Hubby and I went to Sandy Hook just in time to see the beach plums blossoming. In order to have beach plums, we need pollinators. So, I was delighted to see this bumble bee helping out the process. Beach plums are not very big--about the size of a grape, though not as sweet. But the fruit makes a very tasty jam. Of course, other animals like beach plums. For instance, the herds of deer on Sandy Hook enjoy the fruit, too.
Hopefully, there will be a few beach plums for me to nibble on come fall. But simply seeing the white blossoms all over the Hook was a cheerful site. Kudos to the bees, too.
Every winter, from November to April, harbor seals spend time lounging around in New Jersey. They migrate from colder areas in the north and enjoy the somewhat warmer winter in New Jersey. A large colony usually hauls out of the water near Sandy Hook, which is part of the National Park Service.
I enjoy Sandy Hook in all seasons of the year, but I go there in the winter specifically to see the seals. Sometimes, I get lucky—like last year. But this year I haven’t seen them though I’ve been there three times so far.
The park now has specific parking spaces for those who hope to view the seals. You can usually tell where the seals are expected to be seen by the horde of people grouped together with large cameras.
Typically the seals haul out at low tide. But lately the weather has not been conducive to seal sighting due to some nasty storms. I tried to see the seals yesterday but the wind was so strong, I thought it might
knock me over. Lately, the seals are reported to haul out in an area visible from Officer’s Row, the former housing for officers from the time when Sandy Hook was the Fort Hancock Army base. Some of those houses are being repaired but some are in a state of severe decay.
Yesterday, any smart seal would have found a small cove somewhere where there wasn’t any wind. Disappointed, I headed for home. On the road out of the park, I saw a fox who apparently wanted to cross from one side of the road to the other. I stopped the car and grabbed my camera. I took off the lens cap. The fox crossed the road. I pushed the power button. The fox turned to look at me and I tried to focus on him. But he turned around and went on his way. I got a picture of his back end.
I thought I might be lucky and get a few photos of the deer in the park, but they weren’t in their usual areas. They, too, probably found some nice cozy spot away from the wind.
The other day, I was chatting with my favorite book club. Since Halloween will soon be here, we got onto the topic of scary stories. The question was raised, "What is the scariest book you ever read?"
I do not read horror or any other terrifying tales. I like romance and happy endings. However, for a while in my younger years I subscribed to the Book of the Month Club and so I wound up with a book that scared me so much I only read the first chapter. Then I set it aside for about half a year before I tackled it again. Eventually, that book was made into a movie. Against my better judgement, I went to the movie. Hubby wanted to see it. I spent much of that movie holding my hands over my eyes. I walked out of the movie with legs that felt as if they were made of rubber.
The book and the movie made from the book was Jaws. Some folks really don't think that's very frightening. But I live near the ocean and grew up near Matawan, New Jersey. In 1916, a shark swam up Matawan Creek and attacked four people. Killing two. You can see a video explaining the event and exactly where it happened here: https://youtu.be/fFHHwe9h_2k?si=8fmxn3r-cek80F5u
I enjoy the beach. I love living near the sea. But there are dangers and everyone should be aware of them.
Yesterday, the water temperature hovered around forty-seven degrees in Asbury Park. That didn't stop the annual Polar Bear Plunge from taking place. Hubby and I enjoy watching the event, which is sponsored by the Sons of Ireland. While some people jump in and out very quickly, there are those who linger in the water. Many people dress in funny costumes, too. It's an interesting way to start the New Year!
KISS OF BLARNEY is the story of Ula, an Irish princess, raised in a hidden location in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. When her only companion, a druidess, is kidnapped by the evil druid, Balor, the princess must leave her secret cottage to seek help. And who better to help her locate the druidess than the Irish Wolfhound who just happens to be owned by the handsome man who saves her virtue at a pub? Shay Devlin wants nothing to do with the beautiful Ula--especially not once he realizes she's out to steal his unruly dog, Bran--but there's no way he and his geise will allow him to turn her out into the snow, alone and unprotected. Too bad everything about the mysterious dog snatcher tempts him to break every rule of his sacred code. Though their love is forbidden--for prophecy says Ula will marry a man with black eyes and Shay's are blue--they battle the druid who wants not only Ula, but the kingdom she is destined to rule. In the scene below, Shay realizes he is cursed, but he thinks he can outwit fate.
Shay glanced around the garage. He did not see any snowshoes. Where had that woman put them? He checked a few places where she might have hidden them, but the snowshoes seemed to have vanished. Muttering a few curses, he rolled the snow thrower out of the garage.
A gusty wind bit at his skin but he hardly noticed. The audacity of that woman still had him reeling. Angry at his own body for reacting to her touch, he wanted to rid himself of the hormones she had stirred up. He intended to push the snow thrower and his body to the limits. He cursed himself for being so tenderhearted and bringing her home so she wouldn’t get into any more trouble.
Then he thought of her small waist, those delicate feet of hers, that fiery hair--the softness of her flesh when he had held her, the hint of violets that swirled about her, the tender valley between her breasts….
Bran whimpered and derailed Shay’s obsessive train of thought. That woman could send him to the psych ward. Glancing at his pet, he noted how miserable the animal appeared.
“You’re supposed to be a courageous dog. I’m wanting to see you laugh at the weather.”
Bran whined.
“I’ll not have a wimpy dog,” Shay complained. “Or one that lets crazy women steal them away.”
Bran hung his head in utter wretchedness.
“Serves you right for falling in love with her,” Shay chastised the dog. “Do you think it’s going to be fun hunting in this weather? And what is she hunting for? Have you asked her that?”
He should have asked her. No. He should have run in the other direction.
He should have listened to the geise. It made a lot of sense not to bring a woman into the house. Right now, Ula could be helping herself to….
He stopped to think a moment. She seemed inordinately interested in his appliances, but aside from
those work-saving devices he did not own anything worth stealing--except for his tools and his dog--and his truck. Judging from the fiasco in the pub, she did not have a license. Odd.
Shay cranked the knob so that the chute would throw the snow to the right side of the driveway. Then he yanked on the cord to start the snow thrower. Nothing happened. Swearing, he gave it another pull, but the engine refused to turn over. It had gas in it. It had been working last week. It had a brand new spark plug in it. There should not be anything wrong with it.
In a fury, he pulled again on the cord—and again until his arm burned from the exertion.
“Dammit!” He cursed as he rolled the snow thrower back into the garage and got out a snow shovel. Still enraged, he pitched the shovel into the first snowdrift and the handle snapped in two.
Shay stared at it in disbelief. Bran let out a howl and the sound cut through Shay like a fine blade.
…misfortune and even death.
“I am cursed is it?” He asked his dog as he stumbled back against the wall of his house. “Doomed because I have broken one of my geise. Doomed because I won’t let her have my dog.”
Bran let out another howl and scratched at the door.
“You’d leave me here to my death?” he asked his pet. “After I’ve trained you, fed you, cared for you and paid so much money for the vet bills that I know he could not have purchased his Porsche without my business.”
Bran whined and scratched at the door once more.
Shay stared out at the solid white landscape and felt his heart sinking. Somehow, it did seem as if the geise was working against him. It did not make any sense, but there could be no other explanation. The damper should not have slammed shut. The snow thrower should be working. That snow shovel had a lifetime guarantee.
He brightened as an idea formed in his mind. Opening the door of the garage for Bran he decided that anything was worth a try under the circumstances. He did not need any more broken dampers, non-working snow throwers, or broken snow shovels. He would end the curse of this geise the way he had handled the other one last night--in a devious manner.
Hubby and I were intrigued when we read an article in the Asbury Park Press, 'Shorehenge': Is Sandy monument tribute or eyesore? Highlands, New Jersey, a very small town, was hit hard by Hurricane Sandy. The storm damaged 1,250 out of 1,500 homes. The monument pictured above was donated to the town and placed on the site where a gazebo once stood.
Some people in the town don't like it and have dubbed it Shorehenge, which is one of the reasons why we felt compelled to see it for ourselves.
I like it. Hubby thought it was fine, too. It's different, but it is art. The openings in the roof lend a spiritual effect. It would be a natural place for meditation--a place to remember what once was.
Who are your favorite heroines in the romance genre? What makes a good romantic heroine? Let me know your favorites. I might include your comments in my talk. :-)
I love this one. It's such a precious moment in time. It must have been taken in Belford where my father's family had a summer bungalow. You can see the marsh in the background. On the left is my father's brother (he died in World War II), next to him is my grandfather, wearing suspenders as he always did. My father is on the right holding his baby brother. My grandmother must have snapped the photo.
The older boys are no longer wearing knickers as they did in photos when they were younger.
Do you have old family photos? Which are your favorites?
I don't get out much, but on Sunday I will be in beautiful Belmar, NJ, with several other authors at the Paperback Exchange, from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. Please stop by! To print the flyer below, click on it first to make a larger version appear on your screen, then print. I hope the weather is perfect and I hope to see you there. :-)
P.S. Don't forget to LIKE the Paperback Exchange on Facebook. Support your local independent bookstore!
Pictured above is a large lump of glass. I got it from the Midland Glass company where I worked two summers during my college years. The plant was located in the Cliffwood section of Aberdeen Township and employed many of the residents. You can read about the history of the plant HERE and HERE.
I considered myself fortunate to get the job because the wages were very good for a college student. I made about $1,000 each summer. (My salary for my first year as a teacher a few years later was $8,000.) I got triple time for working on the Fourth of July and overtime was usually available, too.
While many of our neighbors in Cliffwood Beach worked at the plant, only one was on the same shift as me. My family had only one car which my father needed to get to work, so I rode with our neighbor to work everyday.
The glass factory in the summertime was really hot. I swallowed salt pills so I wouldn't pass out from dehydration. There were fans here and there but they did not help. The noise level was horrendous. That is where I learned to yell, "Yo!"
I worked packing bottles into cartons on a line with two other women. I stood for most of the time although if I was lucky I got to sit at the light box and watch the bottles twirl by so I could spot bad ones and pull them out of the line.
There were a number of furnaces and each one produced millions of bottles. The bottles never stopped coming at us. If we didn't pack the bottles fast enough, the line would back up until the bottles started popping out. I got cut several times.
Sometimes, if a particular mold was bad, I had to run over to the lear, a huge metal link chain belt that brought the bottles from the furnace. I would pull out a whole row of that mold. Run back, pack bottles, and then run back to the lear to pull more of the bad bottles before we packed them.
Sometimes, the supervisor told us to look for a particular mold number on the bottom of the bottle and toss it out. When you're packing a gazillion bottles, it's hard to read mold numbers. We snatched up four bottles at a time, glanced at them and stuck them in the box. The supervisor would glare at us and tell us we were packing bad bottles.
No surprise there.
For me, the hardest thing about the job was the fact that we worked rotating shifts. We worked 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. one week. Then 4 p.m. to midnight the next week. Then came the midnight to 8 a.m. shift. Getting through that shift was a struggle. Some nights I found myself nodding off at the lightbox. One night, all the bottles twirled into dancing ladies with lovely long dresses. I nearly fell off the stool.
Working that shift messed up my entire body. I didn't know what meal I was eating and I wound up with strange cravings. I came home at 8 a.m. and gobbled down heaping bowls of instant mashed potatoes. I went to the pool, fell asleep, and wound up with a bad sunburn.
It was a terrific incentive to finish my education.
When we were cleaning out my parents' house to sell it, my sister brought the glass lump to me.
"Don't you want this?" she asked.
"What am I going to do with it?"
"Use it in the garden," she said.
Mostly I use it to hold down the tablecloth on the picnic table, but I'm glad my sister salvaged it before it wound up in the dumpster. It's a good souvenir of my job at the glass factory.
This is a photo of my family's first Christmas in Cliffwood Beach. My parents bought what was originally destined to be a summer bungalow and converted it to a full-time residence. The French doors led out to nothing at first. Years later an addition was built with a larger living room. The room pictured in the photo became the dining room.
Everything was small and cozy. We were happy and loved. That's really all that mattered.
