Something the Sundial Said
The new book in my Kaye Eliot Mystery Series will be released in a couple of days. Something the Sundial Said features the main characters from the first book How Her Garden Grew. The Eliot family, Kaye and Michael, and their children, Katie and Matthew, have moved to a new home and discovered a new mystery to solve.
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The Eliots are a typical family: they have trouble communicating at times; they squabble; they keep secrets from one another. But they also work together when they face danger and they love to go on adventures together in Nova Scotia’s countryside.
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As in the first book, I have included an inanimate ‘character’. In How Her Garden Grew, it was the Grinning Tun, a seashell from tropical seas. In Something the Sundial Said, yes, you guessed it, it’s a sundial. After the Eliots move into their new home, they discover the sundial in the garden is missing. And they find out the sundial was the setting for a murder a century ago. Of course they are going to search for it and try and bring it back home.
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Sundials are one of the many ways we have used to tell time. Using the shadow cast by the sun, a sundial counts the hours. Kaye and her kids find lots of sundials in their search for the Carmelwood sundial …
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At the end of the path, before it exited to a back yard, were three sundials. Odd to keep, indoors, lawn furniture that craved the sunlight.
The first was made of plastic. The circular, numbered dial perched on a curvy pedestal and the gnomon was a triangle, moulded to look like iron.
“A no-sun sundial.” Even Matt was not impressed.
The next was made of metal, perhaps copper. The flat plate was made to sit on a wall or railing. The designer had tried to appeal to a wide range of tastes and ethnicities. The outer rim was marked in Roman numerals. The inner rim was a decorative chain of Chinese characters. Beside the gnomon was a moveable dial showing the sun. In the small remaining space were words. “Others may tell of storms and showers. I only mark your sunny hours.” Matt was beginning to read and I sounded out the words for him.
The next sundial was made of grey marble with a wrought iron gnomon. It was perched on a slender metal stand with clawed bird’s feet. The caption on this one read “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.”
I looked at the three sundials. Our only clues to the Carmelwood sundial were the brief glimpse we’d had and the small grey blur in the oil painting, but I was certain none of the three was our sundial.
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I hope you enjoy Something the Sundial Said. Look for it here early in March.
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All my best,
Jane
collections
In this age of “simplify, simplify” I cling to my collections. I collect paintings of poppies, tomatoware, botanical sculptures made of tin, books by various authors, and so on. I believe that collections are part of our identity; the things we collect explain elements of personality and history. Collections are probably a remnant of our ancient need to explore and understand our environment.
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I think other animals share this need to collect. Many rodents collect and hoard food and nesting materials. Some of this behavior is practical, ensuring plenty in lean times. However, I think some animals have a more frivolous need to collect.
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Recently, we moved the library in our house to another floor. Moving the contents of an entire room is a great opportunity to sort and clean. We have had mice in our house on at least three occasions in 40 years of our lives here. So I was not surprised to find a little mouse hoard in one hidden corner of the room.
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I was surprised at the contents of the hoard: one bright pink blood pressure pill, one pale pink cholesterol pill and one pale pink button. A mouse with a colour preference!
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all my best,
Jane
coming in March: next book in the Kaye Eliot Mystery Series
The next book in the Kaye Eliot Mystery Series will be released at the end of March. Something the Sundial Said continues the adventures of Kaye and her family, first seen in How Her Garden Grew. To catch up, get a copy of How Her Garden Grew (click here).
Something the Sundial Said:
“In 1995, Kaye and her young family attend a country auction, never dreaming the stone sundial in the garden is the site of a century-old murder. They end up buying the house and property but someone else buys the sundial. Then Kaye finds a diary written in 1880, chronicling the days leading up to the murder.
When Kaye reads the diary, she decides to search for the sundial and return it to the property. And she follows clues in the diary to discover who shot Rodney in the sundial garden.
At every corner, she is outmaneuvered by a local genealogist who is anxious to obtain the diary and keep information damaging to her family hidden. The woman will go to ridiculous lengths to obtain the diary, even stalking Katie, Kaye’s teenaged daughter. As Kaye discovers someone is entering her house at night to find the diary, she wonders who she can trust.”
Here is the cover art for Something the Sundial Said:
Cover art for How Her Garden Grew:
All my best,
Jane
colour: solemn, sombre
October in New Brunswick is an explosion of colour. However, as the red and orange leaves fall, browns and yellows begin to dominate the landscape.
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View of Nerepis marsh looking south. The ferry is crossing the river, barely visible in the mist.
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Colour variety in the marsh grasses.
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Hay-scented fern adds yellows and browns to the ditches.
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solemn, sombre
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walked out to see you
once again as you
lay dying, somber
the soft light, marsh grass
leaning in the rain
autumn colour fades
tones solemn, ochre
of poplar and birch,
straw-pale, hay-scented
fern, Solidago
and tansy, shadows
in the ditch, the heads
of Typha
burst to seed
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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Best wishes everyone!
Jane
wings of angels
As part of my at-home-writers-retreat, I had a ‘break’ day yesterday. I had my hair cut (always relaxing) and went with my husband for a drive to our cabin. We read our book aloud (a Philip R. Craig Martha’s Vineyard Mystery) and took lots of photos. This evening I wrote a poem, based on today’s photos. Most are blurry, because of the relentless wind.
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wings of angels
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I don’t believe in angels,
though I catch their whisper
between stems of Poa,
meadow grasses and blue.
Discover feather fall,
seed tufts of goldenrod,
Solidago. Wing tips
disguised as autumn leaves,
staghorn sumac or oak.
Glimpsed along low ditches,
silken hairs of rabbitsfoot
Trifolium arvense.
Find feathers aloft, on air,
cirrus or stratus clouds,
or wind-smoothed cotton-grass,
tassels of Eriophorum.
Catch scent—Dennstaedtia
hayscented fern, or cedar,
sets cones for another year.
I think of angel wings
and refuse to believe.
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best,
Jane
red, red, red
Autumn, no doubt about it. When I go outside, I see red everywhere. The red of the leaves of red maple, many already on the ground. The red of the lily-of-the-valley berries. The red of the crab apples on our little tree at the end of the walkway. The red hips on the rose bush beside the driveway. Red, red, red.
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red, red, red
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each rose hip edge
an ellipse to complete
the curve of rambling canes
berries red, mellow to orange
the white shine, highlight, tipped
with the black remains of blossom,
once pink, now vermillion of vermis,
cinnabar, poisonous, mercuric, toxic
lily-of-the-valley, raceme of berries
dangle, vivid crimson blush, bright
spot on fevered cheeks, the child
thought the berries good to eat
scarlet sigillatus, decorated
small images, pixilations
of woman with camera
limps to reach third
red, ruby, purple
red crabapples
in bunches
hanging
in rain
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
All my best,
Jane
Six requirements for an At-Home-Writing-Retreat
I planned to attend a writers’ retreat this week, in Saint Andrews, New Brunswick. In the end, it was cancelled – too few participants. My arthritis is having a flare-up, so perhaps it is just as well I am at home. But I refuse to miss my creative writing time. So, I will do what I have done before. I will have an at-home-writing-retreat.
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I have done this twice before, so I know what works for me.
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For this retreat I need:
1. A room in my house where I don’t usually work, with a desk and a place to relax. My guest room is clean and quiet, ready for a session each day. Actually, quiet is not necessary … years of working in a big office with lots of activity and other people have made me immune to ‘noise.’
2. Six days with no appointments or outside obligations. Since I had set aside six days for the Saint Andrews Retreat, my calendar is cooperating. I will also keep my emailing and social media time to a minimum.
3. Six days with few domestic obligations. I already have reduced expectations when it comes to domesticity! To help with the retreat I have planned easy meals and each day I will do one thing to help us keep ahead of the mess … for example, today I filled and ran the dishwasher.
4. A cooperative husband. No problem, he is always supportive!
5. Goals for the week. I am in the middle of revisions for my next book in the Kaye Eliot Mystery Series: ‘Something the Sundial Said.’ I also want to work on the map I include in all my mystery novels. By the end of the week, I want to be able to send for the Proof of the book, complete with map. I also want to create three blog posts, including two new poems.
6. Physical exercise. I do stretches and bike on my stationary cycle every day anyway. This week, I’ll spent some deliberate time walking outside, taking photos and feeding my need for nature, the basis of my creativity.
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Today is the first day of my retreat. I took a walk in the rain and some photos for Wednesday’s blog. I did 70 pages of revisions (17,000 words); this sounds like a lot but this is the final revision before the Proof (will get editing and a beta-read). This afternoon I wrote the draft of a poem and started the map for ‘Something the Sundial Said’ (I use GIMP to draw my maps). The retreat is underway!
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Here is the first draft of the map for my book. The book is set in a fictional community in Nova Scotia.
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All my best,
Jane
wild turkeys in New Brunswick
As we came back from our drive in Charlotte County last weekend, we were on the lookout for wild life. And we were not disappointed.
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Down an unused road we saw twelve wild turkeys. Most, perhaps all, were females. In recent years we have seen wild turkeys more often on our various drives.
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They are fun to watch. They are quite social. Some were foraging, probably eating seeds, berries or insects; others were resting among the pink rabbit-foot clover.
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The University of New Brunswick is asking people to report the wild turkeys they see. The study will help determine the status of populations in New Brunswick. Report sightings to the Facebook Page NB Wild Turkey Research
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All my best,
Jane
a gulp of swallows
The days are warm and humid. The nights offer compensating cool. The gardens are full of produce and, yesterday, we made our first stop at a roadside stand to get apples. People say “feels like fall.” On the weather channel they call this “hurricane season.” We turn the calendar on the kitchen wall to September.
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Fall is a month away, but the birds know the time of year. They flock with a sense of urgency, even desperation.
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A flock of swallows is called a ‘flight’ or a ‘gulp.’
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gulp
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barn swallow (Hirundo rustica)
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Flight of swallows
against blue sky
gapes, as thousands
thicken cables,
telephone lines,
weather reports,
gossip. Feels like
fall. Birds follow
clues of day length,
temperature,
scarcity of food.
Gulp of swallows
expands, contains
every straggler.
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best,
Jane
Small, small garden
Arthritis means my days of the big garden are over. But I can still enjoy digging in the earth, planting seeds, pulling weeds and harvesting, just on a smaller scale.
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On our deck are two Veg Trugs (Lee Valley Tools used to sell them) and one bag of soil, slit open and supported on a metal frame. In the ‘gardens’ I have two snow pea plants, three yellow wax bean plants, three parsley plants and one cucumber plant.
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Each day for the last month, I sit on the deck and nibble on my ‘harvest for the day.’ Sometimes it’s one bean pod and a snow pea pod, sometimes two beans, sometimes a cucumber sandwich. Seems small, but I think I enjoy these little sessions more than the buckets of produce I once harvested from my garden.
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