He and I have completely different writing styles...he's more analytical and scientific, and I'm more of the heart-felt, emotion-filled writer. I thought it would be interesting to compare how we see the World.

Well, over the next few days, I had forgotten about the subject until tonight. Could it be the gentle, sweet scent of apple blossom that makes the World go 'round? That made me think deeper about the whole subject, which isn't unusual for me. I immediately felt this desire to write down my thoughts as soon as I walk in the house. Why would anyone care to read my thoughts on what makes the World go 'round? Perhaps, there are others on this big globe that would find the subject quite appealing, perhaps interesting, possibly boring, or maybe even amusing...so I write.

I walked past the apple blossoms and caught the scent of something I couldn't identify, but it was just as appealing as the apple blossoms. I walked further and once again caught the scent of apple blossoms, and then further...lilacs. The crickets were chirping, and I heard a dog barking in the distance.

The scent of freshly cut grass came to mind, as that is what I have been smelling quite a bit the past week...when it wasn't raining. I stopped to look at the moon--it was almost full. The word, "LIFE," suddenly burst into my thoughts, and with that, the recall of the scents that were bestowed upon me as I took my evening walk.

What makes the world go around? Life. It's in the scent of apple blossoms and lilacs, it's the sound of the local church bells ringing, it's in the bright glow of the moonlight as it guides me along my way.

Springtime rings out renewed life, and boldly shouts out through the blossoms that seem to pop over night, and the scents, and the sound of crickets hiding in the grass, and the birds feeding at the feeders.  All is beautiful! All is exciting! All is breathing renewed life into the World.

How wonderful is the wonder of which plants survived the cold, long winter....amazingly, the newly created gardens my husband and I labored over last Spring and Summer survived, save for a flower or two. I often wonder how one cannot be amazed at the seemingly, instant transformation of the landscape around us. The pastoral views driving through the countryside where the sweet scent of tilled dirt from a freshly plowed field wafts through the air, or having a hosta plant barely showing it's leaves one day, and the next its grown about 6 inches or more. With that said, I am tempted to pull up a law chair and see if I can actually watch my hosta grow.

Spring resonates with all my senses: smell, sight, touch, taste, sound.  Taste? you ask. Why not? Springtime means sipping on lemonade, iced tea, or both at the same time.

God's grace surrounds me with Springtime glory. This is what makes my World Go 'Round. We all have our own experiences  to tell about our World. What is yours? Comments welcome.

Have a blessed and safe Memorial Weekend.

Jewel

 

A Writer’s Heart Reborn.

As much as I try to avoid cliches, an old adage seems to occupy my thoughts this evening: "Time Flies."  Sharing those two simple words should have been painless, but instead it gave me a feeling like the screeching sound of fingernails down a chalk board.  

It seems the older I get, the faster time passes. I reflect on all that has happened in my life the past 10, 15, 20 years, and I realize that time really hasn't gone by that quickly; so much has happened in my life that I'm surprised I didn't need 50 years to live through all that I have experienced. 

While making the everyday normal events of my life happen, my passion for writing has always been with me. Although it may appear I have all but forgotten about the writer in me,  which has been with me as far back as I can remember, it is always there lingering around in the recesses of my soul.

There have been times in my life when I've had exciting focus and dedication, and then without conscious awareness, my goals are put back on the shelf, and my dreams on the back burner--always there, but simmering like an unwatched pot of stew. I forgot to mention I have a very metaphorical writing style. My excuses for not writing---I’m too busy, how can I switch from my corporate thought process to a writer’s thought process when I get home only to have to make dinner, and I need to help somebody with something. Excuses, excuse. It's as if I sold my writer's soul to corporate America and these so-called side jobs.

I was tired of the excuses and knew I had to do something to make my writing a priority. I’ve done quite a bit of contemplating the past year, and have simplified my life quite significantly. Gone are the side jobs to make extra spending money, learning to say no to helping with projects that take me away from my family and my writing, and focusing on the things that bring me peace and joy; as the layers of extracurricular obligations have peeled off, the desire to write grows stronger....a rejuvenation of my passion. I am positively overwhelmed with a confidence that the writer in me has returned with determination. Writing is my calling in life and I need to go after it with urgency and the passion I once felt so long ago.

I thought I would start with blogging to re-acquaint myself with my creative process and to nurture the inspiration inside this writer’s soul. I write from the heart--the heart of a writer.

Julie