Rugged. Difficult travel.

In the list of mountains, they are not among the highest. The entire slopes, including the top, are covered with trees.

In a way, that increased the difficulty of finding a pathway. Can a horse, or a man, find a way from one valley to the next? And then there was the problem of getting confused, losing your direction.

Explorers. Pathfinders. Pioneers. Those of the Daniel Boone generation did have the the luxury of following a highway, or a power cut, as they blazed a trail from eastern to western Virginia. The mountains clung to their own secrets.


After the Last Page

Have you ever finished a book and just sat there thinking —

That was so real.

I want to know people like that.

I’ve learned something.

I never thought about that event/issue in quite that way before.

This made me laugh for the first time in ages.

Are you aware the author would love to know how you feel about their work?

How? Write a review. It doesn’t need to be long. Or fancy. It can be in response to fiction or non-fiction. You can comment on work by a well-known author — or a person without fame.

Have you read this? How about a short review?

Turn over a new leaf. Write a review for the next book you enjoy!


Delayed, Not Neglected

As a child raised in the American Midwest, the ocean was more concept than reality. Earlier than many of my peers (my family took summer road trips), I was a teen when I first encountered salt water.

Perhaps it’s a family trait. Or I may have been following a path of least resistance. In any event — when I moved away from home — I headed West.

When living in the Pacific Northwest and vacationing in various places in the West — I saw some spectacular sunsets over water. It was not until I was the parent of adult children I managed to view a sunrise over the ocean. The occasion was a visit to South Carolina. In addition to one sunrise, I enjoyed afternoon visits to this Atlantic Ocean beach.

Feathered residents of Isle of Palms


A Bay off a Bay

From the pier it looked like open water. Another illusion.

On my first tourist trip to Alabama (had driven across the panhandle without stopping once before), friends and I joined a tour anchored on the east side of Mobile Bay.

Interesting sites. Guided tours. Good food. Sailing on the bay on a fine afternoon. Warmer than my home state in mid-March.

On our final afternoon, I was tempted to try kayaking (I’ve been in a canoe, not kayak), but the little bay off of Mobile Bay was choppy. I took the advice of others and stayed on land.

The next morning I took a walk and found this.

I think I stood in awe of the amount of flat, still water.

PS: Date on photo is incorrect. Actual date was March 2010.



Bargain Price

Today I’m putting on my author promotion hat.

Stare Down is on sale! Digital edition for only $2.99!

Set in contemporary St. Louis, this sweet romance with a touch of suspense, gives a new twist to “Love Thy Neighbor”.

Join Det. Maylee Morgan as she seeks a killer and faces the intriguing surgeon who’s moved into the first floor apartment. Dr. Dave Holmes deals with his own set of problems including a murdered boss and conquering a childhood fear.


Final Bridge

Numerous bridges span the Mississippi River as it cuts from North to South in the middle of the United States. The bridge below: Crescent City Connection Bridges (a side-by-side pair) is the final bridge. If you need to cross the river, or one of it’s many branches as it winds its way to the Gulf of Mexico, hire a boat.

While this is not exactly a seacoast photo — the water is fresh — the river is wide and the New Orleans waterfront is active with freight and cruise ship traffic.

Disclaimer: I’ve a soft spot in my heart for this river. I envy, but will never, be one of the adventurers in a canoe or small boat to travel the entire length. I have discovered and admire the work of a retired art teacher who some years ago visited and sketched all the bridges. I’ve crossed many and still have more on the “Bucket” list.



Song Title

A ballad. A gentle melody compliments words describing the scene. The listener conjures a vision of clean sand, gentle waves, and fair skies. Released by a country/folk music superstar, the song is one of those that “stuck” in my mind.

Approximately two decades ago I visited the beach in the song. Well, I visited a beach on the same island. To be fair, the beaches we drove past to arrive at the state park portion all looked similar.

Bad timing. But my visit was short. We arrived a day or two after a storm. This happened to not be a storm with deposited a rich supply of sea shells. (Well, they may have been present, but I didn’t look especially hard.)

Jellyfish anyone???

Our beach time centered around keeping the four-year-old grandnephew from having an EXTREMELY close encounter with the dead animals.

Perhaps one of these years I’ll return and find the Galveston beach of the ballad.


Cold Water Beach

Refreshing. Cold. Change of pace.

Not all beaches involve tides, oceans, or salt water.

This lovely beach features rock worn smooth by centuries of water and fresh water that remains cool year-round. The wooden pilings are the remains of an old lumber loading pier. Launch a boat from this point and navigate with care and you could travel a thousand miles before you changed from fresh water to salt.

Where am I? Standing near the Western tip of Lake Superior.