“You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.” ~Miracle Max–Beth Trissel

Big fan of The Princess Bride here, so I figure it’s time for a look back.

Westley: Hear this now: I will always come for you.

Buttercup: But how can you be sure?

Westley: This is true love – you think this happens every day?

****

Buttercup: We’ll never survive.

Westley: Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has.~

[In the boat in the morning]

Inigo Montoya: He’s right on top of us. I wonder if he is using the same wind we are using.

****

Inigo Montoya: Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

Count Rugen: Stop saying that!

****

Inigo Montoya: That Vizzini, he can *fuss*.

Fezzik: Fuss, fuss… I think he like to scream at *us*.

Inigo Montoya: Probably he means no *harm*.

Fezzik: He’s really very short on *charm*.

Inigo Montoya: You have a great gift for rhyme.

Fezzik: Yes, yes, some of the time.

Vizzini: Enough of that.

Inigo Montoya: Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?

Fezzik: If there are, we all be dead.

Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it.

Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?

Vizzini: DYEEAAHHHHHH.

****

Inigo Montoya: I donna suppose you could speed things up?

Man in Black: If you’re in such a hurry, you could lower a rope or a tree branch or find something useful to do.

Inigo Montoya: I could do that. I have some rope up here, but I do not think you would accept my help, since I am only waiting around to kill you.

Man in Black: That does put a damper on our relationship.~

Inigo Montoya: I do not mean to pry, but you don’t by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?

Man in Black: Do you always begin conversations this way?~

****

Fezzik: Inigo?

Inigo Montoya: What?

Fezzik: I hope we win~

Buttercup: You can’t hurt me. Westley and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.~

[after Westley rescues her from the lightning quicksand]

Buttercup: We’ll never succeed. We may as well die here.

Westley: No, no. We have already succeeded. I mean, what are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One, the flame spurt – no problem. There’s a popping sound preceding each; we can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand, which you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too.

Buttercup: Westley, what about the R.O.U.S.’s?

Westley: Rodents Of Unusual Size? I don’t think they exist.

[Immediately, an R.O.U.S. attacks him]

****

Westley: Can you move at all?

Buttercup: Move? You’re alive. If you want I can fly.

Grandpa: Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. The End.

June Fairy Update–Beth Trissel

Niece Cailin, our resident fairy expert, celebrated the birthday of her newest fairy, Taler, today.  We contributed presents, and a good friend sent fairy furnishings. Cailin has excitedly redone her fairy garden and is at work compiling a fairy journal. She tells me that I should be able to see fairies in my garden because I’ve attracted some of the more readily discerned kinds, if I’ll keep my eyes open. I like to think I do. Cailin confided her sadness that many people do not believe in fairies. My oldest daughter Alison said, ‘think how God feels.’  Many don’t believe in him and he even created us. Good point.

Back to Cailin. In her journal she warns, “Outside is dangris becas of wind fairies.” And that has certainly been true for much of the country this late spring/early summer. Very scary. Cailin and her cousin, my grandson Ian, created shields and swords out of cardboard boxes (I hoard them) and joined forces with the good fairies (rose, animal, healing fairies…) to wage battle against the wind fairies. She says, ‘Wind fairies are evil and powerful. Never get near or be bad to one. If you make them angry they will make sparkly lights flash through your room and send leaves in a swirling circle, like a small dust cloud, all around.’ So beware.

Above: Cailin and Ian fighting wind fairies on my sun porch–a problem because they can come through windows. But not doors. And not windows with shades or curtains. My thoughtful five-year-old granddaughter Emma, upon learning the rules of wind fairies, noted all the windows on the sun porch and asked why they’d taken position out there and not a more secure location? Well, that’s where the action was.

Cailin opening her fairy presents above.

Cailin fighting wind fairies above:

Cailin’s new fairy garden below:

“You have to write the book that wants to be written.”~Madeleine L’Engle–Beth Trissel

A few favorite writing quotes.

“I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.” 
― Douglas Adams, The Salmon of Doubt

“Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.” 
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar: A Novel

“Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very;’ your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.” 
― Mark Twain (I took his advice, to a point, and deleted needless ‘verys’)

“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” 
― Mark Twain, The Wit and Wisdom of Mark Twain

“You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.”― Saul Bellow (True)

“Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It’s a way of understanding it.” 
― Lloyd Alexander

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” 
― Anaïs Nin

“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.” 
― Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

“Write the kind of story you would like to read. People will give you all sorts of advice about writing, but if you are not writing something you like, no one else will like it either.” 
― Meg Cabot

“History will be kind to me for I intend to write it.” 
― Winston Churchill

“There are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts.” 
― Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.” 
― E.L. Doctorow (I talk amongst ‘myselves’)

“You can make anything by writing.” 
― C.S. Lewis (His Chronicles of Narnia are my all-time favorite stories)

“Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.” 
― Stephen King, On Writing

“Write what should not be forgotten.” 
― Isabel Allende

“The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do.”― Thomas Jefferson

“There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.” 
― W. Somerset Maugham (My favorite writing quote)

And the best for last: “You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.” 
― Madeleine L’Engle (Author of A Wrinkle in Time, a favorite story)

The Scottish Bluebell Fairy–Beth Trissel

The Scottish Bluebells (Campanula rotundifolia) are known by various names, most commonly harebell, also Scottish bellflower and fairies thimble, as it was widely thought fairies live among the flowers. I don’t make this stuff up; these fascinating tidbits are from:
http://davesgarden.com/guides/articles/view/1615/

“These lovely flowers have been around for centuries. Legend has it that fairies live among them and humans should be wary of disturbing them.”

“The name, Harebell, has its roots in magic. The name came from the fact that Scottish Bluebells are found growing in meadows frequented by hares. Some would argue, the name Harebell was given this flower due to the fact that witches were known to turn themselves into hares and hide among them. Both are interesting stories, one for the non-believer and believer alike.”

The flower is a favorite among poets. Two famous examples listed on the site:

“Sir Walter Scott mentioned it in his 1810 poem, “Lady of the Lake;” “A foot more light, a step more true, Ne’er from the heath-flower dashed the dew; E’en the slight harebell raised its head…”

Emily Bronte wrote, “I lingered round them, under the benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.” in her book, “Wuthering Heights,” published in 1847.”

From:
http://www.livingartsoriginals.com/flower-bluebells.html

“Another name for bluebells is Dead Man’s bells. This is due to the fact that fairies were believed to cast spells on those who dare to pick or damage the beautiful, delicate flowers. The people of Scotland are fond enough of the flower to continue this tradition in the hopes of protecting the little flower.”

Apparently, when meandering through drifts of bluebells, it’s wise to stick to the path, or you may stir up the wrath of fairies and release the spells trapped in the blooms. Never a good idea, and one that would be echoed by our resident fairy expert, my eight year old niece, Cailin, who warns never step into a circle of flowers or go anywhere without the fairies’ permission. Or they will get very upset. And you do not want an upset fairy, or fairies, on your hands. Particularly the furious wind fairies, but that’s another story.

*Royalty free images

Paranormal Account from The Shenandoah Valley of Virginia–Beth Trissel

This fascinating story is taken from Shenandoah Voices, Folklore, Legends and Traditions of the Valley by late author and historian John Heatwole.

Brock’s Gap~

“Up in the Brock’s Gap region (of the Shenandoah Valley) the old resident’s referred to the rest of the world as “out.”  It was not uncommon to hear the phrase, “people would come along from out.”

In the old days, the rest of the country was well served by the Valley Pike and other well maintained thoroughfares, but the Gap and its scattered homesteads remained isolated beyond the first rise of the Allegheny Front (*Mountains).

The hamlets of Fulks Run, Criders, Bergton and Dovesville were oases of social contact, as were a few churches here and there, but the people in the Gap were pretty self-sufficient.  Before electricity came into the area, moonless nights smothered the hills, hollows and mountains…making the faint glimmer of candlelight in a window way off a welcome sight to a late-night traveler.

It’s not surprising that some wonderful ghost stories have come from this area.  Unusual happenings were woven into stories that were told and retold…long winter nights found rapt listeners gathered around a glowing fire or warm stove to be thrilled by a story-teller.”

****

Ghost story:  “One young girl of the Crider’s area was told that she could take the horse and go to meet her mother and sister who were returning from a trip to “out” late one night.  Her path took her to a neighbor’s farm gate where she dismounted, opened the gate, led the horse through and then re-latched it.  As she climbed back on the horse, she heard something coming from the direction she had just come.

“Someone come a runnin,’ was a man a comin’ up the road a runnin’.”

He was coming fast and she was scared.  She kicked her horse into a gallop.  As she looked back over her shoulder she saw the “man” run through the closed gate as if he were made of air.  “I flew out,” she said, but it seemed to make no difference—he was gaining on her.

“When I got to the top of the hill he was about two steps behind me.  He grabbed the horse by the tail, and she kicked up, and away she went as hard as she could run!”

That did the trick and the pursuer disappeared in their dust.

“I don’t know what it was.  It wasn’t no human; no human coulda kept up with that horse!”

The woman who was once the girl in the preceding story also related her father’s brush with a demon.

“My daddy seen one one time.  He was comin’ home after dark from Casper Turner’s.  Saw what looked like a man layin’ on a fence; had eyes like fireballs!”  Her father had a gun with him, and he shot at the demon.  The thing fell off the fence and started making a noise that made the man think he should be getting away from there.  “Had run down from the mountain.  He was scared to death.”~

June in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia–Beth Trissel

*Lovely images by daughter Elise Trissel.

“A profusion of pink roses bending ragged in the rain speaks to me of all gentleness and its enduring.”  ~The Collected Later Poems of William Carlos Williams

“Can we conceive what humanity would be if it did not know the flowers?”  ~Maurice Maeterlinck “Flowers really do intoxicate me.”  ~Vita Sackville-West

“Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men or animals.  Some seem to smile; some have a sad expression; some are pensive and diffident; others again are plain, honest and upright, like the broad-faced sunflower and the hollyhock.”  ~Henry Ward Beecher, Star Papers: A Discourse of Flowers

“The poet’s darling.”  ~William Wordsworth, “To the Daisy”

“The artist is the confidant of nature, flowers carry on dialogues with him through the graceful bending of their stems and the harmoniously tinted nuances of their blossoms.  Every flower has a cordial word which nature directs towards him.”  ~Auguste Rodin

“I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.”  ~John Muir, 1913, in L.M. Wolfe, ed., John Muir, John of the Mountains:  The Unpublished Journals of John Muir, 1938

“Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare,
And left the flushed print in a poppy there.”
~Francis Thompson, “The Poppy,” 1891

“Man’s heart away from nature becomes hard.”  ~Standing Bear

“Adopt the pace of nature:  her secret is patience.”  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

“God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars.”  ~Author unknown, commonly attributed to Martin Luther

“I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.”  ~e.e. cummings

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.”  ~John Muir

“To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.” ~Jane Austen

“Great things are done when men and mountains meet.  This is not done by jostling in the street.”  ~William Blake

“One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”  ~William Shakespeare

Abraham Darby Roses, Ox Eye Daisies, Shirley Poppies,  wild Phlox

Sweet Saturday Snippet from Historical Romance Kira, Daughter of the Moon–Beth Trissel

 

From Chapter One:

“My secret in exchange for yours.”

Tantalizing.  He was drawing her into his snare, but she couldn’t resist asking, “How do you know I’ve a secret?”

“To begin with, you’re hiding in a tree.  What from, a wild beast?”

“Near enough.  You.”

He smiled.  “Was I to think you a large red bird, or overlook you entirely?”

Drawing her remaining shreds of dignity around her like a mantle, she said, “This isn’t one of my best hiding places.”

“Indeed?  Where are the others?”

“That would be telling.”

The strengthening breeze tossed the branches around them as he considered.  “You never could keep secrets from me, Cricket.  I’ll discover them and you.”

An assertion she found both disturbing and oddly heartening.

His lips curved as if the deed were already done.  “Why were you hiding?  Am I so very frightening?”

“Oh––I feared you were some sort of warrior.”

The humor faded from his eyes.  “I am.”~

‘A beautiful Scots-Irish healer in the rugged Alleghenies finds herself accused of witchcraft. With the terror of the French and Indian War fresh in her mind, can Kira love a white warrior?’

Although written to stand alone, Kira, Daughter of the Moon is the sequel to historical romance novel Through the Fire.

***Available in print and eBook from The Wild Rose Press,  Amazon, at Barnes & Noble in Nookbook, and other online booksellers.

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