February

     

 

 

 

    Another week and the second month of the year will be gone. February is the month which for some is filled with romantic moments. 

    The fourteenth being St Valentine's, just in case you didn't know and if we have a leap year, ladies can propose marriage to a man. Personally, I think anyone can propose marriage to their love anytime they want. But who am I to down the tradition that originated in Ireland?

    Here in Tenerife, Canary Islands, it's a very important month on the calendar, the fact being that the capital, Santa Cruz holds the second most internationally known carnival in the world. UNESCO, recognized  it's cultural importance and awarded it, Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2017.

    February,  I feel is the month when winter is still hanging around, waiting around to catch the next bus out of town. Even although the temperature here in the Canaries is warmer than in Scotland, winter does have a bite, on occasion. What does the month mean to you, if anything?

 

    The poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote a poem about an afternoon in February and what it meant to him, so I've included it today.

 

 Afternoon in February

 

 

The day is ending,

The night is descending,

The marsh is frozen, 

The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes

The red sun flashes,

On village windows. 

That glimmer red.

The snow recommences.

The buried fences, 

Mark no longer, 

The road over the plain.

 

While through the meadows,

Like fearful shadows.

Slowly passes a funeral train.

The bell is pealing. 

And every feeling,

Within me responds

To the dismal knell.

Shadows are trailing,

My heart is bewailing,

And tolling within,

 Like a funeral bell.

 

   

Hyperlink to Lost Souls (Extract 2)

 

   “Dan, I have no idea what’s happening to us. We’re in some kind of cave. I have no explanation,” says Stan in bewilderment. 

    “And you told me not to panic.”
    “Yes I did, but there shouldn’t be a cave here. I can’t tell you off the top of my head how many times I’ve driven this route, it must be hundreds but there is no cave here.”

     We’re being shaken and not stirred inside the cab of Stan’s Coronado. Thank God for the clever guys who invented the seat belt. If we weren’t strapped in, we would be tossed around like rag dolls.

     Snowy’s mouth as you can imagine, is very dark. Monsters like this guy, or gal don’t have lights installed. I think the cougar is a guy though because no girl could be so ug— Girls are gorgeous. I think I’ve said that once before about someone, or something. But I can’t remember when.

    Luckily for us, the truck’s headlights and spotlights are shining light on our surroundings. Did I say luckily? Yep. I know I did, but sometimes I’m a bit of a nitwit to say the least. Why am I a nitwit? Well, if it was too dark to see, I wouldn’t see his jagged teeth, imitating stalagmites and stalactites. Remember, mites go up and tites come down. Naughty. OMG. I’ve never seen a cavity that size in a tooth; we could go potholing in it. It resembles the Linville Caverns in North Carolina. I have no idea how I know that, but I do. Stan has kept the wipers on in an effort to clear the thick, slobbery stuff that’s splurged across the windscreen. Yuck!
    “Hold on for dear life!” shouts Stan.
    He probably should have said ‘grim death’ in my case. We’re sliiiding, sliiiding along Snowy’s tongue and bouncing—bong, bong—off his soft palate. There’s an even bigger cavern up ahead and we’re heading towards it. It’s called his throat. Wooo, we’ve came to a sudden stop. I think we’ve jack-knifed across his throat and I think we’re hooked onto his uvula. How do I know? Trust me, I just know. Your mind is getting worse. You thought I was being rude just now. FYI, the uvula is the wiggly, dangling bit at the back of the throat. If it wasn’t for that fleshy, flapping piece, we’d be tumbling down into the pit of his stomach. The ‘Great Abyss’ of the cougar.
    “Dan, this is no time to be playing around on your gizmo,” says Stan.
    What he doesn’t know is that I’m sending out a celestial SOS. Just in case my prayers are being blocked by some other force.
    “It’s my way of keeping calm.”
    “Whatever. Maybe I could get a loan of it sometime real soon. Because I’ve never been so scared in my life,” says Stan.
    “Hick, hick, hick.” Snowy has started to hiccup. Whoa, we need earplugs. The noise is echoing all around us. We can’t cover our ears because we’re holding on tight!
    Whoaaa! We’re on the move again; we’ve been dislodged from Snowy’s uvula. We’re shooting forward away from his throat, then back toward it again. With each hick, we’re simulating the ball in a pinball machine. Plunk, plunk, plunk.                                                        

     “Aaagh!” Stan and I shout simultaneously. We’re heading straight for Snowy’s gnashers.     

     Smash. We slide forward in our seats. The smashing sound was the truck hitting Snowy’s decaying front teeth. Away we go; we’ve crashed straight through them.The truck is now skidding across the ice road again. Snowy has disappeared, as quickly as he appeared and the opening in the road’s surface has closed over. Stan wrestles with the steering; sweat is dripping from his brow. We’re slowing down. Sloow, sloow. It’s as though everything is happening in slow motion. Praise the Lord, we’ve stopped.

    “Well done, Stan,” I say.

    My new comrade shrugs his shoulders and says, “I did nothing. I think a miracle just happened.”
    “Take the credit for that good piece of driving.”
Phew, thank goodness that little ordeal’s over. I e-mailed Mickey, thanking him for the celestial intervention and he replied, I’m glad I could be of help. I bet he’s not as glad as I am.
     “Are you okay?” asks Stan.
     “Yes, I don’t think there’s any damage.”
     Stan pulls the fur-trimmed hood of his jacket up to cover his head and says, “I’ll be back in a moment. I need to look her over.”
     “Sure thing, take care.” I watch him raise his scarf up over his mouth to save him from inhaling the ice-cold air outside. He winks at me and opens the driver’s door; he keeps a tight grip of the handle as the wind tugs at it hard. The snow has stopped, but the wind is gale-force and with each gust the cab rocks from side-to-side. He looks up and down the road before he jumps down onto the ice road.

     I look in my side view mirror and I can see Stan is examining the rear end of the trailer first. He’s struggling to stay upright; the force of the wind is hitting him from behind. It’s no use a whippersnapper going out to help him; therefore, I think it would be better if you stay here with me. Ha, ha. Seriously, I’d be blown off my feet straight away. I’d be rolling around like a piece of desert flora. Not that there’s any desert flora around here.

     I’ve been trying to check Sower to see if any other angels, or angelets, have also come across Snowy on their travels. However, my signal seems to have faded for now. Sorry, Sower is a micro-blogging service that heavenly beings use. I believe the name relates to sowing seeds. In our case, the seeds being the Lord’s word.
I know humans use one as well, strangely enough the name evades me. Duh!
     Here comes Stan. I better prepare myself for the blast of cold air that’s going to come in when he opens the door.
     “No real damage. A few bumps, scrapes, and scratches, just like us,” shouts Stan. I can just make out what he’s saying; the scarf that’s up over his mouth is muffling his voice. Of course, the gale force wind that’s now blowing in through the open door isn’t helping either.

     The air coming in is so cold that I feel as though I’ve stuck my body inside a freezer. Stan climbs up into the cab and yanks his door shut. He drops his hood and removes his scarf from his face, rearranging it back around his neck. He takes off his gloves; cupping his hands, he blows into them and quickly rubs the palms together vigorously.
     “I told you before, you’re such a good driver,” I say.
     “Thanks, Dan. I didn’t imagine that we drove into a huge cavern, did I?” Stan now rubs his forehead.
     “No, you didn’t. It must have been some freak thing that happened because of the ice, don’t you think?”
     “Yes, it must have been. It’s just that, nothing like this
has ever happened before. I can’t believe it.” I believe it,
do you?

 End of Extract

Salvation: Hyperlink to Lost Souls 9
examining the rear end of the trailer first. He’s struggling
to stay upright; the force of the wind is hitting him from
behind. It’s no use a whippersnapper going out to help
him; therefore, I think it would be better if you stay here
with me. Ha, ha. Seriously, I’d be blown off my feet
straight away. I’d be rolling around like a piece of desert
flora. Not that there’s any desert flora around here.
I’ve been trying to check Sower to see if any other
angels, or angelets, have also come across Snowy on
their travels. However, my signal seems to have faded
for now. Sorry, Sower is a micro-blogging service that
heavenly beings use. I believe the name relates to sowing
seeds. In our case, the seeds being the Lord’s word.
I know humans use one as well, strangely enough the
name evades me. Duh!
Here comes Stan. I better prepare myself for the blast
of cold air that’s going to come in when he opens the
door.
“No real damage. A few bumps, scrapes, and scratches,
just like us,” shouts Stan. I can just make out what he’s
saying; the scarf that’s up over his mouth is muffling his
voice. Of course, the gale force wind that’s now blowing
in through the open door isn’t helping either.
The air coming in is so cold that I feel as though I’ve
stuck my body inside a freezer. Stan climbs up into the
cab and yanks his door shut. He drops his hood and
removes his scarf from his face, rearranging it back
around his neck. He takes off his gloves; cupping his
hands, he blows into them and quickly rubs the palms
together vigorously.
“I told you before, you’re such a good driver,” I say.
“Thanks, Dan. I didn’t imagine that we drove into a
huge cavern, did I?” Stan now rubs his forehead.
“No, you didn’t. It must have been some freak thing
that happened because of the ice, don’t you think?”

10 Christina Rowell
“Yes, it must have been. It’s just that, nothing like this
has ever happened before. I can’t believe it.” I believe it,
do you?

   

 

Hyperlink To Lost Souls Book Extract

     It's the start of a new week, great. Hope you all have a fantastic one. I thought I'd share an extract from the first chapter of my second book in, my YA, fantasy, Salvation series. So here's a five minute read to start your week off.

 

 

 

 

Chapter One (Extract)

Day One: On the Road

 

    OMG, I’m on my way to a place called Tuktoyaktuk in the Northern territories. It seems the locals call it Tuk and if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me. Besides, all those key depressions on my android could give me repetitive strain injury.

    Before I set off, Mikey said to me, “Make sure and pack lots of warm clothing for your trip.” So, I can only assume it’s going to be on the nippy side. He didn’t enlighten me as to what the actual temperature will be, but he informed me that it was a land of ice caps, pingos, aurora borealis, and the midnight sun. Which I think translates into, brrrrrrrrr, shiver, shiver. Oh, and by the way, for those of you who have just joined me, Mikey is my pet name for Archangel Michael. Not to his face of course.

    Now, I need to tell you about my new amigo. His name is Stan Carter and he’s a truck driver. Come on, keep up. How could he drive a truck if he was dead? Don’t even try to justify what you thought or said out aloud. He’s very much alive and kicking, and he’s the
driver of the truck I’ve managed to hitch a ride in.

    Oh, apologies, apologies to my new friends who have just joined me. You don’t know that I’m D— I don’t say the ‘D’ word when I’m referring to myself. I have difficulty with the whole concept. You really should have read the first book before starting this one. If you
had done so, I wouldn’t need to keep explaining things as I go along. Boring the socks off the guys who joined me at the beginning of my journey on Earth. Whoa, I’m
not complaining, the more the merrier. I rely on all you guys out there in the real world and I appreciate your marvelous company.

    Back to Stan, I approached him at a diner some five hours back. He lives in Tuk and kindly agreed to take me there. Sorry, he agreed to take us the rest of the way. That’s if you’re sticking around.
    Pleeease, pleeease. I’m pleading with you; I won’t plead for too long. Great, make sure you pack your woollies. Well, maybe not. If you’re lying on an exotic beach reading this, you sure would look dumb.

    Stan says that we’ll reach Tuk in another three hours, as we’ve only one hundred fifty kilometers to go. We’ve just left Inuvik and it’s going to be ice road all the way now. The ice road being the Mackenzie River, which is frozen solid.

    You know, appearances can be so deceptive. Let me explain myself; Stan is a big, scraggy faced guy, arms covered in tattoos and a head full of piercings. Well, not actually his skull, but you know the sort I mean. He has rings in his ears, nose, and eyebrows and his tongue clicks when he speaks, because there’s a large silver stud in the middle of it. Eek! It was bad enough getting my demon early warning stud put in my earlobe. The thought of it still sends a shiver down my spine. Brrrrrr.

    What was I talking about before I digressed? Something that you newbies need to realize is that I do this on a regular basis. Oh, I was telling you about Stan. Yeah, yeah, Stan. If appearances were something to go by, you sure wouldn’t pick a fight with this guy, no sir.
But since I’ve been able to spend some one-on-one time with him, I’ve found out that he’s a great big teddy bear.

    He’s just invited me to stay at his place until I’m settled in Tuk. I’ll fill you in on my cover story later. He said I can share a room with his son, who happens to be the same age as me. Coincidence? Don’t think so. I’ve agreed because I believe this is where my adventure is about to start.

     Then again, it looks like my adventure could be starting here, right now. Holy cow! Visibility is very poor, a complete whiteout. Stan has slowed the truck down to 20 mph and the tail lights of the truck in front are no longer visible. Earlier some of Stan’s fellow truckers warned him over the CB radio of the blizzards ahead. He tried to prepare me for this situation, but hell I never thought it would be as bad as this. Sca–reee. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say hell in this context. Hell, I’ve said it anyway.

    “Don’t panic, I know this road like the back of my hand. We just have to try to keep moving. The ice is real thin here and I don’t feel like taking an ice-cold dip,” says Stan calmly. He sounds unruffled, in fact he’s as cool as a cucumber. 

    “Neither do I. I didn’t pack my swim shorts and I definitely don’t fancy skinny dipping,” I say, chuckling nervously. I can hear the ice road crackle under the weight of the wheels. Sooo, I’m hoping Mickey’s following my progress and can give me some help if something goes wrong.

    Whoa, Stan has just slammed on the brakes. The truck’s wheels have locked, we’re now skating on the thin ice and we’re not stopping. OMG, something very strange has happened to the road in front of us. A mound of sorts has risen up out of the ice and we’re skidding
straight towards it. Closer and closer we go.

    I can see the front of it has opened up, like a grotto. The thing is, I don’t think we’re going to meet Saint Nick, or Our Lady of Lourdes in here. Aagh! I think we may be
meeting up with the Tooth Fairy; we’re now staring into the open jaws of a huge and I mean humungous, white cougar.

    Gulp. That wasn’t me gulping, that was the giant cougar. He’s gobbled us up and that was the sound of him swallowing us, truck and all. We’ve been engulfed. Yes, you read my words correctly.

   End of extract                                                                                                      

Time to Escape

     

     Today, is National Escapism Day, yeah we all need to escape sometimes from the reality of our daily lives. We all face different pressures, whether work, money, relationships or, health, and to help us cope we all need to have some me time, from time to time. Even if it's just for an hour, indulging ourselves can make a whole lot of difference to our well-being.

    The good thing is that self indulgence doesn't need to cost anything. If you have a garden or, park nearby to your home, sitting for a while watching the local wildlife can fill us with so much pleasure.

    Personally I love just to walk an hour or, so alone each day. I'm lucky enough to live by the sea and there is nothing I like better than to watch and listen to the waves as they hit  the shore.

    Where I live now is so different from when I was back in Scotland, but do you know what? Yes, the scenery the wildlife are very different, but how it makes me feel is exactly the same.

    Now, I know that mobility problems may make getting about difficult for many. But, reading about wildlife, far off places or, even just a good romance can help us escape for just that hour we need.

    Whatever, you choose today to do ENJOY!

The Wise Woman

   

 

 

    Today, January 27th is Holocaust Memorial Day, a day which commemorates an era we as human beings should never forget. A time when one man believed he had the right to say who lived or, died in the world.

    The first book that brought the realities of this period to life for me was, The Diary of Anne Frank. I was absolutely fascinated or was it astonished by what she wrote. Her writing was not of a thirteen year old child, but of a wise woman.

    I know at her age I always wrote in notebooks at every opportunity, with the hope that some day I would be a published writer as she did. But, thankfully what I wrote about was purely fictional and I didn't have any real life experiences of atrocities in my life.  Whatever, age you are, if you haven't read the diary it's a must.

    One of her quotes reminds me of why I continued to put pen to paper and still continue to do so. 

    "If I haven't any talent for writing books or, newspaper articles, well then I can always write for myself."

Anne Frank  1929-1945

 

  

 

    

The Goat and I

    I haven't written here for a while, but before the first month of this new year ends I thought it was time to post again. Today I am featuring the poem, The Goat and I by British-Canadian poet, Robert William Service. While his rhyme is centered around the endearing animal, the goat; his words  reflect upon the then conflict that was going on in his world at the time of him writing. His verse I believe also befits the world we now live in and that's why I'm sharing it with you.

 

Each sunny day upon my way

A goat I pass;

He has a beard of silver grey.

A bell of brass. 

And all the while I am in sight

He seems to muse,

And stares at me with all his might

And chews and chews.

Upon the hill so thyme sweet

With joy of spring. 

He hails me with a tiny bleat

Of welcoming,

Though half the globe is drenched with blood

 And cities flare,

Contentedly he chews the cud

And does not care.

Oh gentle friend, I know not what your age may be,

But of my years I'd give the lot

Yet left to me,

To chew a thistle and not to choke,

but bright of eye

Gaze at old world-weary bloke

Who hobbles by.

Alas! though bards make verse sublime,

And lines to quote,It takes a fool like me to rhyme

About a goat.

By Robert William Service, January 16 1874-September 11. 1958.

  This poem is in public domain.

Nelson's Retreat

 

    

    Today  here in our capital of Tenerife, the city commemorates the 225th anniversary of the battle of Santa Cruz. Admiral Horatio Nelson and his fleet sailed to our shores with the plan to take the territory from the Spanish.

    Because of our location in the Atlantic Ocean, the island was desirable for the British. Unfortunately, for the Admiral, the Spanish under the command of General Gutierrez were ready to fight for their King, Ferdinand VII and country.

    As Nelson attempted to land with his party, they were welcomed by cannon fire. Horatio's arm was shattered by shrapnel and the landing party had to withdraw.

    That day the British fleet was badly depleted and Horatio was left with the constant reminder of his failure after his arm had to be partially amputated.

    There will be celebrations tonight, in the capital, that will include battle reenactments and of course lots of fireworks. We do love a good fiesta here!!

   

 

#Tenerife #SantaCruzdeTenerife #HoratioNelson #Fiestas #1797Battle