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It’s estimated that nearly 500 animal species have become extinct since
the beginning of the 20th century. Among them the Passenger Pigeon,
Japanese Sea Lion, Western Black Rhinoceros, Golden Toad, Caribbean Monk Seal,
and Mexican Grizzly Bear, now gone forever.

And yet, for most of us, the absence of these creatures makes no difference
in our daily lives. Perhaps that’s why some people roll their
eyes when they hear about saving the tiny Snail Darter or the
Polar Bear or the Gray Wolf.

But what if a creature existed that could change lives with its
passing? And I mean change in a big way.

Meet the cassowary.

I first became aware of the giant, Australian bird that vaguely resembles an
ostrich, but which sports a fabulously-colored keratin casque, while
walking in the Daintree Rainforest – a UNESCO site like the Great
Barrier Reef over which it hovers – that has one of the most complex ecosystems
on Earth, hosting species whose ancestors date back 110 million years.

“The cassowary is extremely important,” our guide explained. “Without
the bird, the forest would not exist.”

Daintree is primordial. Giant strangler figs crawl across the forest floor.
Dappled sunlight sneaks though a thick green canopy. Massive ferns sprout
from leaf-littered soil. The outside world is muted, and the sight of
a dinosaur might not seem strange.

I learned the cassowary is a one-bird master gardener, a creature
that combs the forest floor eating fallen fruits, even gobbling up plants that
are toxic to other creatures. The bird consumes up to 150 different types of
fruits. The existence of 70 to 100 plant species depends on the
cassowary pooping out their seeds in a pile of protective,
compost-like dung, the smell of which repels seed predators. The cassowary is a
“keystone” species, which means a species on which others in an ecosystem
largely depend, one that, if removed, would cause the ecosystem to change
drastically.

So, no cassowary, no rainforest. But there’s more. Below Daintree are
mangroves, a mucky area rich in bio-matter that filters down from the forest.
All types of young creatures – crabs, jellyfish, snappers, jacks,
red drums, sea trout, tarpon, sea bass, and even juvenile sharks – thrive in
the protection of the fertile water of the mangroves.

 

Offshore, the Great Barrier Reef follows Australia’s eastern
coast. There, too, the nutrients from the forest help feed the tiny
creatures that build the reefs. This fertilizer promotes the growth of
phytoplankton which nourishes the zooplankton on which the coral
polyps dine. Without this sustenance the coral dies, losing the ability to
protect the shoreline from waves, storms, and flooding, which leads to loss of
human life and property.

Also consider that roughly 25% of the world’s fish species spend part of
their lives on the reefs. If the Great Barrier Reef dies – note that half of
the more than 1,400-mile structure has already perished – vast fisheries could
collapse leading to starvation that could ultimately affect billions of people.

Which brings me back to the cassowary. It’s estimated that only 12,000 to
15,000 of the birds remain in the wild. Loss of habitat is decreasing their
numbers, as are attacks by dogs.  Another problem is humans driving too
fast.

Why should we care?

I think the cassowary is but one example of the interconnectedness of life.
Perhaps that’s something we should think about.

Please allow me to give you a brief intro to my latest women’s fiction novel for your reading pleasure.

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century
magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

Anne Montgomery has worked as a television sportscaster, newspaper and magazine writer, teacher, amateur baseball umpire, and high school football referee. She worked at WRBL‐TV in Columbus, Georgia, WROC‐TV in Rochester, New York, KTSP‐TV in Phoenix, Arizona, ESPN in Bristol, Connecticut, where she anchored the Emmy and ACE award‐winning SportsCenter, and ASPN-TV as the studio host for the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Montgomery has been a freelance and staff writer for six publications, writing sports, features, movie reviews, and archeological pieces.

When she can, Anne indulges in her passions: rock collecting, scuba diving, football refereeing, and playing her guitar.

Learn more about Anne Montgomery on her website and Wikipedia. Stay connected on Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter.

Autumn
in Canadian cottage country can be a beautiful, yet sad time of the year, and
our Labour Day Weekend reminds us that the season is about to change over soon.
Many cottagers or campers start to shut down their vacation properties in
anticipation for those cold, winter months. However, some hearty souls keep
their cottages or trailers open to make the most out of their investments, and
have come to rely on nearby towns for their services and supplies. In my book
series, Mysterious Tales
from Fairy Falls,
I created the world of a small, tourist town named Fairy Falls to accommodate
the flow of cottagers and travelers all-year-round. Then, I added an uprooted
teen with a psychic ability, an attitude, and mystery to solve into the mix and
you can well imagine the upheaval it brings to that peaceful, tiny town.

 The
following recipe boasts the most tender and succulent pork chops you’ll ever
taste, whether you’re sitting on the shoreline or huddled in a warm, cozy cabin
ready to chow down on dinner. With a prep time of 15 minutes, and cook time of
8 hours and 30 minutes in the crock pot, this meal gives you plenty of time to relax
with your family or friends, and enjoy those last days of summer until fall kicks
in at the cottage or campground.

What You Need:

6
pork chops

Salt
and pepper to taste

Garlic
powder to taste

½
cup all-purpose flour

1
large onion, sliced ¼ inch thick

2
cubes chicken bouillon

2
cups boiling water

2
tablespoons all-purpose flour

1
(8 ounce) container sour cream

Slow
cooker

What You Do:

SEASON
pork chops with salt, pepper, and garlic powder, and then dredge in ½ cup
flour. In a skillet
over medium heat, lightly brown chops in a small amount of
oil.

PLACE
chops in slow cooker, and top with onion slices. Dissolve bouillon cubes in
boiling water and pour over chips. Cover, and cook on LOW for 7 to 8 hours.

PREHEAT
oven to 200° F (95° C).

AFTER
the chops have cooked, transfer chips to the oven to keep warm. BE CAREFUL, the
chops are so tender they will fall apart. In a small bowl, blend 2 tablespoons
flour with the sour cream; mix into meat juices. Turn slow cooker on HIGH for
15 to 30 minutes, or until sauce is slightly thickened. Serve sauce over pork
chops.

SERVING
SUGGESTION: Serve with noodles or rice. *We actually used home fries, and it
tasted like scallop potatoes with the sauce.

Seeing
as you’ve got a long wait for those pork chops to cook, why not relax on the dock
or sit by the shore, and visit the small, tourist town of Fairy Falls? You can
start with Lost and Found, Book #1 of Mysterious Tales from
Fairy Falls. Just don’t forget the sunscreen.

I’ve been thinking about writing this for a long time, but never put the actual words to paper. Something always stopped me. When the story is vital, and the memories are bittersweet, it’s very hard to transform into words your emotions. At least, it is for me.

So, the women of my family: my great-grandmother Tatiana, my grandmother Vera, my mother Karina, and my aunt Stella.  Even the names sound lovely, old-fashioned, and classy, don’t they?

Three generations, four amazing women who shared blood, but were as different from each other as night and day, or as only mothers and daughters can be. Four women, four fascinating life stories. 

Today, I will tell you about my grandmother.

Her name was Vera, but we called her Verunya. Even her daughters, my mother and my aunt, referred to her by that endearing nickname. No one in the family knew when exactly it started or who started it. But someone did, and it stuck. For three generations.

As a matter of fact, she had two names: Vera, which means “faith” in Russian, and Gulbahar, which means “spring flower” in Azeri. Why? My grandmother was unique in more ways than one. You see, her mother was from a prominent Russian family, and her father….. Well, here’s where we draw a blank. To this day, no one in the family knows who his ancestors were. But as the family lore goes, my great-grandfather was kidnapped as a child and raised in Iran in a Kurdish family. When he met my great-grandmother Tatiana (and no one is sure when or how he ended up in post-revolutionary Azerbaijan, a republic of former USSR) he was so lovestruck that he converted to Christianity to get permission to marry her. And so, Meshady Abbas became Artemy Kurdov. My grandmother Verunya was the only child of that unusual union.

To say that she was a complex woman is truly an understatement of the century. Stunning, strong-willed, capricious, multifaceted, she looked fragile like a china doll, but was stronger than steel. She was beautiful and knew it. She drove men crazy and enjoyed it.

But she wasn’t flighty, shallow, or mean. There was not a single humble bone in her body, but she never hurt anyone on purpose. She worshipped at the altar of high fashion, but sold without hesitation her favorite dress in order to buy her two little daughters Christmas gifts.

She had a huge heart, and loved all four of us, her grandchildren, to distraction. And every time one of us would visit her, before she would open the door, she’d call out, “My dearest one has come!”

She was not your traditional grandmother. She was not traditional anything, period, and that was a huge part of her charm.

For me, she was a personification of everything female. Always dressed to kill, sporting an impeccable manicure and pedicure, she could apply mascara and her famous cherry red lipstick even half asleep. And grey hair? She refused to even acknowledge its right to exist.

She fell in love at 16 with a man who was almost twice her age. Needless to say, no one could stop her from marrying this dashing hunk who happened to be a popular jazz singer. My aunt was born less than a year after, and my mother three years later.

Then, tragedy struck. My larger-than-life grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. He died three months later, leaving a 20 year-old widow with two toddlers on her arms, no income to support them, and no place to live in a strange city. You see, my grandfather Sergey Periev moved his family from Baku, when my Verunya lived all her life, to Yerevan, where he was offered a position as a lead singer in Armenian Jazz band. The apartment they were living in was a rental for the members of the band only, so after his death my grandmother was asked to vacate it. And the year was 1942, the second year of World War II.

But instead of falling apart, this young girl, a child herself, grabbed her two daughters and whatever meager possessions she had, and returned home. With no help from the well-to-do in-laws, who decided they didn’t need an additional burden, she struck out on her own.

I can only imagine how scared she was. She needed to support her family, but had no real profession or formal education. What she had in abundance was sheer guts and a spine of steel. And a true gift that fate bestowed upon her: her amazing voice.

So, shaking off her own fears and insecurities, my Verunya stuck her perky nose up, squared her fragile shoulders, and set to pursue a career as a singer. And the rest was history. She became a star. In my former country, USSR, the name Vera Perieva was familiar to millions.

In her early thirties, she met her second love. Mikhail Kauffman was her impresario. It was a long, happy, and content marriage. But then cancer struck again, taking away the man who became a true father to my mother and aunt, and loving grandfather to my cousins and I.

When in 1991 our family relocated to the USA, Verunya tried really hard to adjust to her new country, but that proved to be a challenge. The language barrier, failing health, advanced age—everything added to the load.

She passed away quietly in her sleep on one brutally cold October morning, wearing an impeccable manicure and pedicure, with not a single grey hair offending her trade-mark mahogany mane.

Last February would have been my grandmother’s 105th birthday. I’m sure the angels threw a huge party for our Verunya, with my mom and dad, and all our dearest departed friends and family in attendance. And then the birthday girl sang, and her deep rich soprano flew over heaven making the Almighty sigh with pleasure…..

Talented author Stella May is the penname for Marina Sardarova who has a fascinating history you should read on her website. 

We like to bake here in Carpenter Country, and we love to eat what we bake. Today we want to share one of our favorite recipes with you. Hope you enjoy as much as we do.

Photo by rakratchada torsap

3-2-1 Pear-Up
3 pears, peeled and sliced
3 tbsp. sugar
3 tbsp. oatmeal
2 tbsp. pecan pieces
2 tbsp. flour
2 tsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. pumpkin pie spice (or cinnamon, if you prefer)
1 tbsp. butter
1 spritz nonstick cooking spray

Preheat oven to 350°F

Spritz the bottom of a 9″ round pie pan with nonstick cooking spray.

Toss the pear slices in the lemon juice and add them to the pie pan.

Measure the sugar, oatmeal, pecan pieces, flour, and spice into a plastic baggie. Shake to mix. Add the butter and knead the bag with your fingers until the mixture resembles soft crumbs.

Empty the bag of topping mixture into the pie pan on top of the pears.

Bake for 20 minutes or until the pears are soft.

Tips and tricks
Add a tablespoon of butter on top of the pears if you like a syrupy juice.
Experiment with different types of nuts for different flavors.
Raisins or dates add a sweet touch.
Top each serving with sweetened whipped cream for extra yum.

Helen 

 

Once upon a time there was a mother/daughter author duo named Helen and Lorri, who wrote as HL Carpenter. the Carpenters worked from their studios in Carpenter Country, a magical place that, like their stories was unreal but not untrue. Then one day Lorri left her studio to explore the land of What-If, and like others who have lost a loved one the magical place lost much of its magic. But thanks to family, plus an amazing group of wordsmiths named Authors Moving Forward (AMF), the magic is slowly returning.

Helen Carpenter loves liking and sharing blog posts from other authors. She lives in Florida with her husband of many years and appreciates everyday, especially those without hurricanes.

Stay connected on her blog and Facebook.

What to you is the greatest invention in human history? The wheel? Sliced bread? Electricity (not exactly an invention)? The light bulb? The list is endless of the various inventions in human history, but only one that helps when the temperatures move beyond 90 degrees. Can there be any doubt that our most amazing piece of technology is the air conditioner?

In 1902 Willis Carrier created the Apparatus for Treating Air for a Brooklyn printing company—a break-through that, as it developed and spread over decades, changed the human condition. Today close to 87 percent of U.S. homes have AC, but we’re old enough to remember when it was a luxury.

During heat waves, people barely moved or did anything. You would sit in front of fans of all sorts to try to stay cool. Some even used tubs of ice in front of the fan to blow cooling air. Nights were a sleepless ordeal, with sweat pooling in various places of the body. Then morning came and you had to wash the damp sheets. Did we mention we lived through this? Carrier set us free from such torment with his invention. Why is he not honored with a special day on the calendar?

Air conditioning is not simply a comfort but has now become a part of modern life. Without it keeping people and computers working when the mercury climbs past 90 all activity would slow or even stop. Would computers even operate? Air conditioning has made it possible for millions of people to live in the Sun Belt states that nature intended for lizards, not humans. As the world warms, the demand for AC grows ever greater. Currently consuming 12 percent of U.S. home energy expenditures, some climate change warriors suggest we all wean ourselves from Carrier’s invention. They argue for a return to a more natural way of life. Been there, done that, not going back!

Sorry, we’d give up about everything else before we went back to living without conditioned air. If they come for our AC, as the saying goes, they’ll have to pry it out of our wonderfully cold, dead fingers.

Now, if your AC is working, settle into a comfy chair and check out some of our hot books on our Amazon Author Page

C.D. Hersh–Two hearts creating everlasting love stories.
Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to co-authors C.D. Hersh. They’ve written separately since they were teenagers and discovered their unique, collaborative abilities in the mid-90s. As high school sweethearts, and husband and wife, Catherine and Donald believe in true love and happily ever after.

The second editions of their paranormal series is titled The Turning Stone Chronicles and will be available soon. 

They are looking forward to many years of co-authoring and book sales, and a lifetime of happily-ever-after endings on the page and in real life.

Learn more about C.D. Hersh on their Website and their other social media pages, Facebook, Amazon Author Page, and Twitter.

Inside Greenhouse Three there are vigorously growing hanging
nursery pots of tomatoes. These are cherry tomatoes and they come in red or
yellow. Medium-sized, these fruits of the vines are just ripe for popping into
you mouth without a smidgeon of preparation. Don’t ask me how I know; I’ll
never tell.

Hanging Baskets of Tumbling Toms go out of the greenhouse
for sale around the first of May and disappear quickly. They may need to be
brought in at night, but they are already in bloom with some tiny tomatoes
showing. It’s a way to get a jump start on the season for a delicious tomato
taste.

Lately I’ve learned to use them in several different ways
that liven up a quickly thrown together summer meal. Below are a few ideas.
You’ll spin off into your own vivid imagination, I’m certain, adding salads and
main dishes. This is quick and easy fixing that leaves plenty of time to enjoy the
sunshine outside.

Tumbling Tom Tomato Appetizers

Next the Spread

These
are just a few of the spreads I’ve used:

(1) Canned potted ham (or a
chicken spread) mixed with mayo or a touch of mustard. Occasionally I use a
pear relish mixed in that is delish. Mix and spread on your crackers lightly. Don’t
glob or your cracker will collapse. Still taste good, but not esthetically
attractive so soggy.

(2) I’m mad for the whipped cream
cheese. ‘Nuff said about that. It’s pretty simple to spread on your crackers.
You can add any old spice that strikes you as interesting. I’ve used Season all
Salt, cinnamon, Italian seasoning or just a piece of fresh basil. All good. If
you use the basil leaf, add a swipe of creamed cheese to glue it to the cracker
else it’ll slide right off. 

(3) I’m wild for ricotta cheese,
but hubby isn’t so we get to ‘decorate’ our crackers individually.   

Meat? 

Here I use whatever I’ve got in
the kitchen. Sliced ham bits are lovely, a sprinkle of the sausage you had for
breakfast is great, a bit of corned beef (just a bit because it’s strong),
another cheese either cut to fit the cracker or shredded and sprinkled over.
Like the crackers, cheeses come in a great assortment chosen to taste.

You’ll find your own preferences
for thickness. Slice the cherry tomato in half or into four slices and top your
masterpiece. Use a bit of spread to stick it if toppings tend to slide.  

Now is the delicate operation
that remains a mystery you might keep to yourself. A very small dot of “Zesty
Italian Salad Dressing. Shake first and I promise you, you must use only a very
small dot on top the tomato. Voila! You are fini. 

A plateful of these colorful
snack crackers will disappear in a flash. Be sure you get your share. Enjoy! 

May I suggest a peek into one of my Regency releases?

Can an arrogant duke overcome his prejudice against a beautiful but managing female in time to find true love and happiness?

Miss Amabel Hawkins acknowledges her unusual upbringing, but she thinks James Langley, the Duke of Westerton, might be a tad unbalanced when he protests her efforts to right his badly managed properties. The duke, who has been away on the king’s business, demonstrates no respect for the beautiful but managing Miss Hawkins. Amabel has taken refuge at Westerton, fleeing from a forced marriage to a man who claims to be her relative in order to gain control of her young brother’s estate.

The Duke arrives home to find his estate under the firm control of a beautiful but managing female. His suspicions are fueled by his recent task of spy-hunting and he wonders if Amabel Hawkins is just who she seems. While a dastardly spy lurks, a wicked man poses as her cousin threatening to take over the guardianship of her young brother. Amabel might be falling in love, but she knows for certain the duke would never approve of a meddlesome woman, and she decides to flee his estate. Will the duke finally realize the true value of the woman he loves or will his prejudice ruin his chances forever?

EXCERPT
Fatigue and the effects of the brandy on top of the ale now gave his gait a distinct wobble. He chuckled, amused at his condition.

As he reached for the portrait of great Uncle Barney, he lurched into the back of the red leather sofa in front of the cosy fire. “Deuce take it,” he exclaimed when a rounded arm rolled into view. He spotted the gentle curve of a hip and walked around to the front, where he spied a tumbled haze of dark curls hiding a face. It is indeed a female—a sleeping female.

Who was she? The gown was too rich for his household staff. Curious, he knelt beside the sofa.
“Only one way to find out,” he whispered and moved one dark curl. He sat back, satisfied when a handsome face swam into view. She sighed and rolled over, revealing a generous figure and a pair of rosy lips. She might be Sleeping Beauty—but not one of my relatives. He leaned over and kissed those tempting lips.

As he lingered there, she sighed and came partially awake. He could not resist. He deepened the kiss and sounds of satisfaction like yum and umm came from those delicious lips. Her hand stroked his face, then reached around his head to pull him closer. Delighted with this turn of events, the Duke of Westerton complied enthusiastically and extended an arm around a slender waist. How much of the ale and brandy had he imbibed? Dizziness overcame his senses as he slid down on the floor and knew no more.

Emma Lane is a gifted author who writes under several pen-names. She lives with her patient husband on several acres outside a typical American village in Western New York. Her day job is working with flowers at her son’s plant nursery. Look for information about writing and plants on her new website. Leave a comment or a gardening question and put a smile on Emma’s face.

Stay connected to Emma on Facebook and Twitter.