Tag Archives: Minnesota

A New Day is Dawning by Sherrie Hansen

If one thing can be said of my life, it’s that I can’t go through a single day on autopilot. Some days, I wake up in the parsonage next door to my husband’s church in Hudson, Iowa to the sounds of tractors and trucks driving by on our gravel road, the creak of old farmhouse floors, or the sound of the wind whistling across the fields. Other days, I awake 85 miles to the north in a cozy, but comfortable cottage next door to my B&B in the small town of Saint Ansgar.

Sometimes I get to sleep in, or maybe even spend the day lounging around in my nightgown, writing or painting. Other times, I wake up to the demanding b-b-b-b-ring of an alarm clock reminding me that there’s breakfast to serve, lunch to prepare, or a church service to rush off to.

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The one thing that’s consistent about daybreak at my house is that when I wake up each morning, the past is behind me and a fresh day awaits, brimming with new opportunities and unique experiences. No matter which of our homes I wake up in, what’s done is done, and daybreak is a chance to start out fresh.

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I’ve been very fortunate in my life to work in a career where every day is different and filled with new challenges. I’ve always appreciated the fact that my work offers me the joy of interacting with a variety of people, the chance to participate in a broad assortment of tasks, and the opportunity to experiment with creative menus that I can change as often as my heart desires.

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Since my first novel, NIGHT AND DAY, was released, I’ve been telling people it starts when it’s “midnight in Minnesota and daybreak in Denmark.” Since the sequel, coming out this summer, begins in Denmark, it seemed logical to call it DAYBREAK.

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Daybreak is about new beginnings. To begin fresh, you have to turn your back on the past and look forward. It’s a choice we make every day, in little ways, and every so often, with extraordinary, life-changing transitions. For Jensen, daybreak means leaving her comfort zone in Minnesota, moving across the ocean to a different country only to find out that Anders won’t be there to help her adjust. For Anders and his son, Bjorn, daybreak means suffering the indignity of losing a career and being forced to look for a new job. Both have to let go of their expectations and forge a new path.

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For the Christiansen family, it means moving on after an unexpected death changes the entire perimeter of their world. For Leif Unterschlag, it meant giving up the woman he loved, and starting over in Solvang, California, halfway across the world. If Leif hadn’t had the courage to walk away from his heartache and embrace a new love, Jensen never would have come to be. The choice to look toward the rising sun and move forward can have great repercussions!

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I won’t say more for giving too much away, but I think if you’ve ever had to give up something familiar and beloved so that you have your hands free to grasp a new opportunity, you know what I mean about daybreak. Just like Jensen and Anders’ lilac bushes, sometimes our branches have to be pruned and cut back before we can grow. What does daybreak – or the dawn of a new day – mean to you?

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Twenty-six years ago, Sherrie Hansen rescued a dilapidated Victorian house in northern Iowa from the bulldozer’s grips and turned it into a B&B and tea house, the Blue Belle Inn. Sherrie grew up on a farm in southern Minnesota and has lived in Bar Harbor, Maine, Colorado Springs, CO, and Augsburg, Germany. She attended Wheaton College, Wheaton, IL. After 12 years of writing romance novels late at night when she couldn’t sleep, she met and married her real-life hero, Mark Decker, a pastor. Sherrie lives in 2 different houses, 85 miles apart, and writes on the run whenever she has a spare minute. With her Wildflowers of Scotland novels, “Wild Rose”, “Blue Belle”, “Shy Violet”, “Sweet William” and “Golden Rod”, she has ten books in print, most featuring a “second-chance-at-love” story. Daybreak, a sequel to Night and Day, will be released in the summer of 2018. Sherrie enjoys painting, playing the piano with the worship team at church, photography, decorating historic homes, and traveling. You can learn more about her books by visiting  http://amazon.com/author/sherriehansen

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It’s Readers and Writers Week on the Match Game – by Sherrie Hansen

This March, I’m going to be speaking to a group of bed and breakfast innkeepers on the subject of how and why we choose accommodations when we travel. Of particular interest to this group is:  When people are planning a trip, how do they start looking for a place to stay? Do they have a favorite booking platform or do they prefer booking direct? Do they even consider looking at B&Bs or do they automatically head for the big chain hotels? What are some things that attract or discourage them from staying at a  B&B? What catches their eye, makes them stop and take a second look, and press the RESERVE button – or turn around and run as quickly as possible  to the local Motel 6?

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As an author of ten books, soon to be eleven, I often ask myself the same sort of questions. Why do people buy my books instead of the thousands of others on the book shelves or the millions of others available online?

Sometimes I think the hardest thing about being a writer is finding readers who are a good match with the books we’ve worked so hard to write.

This isn’t the Match Game, but I’m going to make a go at helping you to determine if you and my books would make a good pair.

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  1. You might like my books if you’re from Minnesota, Iowa, or anywhere in the Midwest.

I was born and raised in Minnesota. I’ve lived just 9 miles south of the Minnesota border, in Iowa, for the past 26 years. If you have ties to either state and like stumbling upon familiar places in the books you read, you will probably like my books. Most of my Wildflowers of Scotland novels even have Midwestern characters scattered throughout – hopefully just enough to make you feel at home.

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  1. You might like my books if you enjoy being surprised when you’re reading.

My books are character-driven and as different from one another as each person is unique – anything but cookie cutter. Some have a mystery to solve, some are a tad bit suspenseful, others, completely relational in focus. A few have Christian fiction leanings, while others are on the steamy side. A number are set in Scotland, and soon to be two, in Denmark. Most are romances, but my new book, Daybreak, focuses on a married couple and what happens when happily-ever-after doesn’t turn out the way you thought it would. Golden Rod has a pair of 500 year old ghosts. Although I will admit to having kidnappings in two of my books, you’ll find that each of my novels follows its own unique template. I like to think they’re refreshingly unpredictable and far from formulaic.

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  1. You might like my books if you enjoy having characters from previous books reappear in future novels.

My books aren’t serials – each of them stands alone, but several are linked together in groupings for those who enjoy getting a second or third glimpse of their favorite characters. My Wildflower of Scotland novels (Thistle Down, Wild Rose, Blue Belle, Shy Violet, Sweet William, and Golden Rod) are interconnected through family and friends, as is the Maple Valley Trilogy (Stormy Weather, Water Lily, and Merry Go Round) through the lives of sisters Rae, Michelle, and Tracy. Daybreak, to be released this summer, is a sequel to Night and Day, and has cameo appearances by characters from Love Notes and Sweet William.

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  1. You might like my books if you’re a follower of mine on Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter or Instagram.

I truly believe that the things we like, comment on, and post about on social media are a window into our general aura and a commentary of what’s important to us. If you like my perspective, the things I focus on and take photos of, the music I listen to, the foods I make at my B&B and teahouse, and the paintings I create in my spare time, you’ll most likely enjoy my books and the characters I write about, all of whom are a reflection of me, my style, and my passions.

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  1. You might like my books if you’re a small town girl – or guy – at heart.

Whether my books are set in Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin, Canada, California, Denmark, Scotland or France, they have small town or even rural settings. They’re populated by people who love wide open spaces and seeing the sun sink into the horizon at the end of the day, and who appreciate and can chuckle about the quirky personalities that are a part of small town living.

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  1. You might like my books if you enjoy knowing both sides of the story – from a somewhat experienced point of view.

My books are all written in two or more points of view. At least one is a woman’s, and the other, a man’s. Some say I’m more adept at writing the male point of view. And speaking of characters, mine are a bit more grown up than some, with most ranging from their late thirties to early fifties. They’re not superhuman or stupendously sexy or heroic. They’re rarely virgins or too young to know better. They’re nice, normal, slice of life, girl or boy-next-door kind of people – believable, relatable, and loveable despite their flaws and shortcomings.

If you’ve read any of my novels, you can probably think of a few more reasons you enjoy my books and choose them over the millions of other options available to you. A friend of mine once said he never wanted to be accused of being normal. I’ve tried to apply this concept to every part of my life, whether my B&B, teahouse, art or writing. I don’t know if I’ve inspired anyone new to give my books a try, but I’ve enjoyed giving you a glimpse into what makes me and my books unique. To those who are already readers, or who have visited The Blue Belle Inn, my B&B and teahouse, thank you for coming along for the ride! It means the world to me.

P.S. If you’ve enjoyed one or more of my books like I hope you have – or visited the Blue Belle Inn, please remember that authors and innkeepers need reviews to attract prospective readers and guests!

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Twenty-six years ago, Sherrie Hansen rescued a dilapidated Victorian house in northern Iowa from the bulldozer’s grips and turned it into a bed and breakfast and tea house, the Blue Belle Inn. Sherrie grew up on a farm in southern Minnesota and has lived in Bar Harbor, Maine, Colorado Springs, CO, and Augsburg, Germany. She attended Wheaton College, Wheaton, IL. After 12 years of writing romance novels late at night when she couldn’t sleep, she met and married her real-life hero, Mark Decker, a pastor. Sherrie lives in 2 different houses, 85 miles apart, and writes on the run whenever she has a spare minute. With her Wildflowers of Scotland novels, “Wild Rose”, “Blue Belle”, “Shy Violet”, “Sweet William” and “Golden Rod”, she has ten books in print, most featuring a “second-chance-at-love” story. Sherrie enjoys painting, playing the piano with the worship team at church, photography, decorating historic homes, and traveling. You can learn more about her books by visiting  http://amazon.com/author/sherriehansen

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What Happens AFTER Happily Ever After by Sherrie Hansen

Have you ever wondered what happens after your favorite book comes to an end? We’ve all turned the last page of a novel, hoping and praying that there’s a epilogue, or as the musician in me likes to think of them, a postlude, so we can peek ahead and get a glimpse of what the future holds. I hate saying goodbye to characters I’ve come to love. Even better is that moment when you talk to your librarian or do a search online and find out there’s a sequel! If you’re like me, we’re talking overnight express time.

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For more than a decade, I’ve heard from readers who have wanted to know what happened to Jensen and Anders after Night and Day came to an end. They’ll be thrilled to know that now, the story goes on. I just finished a rough draft of Daybreak in Denmark, a sequel to Night and Day. It should be ready for release by mid-summer.

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In the almost, but not quite as good category, are cameo appearances by the characters of the previous book in the next. I love linking story lines together in my Wildflowers of Scotland books, although, much as we love getting reacquainted with old friends in a new book, it’s not the same as a true sequel. When old characters are resurrected in a new character’s book, they can’t be allowed to steal the show or take over the plot. After introducing Lyndsie, Rose’s teenaged niece, in Wild Rose, and bringing her back as a spunky young woman in Shy Violet, it was amazing to write her story in Sweet William. I knew Lyndsie so well by the time William came into her life – her background, her hopes and dreams, her foibles, her family – that the scenes in her point of view practically wrote themselves.

I also find that emotions evoked by familiar, beloved characters are deeper, richer, and have a greater capacity to draw us into the story. When readers learn that the same lovely breasts that captivated Pastor Ian, and made Rose something of a scarlet woman, have been invaded by cancer, we truly get it. We weep with Rose and grieve with Ian and pledge to support them both to the bitter end, just like Lyndsie did.

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Or maybe you didn’t want to know that Rose and Ian adopt her young, immature nephew’s child, who then decides, some years later, that he wants his baby, now toddler, back… maybe you prefer that Rose and Ian stay forever young, their hopes and dreams for a fairy tale future bright and shiny and untarnished for all time.

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I had similar feelings once upon a long time ago when I first read the Little House on the Prairie books. If the series had ended with On the Banks of Plum Creek – if I had never opened By the Shores of Silver Lake, I could have continued to imagine Mary’s beautiful blue eyes seeing the world around her, for years to come. But had I not read on and dealt with the heartbreak of Mary’s blindness, I would have missed out on all the pleasure I gained in reading The Long Winter, Little Town on the Prairie, and These Happy Golden Years.

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It’s no secret that rarely does anyone live happily ever after. When you turn the first page of a sequel, there are bound to be disappointments – romantic notions lost – along with the delight of seeing what old friends are up to. The important thing is, joy of joys, we get to turn the page and see what happens next! Does that mean the mystery is gone? If you’ve read Night and Day, there will be no wondering who Jensen is going to end up with when you begin reading Daybreak in Denmark. But her future, Anders’, Ed’s, her family’s – what happens next, beyond the pages of Night and Day – will still be a complete enigma.

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So read on! In a sequel, the complexities of first falling in love are replaced by trying to adjust to a new life and overwhelming changes – some good and some unwanted.  There may be disillusionment and disappointment. Things may or may not turn out the way you hope they will. Because, as Jensen soon finds out, the happily ever after endings that romance novels are famous for are, in reality, nothing but a fairy tale, and even if you have the most wonderful husband in the world, things don’t always turn out the way you hope, dream, plan, wish they will.

Intrigue, drama, conflict and black moments – they’re all there waiting for you in a sequel. But so does joy come in the morning, after even the blackest of nights. Even sequels can have happy endings.

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One reviewer called Night and Day “the thinking woman’s romance.” I can’t tell you what they’ll say about Daybreak in Denmark, but I can promise you it was thoughtfully written from a perspective of deep, abiding love for Minnesota, my home state, Denmark, my ancestral home, and the Jensen, Christiansen, and Westerlund families, my fictional first loves.

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A few days ago, at a funeral, a woman I didn’t know said in passing, “Keep those books coming! I love every one!” I nodded and smiled, because I fully intend to do just that – and something tells me she’s really going to love Daybreak in Denmark.

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A Good Man or a Bad Boy? by Sherrie Hansen

Sweet Man or Bad Boy – Who’s the Sexiest? Can a sweet man be sexy? The hero of a book?

Woman may pick a sweet man over a bad boy in real life, but in the books they read, it’s an established assumption that most women are attracted to the alpha male prototype. The alpha male demands, takes, plunders, and is strong, cocky and unyielding. The alpha male is a conqueror, a warrior, the stereotypical hero. As I think about men I most admire, I wonder why it is that women so often desire thrills over security; a sense of danger, excitement and adventure over someone who gives us comfort and protection. Is it true that women crave a man who acts aloof and indifferent instead of eager and polite? Is it a turn-off when a man lavishes a woman with attention or acts like a perfect gentlemen? Do women really prefer a bad boy whose lifestyle is a roller-coaster of excitement, rather than the steady positive force of a good guy? Why is it that women view sweet men as less-desirable and relegate them to a comfortable but dull status?

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In my new release, Sweet William, William is strongly male, but he’s wired with an intense desire to serve others. There are plenty of cranky servants out there, reluctant heroes who help others because they have to, or get paid to do it, or because they’d feel guilty if they didn’t. It’s questionable if these people are true servants, but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, especially since they often grow into the role, especially in a book, where all good characters have a growth arc. But William truly is a sweetheart.

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When Violet goes into labor, and all her help falls through, William changes his plans to help Lyndsie at Rabbit Hill Lodge. He sets aside his own wishes and desires when his mother needs him at home on the farm. He opens his arms to his brothers when they need help. William exhibits selfless behavior over and over again, from the moment he wishes Lyndsie would win their unofficial Chopped competition to the day in the haymow when he keeps his pants zipped despite the fact that Lyndsie is ready and willing.

What is it about a sweet man that can be a turn-off to some women?  A sweet man can be an introvert or an extrovert. He can be a powerful executive, or like William, a farmer. He can be rugged and masculine, or studious and intellectual. It’s less about looks or occupation, and more about a mindset, a world view that permeates everything he says and does. So why, despite the obvious advantages of being with a sweet man, do sweet men irk some women no end?

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Does the fact that those men are considerate and thoughtful make them weak, or less desirable? I think William is the sexiest hero I’ve ever written. And at the end of a long, tiring day, my husband is far more desirable to me than any alpha male. Maybe part of the reason I think sweet men are sexy is that I’m married to one. My husband is a pastor, and he not only serves his congregation, he serves me in hundreds of little ways through every day. I’ve always believed that for a man to be attractive to me, he has to be my equal at the very least – intellectually, spiritually, emotionally, physically. There’s nothing stronger, sweeter, or sexier, than a man who draws a warm bath for his exhausted lady at the end of the day, fixes her breakfast in bed, or takes care of the laundry or the kids or the dishes so his partner can relax, write, or have some time to herself.

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Many of my male characters tend to be caring men – Pastor Ian in Wild Rose, Michael St. Dawndalyn, the psychologist in Blue Belle, Nathan, the school teacher, in Shy Violet.  I’ve written a few alpha males – Anders in Night and Day, Tommy Love, the rock star, in Love Notes, and Clay Alexander in Merry Go Round. I adore them in their own way, especially toward the end of their character arcs.

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But there’s something about a sweet man, a man who puts others’ needs ahead of his own, that melts my heart. I hope William, Sweet William, will endear himself to you, too.

If you’re not sure how you feel, try reading Sweet William and see if you agree.

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Building Blocks & Construction Skills by Sherrie Hansen

We have to build our lives out of what materials we have. It’s as though we were given a heap of blocks and told to build a house. From Emily of Deep Valley by Maud Hart Lovelace

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I think of this quote often when I’m looking back at my life – and, when I’m starting a new book. My entire life has been a construction project – building up, tearing down, rebuilding, renovating, remodeling and even starting over one or two times when the foundation has been kicked out from under me. As the years go by, I’m getting close to the age when I need to start downsizing, and finding a house / life whose size and upkeep is more manageable.

Another quote from Maud Hart Lovelace’s Betsy and Joe says, The older I get the more mixed up life seems. When you’re little, it’s all so plain. It’s all laid out like a game ready to play. You think you know exactly how it’s going to go. But things happen…

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Things do happen – in life, and in our writing. Sometimes one mirrors the other. When I start a new book, I begin with a cast of characters who each have their own goals, dream, and motivations. They each have a past made up of previous experiences and encounters, loves and disappointments. More importantly, they have challenges, and problems, and people and things that threaten their well-being and threaten to keep them from their goals. I can plan exactly what I think should happen in a book, but at some point, the characters take over, pick up the building blocks I have strewn about, and write their own story. Ultimately, I can’t predict exactly what kind of house is going to get built in my books any more than I can my own life. It’s a good thing I like surprises, and that I’m a curious sort who loves to find out what lies around the next bend in the road.

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Twists and turns are part of the story. But bringing form and structure, color and life, and artistry and rhythm to the heap of building blocks is what a writer does. In writing, I work through my own problems, calm my anxieties, and find hope for the future. My wish is that you will do the same as you read my stories.

Like Maud said in Betsy’s Wedding,  Good things come, but they’re never perfect, are they? You have to twist them into something perfect.

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In my favorite Maud Hart Lovelace book, Heaven to Betsy, Betsy thinks, What would life be like without her writing? Writing filled her life with beauty and mystery, gave it life… and promise.

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Perhaps the magic of a good book occurs when a writer take an ordinary slice of life and turns it into a piece of art. In Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown, Maud Hart Lovelace wrote, Betsy was sitting in the backyard maple, high among spreading branches that were clothed in rich green except at their tips where they wore the first gold of September. In Betsy Tacy and Tib, It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

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I learned to look for the beauty in my own back yard when I read books like Maud’s, set in small Minnesota farming towns, when I looked at the sunset through the lens of my first camera, and when my hardworking family took time to visit Minnesota’s lovely state parks and campgrounds. I learned to appreciate beauty when we traveled across the United States and experienced the vastness of God’s handiwork.

Maybe that’s why I love what Maud wrote in Betsy-Tacy and Tib:  In silence, the three of them looked at the sunset and thought about God.

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I firmly believe that God is the Master Designer. Not only can God paint an amazing sunset, He knows what will happen in my life – has known all along – and in the books I write, even before I do. He gave me the building blocks and the skills to build a life that I hope will glorify him.

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My nephew, Luke, wanted me to play a game with me last week. We each drew a card which told us what we were supposed to build out of the pile of red, green, blue and yellow Legos in the game box. While I stumbled and fumbled around, and came up with something that only slightly resembled a frog, Luke’s creativity amazed me! It’s not just about the building blocks, it’s about the way we put them together.

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Whether you’re a writer or a reader, a musician, a quilter, a farmer, a painter, a pastor, or a poet, I urge you to thank God for the building blocks you’ve been given, the construction skills you’ve learned and acquired, and the creativity and instincts to build a beautiful house where you can thrive and grow.

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In my new release, Lyndsie thinks she knows how her life will go, when suddenly William comes into her life and causes a minor earthquake. When her carefully constructed house starts to tumble and things go from orderly to confused, she has to decide when and how to rebuild her days, and how and where she will spend them. Things are a mess. Nothing goes right…

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And to find out what kind of house Lyndsie builds – western ranch style or a wee Scottish boothie – you’ll have to read the book.

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Twenty-five years ago, Sherrie Hansen rescued a dilapidated Victorian house from the bulldozer’s grips and turned it into a B&B and tea house, the Blue Belle Inn. Sherrie and her husband, Mark, who is a pastor, divide their time between two different houses, 85 miles apart. Sherrie writes murder mysteries and novels whenever she’s not working at her B&B or trying to be a good pastor’s wife. Her contemporary romantic suspense novels include Night and Day, Love Notes, and Thistle Down, Wild Rose, Blue Belle, Shy Violet and Sweet William, her Wildflowers of Scotland novels. If you hadn’t already guessed, Sherrie’s favorite books (from way back when) are the Betsy Tacy books by Minnesota author Maud Hart Lovelace.

 You can see what’s Sherrie’s up to at: 

https://www.facebook.com/BlueBelleInn

 http://sherriehansen.wordpress.com/

www.BlueBelleInn.com or www.BlueBelleBooks.com

https://twitter.com/SherrieHansen

https://www.pinterest.com/sherriebluebell/

http://www.amazon.com/Sherrie-Hansen/e/B007YXQJ4W/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Sherrie’s new release is Sweet William. https://amzn.com/B01H2TUD3U

He’s a real sweetheart. She’s a wee bit tart. When Minnesota farm boy, William McKnight, and sassy Scot, Lyndsie Morris, are forced to work together in the kitchen of Rabbit Hill Lodge, the atmosphere is as charged as an episode of Chopped. Will someone get cut, or will they find a recipe that works? Things just start to get spicy when an angry bull butts his way into the picture, and Lyndsie has to decide if she loves William more than everyone and everything she holds dear.

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Castles, Kilts and Cows by Sherrie Hansen

I think by now, anyone who has followed my travels to Europe or read my Wildflowers of Scotland novels has figured out how I feel about castles and kilts. Although it’s a wee bit unusual to see a man in a kilt in the Midwest where I live, I saw an abundance of them at the Minnesota Scottish Fair and Highland Games earlier this month.

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Cows dot the hillsides and valleys all over the countryside in the rural areas of southern Minnesota and northern Iowa that I frequent – castles, not so much.

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While castles and kilts are one of the main reasons I set my most recent novels in Scotland, in Sweet William, I also came home to my Minnesota roots and Midwest connections. And the common denominator is the cow.

My first introduction to the Highlander breed of cows, commonly called Hairy Coo in Scotland, was 9 years ago at a B&B alongside Loch Ness.

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The owner hadn’t fed the coos their dinner for the day, so they were all gathered by the fence, waiting patiently, when we arrived to check in. When I started taking photos, she told me to pay close attention to how thick their hides were. She said they’d had heavy snow a few months earlier, during the cold of winter, and that the 7 or 8 inches that had accumulated on the backs of each coo during the storm stayed exactly where it fell for 2 or 3 weeks, until a stiff wind and warming temperatures finally blew and melted off their white winter coats. Their hides are so thick that not even their body heat melted the snow away. That was my first glimpse into why many hardy breeds of cattle come from the highlands of Scotland.

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I started watching for hairy coo wherever we drove from that point on, and included a scene with a toppled coo in Blue Belle. Michael St. Dawndalyn was embarrassed that he didn’t know more about coo even though he was from Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, deep in the heart of the dairy state.

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That’s only one of the Midwest Connections in the Wildflowers of Scotland novels. Although each of the characters in Wild Rose is native to the UK, beginning with Blue Belle, many of the main characters are from the Midwest.

Wisconsinite Michael and Virginia blue belle Isabelle are hiding out, hoping to escape their troubles by settling in a place far, far away from waging tongues and family dramas in their hometowns. When they discover that the world is a much smaller place than they’d thought, and it’s next to impossible to lose yourself in today’s electronic age, they end up back in the US to own up to the messes they were fleeing from.

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Both Violet and Nathan are from America, Nathan on a teacher exchange and Violet, on an ill-fated European Adventure. When they’re both haunted and very nearly destroyed by the past – despite their wish to create a new life for themselves in Scotland – they find that they’re made of stronger stuff than they’d once imagined.

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William, Michael’s cousin from southern Minnesota, appears at the very end of Shy Violet and steals the show with his buttery soft potato rolls and sweet Farm Boy BBQ sauce. The only one who’s not impressed is Rose’s niece, Violet’s friend, Lyndsie, who doesn’t like her meat – or her men – sweet. What happens next is like an episode of Chopped come to life, as sweet William and sassy Lyndsie spar in a charged cook-off.

Calamity strikes just when everything finally seems to come together, and on the other side of the globe, a whole new set of troubles present themselves.

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Scenes set in fictional Blue River, Minnesota and at the Minnesota State Fair will make Midwestern readers feel right at home. Fancy castle or farm house comfortable, there are quirky characters that readers can relate to in each of my Wildflowers of Scotland books.

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When I started researching cattle for Sweet William, I not only learned a lot about Highland cows, but French Charolais, and two other breeds that originated in Scotland – Belted Galloway and Aberdeen Angus. Without really intending it, cows became the unifying factor between Scotland and the United States.

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My nieces and nephew raise cattle and show heifers at their county fair in southern Minnesota, so I had expert advice to draw on. My niece, Victoria, educated me about the different personality traits of various breeds – which are skittish, gentle, or aggressive and likely to be mean, which have horns, and which are polled (hornless), which are able to withstand poor soil, rocky terrains and wet climates, and which produce lean meat and best care for their calves.

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When it comes right down to it, there are likely more differences in cattle than there are in people. Although living conditions, traditions and perspectives may vary from culture and country, I think human nature is pretty consistent from one part of the world to another. A reader recently wrote to me and said, “Boy, you know people. I have been practicing psychology and social work for 45 years and you must have been sitting in the office next to me. You know your stuff!” Whether I’m traveling in or writing about France, Romania, Germany, Denmark, or Scotland, I love observing interactions between people.

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I’ve been told by several readers that when I started writing my Wildflowers of Scotland novels, they missed the local color, familiar places, and quirky Midwestern characters from my first five books, which are all set in Minnesota or Iowa. If you doubt that people are the same everywhere, check out the church ladies in Wild Rose. In the meantime, I hope my local readers are pleased that Sweet William is partially set on a farm in Southern Minnesota. Wherever you’re from in the world, I hope you’ll feel “at home” when you’re reading my books.

SW 114

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The Bounce Back Project by Christine Husom

Last fall, two Minnesota cities and the surrounding areas, had the privilege of participating in a community-wide study—the first of its kind in the United States. It was due to the efforts of some forward-thinking individuals, and the support of the local medical community and other partners. The study was based on the research of Dr. Bryan Sexton, Associate Professor with the Duke University School of Medicine. It addresses resiliency and happiness, and is an on-going project.

According to the website, www.bouncebackproject.org, “The Bounce Back Project is a community initiative to promote health through happiness.” I’d encourage you to visit the website for a more complete look at the components of the project. For this article, I’d like to highlight a couple of things.

The first one is resiliency. Many of us live in a fast-paced world with too many demands. Being resilient enables us to be productive and optimistic which in turn helps our mental and emotional well-being. For me personally, when I’ve been in on-going stressful situations, I’ve had more trouble sleeping, I’m more susceptible to illness, and I’m more forgetful. And those issues often create a myriad of other problems. Learning and practicing resiliency is an important, healthy choice.

The website says, “Resilience is made up of five pillars: self awareness, mindfulness, self care, positive relationships & purpose.

“By strengthening these pillars, we in turn, become more resilient. Instead of experiencing an overwhelming downwards spiral when we encounter stress in our lives, these five pillars work together to lift us up out of the chaos we are feeling.”

Another important and fun component of the project is the “Random Acts of Kindness.”

Cited on the website, “Research has shown that performing an act of kindness produces the single most reliable momentary increase in well-being of any exercise that has been tested. We challenge you to find one wholly unexpected kind act to do — and simply do it!”

This past Christmas season, our city police officers handed out $50 and $100 bills, instead of tickets, to people. One woman’s story posted on the Bounce Back Project Facebook page went viral and was picked up by Twin Cities’ news stations. There are many other stories posted by people who received “Random Acts of Kindness” from strangers at grocery stores, or coffee shops, or drive-thru restaurants. There are lists of things to give you ideas on the website, along with the stories that were covered by Twin Cities’ news stations. Have a tissue handy when you watch them because they’re touching accounts.

A compliment, a note, or buying someone a cup of coffee, are easy kind things to do, and might make the recipient’s whole day. Or even his whole week. Imagine what a positive impact we’d see if more people and their communities would get involved in health and happiness initiatives. Think about it.

Christine Husom is the author of the Winnebago County Mystery Series.

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The Secret in Whitetail Lake, 3rd installment

The Winnebago County Sheriff’s Department has recovered an old Dodge Charger that had been at the bottom of Whitetail Lake for decades. This entry picks up where the last one left off.

I bent over close to Smoke so I could talk quietly. “Mother is going to freak out if it turns out to be your friends. And she’ll have a very good reason, for a change.”
Smoke lifted his eyebrows, wrinkling his forehead. “No doubt. Think of their families who have wondered all these years.” He straightened up and so did I.
“Oh my, yes.” Having a loved one disappear, never to be heard from again, was one of the most difficult things for a person to cope with. I glanced around at the sheriff’s department personnel who were on the scene and thought of the obvious one who wasn’t there. “I’m surprised the sheriff shown up.”
“Cindy hasn’t been able to locate him just yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“She called me during the towing process to let me know. Truth be told, it’s got me a little concerned.”
A shiver ran up my spine. “I’m sure he has a good reason for being wherever he is.”
Smoke’s shoulder lifted a couple of inches then he went back to his perusal. The other deputies made quiet comments about the car, the bodies. All were wondering how in the hell the car had ended up in the lake in the first place without anyone seeing it go in, or at least noticing damage from the tire tracks on the hill, or on the bank of the lake.
I walked over to where Zubinski and Ortiz were stationed and called them aside. “Go over and have a look, you two. It’s something we’ll never see again in our careers, I’m sure. At least I hope.”
They murmured their thanks and joined the others who were looking in and at the car from all angles. Mason had gotten his camera and was capturing the scene in still shots. The man who had asked Smoke for information earlier jogged over to me. “How long has that car been in Whitetail, and how did it get there in the first place?”
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Harry Gimler.”
“Mister Gimler, we don’t have any information to give out just yet.”
“People are wondering if there are bodies in that car, or why the deputies keep looking inside like there is.”
“There are doing a good visual sweep, and then we’ll take the car to our crime lab and see if we can get some good answers for when and why it went down.”
“I’ve fished in this lake for years, and you’re telling me all this time there was an old car sitting on the bottom.”
“We’ll do our best to figure all that out. In the meantime, if you’d be so kind to watch from over there.” I pointed to the guardrail. “It sounds like they’re ready to load the car on the flatbed.”
Gimler’s eyes darted from me to the Charger like he was considering whether he could make it to the car for a sneak peek before he was apprehended. Instead, he followed my directive and joined the group who was watching from afar.
When Zubinski and Ortiz returned from their look-see, I walked back to check the loading process.
Kyle pushed wheel ramps from the truck bed to the ground, and Ted adjusted them. “Let’s move the side winches back to get them out of the way,” he said and Ted jumped up on the truck to help him. They loosened the straps enough so they could accomplish the task. After the equipment had been repositioned, Ted jumped off the truck and the Charger was pulled up the ramp and onto the truck’s bed in no time, leaving behind more mucky water on the way.
Smoke addressed Warner. “Are you going out for another look around the lake?”
Warner blinked and his lips turned down at the corners. “Hmm. I hadn’t planned on it, but as long as I’m here, it may not be a bad idea.” It looked to me like he’d rather get off the lake. And the sooner the better.
“I was thinking you and the divers should go back where the car was sitting. You could check if there happened to be any other evidence. Most likely not after all this time, but who knows?” Smoke said.
Warner nodded and waved his hand back and forth at the divers. “We’ll need two of you to stay, in case we need your diving skills again.”
Mason and Weber volunteered to be the two. We all watched as the tow truck prepared for the journey back to the county shop where the Dodge Charger would be coaxed to give up every secret it had been keeping.
Smoke walked over to Kyle’s driver’s side window. “I’ll meet you at the shop.”
No one from the crowd of spectators moved until the tow truck was heading east on County Road 35. Harry Gimler puffed his way over to me. “Will you let me know what you find? I mean, it technically was on my property from the looks of it.”
“I will do that. I’m sure we’ll be talking to all the neighbors.”
His eyebrows squeezed together. “So you’re saying there was something in that car. Or someone.”
I smiled at his persistence, despite my intention not to. “Mister Gimler, I’m not at liberty to say anything about this investigation yet.”
He gave me a once over, taking in my street clothes, the Glock in its holster on the right side of my belt, and my badge clipped on next to it. “You look too young to be a detective.”
“I’m not that young and I’m not a detective. I’m Sergeant Corinne Aleckson.”
“I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen your picture in the paper.”
I didn’t enlighten him on the fact that I lived not far from there. It wasn’t that he was creepy. Exactly. He struck me as cagey more than anything, and I planned to look him up in our department arrest and calls for service files when I had a minute. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to shove off.”
I caught up with Smoke who was giving instructions to Zubinski and Ortiz. “You can get back on the road as soon as all the snoopers leave.”
“Will do,” Mandy said.
I nodded at the two deputies. “Thanks, Mandy and Joel for doing crowd control.”
“You bet,” Joel said. Mandy smiled then they headed to their squad cars.
I turned to Smoke. “I’ll meet you at the shop.”
“It’s your day off, little lady.”
“Not anymore.”

Christine Husom is the Second Wind Author of the Winnebago County Mystery Series

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The Secret in Whitetail Lake continued

The Winnebago Sheriff’s Department is preparing to recover an old Dodge Charger with skeletal remains from the bottom of Whitetail Lake. Detective Smoke Dawes suspects it belongs to someone he went to school with. Meantime, no one seems to know where the sheriff is. Sergeant Corinne “Corky” Aleckson is the narrator.

“Geez, Detective, let’s hope that’s not your friends down there,” Weber said and we all muttered muffled words of agreement.
“We’ve never had to recover a vehicle in that deep of water before. In my time here, anyway,” Carlson said.
“It’d be safe to safe we’ve never had to in the department’s history, period,” Warner said. “This is one of the deeper lakes in the county. And there’s no road access on that side. The car would’ve been down there another who knows how many years if not for the new sonar device. Apparently, no one knew there was a reason to dredge the lake back when these people went in.”
Smoke blew out a loud breath of air. “They’ve been down there long enough. Let’s get ‘em out and figure out who they are and what we’re dealing with.” He pulled his cell phone out of its holder. “Anybody get a hold of the sheriff?”
Warner shook his head. “I left him a message on his work number.”
“I’ll call his cell. We’ll need a tow truck with what, a hundred yards of chain?”
“About that. The divers will have to use due caution after they get the vehicle hooked on. It’s a dangerous operation.”
“No doubt.” Smoke looked at the divers. “When we recovered that truck from Bison last year, the one that went through the ice, were all three of you involved in that?”
“Yeah. That was a much easier deal, by far. It was only twenty-five or so feet out from shore in ten feet of water,” Mason answered for the group.
“That turkey shoulda known better than to park there with the thinning ice.” Weber was referring to the owner of the truck.
Smoke hit a couple of numbers on his phone. “Denny, it’s Dawes. Call me a-sap. We’re about to launch a recovery of that vehicle on Whitetail, and it appears there are the remains of at least two victims inside.” He ended the call. “Hmm. Sheriff must be in an important meeting. I’ll have communications locate us a tow truck with extra chain and connectors.” He made the call and answered Officer Robin’s questions of what we had found.
A few minutes later she called to let us know both Kyle and Ted, the owners of KT Towing, would be en route as soon as they loaded extra chain on their rig.
We all waited impatiently in the boat, taking turns staring at the image of the older model Dodge, the burial ground of two or more people. The combined anticipation warmed the air around us. Between that and the waterproof wetsuits, the three divers all had beads of sweat on their brows.
Three squad cars arrived on the scene within minutes of each other. Apparently the word had spread from communications to the road deputies like a hayfield on fire in the middle of a drought.
“Nothing like a mystery to bring out the troops,” Warner said.
Deputies Amanda Zubinski, Joel Ortiz, and Sergeant Leo Roth got out of their vehicles and gathered at the water’s edge.
“You need another diver?” Roth called out. “I got my gear in my car.” Roth was off-duty, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt.
“What do you think?” Smoke asked Warner.
Warner didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, suit up,” he called to Roth.
“Tim, when you go in for Roth, maybe you could pick up Zubinski and Ortiz. I’ll get off to make more room on the boat. I’m sure they’re dying to see what your new sonar discovered,” I said.
“I’ll do the same,” Smoke said.
“Why not? This is not your run of the mill find.”
Warner trolled in. Roth changed in his SUV, and got out carrying his fins, face gear, and tank. When we reached the bank, Smoke threw the rope to Ortiz who tied it on the post. Smoke climbed out of the boat and turned to help me onto shore.
“Zubinski, Ortiz, your turn. Hop aboard,” Smoke told them.
Neither of them would have asked for the chance to get a look at the underwater find, and their faces brightened like two kids seeing lights on a Christmas tree for the first time. They both nodded and climbed into the boat before Smoke changed his mind. Roth was right behind them.
Smoke looked at his watch. “Where in the hell is the sheriff?”
“Call Dina, maybe she knows.” I loosened the rope on the boat and threw it to Weber who caught it and pulled it inside.
He withdrew his phone and dialed. After a two minute conversation, he hung up. “She has no idea which is not like our little mother hen Dina.”
“No it’s not. I’ll call my personal mother hen and ask her.”
“Yeah, if Dina doesn’t know, Kristen should.”
My mother and the sheriff were engaged to be married sometime down the road. I figured they were waiting until all the stars and planets were perfectly aligned, whenever that was.
“Kristen’s Corner, may I help you?”
“Mother.”
“Corinne, I didn’t have my readers on, so I couldn’t see the number. What are you up to on your day off?”
“Oh, having a little adventure. I’ll tell you all about it, later on. Do you know where the sheriff—ah, Denny—is?”
“Denny? Why are you looking for him?”
“Smoke has been trying to reach him, and we thought maybe you knew his schedule, like if he had any appointments.”
“Why, no, I don’t. He should be at work at this time of day. I talked to him a couple of hours ago and I’m sure he would have told me if he had anything special planned.”
“I’m sure he would have. No biggie. We figured he’s tied up in a meeting. I’ll catch you later.”
“Bye, sweetheart. Stop by when you can.”
“Will do. Bye, Mom.” I pushed the end button. “Okay, that’s odd. Mother doesn’t know either.”
“I don’t think I’ll bug Dina again. She gets pretty worked up when it comes to keeping the sheriff healthy and safe. I’ll have Cindy do a little checking, and if she can’t locate him, I’ll try to raise him on the radio,” Smoke said.
A chill ran up my shoulder blades and down my arms. “I hope he’s all right.”
Smoke’s eyes captured and held mine. “Me too.”
He was still talking to Cindy when the towing team pulled up in their rig. The earth rumbled around us and the smell of diesel drifted through the air when they pulled to a stop and let the truck idle. Both Kyle and Ted climbed out and hurried over to us. Kyle was the half of the team who did most of the maintenance, and had grease permanently embedded in his cracked beefy hands. He was the taller and heavier one of the two. Ted was more on the wiry side. He was the one who responded to most of the calls, and gave the impression that time was money and the more efficiently he could get the job done, the better.
I pointed to where Warner and his boat crew were anchored. “That’s where the car we got to pull out is sitting.”
“Damn, that’ll be our biggest challenge we’ve ever had, huh Ted?” Kyle said.
Ted didn’t answer right away. He was deep in thought as he looked from Warner’s boat to the surrounding shoreline. “No good place for us to pull in to get closer. How in the hell did a car wind up over there?”
Smoke finished with his call and put a hand on Ted’s shoulder. “We called you because we figured you could handle the job if anyone could.”
“We’ll do our best, Detective,” Ted said. “Kyle, jump in the truck and I’ll guide you to where you’ll need to stop.”
“Not much of a landing.”
“Nope, but it’s what we got.”
“Detective Dawes on two.” It was Sergeant Warner telling Smoke to switch from the main radio band.
Smoke plucked the radio from his belt, turned the knob, and depressed the call button. “Go ahead on two.”
“We’re coming in, but we’ll wait ‘til KT is in position.”
“Copy.”
People driving by slowed down to check out the happening at Whitetail Lake. Others that had no pressing deadline, or particular schedule to keep, pulled off County Road 35 onto the shoulders of both sides of the road.
“This is turning into a three-ring circus,” I said.
Smoke shook his head slightly. “Barnum and Bailey.”
“The Ringling Brothers,” Ted added, surprising me. I didn’t think he had a sense of humor.
“People must be thinking there’s been a drowning,” I said.
“And they are most likely right. When the drowning occurred is yet to be determined,” Smoke said.
Kyle backed the rig closer to us and Ted jumped to attention. He held his left hand up and bent his fingers over and over in a ‘keep coming’ motion. Then he gave him the halt sign.
“I hope you got good brakes on that thing,” Smoke said.
“Something we test all the time,” Ted said.
Smoke’s phone rang. “It’s communications,” he said when he glanced at the display. “Hey. . . . Just tell them we found an object on the bottom of the lake and we’re retrieving it. . . . Yup. . . . Thanks.” He hit end and replaced his phone. “They’re getting flooded with phone calls wondering what we’re up to.”
Kyle joined us by the water’s edge as Warner and company reached the landing. “Detective?” Warner said.
“I’ll defer to you and your divers and the towing guys here,” he said.
“Excuse me, but can you tell us what’s going on here?” A middle-aged man with skinny legs and a round belly inched near the front of the tow truck and pointed to one of the houses at the top of the south side hill. “I live up there and own part of this lakeshore.”
“Sir, our water patrol spotted a large object on the bottom of the lake with his sonar, and we’re here to recover it. I’ll need you to stay clear of the area.” Smoke looked around at the other people crowding in and added. “All of you.”
The group shifted over to the guard rail on the inside edge of the road’s shoulder for a box office view of the action.
Smoke focused on the crew in the boat. “Ortiz, Zubinski, change of plans. I guess I’ll need you to do crowd control.”
They nodded then got out of the boat and walked to the front of the tow truck. “It was fun while it lasted,” Ortiz muttered under his breath.
Smoke lowered his voice to avoid being overheard by any of the bystanders. “Okay, Ted, Kyle, there’s an old Dodge down there. And as much as we have been able to check out, it appears it’s been a coffin for a pair of individuals for a long time.”
Kyle did a double take. “What’d you say?”
“Robin didn’t say there were people in there.” Wiry Ted rocked onto his tip toes.
“Unfortunately, about all that’s left is their bones,” Warner said.
“If it weren’t for that, we might not have made the decision for this risky of an operation. And we want to keep quiet about the bodies for the time being,” Smoke said.
Kyle’s face was solemn when he nodded. “Understood. We should have plenty of strap. We’ll get her in.”
Ted bounced from one foot to the other. “Why don’t you secure the hook in your boat and we’ll unwind the strap as you drive.”
“I’ll put two divers on each side of the vehicle to keep a close watch. It’ll be a slow process, but we’ll take as much time as we need to,” Warner said.
Smoke inclined his head toward the boat. “Corky, you go out with Warner. I’ll work on this end of it.”
I gave him a nod and climbed into the boat. Kyle turned on the hydraulic winch and slowly unrolled the strap. Ted grabbed it and walked it over to the boat where Weber took it and held on. “How much power does that baby have?” Weber asked.
“Pulling power of twelve thousand pounds,” Ted said.
“Whoa, no shit.” Weber turned to Warner. “Sarge, how many pounds you figure that car full of water down there weighs?”
Warner plopped a hand on the opposite forearm and tapped his fingers like he was counting. “Well. The car would be around four thousand pounds, two ton. Probably less. The water and silt inside of it? I’d guess there’s around two hundred gallons of water. No good idea about the silt, so let’s stick with the water weight. Who’s good at math?”
“Mason is,” Carlson said.
“A gallon of water weighs about eight point three pounds,” Warner said.
Mason nodded. “Right around sixteen-sixty.”
“So we’re looking at less than six thousand pounds combined weight of the vehicle and the water.”
“We’re okay then. We’ll have some resistance from the lake itself, but not that much,” Ted said.
“Let’s do it,” Warner said.
Smoke released his hold on the boat’s tie rope. Warner gave it some gas and moved slowly toward the site, unrolling the strap from the winch as he did. When the car came into view, he cut the engine. “Okay, I want two of you on each side of the car. Weber and Mason, you apply the hook to the undercarriage as close to the center as possible. Then get into position with your partner. We’ll move slowly to turn the vehicle from its current position facing west to the north.
“Oh, and divers, as an added caution: stay far enough back from the vehicle. If you get in trouble, your partner is there to help you. Signal ‘stop’ if you notice any part of the operation going south. Any questions, comments, concerns?”
“I got a comment. When they turn the car, it’s going to stir up all that muck on the lake’s bottom,” Mason said.
“Good point. We’ll go as slow as we can to minimize that. Okay, Roth you take the south side of the car, the driver’s side. Carlson, you take the north. Weber and Mason, make the connection then signal when you want us to start tightening the strap. When it’s taut, give us the ‘stop’ signal and we’ll wait until you’ve both moved out of the way until we start the tow. Weber, you’re with Carlson, Mason you’re with Roth. Drop the hook and let’s get this operation underway.”
Roth lowered the strap into the water, and then the four of them pulled on their face masks and jumped in. We watched the action on the screen. Weber and Mason worked for a while to attach the hook. When it was secured, Mason gave us the ‘okay’ sign to tighten the strap.
Warner depressed the talk button on his radio. “Six-eleven, Three-forty on two.”
“Go ahead on two,” Smoke answered.
“The hook is in place and we’re ready for a slow and easy shortening of the line.”
“Copy.”
“I’ll put my arm up when it looks like they’re getting close and drop it when the divers tell me to stop,” Warner added.
“We’ll be keeping a close watch.”
I held my breath and kept my eyes peeled to the screen. When it appeared the strap was losing the last of its slack, Mason waved his hand back and forth to signal ‘slow down’. Warner stuck his hand in the air then dropped it like a lead balloon when Mason’s hand shot up in the ‘stop’ signal. Ted’s reflexes were spot on. He halted the winch’s pull, but there was still a slight jerk on the car.
I blew out the rest of the air I’d held too long.
Weber and Mason joined their partners, and Warner spoke into his radio. “Six-eleven to Three-forty.”
“Six-eleven?”
“Let’s get the vehicle turned a quarter turn to the north. Nice and easy.”
I had an involuntary sharp gasp, making me seem like I was the tensest one on the scene. Watching other deputies in situations that held a high probability of danger was one of the most difficult parts of my job.
When the car moved, the dark cloudy bottom of silt rose and surrounded the car. It hung in the water like a dense fog. Ted had the hydraulic winch moving at a snail’s pace and it took a few minutes before the car was positioned facing north. I glanced up at Warner. Lines of sweat were running from his temples down the front of his ears to his neck. His jaw was set and his eyes were intently focused on the sonar screen. I wasn’t the only one on pins and needles.
“Breathe,” I said.
“Huh?”
“That’s what I have to tell myself when I’m tied up in knots.”
He gave a single nod, sucked in a breath then held up his hand for Kyle to proceed. He said, “Nice and easy,” into his radio.
“Nice and easy,” Smoke repeated.
The silt continued to be stirred along the way as the hydraulic winch was tightened and the old Dodge inched toward Whitetail’s north shore. Warner trolled behind and we maintained a close watch on the operation, especially on the divers who were visible even when clouds of rising lake bottom surrounded them. At the slow pace, it was still only a matter of minutes before the car was at the shoreline. It was not yet visible above the surface.
The divers surfaced and Warner steered the boat to the west of the car. “So far, so good,” Warner said. “Bottom here is right around eight feet.”
Smoke and Ted moved to the water’s edge and looked down. Kyle jumped off his flat bed truck and joined them. He craned his neck both right and left, apparently assessing the situation. “I’d feel better if we’d get some guiding straps around it. It’d be less likely to twist and turn, maybe flip over.”
Ted agreed. “You divers okay with that?”
They all were.
Kyle fished around in a large stainless steel storage bin in the back of the truck and found the equipment he needed. He carried the straps and hooks to the edge, said, “Heads up,” and dropped them on the ground near Ted’s feet.
Ted picked up a strap by the hook at the end and handed it to Mason. “If you can attach this to the undercarriage behind the left front wheel.” He gave the second strap to Weber. “And this one to the right side.” The two deputies went down with the hook ends of the straps and completed their task in no time. Ted gave Kyle the loose ends which he fed into two smaller hydraulic winches on opposite sides of the truck bed. He wound them until they were taut and ready for tugging action, then paused the winches.
My stomach muscles were as tight as the towing straps when Ted said, “We’re ready to bring her out. I want everyone to move to either side of the truck when she reaches the surface. We’ve never had a strap break, and she should be fine, but a guy can never be too careful in an operation like this.”
Kyle nodded and waited for the four divers to get out of the way before he continued. He fussed with the settings on the winches then started them up from one to the next in a seamless move. Warner turned his video camera on the landing and hit ‘record’.
Smoke was standing as close to the edge as was safe. He looked at me with what felt like a pleading expression. I wanted to take him in my arms and hold him while the car was released from the lake that had been its burial site for too long. What I read on Smoke face told me he was convinced his missing friends from all those years back were about to be found. I managed a weak smile and folded my hands. He blinked his eyes in response and turned his attention back to the vehicle that was emerging from the deep.
Every one of us gasped. We couldn’t help ourselves. Warner reached over and grabbed my forearm, reminding me he was there. But I didn’t take my eyes off the old blue water and silt-filled Charger that surfaced, aided by the best equipment available. When most of the vehicle had cleared, water and muck began draining as it was guided onto the bank.
I was drawn back to Smoke and his reaction. He closed his eyes, bent his head, and stroked his forehead with the fingers of one hand for a moment. He was perhaps saying a prayer. I had been praying throughout the whole operation.
Kyle stopped the winches and we all were dumbstruck. Smoke, Ted, and the divers slowly approached the car knowing it was a coffin holding the remains of at least two people, and peered in the car windows. Each one of them stared, but not one audible word spilled from their mouths. We had all be been cautioned to keep quiet about the discovery for the time being.
“Let’s dock,” Warner said at a near whisper. He pulled up to shore and signaled Weber who was closest to the landing post. Warner threw him the rope and when the boat was secure, we climbed out.
My legs were shaky, like I’d been on board for days. I wobbled over to Smoke’s side and caught his hand in mine to offer a brief comforting touch. We squeezed each other’s hand then released them before the others noticed.
“This is definitely a first for us.” Kyle was the first to break the silence. It was a first for all of us.
New people arrived and moved near the near the front of the truck, craning their necks in an effort to see what they could, before Ortiz and Zubinski yelled for them to get back. Someone standing by the guard rail yelled they had a good vantage point, and the newcomers moved there, making crowd control an easier job for Zubinski and Ortiz.
I leaned over and stared into the Charger. I had my second involuntary gasp of the morning. Two skeletons were in the front seat of the car. One was half lying on the other, making it appear he or she was shielding the other. More likely, since there was no evidence of attached seats belts, the bodies had ended up that way from the plunge into the water. But if that hadn’t killed them, they must have embraced when they knew they were trapped.
I followed Smoke as he started on a visual tour of the rest of the vehicle. “Smoke?”
“I am ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain this is Tommy Fryor’s Charger.” His face was solemn as he leaned closer to the passenger window and squinted against the sun.

Christine Husom is the Second Wind author of the Winnebago County Mystery Series

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Wildflowers in Winter by Sherrie Hansen

Christmas - peacock 

I woke up this morning filled with sweet memories of a Merry Christmas spent with my family, prepared to do a “Twas the day after Christmas” blog, but then I looked outside.

Blu Belle winter tiny

Here in North Iowa and Southern Minnesota, we’ve had a lot of snow and below zero temperatures already this winter. The forecast HIGH for Tuesday is -2 below zero. Don’t even get me going on wind chills – they were – 25 and -30 a few days ago and forecast to dip as low or even lower next week.

Zion 2013 snow view

Can you blame me for wanting to take a little trip to summertime?

Flowers - strawberry  Duluth - close

I’m deep into Shy Violet, the third of my Wildflowers of Scotland novels, and almost ready to do edits on Blue Belle, the second, and relishing summertime on the Isles of Skye and Mull.  When I can’t remember the sights and smells of summer, I look at my photos and dream of warm days and starry, summertime nights and write on. It’s fun to escape to a landscape filled with wildflowers and green grass. Some people take a vacation to the south of France or Florida or the California coast. I get lost in a book set in the summertime.

Sporing - bluebells

My favorite wildflowers are those that I find growing in front of a picturesque sight like a castle or an old church, a lake or ocean, a stunning mountain, or even those that grow in the front yard of my B&B, the Blue Belle Inn. If I were a wildflower, that’s where I would plant myself.  Life is short. It’s good to get outside and enjoy the views as often as you can.

203 Scotland St. Andrews  Duluth - lupine

Wildflowers take root wherever they can find a toehold.  They’re persistent and determined and slightly stubborn, just like me. Many of them survived the last ice age. That’s tenacity!

197 Scotland - Flowers in Stone  201 Scotland -- Fence

Wildflowers grow in a wild tangle of disarray. Although I try to make myself tidy up my house on a regular basis so it looks like a photo shoot from Beautiful Home magazine (in case my mother should drop by unexpectedly), it more often looks like a tornado just touched down. The truth is, I’m just not into neat, regimented gardens planted in straight rows a specific number of inches apart. I’m more of a wildflower and always have been.

Ely - Thistle   WI2 - Thistle

The heroines of my Wildflowers of Scotland novels – Wild Rose (Rose),  Blue Belle (Isabelle), and Shy Violet (Violet) – are all prone to living their lives in unconventional ways. They don’t like to be fenced in. They know how to make the best of a bad situation – to bloom where they’re planted despite that fact that the weather and soil and growing conditions are less than ideal. They get trampled on and they bounce back.  They’re true glories of nature. 

Grace Corner - Bleeding hearts 2

Thanks for taking a brief trip to summertime with me.  I hope you’ve enjoyed the green scenery, warm breezes, and raindrops on roses.

175 Scotland - Cambo gardensraindrops  Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00023]  Love Notes Cover - Final

NOTE:  If you refuse to get in the summertime mode, you can go read Love Notes – it starts as autumn is changing to winter and ends on Christmas Eve. It takes place in Embarrass, MN, the coldest place in America.  If you’re in the mood for a good winter read, this is it. Google Embarrass, MN on Tuesday and see how warm it is up north! It’ll make you thankful for whatever temperature it is where you are. As for me, I’ll be cozied up, dreaming of roses and bluebells and violets, waiting for summer to return.  Merry Christmas!

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