Home Again

It's lovely returning to autumn foliage and happy, cuddly dogs.

While in England--in countryside and in London--I took hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of photos. I'm sharing only a few here, but perhaps I'll put together a public Facebook album or something. Re-entry to normal life is always a curious and hectic process!

Our usual digs in London are only a few steps from this townhouse where P.G. Wodehouse lived, and which he supposedly assigned to Bertie Wooster.

Bernard Cornwell, dinner speaker at the Historical Novel Society's conference. (He was side-splittingly hilarious!)

This year's red callbox photo--at night, no less. In Shepherd Market, after a wonderful dinner of Spanish tapas and wine.

All dressed up for the conference banquet.

The Chap standing in front of his former London dwelling. This time it was his turn to lead the tour down Memory Lane.

After our stay in the countryside, seeing friends, touring National Trust properties, and wandering through beautiful gardens, we had a similarly fantastic time in London. We saw three palaces--Buckingham, Hampton Court, and Kensington (the latter two for research), art museums, writers' conference, restaurants, shopping, seeing more friends.

And as usual, on the homeward flight we were already discussing the next visit...

On Tour

First of all, my comments area is gone. The widget I've been using goes out of business on 1st October, and till I get another the feature is entirely disabled. Sorry about that, but this blog doesn't generate that many comments anyway--except for spammers who slip them into older posts. During time in England, I've been busy. Here I am... with Jane Austen's writing table

hugging shrubbery in Hampshire

revelling in roses

visiting Buckingham Palace (without Alice)

returning to Hampton Court.

More later. I'm about to be quite busy with a writers' conference.

Author Talk

That's what happens when my friend Tess Gerritsen and I get together. The husbands managed to survive...plus we all got caught up on non-authorly news.

It was a gorgeous day in Portsmouth and a fab start to the weekend. I went almost directly from the Seacoast to the Lakes Region. The Chap joined me at the cottage today. Not really sure how long we'll be here. It's blustery and cool--but sunny--and the wind is carrying a change of season.

The Anniversary

Eleven years. The passage of time hasn't numbed the pain, or my awareness of how it altered my life and my perspective. And how it hasn't.

This morning I woke alone--as I did then--at the lake cottage instead of the Lodge. The Chap is safely and securely at home, not on a business trip and isn't cut off from me by closed airports and airspace. We'll be together again in a matter of hours.

And again, it's a typical September 11th--the identical "severe clear"--cloudless blue sky, bright sunshine--that I remember so well. How could something so dreadful, so unimaginable, happen on such a beautiful, pristine day?

This year the anniversary falls on Primary Day and later I will visit my voting place. There's a comfort in being able to exert the freedoms I still enjoy as a citizen of my country on this day of remembrance and reflection.

Now as then, I appreciate the comfort provided by the presence of dogs. As we folllowed our usual route this morning along the tree-lined road, they were contented, unaffected by events past or present, trotting along, interested only in the next peculiar scent on the ground, or squirrel leaping from tree to tree.

The rest of this day will be full and busy, so I'm grateful for this quiet morning solitude. It feels much calmer and pleasanter than it did eleven years ago. But sad, too.

Latest Release

A week ago--while I was luxuriating in Maine, in fact--I re-published a backlist novella as an Ebook. It's available exclusively on Kindle for 99 cents, and contains a bonus sample chapter for The Proposal, currently on sale for $2.99.

"The Apple Blossom Bower" was originally published in an by-invitation anthology with some big-time authors of the genre. We all wrote for the same publishing house (Penguin/Signet).

I had a short deadline, which came at the same time we were moving house from Colorado to New England. As often happens, I chose to set the tale in a location I knew rather well and loved a lot--the South Coast of Devon. I was a student in Exeter for a time, later had friends who lived in Dartmouth. I've chased ponies on Dartmoor from time to time, and like to delve in to local smuggling lore.

The region is especially lovely in apple-blossom time. It also produces a lot of the cider I so happily imbibe.

So, I mashed all that together, and made a story.

The Way Life Should Be?

That's one of the slogan of the Pine Tree State, also known as Maine.

For the second weekend in a row, we had the chance to spend time with friends with whom we have England connections and writing connections. They live in London and have a summer house in coastal Maine, less than 2.5 hrs from the Lodge.

After some catching up at the house, we headed off to the dock at Five Islands, where the teenage boys like jumping off the pier into frigid waters and the predatory seagulls look like they might yank the lobster roll right out of your hand and the boats arriving at the wharf are there to unload more lobsters.

Then it was on to Popham Beach...not the State Park one but the other one.

We had a lovely walk along the long, long beach. The Chap inadvertently stepped on somebody's beach art.

The beachcombers create interesting structures with driftwood.

I remember this house from last time. It appears to be vacant. I suppose the right person hasn't come along. The right person would need a boat, because it's on an island.

We headed back to the spot we'd claimed on arrival and sat down to watch passing boats and seals and cormorants and a distant eagle and beach dogs. And the chaps of all ages headed for the beach shop and bought ice cream cones and frappes. I requested Moose Tracks but my Chap's Peppermint Stick was delicious (he let me have a taste.) We had to eat our cones quick, before the contents melted.

The sunset sky was spectacular. Unfortunately I don't have photos, but I doubt they'd have done it justice anyway.

Saturday at the Farm

The Chap and I have a friend who is a priest and canon, a writer and potter. On Saturday we went to lunch at his farm.

His dog, much larger than my girls!

Before and after lunch, we and the other guests had a chance to throw pots in our hosts studio. This was my first time doing it, and my hopes weren't terribly high.

But with good guidance and instruction, I had caused to be pleased with my efforts.

Done!

It joined the other drying pots, awaiting the glaze (a celadon colour) and firing.

My Other Project (Non-writing Category)

Since January 2011 I have participated--as Vice Chair of the Bishop Search and Nomination Committee--in the diocesan effort to find a successor to our present bishop, who retires in January 2013.

After a momentous period of discussion, listening, learning, prayer, reflection, and discernment, on May 19th our diocese elected a wonderful priest. A month ago, at the General Convention in Indianpolis, the whole church--House of Bishops and House of Deputies--consented to our election.

At about noontime today, the Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church, and a host of other bishops from New England and around the country and even the Roman Catholic church--consecrated him a bishop.

As you can see from the photo, I'm feeling very pleased and thankful about the result. Looking forward to the next chapter...

Published--Again!

My New Year's resolution to format and publish my backlist titles as eBooks has been achieved. There are more books to come, but yesterday The Proposal went live at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and is pending at Kobo.

I'm no longer the giddy twenty-something that I was when my very very first book was published, and nothing will ever match that thrill. But thanks to modern technology, and my own technical abilities, and a burgeoning eBook market (particularly for romantic-type novels like this one) I can reach an entirely new audience. This book has been published in paperback, hardcover, various foreign languages. And now--electronically.

I really should blog about how this novel came about--it was a game-changer for me, and developing it and writing it got me through a sad time and a very, very harsh winter. In my head I was living in a picturesque castle rose garden with a couple of conflicted, attractive protagonists, an obsessive poet, a dog (yes, of course there's a dog!), and various others was wonderful therapy and a good beginning to a new phase of my career as published author.

I'm happy that the actual Gloucestershire castle on which I based Bevington is pictured on the cover. I will be blogging about my rather intense relationship and familiarity with the real location--I promise.

For now, some links to the various vendors, if you'd like to check it out or might be inclined to purchase it.

The Proposal at Amazon US (Kindle)

The Proposal at Amazon UK (Kindle)

The Proposal at Barnes & Noble (Nook)

The Proposal at Smashwords (various platforms)

More later. For the next couple of days I will be involved with--and celebrating--the consecration of our new bishop.

Dock Blogging

What time is it?

Back Again...

...where I belong.

Busy in Indy

I left NH on Tuesday to attend the General Convention of the Episcopal Church, which occurs every 3 years. I am staying in this Hotel adjacent to the Indianapolis Convention Center.

Over the past 5 days, the temperatures have exceeded 100 degrees, several times reaching 107 degrees. It's a historic heat waves. I have made use of the skywalks between the hotels and the convention center.

Our first business day was July 4th. I wore red, white, and blue as I posed with our diocesan mascot, a moose.

That night, I saw fireworks from the adjacent baseball stadium as well as from my own hotel room, which overlooks downtown--I had an awesome view of the civic fireworks display.

I have been keeping up the diocesan deputation blog. Here I am in a hotel corridor, at work, this morning.

A very exciting development was the consent to the election of our future bishop in the House of Deputies and the House of Bishops. Our group had the privilege of escorting him before our House (Deputies) for an ovation. Here we are before the procession (he's the priest wearing black with the blue badge which is actually purple--the colour of bishops.)

I serve on the Communications committee. We review resolutions related to that topic and pass them on to the House with a recommendation. Here is most of the committee.

To say I miss the Chap and the dogs and my refreshing cool forest and cold lakes is a huge understatement. But I am busy, enjoying mysef with friends old and new, and experiencing some terrific liturgies and preaching. So all is well.

Lake Weekend

Today is the Chap's birthday, and it's a milestone. Meaning it ends with zero.

Our celebrations began yesterday at the lake cottage, from which his brother, nieces and nephew were departing after their annual week in NH.

I came separately, with the dogs, transporting the Birthday Cake. Said cake was a very big deal. I've been baking from chidhood and consider myself fairly adept. But never have I attempted a) the Chap's Aunt Ginnie's legendary lemon coconut pound cake, or b) to bake any sort of cake in a bundt pan. Yesterday, with much trepidation, I combined both a) and b). Much to my amazement--and relief--I was successful in both efforts.

Our Friend From the North Country joined us at the lake, bearing many gifts with alcohol content from Ireland and Belgium.

Also our friend the Reverend Canon, bearing homemade baba ganoush. (It was his hens' holy and miraculous fresh-laid eggs that went into the birthday cake, and were surely responsible for the excellent outcome.)

After nibbles...

...and gurl time on the dock...

...and libations (and sampling the still-warm birthday cake), we took the Chap to a favourite seasonal Asian restaurant. Some of us returned to the cottage for more birthday cake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

A beautiful, clear, not-too-hot birthday allowed the Chap and his (somewhat) younger spouse to spend a day by the water. He went for an early morning swim while I walked the girls. We ate breakfast on the screen porch and he opened more presents. (Lots were opened yesterday, at the Lodge and with our friends.)

At mid-morning we all went down to the dock to watch the Big White Boat pass up and down the Bay. And we watched an eagle soaring cloud-high. And I had fun with Ruth, teaching her to run back and forth from me at the end of the dock to the Chap and Jewel sitting at the opposite end. (She went swimming to cool off.)

Afer lunch the rest of us went swimming (except Jewel, who isn't terribly keen.) Then came a period of reading and computing on the screened porch. I returned to the dock to photograph the loon.

In the late afternoon we walked the dogs--a deer loped across the road in front of us, but I was the only one looking in the right place at the right time. On our return, the Chap took a congratulatory call from my parents. We had an early cocktail hour--the birthday person sets the rules. He did some dinnertime grilling.

Now we're awaiting a "golden pond" sunset.

So often we're in Montreal at this time, for Canada Day and the International Festival de Jazz, and the Chap gets fireworks on his birthday. But this year I couldn't be happier being togther on our beautiful Bay. Where he's been swimming for practically all of his life:

In addition to celebrating the nativity of my dear husband, I'm absorbing and cherishing the calm and peaceful atmosphere of this place. I will soon depart for a vast convention center compelex in a Midwestern city, which will be my home for ten days and nine nights. It's so difficult to pry myself away from New Hampshire at this time of year. To detach myself from spouse and dogs and the big house on the little lake and the cottage on the Big Lake and the thrilling and exacting effort to create digital editions of my backlist books. But I was elected by my diocese to undertake an important task in big-C Church governance...so off I go.

In case I don't make it back here to do so, I wish all my US blog readers a happy Fourth of July. I won't have a holiday, but I'll manage to be festive anyway.

Rosy & Fishy

Before coming to the lake cottage at the weekend, I cut lots and lots of roses to fill the place (leaving some behind to adorn the Lodge). Here are my arrangements, which have lasted quite a long time.

I had a lovely week at the Lodge, enjoyng roses and shuttling myself to various meetings. Now I'm having a lakeside week. The weekend was perfect...now a heat wave has descended. The mercury could reach 100 degrees in parts of the state tomorrow. The lake temperature has been too cold for swimming, but if the dire temperature predictions turn out to be correct, I might be joining Walter the Fish in the water!

Here he is, inviting me to jump in.



On this hot day, I'm working heatedly on eBook conversions and have commissioned cover artwork for the initial release. I've created a new Author Page on Facebook. If you click on the little Facebook badge on the right sidebar, you can "like" the author page. Not much happening on the page yet....

More & More

My rose gardens are producing flowers at a great rate.

The Bishop, a gallica dating from 1790.



Charles de Mills, another Gallica from the 1800's.



Celsiana, a damask, late 1700's to early 1800's.



Eglanatyne, one of David Austin's modern English Rose hybrids, with antique rose properties.



Rosa canina, Dog Rose, English hedge rose.



York and Lancaster, damask rose from the 1500's.



Roseraie de l'Hay, rugosa hybrid.



A rose-eater invaded my grounds earlier this week. Here's the reason I protect my rose beds with a mesh fence, a very effective barrier against beautiful but hungry deer!