Tag Archive | Mother

Summertime by Vicki Batman

From Christina: I’m pleased to have Vicki Batman here today to share a few thoughts about summertime.  It’s always a pleasure to visit with her.

 

Summertime

by Vicki Batman

Summertime–fun days!

When my kids began school, I would count the days like this:

  • Labor Day
  • Halloween
  • Thanksgiving
  • Holiday break
  • Presidents Day
  • Valentine’s Day
  • Spring Break
  • School is out.

Then…

Summer Pic

 

As a little girl, my family went on some great vacations–Gulf of Mexico and Galveston Island, Florida, California. And I wanted those experiences for my children, too. Trips to visit family members, Washington D.C., New York City, and Colorado.

Sometimes, we moms don’t know what things we’ve taught our kids will stick. I took mine to the art museums. I loved going and only had a one opportunity when I was a child. I determined that wouldn’t happen to mine.

Statue of LibertySo we were on vacation in New York City. We’d planned age appropriate Broadway shows, a trip to the Statue of Liberty, and Ellis Island, the exhibition Art of the Motorcycle at the Guggenheim.

But I had to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and if I really wanted to go, I had to take the boys. I’d mapped out that visit so they wouldn’t be bored. First, the arms and Armaments; then, the Egyptian stuff; finally, we passed though to another area and skimmed by the Impressionist exhibit.

Money PicThat’s when I heard, “Look, Mom, a…”

 

 

 

I had to stop and take that in. Wow, they remembered.

Time marches on. The kids are grown, and we don’t have the same kind of vacations. Whenever I’m vacationing in NYC, I go to the Met by myself, pass through the Impressionists and think, “Look, Mom, a Monet.”

Maybe I’ve done my mom job well.

 

About Vicki:

Vicki BatmanLike some of her characters, award-winning author, Vicki Batman has worked a wide variety of jobs including lifeguard, ride attendant at an amusement park; a hardware store, department store, book store, antique store clerk; administrative assistant in an international real estate firm; and a general “do anything gal” at a financial services firm–the list is endless.

 Writing for several years, she has completed three manuscripts, written essays, and sold many short stories to TRUE LOVE, TRUE ROMANCE, TRUE CONFESSIONS, NOBLE ROMANCE PUBLISHING, LONG AND SHORT REVIEWS, MUSEITUP PUBLISHING, and THE WILD ROSE PRESS.

She is a member of RWA and several writing groups and chapters. In 2004, she joined DARA and has served in many capacities, including 2009 President. DARA awarded her the Robin Teer Memorial Service Award in 2010.

 Most days begin with her hands set to the keyboard and thinking “What if??”

 

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Memories on Mother’s Day by V L Locey

From Christina: I am delighted to share a few thoughts from Vickie Locey, one of my favorite goat-herders and authors. OK, so she’s the only goat-herder I know. Let’s not get picky. She’s here today to share a few special memories. Enjoy!

Memories on Mother’s Day

by V. L. Locey

Hi everyone! My name is V.L. Locey, and I’m an erotic romance author. I’d like to thank Christina for allowing me come visit today. You know, sometimes it is the simplest of occurrences that sets off a memory. It seems of late that quite a few things around my house are doing that, and I don`t mind one bit.

The first touch of a remembrance of my mother came when my dad brought me a hyacinth for Easter. Dad loves to gift the ladies in his life with flowers, and since my mom passed over ten years ago, that leaves me as the sole floral recipient. I love getting flowers so both of us are happy when he arrives with a pot of posies in hand.

Hyacinth
Any time I smell hyacinth it takes me back to working in the flower garden with my mother. She loved hyacinth, and her beds were packed with the fragrant bulbs. She put as many as she could in any bed. Under the living room window was her favorite, for when a warm spring wind would blow up, and the window was cracked to let the stale winter air out, the breeze would carry the smell of hyacinth into the room.

I`m trying to keep the beautiful white plant alive as long as I can. It’s now fully open, and my entire kitchen is heady with scent. No artificial air freshener can top it. I can inhale that wonderful fragrance as I write, and be taken back to the springs of yesteryear with just a whiff.

The other tip off to a memory of mom was during a discussion of movies. Sports movies to be precise. The film Brian’s Song was mentioned. I`m not sure if any of you have seen it, but if not, I`ll just say that it`s a tearjerker of a film about two best friends on the same football team. As soon as the movie was mentioned, I was whisked back to when I first saw the film. It was released in 1971, so it probably took a few years to get to television. Maybe I was sixteen at the most.

Anyway, there my mother and I sat, side by side, weeping like a couple of speckled trout over this movie when my father walked in. Of course, he simply could not understand why we were subjecting ourselves to such emotional upheaval. We flat out refused to change the channel or let him do so. So there we sat, crying amid hiccup fits, until the ending credits rolled.

Those are the memories that mean the most to me. The unplanned ones. Those are the ones I plan to revisit on Mother`s Day and every other day throughout the year.

What are your favorite memories from childhood? Are they tied in with smell, taste, or touch? I`d love to hear about them!

* * *

LoceyV.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, anything romantic, Greek mythology, comic books, Rangers hockey, and coffee (Not necessarily in that order). She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a steer named after a famous NHL goalie, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.

She is a self-published and conventionally published author. She is a proud Torquere Press and Secret Cravings Publishing author. When not writing erotic  romance tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, and GoodReads.

 

A Note from Christina

Vickie  recently contributed a story to  Seduced by the Gamethe 2014 Cancer Charity Anthology. Like so many others, my family has known the devastation of this disease. My maternal grandmother, my mother, a maternal aunt, and my dear younger sister were all taken by cancer.

Please help in the fight to find a cure! You can purchase the book through Amazon or other online booksellers.

SEDUCED BY THE GAME

 

Winter Memories by Gemma Juliana

 

From Christina: The past week has been miserable for many of us here in the US, with record-setting low temperatures from New England to the south. Today, author Gemma Juliana comments upon our wintry conditions and shares a few of her memories of the season. She shares, too, a delicious recipe! 

 

Winter Memories

by Gemma Juliana

 

Autumn to winter is my favorite time of year. This week, weather is extreme all across the USA, and in general it has been unseasonably cold all season.

One aspect of winter that warms my heart is the cleansing and purifying energy of snow. Not only is it soft on the eye, the silence it creates throws me into an inner, reflective state.

I love taking a brisk walk and seeing my steamy breath materialize on the frigid air, feeling my face freeze, and then walking into our warm, welcoming home with the scents of winter and festive lights (I’m a Christmas lights fanatic and would have the entire house glowing within and without if I could physically accomplish this.) If I prepared a soup or baked before walking, those scents greet me at the door and welcome me home. All of this generates inner contentment and fosters a sense of appreciation for the little things, and the raw beauty of nature.

A mug of hot cocoa in hand, I’ll stare at the lights after everyone else is in bed, and reflect on winters past. So many loved ones are no longer here, but if I just envision the special holidays we shared, I can hear my father’s laughter ripple around me, or see my mom standing in the kitchen cooking. Then there are the ‘old ones’ on the special trips ‘home’ to Ireland. Ancient tables laden with sparkling silver, crystal glasses, and an amazing syphon on the lemonade bottle that I fell in love with when I was ten. All those ancestors are long gone on their journeys to the afterlife. Winter is a fitting time to reflect on those no longer with us, as it is a season of death just before regeneration. Western society isn’t always comfortable contemplating death, but I find that a bit of time reflecting on the role it plays in our natural cycle enriches life.

I’ve been lucky enough to experience both traditional cold winters with snow, bare trees and evergreens, and warm water-skiing winters spent on beaches. My preference is a snowy, cold winter any day.

How about you, what’s your favorite winter memory?

 

Here’s a soup I love to make this time of year. It’s hearty, nourishing and delicious.

 

“CREAMY GREEN SOUP” Serves 4hot-steaming-bowl-of-soup-md

1 tsp olive oil (or other oil)

1 onion, chopped

3 large garlic cloves, minced

½ lb Brussels sprouts quartered

1 can asparagus, drained

4 oz fresh spinach leaves

32 oz vegetable or chicken broth

1/3 cup almond butter

Tbsp Herbs de Provence

Pepper

15 oz can Great Northern beans, drained

 

PREPARATION: In a saucepan, warm oil and add onion, garlic, Brussels Sprouts, herbs and pepper, and let them cook about 10 mins, stirring occasionally. Add broth and let cook ½ hour on med-low heat. Add asparagus and spinach leaves, stir, then put lid on for five minutes so spinach wilts. Finally add almond butter. Use hand held blending stick to reduce soup to a thick liquid consistency. Then I add the beans for a little ‘bite’. Return to simmer until you wish to eat.

NOTE: This is an adaptable soup – you can add other veggies. If you use this mix, though, the color of the soup is an amazing visual bonus. Bon appetit!

line PNG

 

GEMMA JULIANA is a multi-published author who lives in an enchanted cottage in north Texas with her handsome hero, teen son and a comical dog. She loves making new friends and hearing from readers. Exotic coffee and chocolate fuel her creativity.  Her latest release, Christmas Spirits, is a spicy novella set in Ireland. You’ll find it — along with her other titles — at Amazon.com.

 

It’s That Time of Year by Ashley Nemer

From Christina: I want to thank Ashley for sharing her thoughts about autumn. She grew up not far from where I live, so many of my fall memories are very much the same.  I’ve jumped in the leaves, skipped rocks over the water, and felt that same exhilarating coolness in the air. And Ashley, I have photos of a few parks in Kansas where I’ve spent time with my family. I’m always happy to share, so whenever you want to look back on your childhood days, maybe between the two of us we can find that park your remember.

It’s That Time of Year

by Ashley Nemer

It’s that time of year, when the leaves start changing colors slowly and then begin to fall to the ground. I’m sure we all have those fun memories of fall and early winter when it’s the perfect temperature to play out in the afternoon sun as a child. Raking up the leaves and putting them into a large pile and diving into it.

For me, this season always meant new beginnings. When I was in grade school I lived in Kansas. The seasons were vastly different than those I experience in Houston, Texas. For one, there are actual distinct seasons that last longer than a week. That’s probably the only thing consistent in Texas during fall / winter / spring – if you have issues with the weather, don’t worry, it will change next week.

But in Kansas, fall represented school starting, weather cooling and fun beginning. My mom’s house was on this huge acre of land. Okay okay, it was huge to a nine year old, whether or not it was actually “huge” I suppose is debatable. Anyway…My brother and I were tasks with raking the leaves. As you can imagine that was a huge job for two “youngins”. Except, we always had a blast. We would spend all day outside raking leaves and diving into the piles of them.

Colorful Autumn Leaves

Colorful Autumn Leaves – Drawing by Christina

Until that one pile had a snake. Shivers – that had to be one of the worst times. I remember I was riding my bike, gaining momentum so when I jumped off of it I would fly into the pile. Thank God I looked down before I jumped and saw that deadly snake waiting for me. (What a nine year old girl thinks is deadly.) In all reality it was probably a little garden snake but no, to a young Ashley it was as deadly as a python and as ugly as a rattler. I rode my bike back to the front door screaming. I grabbed my brother and told him he was never allowed to go outside again.

Looking back – I was definitely one for the theatrics I think. But my memories aren’t all snake-infested. I remember when we lived in Kansas City; we had our two dogs Louise and Sammy. They were sisters, beagles. We all went to a park in the fall. The leaves had just started to fall and the weather had taken a turn for the colder side. We were playing Frisby and catch. Frisby for the humans, catch for the dogs. I learned how to skip rocks on a lake that day. Maybe I should say I attempted to learn because I doubt I would have any success doing that now.

I remember my mom. Her hair flowing in the wind. The sun-kissed blonde strands, her smile, the way she laughed when I pushed my brother into the lake. Yeah, autumn always meant changes for me and that was good. I miss the actual seasons of the year. Houston has two, Hot and Very Hot!

Maybe one day I’ll make it back to Kansas and I can find that park again. Or maybe I’ll just look at photos and smile, remembering times when things were less complicated and life was simply there for enjoying.

Gratitude by Cindy Christiansen

From Christina: I’m very grateful to Cindy for sharing her beautiful thoughts about home, family, and the special memories that come from living, loving, and working together. Please welcome her to Time for Love. 

Gratitude

By Cindy Christiansen

“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.” — Albert Schweitzer

Autumn is my favorite time of year. I have fond memories of life on our farm with my family and harvesting what we had worked so hard to produce through the year. I remember peeling and coring apple after apple for bottled apples and applesauce, my mouth watering for one of my mom’s homemade apple pies; the canning season coming to a close as we gathered the squash to store in the cellar; and finally putting the garden to bed for the dormant winter months ahead.

Memories of my dad’s hardworking hands, my mother’s gentle smile, and my siblings’ playful banter take me back to a picturesque time when life was slower and more people had a sense of gratitude instead of entitlement.

But most of all, I remember being together as a family, sharing a story and a laugh while we worked together and the feelings of love, contentment, and peace that radiated from our home. I am so very thankful for these memories and hope the home life I have tried to create for my children will provide them with the same wonderful memories I enjoy because there really is no place like home.

Although I am grateful for my family and friends who light the flame within me, often times it’s the memories of life on our farm which help to rekindle my passion for life. For this, I am forever grateful.

About Cindy:Photo - Cindy A. Christiansen

Cindy A. Christiansen writes sweet romance with humor, suspense…and dogs! With over thirty health issues and two autistic children, she struggles to write but finds it cathartic. She loves going where only her characters can take her. She loves dogs and always includes them in her books and features them on her covers. She donates time and money to organizations that help abused and abandoned dogs. She lives with her wonderful family and delightful dogs in West Jordan, Utah.

Autumn and Childhood by D’Ann Lindun

From Christina: I’d like to welcome author D’Ann Lindun to Time for Love. I loved learning about her childhood in Colorado, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy getting to know D’Ann, too. 

Childhood and fall.

A lot of people probably think of school days, Halloween and the coming winter.

Not me.

Childhood memories of fall bring back one overwhelming memory—hunting camp. My dad was an outfitter. He made his living by packing in and guiding big game hunters in the Colorado Mountains. And we as a family helped him. My mom, me and my two younger sisters.

Photo from: Colorado Outfitters

One day after school, usually on a Friday, Mom would pick us up and we’d go to the barn. My sister Sherry and I would scurry around, catching and tacking up the saddle horses. My dad would load the packhorses with sleeping bags, grub boxes and tents.

The ride into camp was long, and it was cold, weaving high into the mountains, through dark pines and aspens shedding their orange and gold leaves. The scent of leaves on the damp ground and warm horses filled the air. Inevitably, it would be snowing, bitter wind blowing cold flakes into our faces. Our hands and feet felt like blocks of ice no matter how warm the gloves and socks.

Camp was heavy canvas sheepherder tents. The edges flapped in the cold wind, but dad always had a fire going in the camp stoves, and it was cozy inside. The horses were hobbled and the lead mare, Polly, wore a bell around her neck, the sound mournful in the night.

We three sisters snuggled in one sleeping bag with our Australian shepherd, Lobo, on our feet, although he wasn’t supposed to come inside. Dad would be by the door and Mom on the inside, always fretting about bears and other wildlife coming into the tents.

Daylight brought a skiff of snow on the ground and Dad calling the horses. In the clear air, the sound of their hooves across the frozen ground was thrilling. My sister Sherry and I poured grain on the ground for each, caught them and tied them to trees. Dad chopped wood, the sound of his axe splitting wood ringing out. Mom went to the water hole and carried buckets of water to the fire, to heat and do dishes. After two days of stacking wood, setting up cots for the hunters and scouting game, we’d head home.

It’s been more than 30 years since those days, but I can still smell the aspen leaves, see the camp in my mind’s eye and feel the love of a family who worked together every fall.

About D’Ann Lindun

D'Ann Lindun

Author D’Ann Lindun

Falling in love with romance novels the summer before sixth grade, D’Ann Lindun never thought about writing one until many years later when she took a how-to class at her local college. She was hooked! She began writing and never looked back. Romance appeals to her because there’s just something so satisfying about writing a book guaranteed to have a happy ending. D’Ann’s particular favorites usually feature cowboys and the women who love them. This is probably because she draws inspiration from the area where she lives, Western Colorado, her husband of twenty-nine years and their daughter. Composites of their small farm, herd of horses, five Australian shepherds, a Queensland heeler, two ducks and cats of every shape and color often show up in her stories!

From Christina: D’Ann loves to hear from readers. You can reach her through email at dldauthor@frontier.net. You’ll also find her blogging at D’Ann Lindun, and on Facebook at DLindunAuthor

Her latest romance, The Cowboy’s Baby, from Crimson Press, is now available at Amazon.