A Saturday Road Trip


Screen Shot 2018-03-17 at 8.21.20 AM

Hwy 17, the road to all places Coastal South Carolina


It’s a Lucky day and not just because it’s St. Patrick’s Day. I woke up a little giddy with anticipation for all this Saturday holds.  Having completed my report cards and put on the class play, this weekend is a rare school task-free weekend and I have big plans.

It’s a lovely day for a drive up the coast to Pawley’s Island where I’m dropping off signed books for the bookstore My Sister’s Books. I have done an author event at their store before and I can’t wait to browse their shelves. They have a combination of new and used books and I fully expect to find a treasure or two.

Yes, I could have shipped the signed books to them, but then I couldn’t enjoy the browse. Plus, I have set up a meeting with a bookstore owner in Georgetown and I hope that will result in a possible signing event and/or my books being present on their shelves. Wish me luck, although I feel the auspices of the day will carry it. At the very least I’ll get to browse in a new-to-me bookstore and that will be worth the stop in and of itself. I should also get to poke around some other shops between Pawley’s and Charleston as I work my way home.

How will this book lover cap off this lovely day? An oyster roast with friends of course! I already have my chili contribution marinating in its seasonings. I have my gloves and shucker ready on the counter. I can almost taste the salty sea as I think about it.

Anticipation for the day is a good thing. Everything on my agenda today I am genuinely looking forward to. I hope it plays out as idyllic as it does in my mind. Even if there are a few monkey wrenches thrown in I’ll be wear’n my green and channeling the ancient Irish blood that courses through my vein. I have to believe that the wind will be at my back and the road will rise up to meet me.

Have a happy St. Patrick’s Day and may your Saturday be filled with moments that make you smile.


Time To Sleep


Feb 71

Me in my toddler days and yes that is a cookbook, I loved looking at them.

The spring forward time change has my dander up. Yes, I appreciate the later hour of daylight, it is not an extra hour, the time has just been artificially shifted not a new hour of light suddenly found. But being someone who leaves the house around 5:40 a.m. for work, I hate that it will be pitch black again when it was finally starting to have the soft light of dawn.

I never have understood why we do this to ourselves. People will be grumpy in the morning, more accidents will take place and kids will fight hard against bedtimes when it’s still light outside. At little kids, if they are tired should be able to drop anywhere like I apparently did in the photograph above.  I so wish I had that ability now.

Despite the loss of an hour, I’ve had a very productive day. I did six loads of laundry, prepared four costumes for the class play, grocery shopped, changed the sheets, made a three dish luncheon for the members of my teaching team and here I am albeit rather late, I’m writing my weekly blog. For a brief moment, I considered delaying or even skipping this week, but I have an unblemished record of getting a weekly entry in since I established this blog and I’m not going to let the loss of an hour break my streak.

I hope tomorrow night when the daylight lingers and I have time to do some chores around the garden after supper I will have a better outlook on the time change. For now, this girl is going to get off her soapbox and head on to dreamland, tomorrow will be here early.



From Scribbler To Writer


Kirschheim 1

Me at around age 2 or 3

My Daddy has been taking a large collection of slides and changing them into digital photo files. I’m sure those born after 1975 are probably scratching their heads as to what a slide is. I used to love when we would set up the screen and the projector with a loaded carousel and click our way down memory lane.

Daddy emailed this picture to me and I saw my teacher-self and my writer-self in their incubator stage.  How excited I was to be writing with chalk, another instrument of the past. As a leftie, I struggled with proper penmanship for years, but I would enthusiastically write and draw despite the legibility.

Fast forward to the world we are in today and I really worry about the current generation of young children who spend too much time on electronic devices and not enough with paper, or boards and writing tools. There is a lack of fine motor development and literacy development that is becoming a growing problem. Scribbling is such an important part of brain, motor and literacy development and children need to time to do it.

I have a passion for writing, but I also had a childhood rich in literature and ample opportunity to write at many developmental stages. I wonder if subsequent generations will be as literate as those of us who came before them. What will society and humanity lose if they are not?

If I could speak directly to parents of pre-schoolers I would preach to them to shut off the devices, visit the library, set up a dry erase board and get a pile of scrap paper and immerse their children in literacy. It will ensure a richer future for their child and also make their school experience more successful.

I believe that what elevates a culture, what keeps a culture going is its arts and literature and I fear America is falling short compared to our European counterparts. As a first-grade teacher, I view the two most important parts of my job are to turn students into readers and that they develop a love for reading and writing that will stay with them for a lifetime. As a writer, of course, I want people to buy my books, but I also love that my books are in libraries, because most of all I want people to read and enjoy my stories.

My passion for books, reading them and writing them is my soapbox and I could go on for days about the virtues of both. It was nice that this vintage photo slide reminded me that passion is deeply rooted in my beginnings.



Replacing What’s Rotten



My handiwork…

I discovered that a few sections of the back fence were rotting. The boards disintegrating with a touch, despite the fact they looked perfectly fine from a distance.  It’s mostly my fault. I had been trowing yard debris over to the wooded area of my property thinking I was composting Mother Nature’s way. Unfortunately, most of my pitches had landed too close to the boards and over time a layer of dirt and debris had sat up against the boards causing the rot.

So I have begun the replacement process, thirty-seven down and twelve to go to address the most critical areas. There will be more in the future for those not so critical this moment and the fact I could not get a matching style unless I bought boards that would require me to cut off two feet from each board, which seemed a bit wasteful to me.

As I pried out nails and knocked out rotting boards I had plenty of time to reflect. True to the nature of my mind I saw a life lesson in my current task. Rot is not just a condition for wood. It is a condition of life. If we don’t maintain, refresh or even replace what’s rotten in our personal lives and in our society, then it will decay and fall apart.

Do you have a toxic, read rotten, relationship that is holding you back? Are you uninspired in your work life? Is your diet fresh? Do you maintain yourself with exercise? Do you give your mind new ideas to ponder? Does our society need changes to make it better, stronger and safer for all?  Dare I say could Congress stand a removal of some rotten wood with replacements who are fresh and new?

I know I can identify several areas in my life I could use a refresh and in some instances a complete replacement. Like the new boards that I hammered in change can build a solid base for me to be stronger and last longer.

As I hauled the rotten broken boards to the curb I wished it was that easy with the rot in our society. I can only change society by the choices I make and the power of my vote and while that can make a difference I know it will take a collaborative effort.

In my own life, I can be more conscious of what might need replacing and choose to do so. After all who wants to just crumble away in decay?

Who knew there would be such an inspiring lesson in the mundane task of fence maintenance?


Lowcountry Zen



Over the marsh and the Wando River.

I have the enviable task of helping my parent’s in their house hunt and I went with their realtor to view a few properties this week, and even though this particular house was not the right fit the view was definitely something I would love to come home to.

Last year and this year so far seem so chaotic and fast on every level. I have said before the turmoil in the world and our nation have left me feeling anxious and a news-cycle for just a day or two seems like it surely covered at least a weeks worth of events. Even daily life between my teaching life, my writing life, my home life and social life are overwhelming me and I don’t feel I have a firm grasp or that I’m caught up in any area.

When I see a view like the one above it automatically catches my breath, slows my heart rate and commands me to pause, slow down and regroup.  Makes me wonder is it too late for me to move back in with my parents? A view like this is what they will end up with and I plan on spending a lot of time with their view. . .  I mean them.

I don’t think you need a water view to achieve the zen, a walk in a park, a garden, the beach or even a mountain can get us away from twenty-four-hour connectedness and screens. We have to disconnect to reconnect and refresh.

If you come home to a view each day, I imagine it’s a little easier to practice that on a daily basis. The rest of us might need to take a short drive to a beach or a park or take a stroll each day around our back gardens, assuming part of your stress is not the various yardwork chores you’re behind on.

I think I am beginning to understand the appeal of meditation, although I’m lousy at sitting still and clearing my mind sitting in a room. Give me a Lowcountry view like above and my soul makes it easy to sit still and meditate on the spectacular views all around in this magical place I get to call home.

I know we are over half way through February, but I think I can add one more thing to my New Year’s goal list: Stop each day, find a place in nature to disconnect and reach a few moments of zen.



In Defense Of The Middle


Screen Shot 2018-02-10 at 3.58.51 PMI met a friend for coffee this morning and we got on the subject of how extreme our world seems to have become. I say seem because I like to think it’s just that those with extreme positions and opinions are the ones who are making the most noise.

I don’t care for heavy duty political debate, although I have my opinions, I try to keep them out of my relationships and I try to be respectful of the opinions of others even if I don’t agree. It can be challenging, but I think it is worth the effort to try and understand a differing point of view. That is what builds bridges of compassion and understanding.

Call me crazy but I’d like to see people get along and be productive. Always move forward and continue to make this world a better place, I believe that is our responsibility for the privilege of living this life.

The extremes have hijacked the media coverage and the social media platforms painting those with opposing views as evil or nefarious. Compromise has become a dirty word. Respect and manners have been lost, leaving civilization without its civility.

I shake my head sometimes and wonder if the young people of today will think this is how we should treat others. Will society continue to decay or will the next generation turn things back around to a society where respect, manners, and compassion dictate our interactions with others.

I like to think we won’t have to wait for the next generation. Those of us in the reasonable, moderate middle, who see both sides of an issue and can envision what a compromise might be, need a clarion call to reclaim the message. I believe there are more of us than those on the extreme ends, it’s the bell curve. We need to be loud enough in our demands to quiet the noise and move this world forward.

I’m not a revolutionary, I don’t wish to weigh in on political issues, but I’d like to turn on the news or read the newspaper or a newsfeed and see the reasonable people better represented. We are the bridge between the extremes and it’s time we stop shaking our heads mystified while the two sides batter the issues back and forth as if we are watching a tennis match.

I will not write my own opinions on specific issues, the world is flooded with enough of that, but I hope that more #reasonablepeople will start demanding compromise, compassion, and civility from those who make our laws, preach from their bully pulpits and hash out issues across the airways.

Maybe this Valentine’s Day we can bring a little love back to the world.

The Doorway to Spring



My thrifty and crafty new entry


The groundhog saw his shadow, but I don’t think the Kiawah Island alligator Charles Ray did. Apparently, he has been predicting local spring since 1932. I just learned this little fact on the local news. How did I not know this colorful bit of local lore? Here in the South Carolina Lowcountry, I am certainly hopeful for early spring, after all, some of my daffodils are on the verge of unfurling their sunshine blooms.

Winter is not my favorite season, although I try to appreciate the gifts it gives just like every other season. As soon as Christmas is over I begin to dream of warmer days, more hours of daylight and mother nature putting on her fashion show.

Recently I fell in love with a wreath in a catalog with beautiful greenery and yellow silk tulips, it was selling for $139 and I almost gave into the temptation. In the end, I couldn’t justify the splurge when I had some rotting fence boards to replace and other needs to be tended to.

This morning I looked at my beautiful blue door and the now fading Christmas wreath that was still in place. To clarify, my holiday wreath was adorned with seashells and a cream ribbon so it didn’t scream Christmas, but the live greenery was beginning to brown. It was time for it to come down.

Still craving a cheerful yellow wreath to grace the door, I ventured to the craft store and $18 later I returned with a grapevine wreath and several stems of yellow flowers with greenery and a spool of roping.

It is not as large and lush as the wreath from the catalog and I could not find yellow tulips like the catalog wreath, but I found decent looking and feeling blooms that created the effect I was hoping to. So it is an inspired creation, a low-budget version of a high-budget item. Plus, I enjoyed a small project to exercise my creativity in a form other than words.

Now my door makes me smile again and I hope it says to the world, “Welcome Spring!” Even if real Spring is still a few weeks away I’m pretty sure here in South Carolina we will have it before our friends to the North. Hang in there Northern friends and family, the snowdrops and crocuses will be there before you know it!

Winter Blooms



Two of the buds from last week’s Little Miracles have bloomed


Last week I marveled at the miracle of one of my orchids as it had budded out in our mid-winter. This week it has begun to bloom and is a welcome shot of color in front of the drab background of a winter and cold battered backyard.

Things that looked at least alive before the snow and ice, are now brown and bent, I wonder if the Camelia’s will bloom.  I did notice today that some of the daffodils are shooting up, so I’m hopeful for the rest.

2018 is not quite a month old and there seem to be so many deaths, people and beloved pets I know and those I don’t through school shootings and the flu.  The world struggles with so many issues, nuclear war, terrorism, flooding and the list of impending doom and disasters could go on. While there is some good economic news, I have to wonder if it will really benefit me, one of the regular people, or just those who were already well-off. There is plenty to dwell on that could drive you down into depression to match the despair of winter.

However, I see this orchid, I see the green shoots of the daffodils, I think I have detected that the hours of daylight seem to be getting longer and I can’t help but have a renewed sense of faith. Life will get better, warmer, brighter.  This world will become more peaceful and cooperative after all the Winter Olympics will bring us together in a few short weeks to strive for unity and understanding through a love of sport.

Winter blooms around us, not in the riot of Spring Color, the lushness of Summer, or the Showstopper colors of fall, but it blooms just the same, with a subtlety that requires you to work a little harder to appreciate it.

Little Miracles



One of my orchids in bud

I’ve been home sick for the past few days and thanks to Tamiflu and lots of rest I woke up feeling like myself this morning. When not sleeping I have been indulging in Britbox and snuggling with my fur babies. I’ve also had time to observe, think and reflect.

I have two orchid plants, both given as gifts several years ago and somehow I’ve managed to get them to rebloom multiple times. I confess I know very little about orchids and their care. I find they do better with a little neglect, each rebloom comes as a surprise, or one might say a minor miracle.

As a stem on one is now loaded with buds, I’ve found myself wishing to witness the moment one or more opens into blossom. I wish I had a way to set up a camera to capture that moment in case it happens when I’m not attentive.

What’s likely to happen as I step back into the world, is that one day this week I will notice that the orchid is in full bloom, totally missing the magical moment of the unfolding of the petals. As a rule, I’m a fairly attentive person. many friends have commented on my ability to recall details from past events. But like most humans, I get caught up in the busyness of life and miss the little miracles of life that occur around us every day.

Thinking about those little miracles made me reflect on life. Times are difficult right now. I imagine historians will view this period as one of upheaval and darkness around the globe.  But even in times of chaos if we take a moment we can find these every day little miracles all around us.

I can’t help but see hope in these small miracles and have some faith for bigger ones. Out of chaos will come order, out of sadness, joy will be found. Out of illness, health with be restored.

I’m challenging myself to focus on the everyday miracles, the joyous moments, and the goodness of humanity. Like each step adds up to a journey, each everyday miracle could lead to some big ones with a little faith.


The Trick of the Title

WP_20160213_002I have a meeting this Monday with my cover designer and I have a vision for the art in my mind. Sounds like it should be an easy meeting, right? If I could say with certainty what the title is going to be. . . I have forty-eight hours to figure it out.

This book is a prequel to the trilogy I completed last year. The story itself came to me with clarity. The title has been somewhat elusive, although, I do have a working list. This novel like all the others so far is set here in the Lowcountry of South Carolina. So much of the evocative landscape plays an inspirational role for my heroine and I want that reflected in the title. However, the Lowcountry and the coast, in general, are so inspirational many of the key words I initially came up with to incorporate were in so many other titles I had to go back to the drawing board.

I came up with one title, I really liked, then my editor pointed out that it implied a tongue and cheek, humorous book. This didn’t mesh with the interior. This is a story of love, loss, redemption, forgiveness and confronting truths. I don’t want a title that might mislead a reader. Although I have tucked that title away for a truly lighthearted story for down the road.

So from a list of about twenty ideas, I have narrowed it down to about eight contenders. At best, I will narrow it down to one by Monday, or at least the top three to share with Chris, the designer, and get his take.

When we name a book, a business or even a child, we have to think about how that book, business or child will be perceived by the world based on that name. Let’s face the facts, even if Trixie (No offense intended to anyone named Trixie) has a degree from M.I.T.,  on introduction we might assume she is a flighty sort. That’s just human nature. A business’s name must convey a sense of what they sell or an aesthetic that will resonate with buyers. A book title should relate to the content and intrigue a reader enough they will read the back cover synopsis.

Perhaps once one becomes a name recognized author to a reader then the title is of less importance. I will read anything by Peter Mayle, regardless of title. But I bet he or his editor work hard to get just the right title, all the same.

Shakespeare has his famous line about what’s in a name, he understood the weight a name can carry, he understood human perception based on a name could have a bearing on reality. He also understood that what really mattered wasn’t the name but the essence of the object or person.  A book’s content is its essence and in theory, should not be judged by its cover. The reality is the cover and the title will be judged, so care should be taken with it.

Wish me well while I wrestle with this decision, hopefully, this spring, when I do a cover reveal, you will smile and say, “Oh, what a great title!”