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My Scottish Gaelic class is challenging and when I’m not struggling with verbs and learning vocabulary, I am on a third edit of my book. Here is a picture of the final, wrap-around cover: And a teaser – an excerpt from a chapter in The Last Pilgrim, when the Plymouth colony is hit by a well-documented and destructive hurricane. I wrote this from personal experience, knowledge, because my family hunkered down in the living room when Hurricane Hazel passed over Plymouth, including  – if I remember the event correctly – the  eye. ***** A great storm buffeted Plymouth in late August of that year. It began with a darkening of the sky with huge clouds rolling by at great speed, followed by steadily increasing winds. In anticipation of the storm, we drew buckets of water from the well to drink and brought our goats and the chickens inside along with their feed. We left the pigs and our new cow to fend for themselves. Soon the fierceness of the wind confined us within the house. We gathered by the hearth as the noise of the wind increased to where we couldn’t hear each other speak, and streams of air blew in through cracks and under the door. How was Thomas? Where was he? I feared for his life with each buffet of wind that shook the house. We heard the ripping of splintering wood as the clapboards of our roof tore off. I wondered if the thatched roofs of some of our neighbors would survive at all. Joseph cried out with the quakes of the house, and I tried to distract the children with stories from the Bible. We took turns praying for salvation. After some hours of terror, when the winds had calmed a little, Master Bradford ventured out, even as his wife implored him not to. He returned visibly shaken by what he had seen, telling us the water along the ocean shore was many meters higher than normal, and enormous waves pounded the sand. He had had to pick his way there, so many trees had fallen. This exited the boys and they pleaded to see for themselves, but Master Bradford settled them with a thunderous, “No!” The winds then increased again, and until the storm passed, there was little to do but milk the goats and make sure the chickens were fed. Eventually, after a hasty meal of cornbread and dried meat, the children fell asleep, and eventually the rest of us did as well. During the night, we heard a crash when as part of our chimney fell into the fireplace, wind sweeping from the chimney hole into the house along with some rain. Master Bradford told us there was nothing we could do about it and to go back to sleep. Still, I slept fitfully, waking often with the noise of the wind and the fearful thought that Thomas may not have survived. When we arose the next morning, we walked out into a new world. Now longer did a palisade surround the farm, and the chicken house and lean-to for the goats, along with most of the fencing, had disappeared. The cow and the pigs were gone. Mistress Bradford’s garden lay flattened, and in the distance we saw the naked roots of many overturned trees. Pine trees had broken off at various heights. The roof had sustained serious damage with the loss of clapboards, and of course most of the chimney was missing. Viewing this destruction made us even more grateful for our survival. Before breaking our fast, we knelt and gave thanks to God for keeping us all safe. Mistress Bradford expressed some unease about cooking over the hearth with the chimney gone, but her husband reassured her it was possible. After the boys removed what had fallen into the hearth, she lit a fire, but it generated so much smoke in the house that we all fled outside, coughing violently. After that, she had the boys build a fire-bed in the yard. Thomas Constant brought out the iron tripod from which to hang a large kettle, along with the smaller kettle with legs and a flat fry pan to place on the coals. For the next few weeks, rain or shine, this is where Mistress Bradford cooked, until the chimney was rebuilt. Thomas Cushman arrived right after we ate our first meal cooked outside. He was out of breath and anxious, but broke into a smile when he saw me unhurt. He wrapped me tight in his arms, right in front of Mistress Bradford, telling me, “Thank God. I prayed you were unharmed and came as soon as I could.” “Tsk,” I head from my mistress. “Did you not pray for us too, Thomas?” She smiled broadly as she said this. “And you should be more reserved in your affections in public.” “I’m glad to see you all are well,” Thomas quickly replied. “And I will.” “Have some food. You must have set out early to be here so soon.” “Thank you, Mistress Bradford. I’ve not eaten since yesterday morning.” Taking me aside, he brought me close to his chest and whispered, “I feared for you, Mary. I didn’t sleep for worrying.” His words had my emotions soaring. “You was worried for you as well, Thomas. But thanks be to God, we both survived.” I reached up and touched his cheek in affection. After Thomas had eaten, the governor announced he was going to the Plymouth settlement to see how it had fared. Thomas proposed to go with him and promised they would return before nightfall. The governor had dragged the boat far up the bank when the storm first began, and it and its sail had survived, so we all went to the river bank to watch as Thomas rowed the boat down the swollen river and raised the sail. Nathaniel, young William, and Constant and Thomas Southworth then left in search of remains of the palisade, fencing, and

Happy New Year to everyone and failte oirbk back to my blog.  That’s welcome in Gaelic. I decided to take a class in beginning Gaelic at UNC and I must say the first class was daunting. It’s a challenge to find the significant amount of time each day required to  master the pronunciation and vocabulary. I’m just auditing but the class is full of linguistic majors who are very quick learners. Why did I do this?                                                                   I am nuts! At the same time I am doing two edits of The Last Pilgrim – now finishing up the last third of the book following comment from my editor (thank you, Alison Williams)  and going over it yet again before I send a few chapters at a time to my copy editor. So I’ve sort of dropped off the radar….sorry. I do read blog posts but have so little time to comment, even when I’m itching to do so. I will post another clip for you to read shortly, but in the meantime, here is the beginning mock-up of the cover, FYI. You may hear a HELP! from me soon! 0 0

This is my favorite story of the birth of Christ. It is the Gospel of St. Luke, and I have heard it so many times I can recite it by heart. This Gospel fills me with peace and joy. ***** In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to his own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.” ***** Wishing you all the peace and joy of this season, no matter your religion. 0 0

I am re-blogging this from Sue Vincent’s blog, Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo: Sue has a really charming dog named Ani, with whom hundreds if not thousands are in love. Ani writes books and posts, so check her out! ****** Dear Santa, here’s my Christmas list, It’s just about that time, And as an Indie writer Thought I’d submit mine in rhyme. I know you’re overworking And your mailbox must be full, So maybe a poetic list Might have that extra ‘pull’? ….You can read the rest at: https://scvincent.com/2019/12/03/anis-advent-calendar-2019-an-indie-christmas/ Available from Amazon UK , Amazon US and worldwide for Kindle and in Paperback. 0 0

Happy Thanksgiving, all y’all. I am here in Utah where the snow is coming down heavily, a snow bomb, apparently. We made it here on Tuesday when it was just spitting a few flakes, and my daughter and son-in-law came in at midnight last night, via Denver!, just before the dump started. We are visiting my son who is posted to the university here. The snow is lovely and we rented a four wheel drive vehicle, so getting around is easy. Growing up in Plymouth, I have always felt this particular holiday is special. During the writing of my new novel, The Last Pilgrim – the story of the longest living passenger on the Mayflower – I got to read a lot about how the native populations were treated by the settlers from England, the Netherlands and other European nations. At that time and with their customs, these immigrants did not see how devastating their settlement would become to the tribes of New England. John Carver, the first governor of the Plymouth Colony, made a treaty with the sachem of the Wampanoags, Massasoit, of mutual defense for both the Pilgrims and the Wampanoags – which last fifty years. But during that time, many offenses against the natives occurred both in the expanding Plymouth Colony and the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Eventually, this resulted in King Philip’s War, begun by Metacomet, Massasoit’s younger son. So writing this book gave me a somewhat different view of the time – through my modern eyes. History is what it is – you cannot change it, only understand it. The Pilgrims were helped in many ways by the Wampanoags during their first year on the New England coast, and a feast of thanksgiving was celebrated by both groups. Governor William Bradford gave thanks to God for their survival and for the many gifts the Pilgrims were given by the Wampanoags. So that is how I see Thanksgiving today. A time to celebrate, give thanks to whatever Supreme Being a person worships for the life and gifts they have been given. Being an American, I realize those gifts are many, deriving from the doughty group of men and women who came here on the Mayflower but also from those people who already lived here. Jean Leon Gerome Ferris’s 1912 illustration, The First Thanksgiving, 1621 0 0

The month of November is a time for remembrance with Veteran’s Day, but there is another early November date that resonates with me, thanks to Gordon Lightfoot. The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead When the skies of November turn gloomy With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed When the “Gales of November” came early… The SS Edmund Fitzgerald was a freighter on the Great Lakes, which sank in a Lake Superior storm on November 10, 1975, taking with her the entire crow of 29. She was the largest ship on the Great Lakes at the time, and she remains the largest to have sunk there. The Edmund Fitzgerald carried set records for seasonal hauls of taconite iron ore from mines near Duluth, Minnesota to iron works in Great Lakes ports, often breaking her own previous record. Her Captain, Peter Pulcer, was known for piping music day or night over the ship’s intercom while passing through the St. Clair and Detroit between Lakes Huron and Erie and entertaining spectators at the Soo Locks between Lakes Superior and Huron with a running commentary about the ship. Carrying a full cargo of ore pellets, she embarked on her ill-fated voyage from Superior, Wisconsin, on the afternoon of November 9, 1975. En route to Detroit, the Edmund Fitzgerald was caught in a mighty storm on Lake Superior, with near hurricane force winds and waves up to 35 feet high. Shortly after 7:10 p.m., she suddenly sank in Canadian waters 530 feet deep, about 17 miles from Whitefish Bay, a distance Edmund Fitzgerald could have covered in just over an hour at her top speed. No distress signals were sent before she sank; her Captain’s last was, “We are holding our own.” Her crew of 29 perished, and no bodies were recovered. The exact cause of the sinking remains unknown, although it has been conjectured that the Edmund Fitzgerald may have been swamped, suffered structural failure or topside damage, run onto a shoal or suffered from a combination of these. Underwater exploration of the ship found no bodies, but the pellets of taconite ore are still visible in the hold. The sinking led to changes in Great Lakes shipping regulations and practices that included mandatory survival suits, depth finders, positioning systems, increased freeboard (the distance from the water line to the upper deck), and more frequent inspection of vessels. Gordon Lightfoot’s song contains a few artistic omissions, errors and paraphrases, which Lightfoot has changed over the years. The words and the music convey the deep sense of tragedy. Here is the song: 0 0

Like many other bloggers I am in absolute love with Ani, Sue Vincent’s dog. Sue has a new book out: Doggerel: Life with the Small Dog. Here is Sue’s intro: I dream of literary heights, Of poetry and fancy’s flights… Of philosophical debates And tales the inner heart relates. She dreams of tennis balls in flight, Of sneaking cuddles in the night, Of muddy walks and open gates And chicken filling all her plates. You can read the rest at: Out now! Doggerel: Life with the Small Dog… Can’t wait to read this! 0 0

Today is Veterans Day. Remember all those who sacrificed so much for us and if you have a chance, thank them. And I’m sending special thanks and love to my son, who is currently serving his country. 0 0

Today is Veterans Day. Remember all those who sacrificed so much for us and if you have a chance, thank them. And I’m sending special thanks and love to my son, who is currently serving his country. 0 0

Richard Denham’s latest book, Robin Hood, English Outlaw, follows the investigative procedures he laid down in his previous publication, Arthur: Shadow of a God. Robin Hood is a later, but equally shadowy historical figure, based on medieval rhymes and gests (tales of adventures). Robin Hood’s existence was common knowledge by the 14th century, figuring in The Vision of Piers Plowman, Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, and The Gest of Robyn Hode, lengthy at 14,000 words, all from around the same time. I grew up with Robin Hood on TV and in the movies and love this character, so reading this historical research book was fun! The author begins with placing Robin in England in ‘the greenwood.’ Where was this greenwood? In the late 11th century, about fifteen percent of the country was covered in dense forest – so where did Robin live? The author gives us a romp through the various places he might have existed. When did he live? Based on historical texts, it might have been twelfth, thirteenth or fourteenth centuries! One thought is that Robin Hood lived in the late 1100’s, during the rule of Richard the Lionheart. Sir Walter Scott and his famous book Ivanhoe has Robin of Loxley fighting against the injustices of Prince John’s government in the 1260s. But perhaps he lived later, in the 1330s, when highway robberies were common, during the reign of Edward II. Who was Robin? A yeoman, at the top of the working class? Or was he of the noble class, as Robin of Locksley? Was he a derivative of the Green Man, who figured in the May Day celebrations? Set against the society of the time and England’s internecine warfare between noble families, the author explores all these possibilities in each of the above time frames, along with the possible sources for the other Merry Men: Alan a Dale, Little John, Will Scarlett and of course, the plump Friar Tuck. I particularly liked the discussion of Friar Tuck as a church militant and the various layers of church hierarchy. Tuck would appear to be a curtal or crutched (wearing a cross on his habit), traveling friar.  Then there is Maid Marian. The author considers her almost an afterthought in the tales of Robin, and she may have derived from the May Queen to Robin’s King in the Tudor May festivities. His discussion of women’s’ role in the Middle Ages is enlightening. This book is nothing if not thorough – from a consideration of archers and their bows to Robin’s rivals, nothing is overlooked. I was hit by nostalgia in the chapter on Robin and the silver screen, recalling the early Errol Flynn movie and those who portrayed Robin in later moves: Kevin Costner, Cary Elweys, and Russel Crowe. Some might even remember the TV series of the 1950s with Richard Green in the title role. All in all, this was a satisfying, thorough discussion of the possible existence of someone named Robin Hood in English history. As with Arthur, Robin Hood is character blurred by the mists of history, with no definitive information to prove he existed except for our own delight and belief in his adventures.  About the author (from Amazon) Richard Denham was born in the military town of Aldershot, the son of a sergeant in the British Army. He is a self-taught Roman historian with an exhaustive knowledge of this period. Ever since studying the Romans at school, he has taken a keen interest in them, specifically Romans in Britain. As a boy growing up with swords, knights, tanks and all things military he also developed an interest in the legends of King Arthur. He then discovered that Roman Britain was much more interesting. The inspiration for the Britannia series was the cold, impassive footnote Richard would constantly come across “Romans leave Britain”. This would have been, for those who lived it, an apocalyptic time never known before; with the Romans having lived, fought, laughed, married and raised children on our island, “leaving” could never be as simple as that. Richard is the co-author of the popular ‘Britannia’ series with M. J. Trow. These books follow a group of soldiers and their descendants through the madness of a chain of events which will eventually lead to the fall of Roman Britain and the descent into the Dark Ages. His exhaustive research of this period eventually led him to Arthur and then onward to Robin Hood. You can find the author on Twitter: @britanniaseries On Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8049810.Richard_Denham/blog And his book, Robin Hood, English Outlaw, on Amazon: 0 0