The icing on the cake, Upwards e-book on Kindle today

Just in case you can’t wait another moment, the Kindle version is available here, for $9.99.  

Upwards cover 2nd printing

 

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Smushed cupcake
My daughter Megan celebrated her first birthday on vacation in Maine

Somehow I can’t think of first birthdays without thinking of cake and icing, chocolate being the most effective, smeared across chubby cheeks. Forget the presents, which the older kids are always glad to rip open. The real joy is in the smashing glory of the cake.

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Picking up the second printing back in May

Today marks the first birthday of Upwards and the culmination of a rewarding, fulfilling year for me. With your help, we are well into our second printing and looking forward to a jam-packed season of holiday events. And more than the numbers – 47 author events and a bank account almost in the black – is the joy of the people. In the indie bookstores and libraries at the heart of communities from the Adirondacks to Maine. In the words of cards and emails that both thrill and humble me. In the memories of readers’ stories.

Eleventy-first birthdays make me think of Bilbo Baggins, that most beloved hobbit, and his party of “special magnificence.” Though we don’t have any of Gandalf’s magical fireworks, today would also have been the 111th birthday of my maternal grandmother, Janice Sutherland Crowell Wheeler.

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Four generations, from Grandma Jan to tiny Megan

“Growing up,” I wrote a year ago, “Grandma Jan and I shared a love of books and birds and wildflower walks. Through her, I discovered treasured favorites like The Secret Garden, and she encouraged me to publish my first article at age 13. I have chosen today, October 19, 2017 as the official release date…in honor of a very special woman.”

A year later and another milestone, as we release the Amazon Kindle version of Upwards. I’m not sure what Grandma Jan would make of that. She worked in a library, with books whose pages you could turn as you read to a small granddaughter. Her nature guides and history books were filled with notes in a scribbly hand that got harder to decipher as the years rolled by. What would she have thought of reading on a screen?

A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies…the man who never reads lives only one.     George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons

I believe I know. She wanted everyone to love books, and read them. With Kindle, travelers can carry dozens of titles on one small device and read to their heart’s content. There are some whose vision is so much happier with zoomed up print. My book will even be enrolled in a lending library, with royalties coming in each time a page is read. New horizons, for a new year…happy 1st birthday, Upwards!

If you’re visiting for the first time, welcome and please consider subscribing by clicking the blue button, on the right sidebar. Explore the blog, from poetry to stories of building homes in Honduras or passing through Greenland’s Prince Christian Sound. Learn more about Upwards and my NFCT thru-paddle here. For those who love Upwards, Amazon reviews would make a wonderful Christmas gift for this grateful author! Thank you.

 

The Old Stone Wall, a poem

              

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Stone wall that runs along in the woods behind our house

The Old Stone Wall

We wander, both, the crisp clear slopes of autumn,

Through scattered leaves of faded, fallen color.

For me, a carefree hour, or maybe two.

The stone wall, though, has twice outlived its builder:

He who plucked the granite from heavy, stubborn soil.

Dragging, rolling, hefting the puzzle pieces into place.

 

That wall and man shared much in common,

in their struggle to tame nature’s endless march.

Rugged, stalwart, they took the character of an unyielding land,

framed fields that winter buried deep in drifted white,

that spring sprinkled with tender newborn calves,

and summer balanced barefoot children on the winding way.

 

In time, the passing years gathered up the man

and crusted stone with olive moss and lichen gray.

Stumbling with age and witness to a different time,

still, there are stories harbored here,

meaning to be found in the wall’s enduring presence,

if only that, when I am gone, the silent stones will stay.