OH HOW I LOVE FALL!

Fall is my favorite time of the year but then a lot of you already knew that fact. To me it’s a sensory overload but in this case it’s a good one. I love the smell of fall, the feel of it, the colors and the remnants that abound as well as the azure blue skies.

Here in West Virginia we are blessed with a glorious fall every year. The mountains sing with vivid colors—they are so vivid that it is breathtaking. Every single color and hue is there and it looks like God has taken His paint brush and splattered colors everywhere. There is no other way to explain it other than that. It’s miraculous time after time.

If you live in an area where you don’t have fall, I feel sorry for you are missing the most colorful season of the year. If you google “Fall in West Virginia” you will see the astounding colors I’m talking about. But I can’t describe the smell of fall, nor the feel of it other than it makes me delirious when I am outside taking in its glory. I wish I could describe it to those of you that have never experienced this season.

But if you have fall, you know what I’m talking about: It is a glorious season that is so full of sensory overload but it’s too brief! “Gather ye colored leaves while ye may” for winter looms ahead. Meanwhile, go out and enjoy each day of this short time of the year. Immerse yourself in its glory. I certainly do.

Sherry Hill

Copyright © 2013

Sherry Hill

All Rights Reserved

THE STORY OF NELLIE AND HER TRIP TO CA

Nellie was a friend of my grandmothers and lived about two blocks away from her. The first time I ever saw Nellie I was shocked because she could hardly walk.  I was all of  six years old and just assumed that Nellie had a husband. Remember asking my grandmother if she did and was told this story:

"Nellie had a husband" my grandmother said. "He was a nice man until he did something really bad." "Really bad?" I asked her. "Really bad." Being six years old I only knew some bad things and wasn't prepared for what would come next. " What did he do?" I pleaded with her. "Well it went like this. Nellie's husband told her that he wanted to drive to California and did she want to go with him. Of course she wanted to go. But the bad part was that Nellie's husband had also asked Nellie's best female friend to go along with them." "That sounds okay to me" I told her. "It wasn't an okay thing. When Nellie had packed their clothes and got in the car, her husband made her sit in the back seat. And Nellie's friend sat up front with her husband" replied my grandmother.  I had no idea why that was a bad thing at all. There was nothing in my six-year old mind to comprehend it at all.

"Did they make it to California?" I asked. "Did they! Why when they got there, Nellie's husband took off with Nellie's best friend and left her stranded there alone." "Alone?" I asked. "Alone." "How did she get home?" I quizzed her. "She had to take an airplane back here all by herself."

I shoved this story about Nellie in the back of my mind. It didn't make any sense to me at all at that time.

My grandmother always talked to me like I was twenty which was a good thing and yet kind of rough to understand what she was telling me at times.

By the time I was eleven, I understood what had happened to poor Nellie. She had been abandoned by her husband and cast aside for another woman. Since Nellie lived alone,  I again asked my grandmother what happened to him. "Nellie never saw him again in her entire life. He just up and vanished with that woman."

I knew full well the moral of this story: Never let your husband ask your best female friend to go along on a long car trip and NEVER be forced to sit in the back seat of the car or you'll wind up like Nellie did. Alone.

Whenever I saw Nellie, I felt nothing but pity for her. By the time I was fourteen, she passed away taking her grief along with her. Guess a lot of you would say "Why did she let her husband  force her to sit in the back seat in the first place?" That is my reaction as well to this entire short story. If it had been me, heck if I would have in the first place! 

Sherry Hill

Copyright © 2013

Sherry Hill

All Rights Reserved

STILL WRITING E BOOKS

I apologize to all of you for not being here to post. The writing book fever has overwhelmed me. But it's such a joy to see your book online that once you do it, you want to do more.

Attaching a link to my latest downloadable Amazon Kindle E book.

Thanks so much!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FFAZRG2

Sherry Hill

HOLDING HANDS? YOU CAN GET THE MESSAGE WITHOUT A WORD

The other day I was talking to a writer friend of mine and somehow we got on a discussion of how our mothers held our hands. Neither of our mothers held our hands in a loving way. Odd isn’t it? And even odder is that both of us are only children whose mothers have long since died. I told her “My mother had a death grip on my hand and would jerk it over to her if I did anything wrong.” Were any words spoken? Absolutely none.  She replied “My mother did the very same thing!” Silence for a few moments before we resumed talking about how our mothers held our hands. “My mother squeezed my hand so much that it hurt” I told her. “Same here” she retorted.

This led to a discussion of why they did that in the first place. Neither of us were bad children that did horrid things. “I’ve often wondered that myself” said my friend. “Tell me about it” I winced. Then I asked her how her father held her hand. “Did he squeeze your hand like your mother? Because my dad didn’t.” I got a reply of “No, he was gentle when he held my hand.” I completely understood that one as well. Our fathers held our hands as if to guide us or to soothe us and no way like out mothers. None.

Of course this led to a further discussion about how our grandparents held our hands and again, they didn’t squeeze our hands until they hurt. They did squeeze our hands at times and that was a sign of love.

Holding hands with a man you’re in love with has a completely different meaning and feeling. “You can feel the static running through your hand to his” I told my friend. “Of course you can” she said. I went on to say that holding a man’s hand that you are in love with can also offer solace, comfort or a guiding feeling. She agreed.

I told her of holding my sons’ hands when they were little. It was a wonderful feeling to hold those chubby little hands and know that what you held was a part of yourself. Unlike my mother, I never squeezed their hands until the hurt but there were times when I held onto their hands firmly. I didn’t want them to get hurt or run away into traffic. “Did you ever jerk your child’s hand over to you?” I asked her. “Naturally I did if there were some threatening danger near.” “I understand completely” was my reply.

And so I will leave you with these thoughts to ponder. If you were an only child or maybe had siblings, did your mother squeeze the daylights out of your hand and pull you over to her? To me it was a sign of “You’re not going to do that young lady!” without a word spoken.

Holding hands say a lot, without any words spoken at all, but all of us know the full meaning regardless as to whom is holding ours. It’s learned and once learned, you never forget it ever—the good, the bad and the ugly way your hand is held.

Sherry Hill

Copyright © 2013

Sherry Hill

All Rights Reserved

WE’RE BEING TAKEN FOR GRANITE!

Holy cow. Everywhere I look whether it’s on television, on a social media site, in a magazine or in a commercial, there is granite. Granite has to be used for kitchen counter tops. Granite has to be in all of the bathrooms from floor to ceiling. Nothing else will do. Why it’s socially unacceptable now. Do I have granite counter tops? No, I don’t because my kitchen was remodeled and finished in 2000. Do I have granite all over my bathrooms? Another no. And so let’s stop and think about granite: It is beautiful, costly and shiny. But have you ever stepped on wet granite? It’s as slick as ice. But that doesn’t matter to the twenty-somethings or the thirty-somethings. They want what everyone else has and that’s a normal reaction. If I were that age, I’d want it too in my house.

But I don’t have it and aside from that, couldn’t afford it now. Would I want all of my bathrooms encased in granite? No way, because I would slip and fall and wind up in the hospital. I have a ceramic floor in my foyer and it’s black and white. Beautiful. But if I’ve been outside during rain or snow and come in, it’s as slick as glass. Yes, I did fall once in the foyer. Ceramic tile can be both beautiful and dangerous. And I’d say the same for granite.

As for granite counter tops, they are beautiful.  But what if you were on a ladder and had to stand on a counter top? Remember they’re slick. I know the answer to that one for me: If it were the least bit wet, I’d fall. Rest assured on that one for I am also accident-prone big time.

With all the hubbub of having to have granite everywhere in your house, it makes those of us that don’t have it feel inferior or that our houses are out of date due to no granite. But then that is the main selling point of having it in the first place. When I was little and onward into my young adult years, the only granite I knew about was what tombstones were made of. Tombstones still are made of granite but perhaps you already knew that. I can’t help but correlate that fact to having it all over a house—it’s kind of creepy if you are of my generation.

Yes, we are all being taken for granite. But I am not one of them that will succumb to it just because every kitchen or bathroom has to have it. I rest my case. Oh by the way, when one dies, granite will definitely be there and to me, that’s quite enough.

Sherry Hill

Copyright © 2013

Sherry Hill

All Rights Reserved

"WRITING E BOOKS"

Apologize again for not being on here. A couple of weeks ago, I took a leap of faith and published one E book. Perhaps I wrote about it. After that one book, I found out some crucial information that I didn't know prior to publishing that book and so a sequel had to be written.

I swear that the entire time I was working on the second book, it seemed like I was in some kind of writing coma. Tried to lie down and what would happen? Words entered my mind as well as thoughts. So much sleeplessness for those words and thoughts had to be written for fear I'd lose them.

After finishing those two books, I was like someone compelled to write and write. And I did. Some nights no dinner was had at all. Completely immersed into writing. Thank heavens for iced tea and coffee or I would have fallen asleep on my computer's keyboard. In actuality, I was wired to the max.

At this point, I have now published six E books on Amazon Kindle for download with one of them in the process of being published by the Kindle team.

Think I'm quitting? No. I'm now working on an E book about an ancestor of mine that was murdered during the Civil War. He was not a soldier. He was a victim. So far, what I have written is long word-wise and I am only to the point where he is twenty two. Luckily, I have many pages of typed genealogy as well as handed down stories about him. But this is no easy task as real history has to be involved and it requires much research. Can't make up true facts.

I promise to be on here more and post some humorous things. Thanks for being with me in my new found journey--it may be short or long-lived. Who knows?

Sherry Hill

"I'VE BEEN A WOMAN ON A MISSION!"

You know how it is when you have things on your mind that you want to do and somehow they get put on the back burner. Well this morning in the wee hours, I decided to publish two more books through Amazon Kindle E books.

They were both stories that I felt needed to be told but then and again, isn't that what all writers feel?

When I submitted and published my first Kindle E book, I had a friend on the phone to guide me through the process. Helped. Worked.

But this time it was 4 a.m. and my friend was definitely asleep so I ventured out on my own to attempt to publish those two books for download. For one cover, I used Amazon's Kindle template maker. After I published it, I wish I had something else on the cover. It wasn't that it looked bad for I had chosen it. But I foresee  a redo as I want something else. It will happen.

So many stories are in my head as soon as I think of one, along comes a brand new one in my mind. And I have to write it down and save it for fear of losing it.

Then comes along an idea for a painting and my brain switches to that. It's not easy having both of these things on my mind all of the time but that's the way it is.  And I have to deal with it. Maybe you are like me and have those two creative things fighting in your brain to see which will surface first.

Aside from the above, on Saturday morning I left here at 8:30 a.m. with my camera and was all over the area where I live and did live as a child. Took about thirty pictures. Why did I do it? I did it because I have said I would to myself forever. And that task was finally done. It was a joy to do it for not only did I want to share those pictures but it was another one of those hidden goals of mine.

All I can say is that since Saturday I have been a woman on a mission!
Oh and yes I am working on a long book but guess where it is? It's on the back burner of course. At least I've accomplished three things in a matter of days and they were things I wanted to do. As for housework? Hmm
That will happen too. In time.

Meanwhile it's "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may." Lots of rosebuds.

Sherry Hill