The Many Faces of Basil

My article earlier in the week on Basil received an overwhelming response - thank you so much to all my readers. One reader asked for more information on the different varieties of Basil, so check out my article on the 6 most common varieties of Basil grown in the Bluegrass at Examiner.Com.

Dark Opal Basil

Death of the Judge Executive

Here is the beginning of a new short story. This story has nothing to do with any person, living or dead. This story came to me in a dream, hence the Alice in Wonderland artwork.

(Art by Ivy Coyote)


Death of the Judge Executive

After many trips to the Merit County Courthouse, Claren had learned the names of several people who held grudges against the County Judge Executive, Hank Leonard Riley, Leo to his friends. Of course, none of them hated the judge more than Claren did, and she had plans to do away with him as quickly as possible, but she had to decide who would pay for the crime.

Of the five people who held grudges against Judge Leo, there were two who had caused problems for Claren – Larry Linkirk, her ex-boss at the Quick and Go convenience store and Karen Manard, an ex-cheerleader from high school whom Claren had always disliked. One of these two people would end up arrested for killing Judge Leo, but which one?

Because Judge Leo lived on a large farm near the county line, Claren knew this one would have to be a long distance killing, probably with a sniper rifle, so this cut out Karen. Karen “the cheerleader” Manard was a prim and proper lady and had probably never shot a handgun in her life, much less a high powered rifle. This meant Larry would finally pay for all the late night hours and sexual harassment he had put Claren through in the two years she worked at the Quick and Go.

Getting the high powered rifle was no problem. Six years ago when she started planning her murders, Claren had broken into her ex-husbands house and stole several guns. As far as she knew, no one had ever been charged with stealing from her ex, Lonnie, which made her use of the guns even more special.

Claren lived in a quiet rural neighborhood just outside the city limits of Harmony, Kentucky, and the major city in Merit County. Although she wasn’t particularly friendly with her neighbors, she did have enough sense to wave "hi" and "bye" – no use drawing undo attention to her if she could help it.

She didn’t keep any incriminated items in her hole, oh no, Claren was much too smart for that. But, if police agents were to discover the underground bunker at the back of her one-acre lot, she would be in a lot of trouble. Claren had bought the house in the year after her divorce. To help her get over the anger and hostility, she started digging a hole in the backyard. It started out as a koi pond, but quickly manifested into something else.

Every evening after work, Claren would go out into the backyard and dig for several hours. One wheel barrel full at a time, sdug and then hauled the soil to the front yard to make raised beds for her flowers. At first she was only able to dig and haul two to three wheel barrels at a time, but every day she was able to increase her work by one or two barrels.

In time, the bunker was 12 feet deep by 10 feet wide – not big enough to live in, but certainly big enough to hide things. And hide things she did: potassium chloride vials and syringes, rat poison, knives of all shapes and sizes, guns and rifles and all forms of ammunition; also duct tape, rope, gas containers and various odds and ends.

The bunker had a trap door and was covered with a piece of artificial turf. The turf served as a platform for a miniature golf course Claren had constructed in the backyard. She had family and friends over quiet often for cookouts and games, and no one had every discovered her little secret. She took great pleasure in flaunting her secret in front of the people she knew.

Now Claren had to decide the appropriate time to kill Judge Leo, and figure out what evidence she could steal and plant to incriminate good ole Larry. This should be fun.

"Birthers" Need to go Back to the Fringe

Eight months after the election of President Obama, the right "fringe" of the Republican party is still claiming he was not born in the United States. I am just about sick of all this nonsense. This myth - and it is a myth - has been debunked by numerous respectable sources, but the fringe keeps marching on.

President Obama was born in Hawaii in 1961 - there is a birth certificate and a newspaper with his birth announcement. Obama was in the Senate for 2 years before running for President - do they really think no lawyers checked him out thoroughly?

Fact Check.Org debunked this myth back in August 2008.

Snopes.Com debunked this myth back in October 2008.

According to the Library of Congress, on Monday, July 27, 2009, the United States House of Representatives, by a 378-0 vote, passed House Resolution 593 stating, “The 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama, was born in Hawaii." This vote also included REPUBLICANS.

Daylilies

I love Daylilies! Check out my article on Daylilies at Examiner.com.

Up and Coming Kaleb Nation

I just got my hot little hands on the most anticipated young adult book this fall: BRAN HAMBRIC: THE FARFIELD CURSE by Kaleb Nation. My advanced review copy came in the mail on Friday, and I have already drived in with both eyeballs!

"In a bustling metropolis where magic is outlawed, a six-year-old child is found inside a locked bank vault. A scrap of paper reveals his name: Bran Hambric. The child remembers nothing of his life before the vault. Only magic could have done this. But why would any mage risk breaking the law to place a child in a bank vault?

Eight years later the City of Dunce has forgotten about Bran. Even his foster parents don't seem to know he exists. But there are those who have been watching, biding their time, waiting to strike, people who know where Bran came from and why he was sent away. And they will do anything to get Bran back, dead or alive…

Welcome to a world unlike any other where the adventure of a lifetime is just beginning." (From Amazon.Com)

Check out the talented Kaleb Nation on his offical blog, KALEB NATION, or on the official website, Bram Hambric.

Book will be available September 9th, but a huge blog tour will beginning during the middle of August. Watch for upcoming reviews and interviews.

What's blooming around the Bluegrass ... ?

... this week it is the Golden Rain Tree. Check out my article on Examiner.Com.

What's Growing in the Herb Garden

Check out my new series of articles about "What's growing in the herb garden." The first article is about SAGE and can be read at Examiner.Com.

Happy Birthday ...

... I just want to take a moment to wish my youngest daughter a

HAPPY 17TH BIRTHDAY ! ! !

Christine Nicole was born on this date, 17 years ago at 9:10 in the morning. Even though she was 5 weeks early and only weighed 5 lbs. 10 oz., she has been the love of our life.

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart, we love you bunches!

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Friend Has Book Published

Congratulations to my good friend, Tony Sexton, for the publication of your new book, SCRAPS. Tony is the leader of The Community of Mercer County Writers and has lead several writing workshops in the community.

Many writers have said they never knew when an idea or inspiration might hit them and I am no different. Often I find myself considering an idea with no means of jotting it down. Usually I have a pen but, more often than not, I don't have a notebook handy. The only solution, in these cases, is to use what ever I can find; a napkin, box top, grocery receipt or an envelope. The title of this first collection, Scraps, comes from this dilemma. I began writing in the fifth grade when is teacher, Miss Castle, gave me writing challenge using the word “compulsion”. Since then I has spent over 20 years writing, leading writing workshops, which are designed for all ages and experiences and trying to complete her assignment. I am a member of The Community of Mercer County Writers and president elect of The Kentucky State Poetry. You can find my writing in The Journal of Kentucky Studies, Jar and several magazines including Good Old Days. I live in Mercer County with my wonderful wife, Cheryl and their dog, Mercy.

SCRAPS is available from Amazon and Wasteland Press

Jade and the Boarding House

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives)

JADE AND THE BOARDING HOUSE

Jade stood in front of the house, her black almond shaped eyes squinting up at the fading yellow siding. 2317 South Olin Drive - this must be the place, she thought.

Since arriving to Earth two weeks ago, Jade had been living in a local motel, a ratty little place out by the waterfront. She had been trying to blend in and not draw attention to herself, but her choice of living accommodations had had the opposite effect. All the Earthlings she had met so far couldn't understand why she was living in such a bad neighborhood in such a bad place.

She had been given the name of a boarding house a few miles away, so now Jade was standing in front of the 3-story house. It was unimposing and actually looked shabbier than the rest of the houses on the quiet street, but she had been assured that Mrs. Maple Mills was a respectable woman with a respectable boarding house.

Jade opened the creaky black iron gate and stepped onto the cracked sidewalk, closing the gate behind her. On the wide front porch, she surveyed the neat flower pots, the wicker porch furniture and the wicker swing hanging in the far corner. Looks like a quiet place to rest and think, Jade mumble under her breath.

Standing before the double front door, Jade rang the glowing doorbell and heard the harsh ringing from deep inside the house. When no one immediately answered the door, Jade rapped on the peeling green door face and then stepped away from the door.

"Just a minute - I'm coming! I'm an old woman - give me a chance to get there." The voice got louder until the front door finally opened.

"Give me a break, young lady! I'm not as spry as I used to be," said the plumb lady in front of her. Jade tried to suppress a laugh. Of all the photographs of Earthlings she had seen during her training for the Earth mission, Jade had never seen such a woman. Coming up only to Jade's shoulders - when Jade had her glamour in full force (without her glamour, the woman would only come up to Jade's belly button) - this petite, chunky woman gave off aura of maternal love. It was oozing from her pores and Jade immediately felt at ease.

"Pretty young thing - you must be Jade. Come in, come in. Hectore Raynes told me you might be showing up." Hectore was the coffee shop owner where Jade had eaten her breakfast every day since arriving to Earth. "He said you were a sweet young thing and I wouldn't be sorry for taking you in. I'm Maple Mills, of course - just call me Maple. What brings you to San Francisco?"

"I'm taking a year off from college to see the world," was Jade's rehearsed reply. She had been given enough Earth money to sustain her while on her 10 year mission, so having a convenient cover story warded off any unnecessary questions.

"And what's brings you to our fair city?" Maple had the eyes of a hawk, and Jade got the impression this woman would immediately know if she were lying.

"I ... I've heard a lot about San Francisco. There's lots of opportunity to observe the arts and try to decide what I want to do with my life." Jade looked the woman in the eyes, willing her to believe the story.

"Hmmm - you're not a street walker, a prostitute - I won't abide by that kind of behavior in my home. No, sir, I run a respectable boarding house." Maple put her plumb hands on her amble hips.

"No, ma'am! I have a small trust from my parents, and I'll be looking for work," said Jade, reciting the cover story. "Respectable work, ma'am - I promise."

"Well, you seem to be telling the truth. But if I find out otherwise, I'll toss you out faster than you can say 'Bob's your uncle'. You got that?" She stabbed a pointed finger into Jade's chest and it was all Jade could do not to recoil in fear.

"Y ... ye ... yes, ma'am. I understand," stammered Jade.

"Good! I think we're going to get along just fine. Come on, I'll show you your room." Maple turned and headed up the narrow staircase, and Jade followed.

This was the being of a long relationship that would last the entire time Jade was on Earth.

Blackberries, Blackberries ...

... are coming into season - yummy! Check out my new article on Examiner.Com.

Posie Opossum’s First Day of School

I recently had someone ask about the stories I used to write for my children when they were little. I used to write all types of short stories for the girls, but I hadn't thought about them in years. After digging through file after file, I found one series of stories about a character named Posie Opossum - there are probably 7 to 8 stories I've written about this character. It has been so long since I wrote them, the only copies I have are the original type written pages. I'm now in the process of entering these stories into a computer program. Here is the first story I ever wrote about Posie Opossum - it was for my oldest 2 daughters - my 17 year old had not been born yet!

(Photo by Victor Fowler)

Posie Opossum’s First Day of School

Posie Opossum was a cute little five-year-old opossum who lived in the woods with her mother, father and two brothers, Opie and Larry.

Today was Posie’s first day of kindergarten and she was a little scared.

“Come along, Posie. You need to eat your breakfast before I walk you to school,” said her mother.

Opie and Larry were already at the breakfast table. Larry was blowing bubbles in his milk again. Opie was talking with his mouth full.

“Yeah, Posie, you’d better eat. All you get at school is bread and water. Ha! Ha!” laughed Opie.

Mother looked at Opie and scolded, “Now, Opie, don’t tease your sister. She’s scared enough as it is.”

“Kindergarten kids are such babies!” said Larry. “They’re always crying on the playground.”

HONK! HONK! The school bus pulled up in front of the Opossum home.

“Boys, hurry up! The bus is here. Don’t forget your backpacks.” said Mother as she kissed them both on top of the head.

“Yuck, mom, I’m ten years old. I don’t need my mother to kiss me goodbye,” said Larry.

“Yeah, mom, neither do nine year olds,” added Opie.

And with that, both boys ran out the door and hopped up the steps of the big yellow school bus. Because the boys went to a school across town, they had to ride the bus. Posie’s new school was within walking distance of the house, so she would be walking to school.

Posie finished breakfast, and then Mother brushed her long yellow hair and put a pretty red bow in it. Posie was dressed in her new “first day of school” dress.
Mother and Posie then went out the front door and headed for school. As they approached the little brick schoolhouse, Posie’s tummy began to feel funny. She hid behind her mother’s skirt. As they entered the brightly colored kindergarten room, Posie clung even tighter to her mother.

“Hello there. I’m Mrs. Sally Foxx. I’ll be your teacher. Welcome to kindergarten!” Mrs. Foxx was the most beautiful teacher Posie had ever seen, even if she was the only teacher Posie had ever seen. Mrs. Foxx had pretty red hair and dimples in her cheeks when she smiled.

“What’s you name, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Posie,” said Posie.

“Well, hello Posie. Welcome to my class. Why don’t you and your mom come in and look around. Maybe you would like to meet some of the other boys and girls?” Mrs. Foxx lead them into the room.

There was a little boy playing on the keyboard. His name was Harold. There was a little girl playing fireman. Her name was Susie. Wanda was playing dress-up and Matt was finger painting.

Slowly, Posie let go of her mother’s skirt. She picked up a feathered hat and put it on her head.

“Hi, my name is Wanda. What’s yours?” said the little girl playing dress-up.

“My name’s Posie. Can I play with you?” asked Posie.

Posie and Wanda began to play house. Matt soon joined them, and before long, Posie was having a wonderful time. She had forgotten all about being scared.
Posie’s mother was talking with the teacher. Finally, she gave Posie a kiss on the head.

“Mama,” said Posie.

“What dear?”

“I’ll never be too old for you to kiss me. Will you be here to walk me home from school?”

“Yes, dear,” replied Mother. “I’ll be here when the bell rings.”

“I love you, Mama,” said Posie, and she skipped back over to the dress-up area and began to play with her new friends.

Collecting Seeds ...

.... not only helps your current flowers, but it gives you a jump start on next year's flowers. Check out my article on Examiner.Com.

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Kidnapped

This is a new short story I've started sketching out. The working title is Kidnapped, but I'm looking for a catchier title.



KIDNAPPED

Angel looked at the faded newspaper clipping with complete awe and fascination. This could not possibly be right. Who was this little girl? She turned on the desk lamp to see the pale newsprint and reread the words for yet another time.

Returning home from her birthday party, Angelina Cooper, who had just turned 2, was reported missing from her South Beach, Florida home. The child was last seen in the car seat of her family’s 1969 Camaro Convertible which was parked at the 7-Eleven on 5th and Forest Street. Susan Cooper had parked in front of the convenience store on Christmas Eve and went inside for a gallon of milk, leaving little Angelina asleep in the backseat. When Mrs. Cooper returned to the car, the back passenger door was open and the toddler was gone. There are currently no suspects or leads in this case. If you have any information about missing Angelina Cooper, contact local police. The child was last seen wearing ......

Out of everything in Mama's scrapbook, why would she keep a news clipping like this? Who was this little girl? After her mother’s death, it had taken Angel six months to finally have the energy to pack up her mother’s keepsakes, and she had saved the scrapbooks for last, knowing they would invoke painful memories. When she started going through one of the oldest books, the scrap of newspaper had fallen out, apparently left loose instead of being glued to one of the many pages.

Angel looked closer at the paper and blanched when she saw the date: December 26, 1970. If the little girl was two when she went missing, that would make her almost the same age as Angel – they would have both been born in 1968.

Angel thumbed through the other clippings in scrapbook, but there were no other unusual items, only page after page of Angel’s happy childhood. She stopped at a clipping of a little girl of six sliding down the curved sliding board. This had been an ordinary day and her mom had taken her to the park near their home in Springfield, Illinois, which was their habit every afternoon before nap time. This particular day had been the first pretty day of spring, and a reporter from the local paper, The Sentinel Times, had been getting candid shots. Mom had not been happy about having her daughter’s picture taken, but since it was a public park, there wasn’t much she could do. The picture of Angel, without her name, had been in the next day’s paper. Two days later, they had moved to Ohio.

Angel closed the scrapbook and picked up the manila envelope she had found in her mother’s underwear draw. She opened it and pulled out the contents: birth certificate, social security card, and a few other important papers identifying Angel. She held the birth certificate up to the light and that’s when something looked odd. Holding the certificate up closer to the light, she turned it over from front to back several times. There was no watermark on the birth certificate.

Although Angel had been born in Alabama and she didn’t know much about Alabama birth certificates, but she was almost sure that every certificate needed to have a watermark to be legal. Then she started going over the information line by line.

Name, Angel Leeann Whitenack; mother, Connie D. Whitenack; father, unknown. It was true that Angel had never known her father, and her mother refused to even discuss him, saying only that he had left her when she turned up pregnant. Birthplace, Mason, Alabama; birthdate, December 24, 1968.

Wait a minute, mumbled Angel. My birthday isn’t December 24 – that’s Christmas Eve. My birthday is October 6th. This can’t possibly be right.