Flowers and Friends

Mr. Lizard is king of the Dianthis

I'm trying to hide.

Gardenia bonsai tree.

A silly cat

This little guy is going to be a 12-foot tall Sunflower.

Just a few pictures to celebrate Spring. 

Easter like Christmas?

I was just wondering, why can't Easter by more like Christmas?  No, I don't mean the tree and Santa Clause.  On Christmas, we celebrate the birth of Jesus by giving gifts.  Charitable giving is on the minds of hearts of many, not just Christians during this time.  We give to our family, to friends and coworkers, and our neighbors.  We give to the poor and the needy families in our neighborhoods.  It bothers me that, in general, that it stops on December 26th.

So, if people are in a giving mood surrounding the celebration of Christ's birth, why not his resurrection?  After all, the resurrection is what gives us hope. It's the culmination of Christ's time here on earth.  It's the completion of his task, that promise of eternal life.

We give for his birth, yet we hunt for candy on His resurrection.  Anyone besides me see a problem with that?

I'd like to change that.  If you are reading this and gave during Christmas, please think about giving on Easter.  If you are reading this and didn't give during Christmas, please give on Easter.  After all, Christ died for you.  He gave IT ALL!!!  If you were planning on going "Easter shopping" to buy that "Easter dress" for yourself and your children I would like to challenge you to take that money and give it to the homeless, the poor, the needy.  Give to your local pregnancy center or homeless shelter.  Buy dinner for someone who is out of a job.  Pay for the groceries of the family in the check out line who is counting pennies.  Give to the parents/families of our military who are struggling.

Most of all, give because everything you have belongs to God.  He gave us his son who gave us his life so that we could live with him in Heaven.

GOD IS LOVE.  LOVE IS A VERB.

I DIED FOR YOU BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.

GIVE TODAY.

Klondike House

I recently had the pleasure of working with John Dwyer, author, in editing his new book, Klondike House.  


"The eldest of six children, John Dwyer recounts his memories of a rural childhood on the remote but beautiful Beara Peninsula in West Cork, Ireland. Complemented by a series of childhood photographs, his stories are told in vivid and colourful prose.

He describes the hard but happy work of saving the hay, cutting the turf, shearing the sheep, and digging the potatoes. His humour comes to the fore as he describes a rampaging sheep and an innocent hobby nearly caused a local outcry. His account of his own family connections with America and especially Butte, Montana are a microcosm of all Irish-American stories of immigration.

Sprinkled with a selection of fitting works by some of Ireland's best-known poets such as Seamus Heaney, Patrick Kavanagh and Paul Muldoon, this gem of a book is a chronicle of the simple but happy life of an Irish farmer boy."

You can purchase Klondike House at Amazon. 

Book sample for "Black Purple Sky"

CHAPTER ONE

Mirrors don’t lie. They are not capable of it. They merely reflect what exists on the other side.  It is the viewer, the one who looks into the pane of glass, who interprets what they see. Sometimes the viewer loves what they observe whether it be beauty, happiness, or transformation. On occasions, specifically an occasion like this one, reality hits hard.  It lands square in the face and jolts the viewer to accept what is, what has become of them, and what must be done.

Gretchen’s jaw dropped, her stomach churned, and she gasped audibly as soon as the woman’s hands uncovered her eyes and she looked into the mirror. Her face, under the garish makeup was ashen gray. Who was that poor, pitiful, hideous creature in that awful dress?  She was oblivious to the chatter and bustling activity around her, the fingers fussing with her hair, as she stared at the girl in the mirror.  She was unrecognizable. Sure, she knew she was staring at herself, but it wasn’t.  The girl’s eyes were sad. Dark circles were covered with heavy make-up as was the rest of her face.  The eyelids had been painted a particularly ugly shade of blue, which clashed with the brilliant blue of her eyes. Her cheeks were orange, and her lips, oh my.  The lips were bubble gum pink.

Gretchen forced back tears. What did these horrible women do to her? Gretchen’s long blond hair had been curled, teased, piled high and glued with a case of hair spray.  On the top of her head was a silver crown with poufs of satin and lace which was her train and veil. She dared not look down.  It was like looking at a bloody accident. Horrible, but compelled to look. The garment started under Gretchen’s chin. It was an ugly, vaguely off-white satin with ruffles.  Lots and lots of ruffles.  The top of the collar, just under her chin was lined with ruffles.  Its shoulders puffed up as if a child had cut and sewn the dress and stuffed it with pillows then glued all the scraps onto the shoulder and sleeves.

“Oh my God,” Gretchen thought to herself as she touched her cheek, “kill me now. What have I done to deserve this? He told me I was beautiful. I used to be...”

Ready for more???  Get your full version at Smashwords, Amazon, or if you want it in paperback it is available at Create Space.

This book has been nominated for a Global E-book award

New Release

New book release

Young and beautiful, Gretchen Deen was beginning to live the life she always dreamed of. She was successful in her budding career, nice apartment, decent car, and well-liked by everyone she met.  As head personal trainer, she was accustomed to the flirtatious male customers at the gym where she worked. Rarely did she date any of them, however, one very persistent young man swept her off her feet into a whirlwind nightmare.  Objections were disregarded violently.  Gretchen desperately needed to take a bad situation and turn it into something good. 

Paperback also available.