We are solidly in the DEAD of winter. Every year, I reach a point where I proclaim (or mutter or yell, depending), "I'm sick of winter." Surprisingly, it hasn't happened yet this year. All I need to do is look at the news about what the rest of the country is going through--California is burning, snow blankets New Orleans, the southern Atlantic coast is freezing--and then I look out my frosted windows at a mere few inches of snow, which is pretty mild by Pennsylvania standards. Yes, it hit -11 yesterday morning, but I didn't have to go anywhere. Neither did my semi-retired husband. Our furnace kept the house comfy.  I have nothing worth complaining about.  Granted, that rarely stops me.  Today, I do need to set foot outside. I have kitchen scraps that need to go to the compost heap. I have a bag of trash that needs to go out to the can. I haven't made the stroll to the mailbox yet this week. But it's supposed to go "up" to 27 degrees, which will ...

Having grown up in a farming family, it’s inbred in me to keep an eye on the weather forecast. When the meteorologists started posting maps showing my location solidly in the pink range (meaning freezing rain) of the upcoming storm, I took action. I always keep bottled drinking water (our well water isn’t fit for consumption), but I also started filling the empty jugs with tap water. I moved stuff from our refrigerator’s freezer section to the chest freezer in the basement. My husband made sure our generator was in good working order. I worked frantically on several writing projects that were almost due and sent them off. I also worked frantically on my tax prep and printed out my spreadsheets. I made sure all of my electronics were fully charged.   My husband even took a vacation day on Friday in case the roads were impassible.   I rescheduled a workshop I was supposed to teach Saturday on Zoom. Just in case.   The rain started Wednesday. By lunchtime on Thursday, ...

Mid February, sunny, and 68 degrees. If I still had a horse, I'd have been out on the trails for sure. So when Hubby suggested we go for a ride on his new/used ATV (I'd not been on it before), I jumped at the offer.  We headed out into what used to be MY territory. My old route. My old trails. Yes, it would have been more fun on four legs than four wheels, but...it's mid February, sunny, and 68 degrees. Beggars can't be choosers, as they say. This is a shot looking at the rear of my house (the little log one) from the rear of what used to be our pasture. Heading through the gate toward the old road I used to ride. This really is an old road from colonial days. Rumor has it General George Washington once traveled it. I have no evidence, only the stories I grew up on. I remember it as the tractor road to our upper hay field. My grandfather was born in a log cabin off to the side of the road. I remember finding the stone foundation when I was a kid. Lots o...

I have the winter blahs. This is nothing new. I could be the poster child for SAD (Seasonal Affected Disorder). But to complain about our current Pennsylvania winter seems petty. We've had 60+ degree days as recently as this past weekend. Honestly? I think I'd rather have snow. It's January after all. And while we've had an extremely warm winter, the one typical part of the season that creates the whole SAD thing...the gray, dreary skies...is definitely in play here. I NEED SUNSHINE.

After a whirlwind couple of months, life is finally slowing down to a tolerable level. And it's June. I love early June.  Provided it isn’t storming. Some of the worst storms we’ve ever had in this area hit on May 31 or June 1. This year, we’ve been lucky. A bit of rain during the week, but gorgeous weekends. I guess this is our reward for suffering through last winter. Everything is so green it makes your eyes hurt.  My  rhododendron was splendid this year after not blooming at all last year.  I've already started dining from our garden. Lettuce, radishes, and green onion salads. YUM!  And topping things off, my advanced copies of LOST LEGACY arrived! Kensi approves! Or maybe Kensi just wants me to unpack the books so she can have the box to play in! So enjoy the sunshine. Take a nap. Read a book. Happy June!

I woke up this morning to 22 degrees. No minus sign before the number either. I was beginning to think the thermometer got stuck every morning at MINUS 8. This seems to be the winter that just will not end. I can’t recall one with such a sustained period of cold. Nights on end with temperatures below zero. It doesn’t help that I think we must live on some sort of polar dark hole. The weather map on the morning news shows temperatures all around us in the single digits. And the cold spot on the maps? Right here in my backyard. Then again, is there all that much difference between single digits and MINUS single digits? Cold is cold . But there’s hope. The long range forecast calls for the mid fifties next weekend. I’m not sure I believe the weathermen, though. I suspect they’re throwing us a bone. Something to look forward to so we don’t all start throwing ourselves off the Pittsburgh bridges. Of course, we’d only go PLINK on the ice because the famous three rivers are...

Usually by early February I’m so stinking sick of winter, I’m ready to shoot the darned varmint that wants to tell me I have to endure six more weeks of it. OR, on the rare instance when he says it’ll be an early spring, I want to shoot the darned varmint because I know it’s a lie. Yes, if he sees his shadow we have six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, about a month and a half. That’s just the way it is. This year, however, I’m feeling more kindly toward the old rodent. Yesterday and the day before we almost hit sixty degrees. Six more weeks of that? Okay. I’ll take it. Today is a little chilly at 39 degrees. But that’s not bad. There’s no snow. No ice. Yeah, I can definitely live with it. I know, I know. There are those people who LIKE cold weather. They like skiing and sledding and all that cold weather sport stuff. I am not one of them. You guys had last winter to enjoy yourselves. I’m laying claim to this one. Plus it is only early February. Old Man Winter s...

It’s January 23 rd in southwestern Pennsylvania and the thermometer reads 50 degrees. And the sun is shining. There’s something very wrong about this. Not that I’m complaining. We had single digits, snow, and ice last week. This is much better. It’s just wrong. It’s in my nature to complain vehemently about winter weather. That’s hard to do when you can wander outside without a coat. But there’s something else about this time of year that I can still grumble about. Tax season. If I wanted to spend my life adding columns of numbers, I’d have been an accountant. But I’m not on good terms with math. I prefer words. So I’m a writer. Except this time of year, I’m a writer trying to balance my spreadsheets. It wouldn’t be so bad if I only had one business to keep tabs on. Silly me. I have three. Writing. Yoga. And Avon . That last one is the most involved, so I’m doing it first. Oh, it would be much simpler if I kept up with income and expenses as they happen instead of l...

It snowed yesterday. This is hardly news. Winter roared in here December 1st and has refused to budge an inch. For months, all plans come with the disclaimer “weather permitting.” This morning I took a long hard look at the calendar. It’s April for heaven’s sake! Something clicked in my brain. It was audible. CLICK . It’s spring . Snow be damned. Okay, I’m also the person who, on day two of a head cold, is convinced I’ll be completely better by day four. Never. Happens. But today I’m in that kind of mindset where spring is concerned. I’m making plans to head to my beloved camp in Confluence…next week. I’ve decided the weather will be better by then. Just like day four of a head cold. The weather isn’t the only obstacle, however. We currently have no bed at the camp. And we tore the plumbing apart before we left last October. The bed has long been a source of pain and annoyance for us. Neither Hubby nor I have the best backs in the world. We both had too much fun in our younger days. (W...

The thermometer has reacquainted itself with the sixty degree mark…even if just for a couple of days…so I’ve been able to shed the funk I’ve been along with my winter coat. But it’s not only the weather that’s lifted my spirits. Yesterday, I downloaded the proofs for the upcoming Guppies Anthology, Fish Tales , including my short story “A Murder Runs Through It.” All contributors were asked to check their pieces for typos and such. I’m a lousy editor where my own work is concerned, so the fact that nothing glaring jumped out at me doesn’t mean much. Well, it means that after the thing is published and readers start pointing mistakes out to me, I’ll have no one to blame but myself. The other thing that perked me up yesterday was the release of the list of Agatha Award nominees . I’m thrilled to see so many friends’ names. I was jumping up and down as if I were on the list. Hey, if I’m not there, at least I can live vicariously through my mystery writing pals. Congratulations all around!

Yes, I know I haven’t been blogging as much as I should. My excuse? It’s winter and there hasn’t been anything to write about other than the miserable snow and cold. And since I’ve been griping about that since early December, I figure it’s getting old. To show how miserable this winter has been, let me tell you what just happened this morning that absolutely made my day. My darling hubby came home with the news that someone he works with is selling a really nice treadmill for really cheap. As in we-can-afford-it cheap. Did I want it, he asked. Hell yes, I want it, I replied. Pathetic, don’t you think? With the aforementioned snow and cold, I haven’t been getting out to walk. With the dreary, dark mornings, I’ve been sleeping in all too frequently instead of getting my backside out of bed to workout or do yoga. As a result…well, let’s just say not only don’t my skinny jeans fit, but I’m starting to fill out the fat jeans. Plus, my mother keeps coming out of the grocery store with baker...

It’s too early for spring fever, but signs that we’ve had our fill of winter are cropping up all around. This coming Wednesday is Groundhog Day. The little town of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania becomes the focus of the world for one morning each year. Punxsutawney isn’t all that far from here. Easy driving distance to be honest. However, don’t look for me in the crowd. More often than not, February 2nd is a crappy, gray, cold, snowy day, and I am not a morning person. Besides, is there any doubt what the little rodent is going to predict? If he sees his shadow, six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, about a month and a half. No, I look for other signs of spring. Hubby is talking about getting his fishing license. That’s a good one. The RV show in Pittsburgh has already come and gone. I missed it, though, darn it. Last winter, I had great fun there, although I still refuse to consider owning a camper that’s nicer and bigger than my house. The best sign of spring for me came in the mail t...

A large portion of 2010 was clouded by my hubby’s seven-month bout of unemployment. And I started out the year by parting company with my agent. Nevertheless, there were some moments worthy of acknowledgment before we send the year packing. First would be February’s snowmageddon. It was one of those things that’s better to look back on than it was to live through. Once the roads were cleared and the power restored, we had to travel to Confluence to shovel six-plus feet of snow from our camper’s roof. This involved snowshoeing into the campground, which was an adventure by itself. Continuing 2010’s fun with foul weather, in March, our local Sisters in Crime chapter ventured to Confluence (otherwise known as weather central) during a major flood (not part of the plan) for our weekend writing retreat. I can’t believe none of us have written a murder mystery story about that weekend yet. While the rising river vied for our attention, we did manage to have a lot of fun, eat a lot of food,...

I just saw my first snowflakes of the year. That’s not to say it’s the first snow we’ve had. I’ve been told by my mother and by my hubby that it has snowed a couple of times before. But I only this morning put my eyeglasses on during one of these flurries to see it for myself. I’m basically blind without my glasses. I used to wear contacts, but about ten years ago, something interesting happened. While my contacts still allowed me to see things in the distance, words on the printed page became blurred. Eventually, I couldn’t read at all. Unless I put on glasses. After five years of this, I concluded, since I do quite a lot of reading, I was wearing glasses most of the time anyway. So I gave up and switched to trifocals. However, if I’m bopping around the house, I frequently go with naked eyes. I can see fine up close. I can read. If I lean toward the monitor a little, I can work on the computer. But my whole world exists in about a four foot radius of my face. Beyond that, without corr...

Autumn in Pennsylvania can be beautiful. Unfortunately, it only lasts about 27 minutes. We tend to plummet from 90 degree days to cold, wet, rainy 45 degree days within a week. Maybe this is Mother Nature’s version of ripping off the Band-Aid. No time to contemplate the end of summer and the approach of winter. Bam. It’s here. We spent our last few days of the season at Confluence this weekend. We had a double purpose this trip. It was the Pumpkinfest once again, and I wanted to hand deliver copies of Pennsylvania Magazine to the festival’s organizer and the fire department, since my article covering last year’s festival is in it. Plus we had to close up and winterize the camper. Delivering the magazines was fun. Formally ending the camping season? Not so much. Today I’m in mourning. Camping Season 2010 is history. Gone. Who knows what the future holds. Will Hubby have a job next year? Will he be working so much that he won’t be able to enjoy the camp? Will he be working so little that...

I’ve completed the first chapter of my first draft of my current work in progress. We could argue about what a “first draft” really is, since I’ve rewritten the first chapter at least six times. But it’s too hot to argue. Suffice it to say, I’m ready to move on to chapter two. Brightly colored sticky notes map out the first act on my closet door…my version of outlining. The new manuscript is officially under construction. Meanwhile, my garden is exploding. Heat and rain have resulted in an abundance of zucchini and cucumbers. The onions are doing well, the beans are in blossom, and carrot tops battle the weeds. But it’s those zucchini and cucumbers that are keeping me on my toes. If I miss picking them even one day, that cute little squash turns into a green ball bat. What to do with them all??? Yes, I could can pickles. And I could bake zucchini bread and stash it away for later. But both of those tasks create heat. A LOT of heat. Have you ever canned? I used to. But the universe has ...

It's early April and well over 80 sunny degrees. Do I stay inside and work? Or take advantage of the glorious weather? That's the question I ponder over at Working Stiffs today.

For days, the weathermen had been forecasting “THE FLOOD.” With melting snow pack combined with heavy rains, they were suggesting everyone pack up the women and children and move to high ground. Of course, our writers’ retreat was scheduled to be held at Paddler’s Lane , on the scenic banks of the Youghiogheny River in Confluence. “Confluence.” As in the point where the Yough (pronounced “Yawk”) is joined by the Casselman River and the Laurel Hills Creek. As in the place I spend a large portion of my summer at our camp. I scoffed at the panic mongers. Flood? Heck, it floods every spring. I ain’t afraid of no stinking flood. So off I went. Loaded up the car Friday morning under sunny skies and headed east, with joy in my heart. A whole weekend with my Sisters in Crime in a gorgeous house with lots of food. And writing. Oh, yeah. Lots of writing and—better yet—workshops with Ramona Long . First stop: Panera Bread in Uniontown where I met Sandy Stephen, Susan “ West of Mars ” Gottfried, a...