And… the cover reveal for the 4th book in my unicorn series: Rescue, The War Unicorn Chronicles, Book 3. (The First is Book 0.)
Coming June, 2019
pre-order link with more sales outlets to come:
And… the cover reveal for the 4th book in my unicorn series: Rescue, The War Unicorn Chronicles, Book 3. (The First is Book 0.)
Coming June, 2019
pre-order link with more sales outlets to come:
This weekend we had a spring visitor. He or she – I’m not certain which – decided to build a nest on the ledge on our front porch window sill.
At first we swept away the nest-building attempt 2-3 times a day. I felt a little badly, since every spring the chipmunks eat the robin eggs in the nest-bushes around our house. I didn’t think the chipmunks would climb up the side of our brick porch, so figured the eggs would be safe for a change. But that would mean we could not use our front door or porch for a couple months, and any mail or packages delivery people would be attacked by the defending birds.
So I put a rock in the spot. It did not deter the robin. We tossed the nesting material into our yard recycling can once again, and I put up a second rock.
It didn’t stop her.
So I tried further methods to discourage nest-building at that spot.
There were a few dried grass attempts to rebuild, but I think the humans were finally able to outwit the bird.
Last Saturday, we went to a funeral 90 minutes north of us. For a lot of the drive up, I spoke to the leafless trees through my closed van window: “Hi there, my pretties.” “I’ve missed you terribly!” “I’ll be among you soon.” and other related sentiments. After all, it has been nearly a month since our last real hike through a woods.
We attended the sad funeral. Long hugs. Light talk and meal. And afterwards, because of the proximity, we headed for the nearby West Coast.
Oh, the choices! Just to ride down the coastline back home? Take a hike through the woods? Or perhaps a walk on a beach? We’d packed extra shoes to change into, but not extra clothing, plus we’re limited with time.
I tried to decide which I missed more, water or woods; to hike or to beach? We passed several trails on the short drive to Lake Michigan, with a promise from me that we’d return someday to explore. We chose Holland State Park.
It was a sunny Saturday with temperature in the lower 40’s along with a good, stiff wind, meaning surfers and kiteboarders were out in their wetsuits.
We chose to hike the narrow (about 4’ wide) pier to the north light tower. The waves crashed upon the rocks occasionally spilling onto the concrete walk. They also were not consistent in height. The walk was dry for the most part (foreshadowing disclaimer) giving us a false sense of security. The north side retained a sand-encrusted snowbank.
Four people in their 20’s stood close to the end of the pier.
“Soggy shoes,” I commented, pointing towards their feet.
“Worth it,” one of the girls replied as the group wiggled around us and headed back to shore.
Jeff and I ventured on, closer and closer to the light tower at pier’s end. Then a wave crested on one side and Jeff darted towards the wider end of pier. Another wave followed shortly after coming over from the other side.
Slightly soggy shoes.
We giggled and I took a few snapshots.
Remember me saying that the waves were not consistent in height? We heard it coming just seconds before we saw it. We both leapt as the wave washed under us. Gravity forced us downward splashing into about eight inches of water.
We spun and hustled back single file towards the beach. Our clothing was soaked from the knees down. We joked about wading in the ocean, and having prunes at the ends of our legs by the time we’d arrive home.
Back at the van the thought occurred to me that if a really inconsistent, bit larger wave would have come, we might have been swept right off that pier.
Jeff rather concluded that a forest hike was now out of the question. I reluctantly agreed, glad to have heat blowing on our feet. But never fear, dear woods. We have future plans involving you as well.
Since I last posted, husband and I have taken three hikes. Actually, the first two were actual hikes, while the third was driving around through woods and past lakes and sitting in nature.
I’d earlier attempted to post each week, letting you all in on my inspiration for settings for my stories. Practically anything out of doors would do. However, lately I failed in my weekly posts. Apologies.
One hike was part of the North Country Trail we hadn’t been on before. A 13-mile section goes through our town. Funny, how we’d seen this one blue bridge across the Kalamazoo River for the past nearly 15 years and always wondered about it. We finally ventured on it, going west from Helmer Road. We hadn’t even realized it was part of the North Country Trail until we were walking upon it. And there was another foot bridge not far away, always hidden from us all these years in the woods.
We heard traffic from the 4-lane road across the river until that road turned north. Then we heard planes, trains, and coo-coo birds (aka sandhill cranes). There were other birds we also saw and heard on our hour hike, but not a single other human. Our Carlson type of trail.
The following day we took another hour+ hike in Custer State Recreation Are about 15 minutes from our house. There are numerous choices for trails within this park. We focused around Eagle Lake – the beach and the river and the woods. It was a Saturday, plus the temperatures had sored up into the forty’s, so there were several people walking about there on that day.
And that brings us to last Friday. Poor hubby was weakened by a cold, so we took a drive through the many tree-lined back roads, up to (*Public Hunting Area), and finally back to our favorite nearby park (Custer) to eat our lunch in the car with a view of Whitford Lake. A swan came out to say How’d you do? then swam away. How pleasant.
I’d rather be outside than in — unless there’s a tornado or hailstorm. Ash and smoke from a nearby wildfire has pushed me indoors as well. Then there was last Friday — hubby’s day off, and the chance to get out into the woods again. But with temperatures in the 30’s and low 40’s with wind and rain and snow and overcast-no-blue sky making me feel blah, we decided to go to the local mall to do our “hike”.
We’d heard of others doing this, but as for us, we were virgin mall power-walkers. We found it interesting exploring this new-to-us social activity and dynamics, so I thought I’d share what we observed on our morning weekday mall hike (generally speaking):
I bought a pair of sandals at the end of our hike, so I didn’t feel too badly about using the space. I also didn’t take any photos because with all the closed shops and no anchor stores, it seemed a very different mall from fourteen years ago when we first visited.
I was a little jealous of the younger woman sitting in the window of the Barnes and Nobel, writing in a notebook. I thought to go in, walk up to her, and ask, “Whatcha writin’?” Writers tend to attract to each other like magnets. But her earbuds were as clear as a No Trespassing sign. Besides, I only dare enter a bookstore when I have a particular book to purchase, or am doing a book-signing, or have lots and lots of spare money to buy oh-so-many more books. Books rather addicting.
The mall walk shooed my blah feeling away and changed it into an isn’t-that-interesting feeling. I would still rather be outside most any day, observing flora and fauna, but people, too, can be fascinating to watch.
A week ago, Friday, March 1st, we had winter cabin fever. That day it reached up to the mid-20’s. The day was overcast-gloomy, like most of the week had been. So… being sick of the cold and wind and snow, what did we Carlsons do? We decided we needed to get outside. (What can I say?)
We chose to hike a new-to-us trail, part of the North Country Trail we haven’t been on. It started at the sort-of trailhead across the highway from Fort Custer State Recreation Area. The “parking lot” is a space off the shoulder, enough for one or two cars. We were the only vehicle there; so, not crowded!
Although spring was still twenty days away and the trees were leafless, daylight had increased, causing the woodland birds to start their chirping and mate-finding. I’d like to stop the sound description with that serene twitter of birds singing in the woods, however, the trail at this point runs between a busy 4-lane road and a 2-lane road, with about a mile or mile and a half pathway through the forest. Yet, our eyes told us we were in the woods.
With the recent snowfall, the snow didn’t crunch under our feet like it had the previous week. However, there was The Thaw a couple of days previous, so underneath the light snowcover was ice. My hiking stick slipped at nearly every step, so it was a more careful walk than our usual hiking stride. We weren’t the only ones slipping through the woods. Even the deer had an obvious slip or two.
We were alone on the trail, yet not quite alone. There was a canine present somewhere. I could tell by the snowfall distorting other animal prints (rabbit, squirrel, opossum with their cute little thumbs) that the canine prints were recent, that day, and didn’t have corresponding fresh human footprints. Of course, the markings of yellow snow here and there also led us to conclude the recent passing. Around each bend, over each hill, we kept our eyes open for…wolf! Oh, wait. We weren’t in Canada. Loose dog, then.
Interestingly enough, just before when we came to the board telling we were now entering Fort Custer National Cemetery, and to stay on the trail, and to be respectful of the hallowed ground although we were still in the woods with no grave markers in sight, the canine prints veered off into the woods. Why did it refuse to enter hallowed ground? Yes, fiction-writer that I am, the thought of werewolf popped into my mind.
A little ways past that board was this seemingly conflicting sign:
No trespassing! Welcome! We understood it to mean we had right of way to proceed, but just to stay on that way. Still…amusing.
After this point we were truly alone. Not even human footprints lay before us in the snow, and the animal paw and hoof prints were a day or more old. Even the birds had stopped singing. Hallowed ground.
We had planned to walk the linear trail for a certain amount of time, and then reverse back to our van. But as we continued walking, the terrain changed. The trail became more interesting with each step. We kept saying, “Let’s just go to that bend (tree, or top of hill, or fallen tree), and then turn around.” We might have stopped at the fallen tree, but visual curiosity kept us going. We climbed over it, stepping through large branches which lay across the narrowing and unused path. Down we descended toward what would be a marsh in the summer, and past an old beaver-felled tree.
At this point, the trail continued over a small foot bridge with a narrow strip of land crossing through the frozen wetland on either side to the hills beyond. We concluded that hiking this section during winter was preferable than summer because, you know: Mosquitoes!
We uneventfully returned to our van, then drove across the highway and into the state park for our picnic lunch — inside the van, of course, but with a lovely natural view, and all alone.
Enjoy the out of doors. Stay safe. And when you must remain indoors, do so with a good book.
Husband’s day off = Time to nurture in nature
Today we walked part of the Kalamazoo* Riverwalk near Bailey Park in Battle Creek. I wore my runners, foolishly expecting the path to be cleared vs wet and snowy as it is during our forest winter hikes. The asphalt-wood path was not cleared, and was indeed wet, icy, and snowy.
The sun was also out today, making for a welcomed change. Winter snow, water, and ice patterns revealed themselves with each step forward.
I’ve gotten poison ivy a couple of times, getting in for close up nature shots. But the wetness today was caused by my own making. Thankfully, I’d chosen to wear wool socks, even though the temperature was a warm 33 degrees. Walking off trail, along the river’s edge, my foot started to sink through the flattened yellow grass and down into the hidden muck with water soaking into my shoe. Yay for wool socks which keep you warm even when they get wet.
The near river-dump was worth it to me. No poison ivy this time, just a soggy, muddy shoe. Do you agree with me?
One icy-snow masterpiece laying on top of the smooshed grass reminded me of the continental USA. Looking at it later, I realized poor California had melted into the Pacific, and Michigan’s UP and northern Wisconsin must have decided to join Canada. Florida’s rather fat, too, but there could be many creative, imaginative explanations for that.
People, this snapshot moment in time is brief. The snow. The ice. The footprints. People.
Live. Love. Appreciate. And, of course, when you’re stuck inside: explore new places and new friends by reading.
* correction: These were taken along the Battle Creek River before it pours into the Kalamazoo River. (Sorry)
Are you sick of winter? Get rid of those blahs by being creative. For your creative pleasure, find here some Winterspration (yes, I made up that word) from photos taken during wintertime.
Give the pictures captions–wild, crazy, or beautiful–and share in the comments below. (Remember, this is a G-rated blog.)
Or be inspired to write a story or scene using one of these photos as a story-starter (or middle, or end).
A one-day vacation beach trip. Where: Lake Michigan. When: February, 2019. Temperature: 32 degrees. Wind chill: nippy. Forecast of snow coming in from the west, over the lake. Location: Warren Dunes State Park, Michigan.
We planned to eat lunch in the van before walking the beach. Jeff started to park the van between the designated lines in the 200-car upper parking lot. I assured him it was okay to pull forward to the edge of the sand. It went against his nature to be unlawful, even though we were completely alone, but he finally pulled up that extra five feet so instead of asphalt we had only sand and ice in our view.
After a little while it got crowded. A small red car came. With that entire parking lot to pick a spot from, they chose to park immediately behind us. The occupants never got out, and they didn’t stay long, but it got this author-brain wondering all the possible who and why scenarios of him/her/them. If they came to see the beach, why park with a big black van blocking their view? If they didn’t get out, were they expecting us to be someone else, and if so…for what reason? Of course, they may have been scared, coming to a park off-season, and needed to be near other human company in this great, big, wide, Michigan wilderness.
After they left, we truly had the 1,950-acre park to ourselves. With lunch completed, we reparked, bundled up, grabbed our walking sticks (for stability, for poking at interesting spots, or in case of loose dogs), and headed out over the sand dune for the shore.
Our visual memory of where the water line should be, the width of dark sand, and the close-up evidence of gentle water movement below eroded holes in the ice at the edge of sand and ice crust, let us know where the hidden shoreline was. Snow and ice buried the lake for as far as we could see. The wind had blown sand upon the crust, giving the illusion that it was solid. We knew otherwise. A dark line in the sand let us know our boundary, of where water had earlier made its way under the crust. The crust also resulted in no wave movement, and no sound. Even the sea gulls had vanished.
We walked the sand to the creek (Painterville Drain) and worked our way along it to the crust boarder. We were startled out of the silence by a crash and splash. My thought was an orca had jumped. Jeff caught part of the action — a large chunk of sand next to the creek had fallen into the water. I witnessed the wave crashing to the opposite bank. It brought to his mind part of a glacier breaking off. I suppose I would have thought the same had I seen it mid-action. My image just came from the sound.
Because the trees were leaf-bare, we could easily see the houses on the other side of the creek. During the summer, the houses are completely obscured by foliage.
We spotted bare human footprints in the sand. They’d been painted over with a light sprinkle of rain, so we guessed they were made either earlier that day or at the latest the afternoon before. My author’s mind went wild again, considering the who and why of the print-maker. They were large, so I assumed the maker was male. There was only one set, so it wasn’t a wintertime challenge with another person. There were also no shoe or boot prints nearby, indicating the man was alone. For anyone to choose to step onto the iced crust was foolishness. It could break or crack and the person then trapped. But mystery of mysteries, the tracks simply vanished. (Very cool, I mean, interesting.)
When we returned to the van from our forty-minute walk, our faces were bright red — the result of both the cold and of getting wind burnt. But we also beamed, beamed from having a vacation day, beamed from our Michigan winter beach adventure.
How do I get inspiration for settings or even plots? Getting outside. Always getting outside. Being outdoors is something I simply crave.
Of course, any staycation for us must include hikes to the woods and beach visit. I live in Michigan, after all. Today was supposed to be the nicest weather for the week. Today we decided to head to the west coast for a hike or two. The entire day was overcast and in the low 30’s (borderline freezing).
(Notice the wooded sand dune hills.)
It was our first time to Grand Mere State Park. Fifteen years of passing it by on the interstate, and we never stopped. Today it was a destination. Snow and ice dotted the low-lying ditches, most covered with tan sand giving the flooded areas a tannic pine look. The dirt parking lot was soft in a muddy tan. We hesitated getting out of the car, but in the small parking lot (capable of holding about fifty cars if you squeezed together), there were already five cars. Popular mud spot. We tentatively stepped out of the van and made our way at least to the outhouses and picnic area. Surprise! The path was paved from that point. Well…sort of.
As we discovered, the paved Nature Trail lays low between North and Middle Lakes and likely to flood, as well as having recent snow meltage. The fall leaves cushioned the path as well, rotting into wonderfully rich, black compost beneath our shoes.
After a while, the trail became too muddy for us to feel it was worth continuing in our chosen footwear…so…we headed upwards, on a sand path going over one of the many sand dunes in the wooded park. Jeff slipped on ice which was covered by oak leaves. I fell once to the ground stepping over a many-twigged branch which wrapped itself around my other leg. It was all part of the adventure.
Although we hiked an hour, we never made it to Lake Michigan. It was not our intention. This was merely a serendipitous exploration. There were signs for waterfowl hunting and one warning of ticks, although not pertinent in winter hikes.
I spotted a large bird from the distance. It looked familiar, but unfamiliar. Only when it flew did I recognize it as a robin – with feathers fluffed up making it to about three times its normal size. Poor cold thing.
We only saw a couple people in parked cars, and one man walking his dog, otherwise, the park was ours. Quiet. Serene. Late winter wilderness. Gotta love Michigan in all seasons.