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Click on the photos to enlarge them! My husband and I and two of our friends usually attend this festival every year. The exhibits are much the same, but we enjoy seeing them, eating, and listening to the music – it’s never boring! And the people we encounter are down-to-earth nice, mostly from the surrounding mountains. The festival is held on the campus of Ferrum College (I’ve heard it pronounced Furrum) in the Virginia mountains towards the end of October, when the tree color is at a knock-your-eyes out level, usually peak. The campus has lots of open areas with winding paths, so there’s plenty of space for all sorts of things. This year when we entered (the price is only $5.00 each for senior folk), we were lured to the Gospel tent, where some mighty sounds were being generated by the Lanell Starkey and the Spiritual Seven full band African American gospel group. While the men folk listened, the women folk wandered off to find a Port-a-Potty (something we tend to do after three cups of coffee). While waiting in line, I started to chat with an elderly lady clutching a Styrofoam box. She showed me its contents: a most mouth-watering barbecue sandwich I’d ever seen! So after passing some dessert-laden tables and doing my best to ignore them, we grabbed the men and headed to the barbecue tent. It was almost noon and the smells emanating from the tent just pulled you in.   After the smoky, delicious barbecue, we walked over to observe a coon dog contest. A raccoon pelt is run up a pole, the dog is released and the number of times the dog barks while trying to get to it is recorded. The record was 62 that day.   Then on to an area with old farm implements: steam engines, tractors, plows etc. One large steam engine let out a wail every few minutes. It was powering a belt that was running a thrasher – thresher for most of us. We talked to the owner of the engine and admired a 1909 Ford model T truck he had put together from bits and pieces. Another, smaller steam engine was being used to grind corn. After admiring a few more pieces of antique equipment, we crossed the main road to the crafts section. This was more my style: sorghum molasses making: a place to buy homemade apple, peach, or pear butter; a wool-dying demonstration; a working forge with an older than the mountains fellow making various items with commentary by his son; a walnut cracking station; leather works; a weaving demonstration on small looms; and finally, the antique car show.           At that point, I sat down at the entrance where all the Ford Model Ts, As and Bs were parked and just admired the cars. By now most of my readers know I love the old Fords. The men went further down in the lot to admire the old muscle cars from the 40s, 50s and 60s and chat with the owners. They do it every year, never changes!                      Next came ice cream. We wandered back across the campus and around the lake, stopping to watch a coon dog contest where the contestants swam across the lake following a raccoon pelt on a line. The shortest time won $500: three minutes and we got to see the winner. The ice cream is homemade, right there on the spot, using a steam engine to turn the cranks. My better half had peach, our friends, butter pecan. After sitting and talking to people while eating the ice cream, mostly politics, we headed to our last stop and my favorite by far: the bluegrass music tent. There we sat and listened to the Highlander String Band (dulcimer, fiddle, banjo and guitar) and then the Rohrer Brothers and Son (banjo, base, guitar). Foot tapping for sure and some little girls – and an adult or two – dancing. We arrived home mid-afternoon, full of good food and carrying peach and apple butter to remind us of a great time! 0 0

For  those of you who took the quiz and came out as Frankenstein, I have some music for dancing: The Monster Mash by Bobby “Boris” Pickett & The Crypt Kickers.. Pickett was born in Somerville, Massachusetts. His father was a theater manager, and as a nine-year-old he watched many horror films. He would later incorporate impressions of them in a Hollywood nightclub act.  He became a virtual one-hit wonder with The Monster Mash, which he wrote in 1962, as a spoof of dances popular at the time such as the Twist and the Mashed Potato. When performing the song, Pickett did impersonations of veteran horror starts such as Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. The song became a million seller, reaching #1 on the Billboard Top 100 for two weeks before Halloween in 1962. His track actually came back on the music charts in 1970 and again in 1973 and remains a Halloween perennial on the radio and iTunes.   0 0

Halloween is the perfect time of the year to think about your darker side. For book nerds and word lovers, there is not much better than a good scary read. But you may never have thought about which terrifying monster you are actually most like. Find out with our fun Halloween quiz! LET’S PLAY! Click here: http://www.grammarly.com/blog/2015/which-literary-monster-are-you-halloween-quiz/ By the way, it turns out I am Dracula! Let me bite your neck! This quiz comes from: https://www.grammarly.com/grammar-check 0 0

Psst. I need to tell you something… in the spirit of Halloween and all that. I have a Sin Eater for a best friend. It’s a heavy load to bear, but from what I’ve observed, the poor guy’s own load is even heavier. What’s a Sin Eater you might ask? Well, my friend told me this: Sin Eaters have been around from pre-Christian times but sort of died out (you’ll get the pun) by the end of the 19th century. They were summoned to the bedside of a dead person to perform a ceremony whereby they took on the sins of the deceased— sins that hadn’t been forgiven before the person died, usually unexpectedly. By eating bread and a drink (usually wine or beer) placed on, or waved over, the dead body, the Sin Eater digested the dead person’s sins. In this way, the Sin Eater saved the dying from hell and also from wandering the earth as ghosts. You see what I mean? A heavy load to take on, and my friend is very busy since he’s the only one still around. He tells me the wine is usually sour and the bread is stale, so he has to take Tums afterward. But now, at least, he gets paid. I have to admit I didn’t believe him at first. He’s an odd duck, lives by himself in the apartment next to mine (in a pit of a building, by the way), and really doesn’t like interacting with people. I only got to know him because I deliver food for a local grocery store and made regular visits to his place. I’m pretty outgoing, so eventually I broke him down. He invited me in and over the next year or so, we got to know each other. Then he told me about sin eating. I got up and left. For the next three deliveries, I hardly talked to him, but he looked increasingly sad. I gave in and asked him more about it. Turns out his father was a Sin Eater, and his father before him. So he’s carrying on the family business. I asked him what he was going to do, since he’s unmarried and has no children. He just shrugged and said he was probably the last of his line. Then I asked him how sin eating made him feel. He said the day after he has to spend in bed. Then he visits the local Catholic church and confesses all the sins he’d ingested. That makes him feel better, but he’s pretty sure the priest thinks he’s the wickedest man on earth. Then he smiled his sad smile and asked if I’d like to accompany him on his next call. I didn’t feel I could refuse, at that point. I was pretty fascinated. Turns out his next job was local. Old Mr. Haggerty, who’d lived on the top floor forever, fell in his kitchen and hit his head on the stove. His son didn’t find him for a day or so and seemed fairy traumatized. I know the smell was rather fierce when we entered the apartment. Haggerty lay on the kitchen table, two slices of break on his decaying chest and a glass of wine next to him. The son told us he was only obeying his father’s wishes, which were posted in bold print at the bottom of the DNR notice on the refrigerator. The Sin Eater waved the glass of wine over the body and drank it, mumbled something under his breath, and then carefully lifted the bread from the body. How he could eat it, I had no idea. But he did, with a lot of gagging and coughing. The son gave him fifty bucks and called 911. We left. I didn’t see him the next day, but the day after he knocked on my door. What a surprise! He looked pretty good, considering what he’d had to eat, and asked me if I wanted to have dinner with him. I said sure, as long as it wasn’t served on a dead body. Our son is now an apprentice Sin Eater.     If you liked this short, you might want to check out Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall by Luccia Gray. It features a Sin Eater. Check out Luccia at http://lucciagray.com/blogroll-2/ This one was for you, Luccia.   0 0

Murder at the Lighthouse is a frothy confection of a short, cozy mystery. This is one of a series of short tales of murder, and I’m looking forward to reading more of them. Libby Forest was trapped for years in an abusive marriage, and after her husband dies, she takes some of the money from the sale of their house and buys a cottage in Exham on Sea, a small inbred coastal town. She is determined to become part of the local community and hopes eventually to open a patisserie and chocolate shop. In the meantime, she is writing a cookbook, on the verge of being overdue at her editors, and is working part time in local bakery. One night, dog-walking walking along the beach near the lighthouse, Libby discovers the body of a woman, whom the police believe to be a suicide. The woman, Susie Bennett, has deep ties to Exham by Sea, and Libby has a suspicion it wasn’t a suicide. When an older woman, who knew Susie and her secrets, is found dead at the bottom of her stairs, Libby becomes convinced this was also a murder, and the game’s afoot. During her investigation, Libby, as an outsider, has the predictable run-ins with the locals and finds her husband left her one last nasty gift. Exham by Sea is populated with wonderful characters, among them: Mandy, the teenage Goth who works at the bakery; Bert Parson, her abusive father; Detective Sergeant Joe Ramshore, pompous and opinionated; his father, the secretive Joe Ramshore, who could become the love in Libby’s life; Samantha Watson, the town’s snobby intellectual and a fashionably dressed solicitor; Bear, an enormous Carpathian sheepdog; and Libby’s own Fuzzy, a marmalade cat who takes an unusual liking to Bear. There are more, but I will leave you to discover them. Along with her cakes and chocolates, Libby discovers for the first time her talent for solving mysteries, and the killer was not guessed by me until the very end (and I pride myself on guessing whodunits). The only drawback to this truly cozy read was the fact that the story jumped in time and place without either fleurons or introductory phrases to indicate the jump. This left me rather confused at first, until I was on the lookout for them. Overall, a minor flaw. Short, engaging and challenging…I highly recommend Murder at the Lighthouse. About the author: In addition to historical mystery romances, Frances Evesham has written books on speech and language, and parenting and communication, which she can practice with her growing collection of grandsons. She’s been a speech therapist, a professional communication expert as well as road sweeper. She has also worked in the criminal courts. Now, she walks in the country and breathes sea air in Somerset. For fun, she collects Victorian ancestors and historical trivia, likes to smell the roses, lavender and rosemary, and cooks with a glass of wine in one hand and a bunch of chilies in the other. You can find Frances at: http://francesevesham.com/ and and on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/frances.evesham.writer You can find Murder at the Lighthouse on Amazon: And on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26824951-murder-at-the-lighthouse?ac=1 0 0

Gorgito’s Ice Rink is at its core a family saga, set largely in Russia and alternating in time between the mid to late 1990’s and the post-WW II era in 1949. It derives from the author’s travel experiences and her background in helping writers set up and run their small businesses. The story develops from the loss of their sisters by two small boys, one in the 1990s and another in 1949. Emma Chambers meets the larger-than-life Georgian, Gorgito Tabatadze, when she takes over for another in her company in order to get Gorgito’s factory up and running in the picturesque town of Nikolevsky, Russia, in 1995. She discovers, while watching figure skaters on the River Volga, that Gorgito wants to build an ice rink for the most talented of them, Yulia Semenova, to draw people to his town. Having had a Russian Grandmother, Emma speaks the language and fits well into the community. When Yulia is lured to the US to train, leaving her little brother Dima behind, Gorgito becomes even more determined to fulfill his plan, in order to bring Yulia home. Gorgito himself lost his sister, Maria, who left home without telling anyone where she was going. She was following the love of her life, an older soldier she’d met in her tiny rural town, to Moscow. She disappears from Gorgito’s life and he cannot find her in the vast spaces of Russia and with the Communist regulations of the time. The first part of the book is written in third person omniscient. I think because of this, the reader never makes the emotional connection with Emma that is made in the second part of the book with Maria. Maria’s story is told in first person, and because of that, this part of the book came alive and spoke to me. In part three, Emma returns to Nikolevsky, despite the fact her first job there was over; she discovers her husband has had an extended affair with their next door neighbor during her long absence and realizes she has no strong ties to what was her home. Gorgito enlists her to help him run his factory and run interference with the local Mayor, who has very personal reasons for blocking the construction of the ice rink. Can Emma and Gorgito overcome bureaucracy, corruption, economic melt-down and the harsh Russian climate to get the ice-rink built and bring home a lost sister? The strength of this book is in its characters and the accurate descriptions of life in Russia. Gorgito himself is a scene stealer, with all his foibles and love for life. Victor Romanovitch, the Mayor, undergoes a transformation as the story progresses, as the reader learns more about him and Maria. Maria, is colorful, if foolish, but loyal and deeply in love with Alexander Rastinov, who reminds me of the character Ashley Wilkes in Gone with the Wind: bookish, loyal and proud, but deeply caring of his family. The Russian background comes through loud and clear, the English background much less so. Having lived in a Soviet satellite during the Cold War, I found the author’s descriptions of life in Russia to be spot on – politics, regulations, food, deprivations, and the spirit of the people. Gorgito’s Ice Rink is a leisurely read that gradually draws the reader into the saga. It is informative to readers not familiar with that time and place, and while emotionally understated, is a lovely story. About the author: Elizabeth Ducie began writing when she was very young. essays and poetry helped her win an overseas trip via a newspaper competition, when she was still a teenager. She returned to creative writing in 2006 after 30+ years as a technical writer, and since then has written articles for content websites and on commission, plus short stories and poetry. Ms. Ducie is currently the editor of the Chudleigh Phoenix Community Magazine, which has grown from a 4-page, bimonthly publication to a monthly 10-pager. Together with friend and fellow writer Sharon Cook, she launched the Chudleigh Phoenix Annual Short Story Competition, which is now in its fifth year. In July 2011, she and Sharon Cook published a collection of short stories and a second collection in November 2012. Both anthologies are available either as paperbacks or as ebooks. On her own, she’s published Sunshine and Sausages, a how-to book on running a successful summer garden party; Parcels in the Rain and Other Writing, a collection of short stories, flash fiction, travel writing and memoirs; and The Business of Writing series of e-books, based on lectures and blog posts aimed at helping writers set up and run their own small businesses. Gorgito’s Ice Rink is her debut novel, set in Russia and based partly on her travel experiences. To help move the book along, Ms. Ducie enrolled in the MA program in Creative Writing at Exeter University. She graduated in January 2013, and the book was published in October 2014. She admits far too much time on Facebook and Twitter, but has met some great writing buddies along the way. Elizabeth can be found on her blog: http://elizabethducie.blogspot.com/      and on Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/Elizabeth-Ducie-Author-312553422131146/ Her book can be found on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Gorgitos-Ice-Rink-Elizabeth-Ducie-ebook/dp/B00NXS2LC6/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8 and Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23273435-gorgito-s-ice-rink?from_search=true&search_version=service 0 0

This is the second in the Gavin Shawlins Thriller series. I did not read the first, but this book is written well enough to stand quite on its own…although the reader is left with a cliffhanger. The novel begins in Berlin in 1936, when Hitler, disappointed by the performance of some of the German athletes, is told by his advisers, who seek a plausible excuse, that the Americans have fortifying energy drinks. This drink gives them the energy to win. Despite the fact this is an utter lie, Hitler directs his scientists to develop such a drink. Aiden McSwann, father of a child with a special problem, borrows money from the wrong people to pay for her medical care and ends up as a slave in a drug factory when he can’t repay the loan. The member of a judo team, locked in a room by his teammates after his grandstanding costs them a tournament win, disappears in thin air. Aiden McSwann’s wife is beaten and threatened by thugs, looking for something they think was left with her by the missing judo player. Sir James Barscadden, once a respected billionaire, becomes involved in criminal activities, but manages to escape from England despite the best efforts of an MI5 team to capture him. And this is the problem I had with this book: four full chapters of seemingly unrelated threads before the crux of the story begins in chapter 5. I was just a tad confused, and ended up rereading some of these chapters to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. In chapter five, we learn that a research team has produced a new product it claims will boost the performance of every athlete in the world. The Lambeth Group, an investigative group within the British government, puts together a team using some of the MI5 agents and a scientist, Gavin Shawlins, to investigate the claim, which they believe is bogus. A top athlete using the product disappears, the product is stolen, and the team discovers the slave-run drug factory is involved. Then Shawlins himself disappears. Complicating the story is the fact a powerful US general has decided that Gavin must die to prevent exposure of a 60-year-old secret capable of world-changing and power-shifting events. Despite the introduction of more governmental units than I could keep track of, the plethora of threads weaving in and out, and seemingly endless twists and turns, I was interested enough to finish the book. However, it was a challenge. There was an overwhelming amount of exposition and backstory to wade through all along the way, which tempted me to skip pages – but then I would miss yet another thread. The basis of the plot is contemporary, the introduction of a historical context adds interest, and the author is a very good writer, which saved the book for me. I recommend it to any spy/thriller/ mystery/government conspiracy lover with a strong mental constitution. Would I be tempted to read another of his books – yes, I would, maybe the next one. About the author: Gordon Bickerstaff was born and raised in Glasgow but spent his student years in Edinburgh. He learned biochemistry, authored two biochemistry books and taught the subject until he retired to write fiction. He reports he has mastered plumbing and garden maintenance and other aspects of DIY, but gets very tired when it’s time to clean up the mess. He enjoys walking, 60s & 70s music, reading and travel. He lives with his wife in the west of Scotland where corrupt academics, mystery, murder and intrigue occupy his thoughts. He is the author of the Gavin Shawlens series of thrillers: Deadly Secrets, Everything to Lose, and The Black Fox. You can find this book on Amazon: and on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24768418-everything-to-lose 0 0

I just realized I’ve reviewed three books without posting the reviews. So this is a warning, a come-on, a post generating high anticipation (check one): they will be up on this site over the next week: Everything to Lose by Gordon Bickerstaff Murder at the Lighthouse by Frances Evesham Gorgito’s Ice Rink by Elizabeth Dulcie In between, I’ll take you along on my trip to the Blueridge Folk Life Festival in Ferrum, Viginia, this coming Saturday. We’ve been before and had a wonderful day: food, music, crafts, old cars, and hunting dog competitions. Stay tuned! 0 0

Just to follow up on a comment I made in the previous post: I did go to Bouchercon last week. I attended the speed dating event and two sessions. That’s it. This is how it fell out. Wednesday I was experiencing an ominous tickle in the back of my throat (posterior oral pharynx for any anatomists out there). My husband was just beginning to recover from a bad virus I assume he’d gotten from one of his patients, and my only thought was uh-oh. But I started sucking on zinc lozenges, went to bed early and was on my way at 6 AM Thursday morning, determined to get through the speed dating. Washed my hands extensively. Turns out having to talk loudly to be heard over the general noise in the room for two hours really did my throat in, and by the time noon rolled around, something had snuck up and sucker punched me, so I pleaded for my room at the hotel so I could lie down. Nothing available until 4 PM I was told, so I attended another session, sitting way back in the room and leaning up against a wall. I took notes but can’t remember most of what transpired. At 3 PM, a room opened up, so I schlepped my bags to the room, fell on the bed and slept until 6. Ordered something to eat, went back to sleep and slept through the Sisters in Crime breakfast the following morning, At that point, I realized I was good and truly sick, no point in even trying to make myself go to sessions and spread the evil virus, so I packed up and headed home. Thus endeth my time at Bouchercon 2015. Thanks to my friend Elizabeth Callwell for checking in on me and taking notes at various sessions to share. My voice has still not returned, so I’m grateful for a keyboard. Can’t give this to my husband since that darned germ carrier’s already had it.   0 0

I was an attendee at the Raleigh Bouchercon Convention this past week – at least for a day, which I will explain in a subsequent post. Bouchercon is held every year in a different city, and is billed as the “world’s finest annual crime fiction event, bringing together more than 1,000 authors, fans, publishers, reviewers, booksellers, and editors …for a fantastic four day event.” The very first activity was something called speed dating for authors. Those of us who signed up brought goody bags to the event and moved in pairs from table to table for 15 tables, each of us taking two minutes to introduce ourselves and our books – and hand our goody bags. I used specimen bags for mine, tucked a postcard of my first book, Death in a Red Canvas Chair, in the outside pocket, and chocolate, bookmarks for both DRCC and my second book, Death in a Dacron Sail, a red syringe pen (Rhe Brewster, my protagonist, is, after all, a nurse), my business card, and some colored paper clips for fun. I also told the people at each table that my first book would be available for free on Kindle this week.   So there you have it, folks! You can download Death in a Red Canvas Chair for FREE from Monday through Friday this week. If you haven’t read it yet, I’m making it easy for you to give it a try, and I hope you enjoy it. 0 0