Jazz Age Wednesdays 2

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays. I’m still celebrating the release of Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I .

For this weekly feature my intention was to make things easy for myself by re-sharing short stories I had already written. However, to day I’m posting an all new vignette. It’s another hump day so my “thing” to create this story was, of course, camel!

In the time-line of the Pip-verse, this story falls between the two books. Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka Pip, has just arrived in Savannah, Georgia. She is late meeting her grandmother, but you saw the reason for that last week. (Just a note — While this vignette happens immediately after “Pip Arrives in Savannah,” the other stories for Jazz Age Wednesdays are not in any particular order. It is not a serial, so one doesn’t necessarily follow the next…)

Those of you who have followed the old three things serials for some time will recognize a character from Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers.

Pip Sees a Camel

A teen-aged Lucille Ball

The delivery truck from Wong’s Chinese puttered down Pearl Street in downtown Savannah, Georgia. I had already thanked Alastair Wong about a million times for giving me a lift to his family restaurant, where I was supposed to meet up with my grandmother.

I knew we were late, but it couldn’t be helped. I also knew Granny Phanny didn’t like to be kept waiting. She could get downright ugly about it.

Anyway, I was feeling too antsy to beat my gums in chitchat. Instead I looked out the window at the unfamiliar street and buildings as Alastair drove past. Based on the sales signs in business windows, this city was a lot more expensive than my little hometown outside Sarasota Sound, Florida.

Finally, I saw the storefront of the restaurant. A peep in the window told me the joint was elegant. I imagined all the patrons in their glad rags, and cringed when I looked down and saw a splash of orange juice on the front of my frock. Nervously I adjusted my pink cloche hat.

Henrici’s, Chicago, IL, circa 1920

“Strange,” Alastair muttered as he parked the truck. “I don’t see Miss Phanny’s Model-T anywhere.”

Oh no! Granny’s already left in a huff. Is she planning to make me just fend for myself? I don’t know my way around this city. I didn’t want to be here in the first place! I silently ranted.

Alastair walked over to a desk. For a moment, I thought he spoke to a doll in an embroidered blue satin dress. However, it was a very tiny, very ancient woman. She had to be well under five feet tall, and Lord knew how old.

“Pip, this is my cousin Victoria Wong.”

I bobbed a little courtesy, as I looked at the unusual woman in fascination.

“Arabella and Phanny left in a hurry when that dewdropper who runs the dance studio came in here. Why two grown women would help a lollygagger like him is beyond me,” the diminutive woman told us, and then gave an indelicate snort to accompany the unexpected slang. “The lazy man let his latest gimmick get away. They all went to chase it.”

Alastair and I looked from tiny Victoria to each other in confusion.

“My mother and Miss Phanny with a dewdropper? Latest gimmick?” he prompted.

“His dance studio,” Victoria said, as if everything should be obvious. “The dewdropper is advertising classes for the Camel Walk dance. And that nasty, spitting beast got away.”

“The gimmick or the dance teacher?” Alastair asked. “What do you mean by gimmick anyhow? How can a gimmick get away?”

Victoria was very old. I decided she must be senile. Whatever the case, she had Alastair and me all balled up.

An odd noise caused me to turn to the broad window that looked out onto the street while Alastair continued to try and get some sense out of his cousin. The sight before my eyes shocked me so badly that I dropped my pocketbook.

The restaurant goers got up from their tables and went to the window exclaiming and pointing.

“Granny!” I gasped.

Arabella Wong, Alastair’s mother, opened the double doors to the restaurant. Granny Phanny perched high atop a camel! My grandmother leaned down and called to me.

1880 Blue_woman_on_a_camel Queensland Australia

Woman on a camel circa 1880, Queensland, Australia

“I’m glad you final decided to grace us with your presence Paisley Idelle Peabody,” she called out in a sarcastic voice. “Your chariot awaits!”

Victoria giggled and told me, “Sweetie, you look like you could use a jorum of skee!”

I gasped, feeling like I must already be zozzled. Granny couldn’t be serious! But it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten even with somebody for being late. She didn’t move to get down from the camel. Surely, she was joking…

The End

***

If you want to know more about this series, here is a review by Vashti Quiroz-Vega of the first book.

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

Thanks so much for visiting. You’re the bee’s knees!

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Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam 10

Friday, September 15, 2017

Marketing Graphic for Thisledown

Welcome back to the faery world of Thistledown!

Writing Process

The writing of this episode was frequently interrupted. That can make it even harder for creativity to flow, to fly by the seat of my pantser pants. Then I reminded myself that there were still faery characters waiting in the wings, marking time until their parts in the story are found by my flying pants. Actually, that didn’t make it any easier. However, I finally finished the chapter.

About This Episode

It’s been fun to imagine slightly off-kilter versions of the characters in this serial, what I called the “scary faeries,” from the colorless world of Bedlam Thunder’s visions. You’ll meet another of those today. Without further ado, let’s fly off to Thistledown.

Thistledown

Midsummer Bedlam 10

Neon Brand, Unsplash

Fire and Furry

Beautiful birdsong made music throughout the branches of the primeval evergreen tree. My grand-uncle’s house was nestled in the boughs of the great tree. Trilling, lilting, happy chirps filled my attic bedroom.

I threw a shoe out the window in attempt to silence the blasted cheery sounds.

Uncle had been none too pleased when I went with Rhymer Rainbow all the way to the orchard to visit Peaches Dragonfly. Not that the orchard was far, it’s more that I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere at all. I wasn’t even supposed to leave my bed until the healer said it was okay. No one cared that I had gotten a bluebird message from Peaches and feared something was wrong. In return for me being a conscientious friend, Uncle forbade me to go to any of the pre-solstice gatherings. Adding insult to injury, Uncle decided to have a bonfire right there at our home!

Of all the nerve! My grand-uncle would host a party right under my nose and I wasn’t allowed to attend.

At the sound of another chirp I threw the other shoe, venting my anger at the injustice of it all.

“Hey – watch out!”

L0059071 Turn pin spectacles, steel wire, eye preservers, double fold

Whimsical blue spectacles were the first thing I saw when I turned in surprise toward the window. Calico Ranibowforest hovered at the opening, her blue spectacles uncharacteristically askew.

My cheeks heated in embarrassment. I invited Calico to come in at the door, and hurried to the corner of my room to open it.

“I came to get details about your uncle’s pre-solstice bonfire party so I could announce it in the Trumpet,” Calico began. “But I wanted to see how you were doing first. Based on the shoes you threw out the window, it looks like there’s still plenty of lift in your wings, as they used to say.”

I blushed redder at the reference to my temper, but Calico waived away my apologies. She uncurled a trumpet vine leaf to show me the draft of the announcement. As she unrolled it, I thought of the voice that came from the vine, exclaiming “Extra! Extra!” and then the perky chirp of “Take a leaflet.”

“Just don’t tell the grumpy old geezer that I got out of bed to let you in,” I said, making it something between a complaint and a plea. “I’m not allowed to go anywhere or do anything. And now he’s having a party right under my nose and I can’t even go to it!” I added on a wail.

Wire glasses blond flowers ryan-winterbotham-227426

Ryan-Winterbotham, Unsplash

Calico took my elbow and pulled me to the window. She pointed to the clearing that was well away from the branches of the massive evergreen.

“I think maybe he’s doing it for your sake, Bedlam. Although I doubt he’d admit it. I realize your grand-uncle is set in his ways. But the bonfire is going to be in that clearing — and your window has a perfect view. I think it’s his way of letting you be at the party without having to go back on his word in grounding you.”

That idea shocked me. It was hard to imagine Uncle doing anything for my sake. Any solstice was a big event in Thistledown. Celebrations could go on for weeks before and after the actual date. However, Uncle rarely hosted anything. I was undecided as to whether it would be better or worse if I could watch the party from my window. Maybe my friends would at least fly up to say hello. If they weren’t so busy having fun that they forgot about me.

***

Muskoxen blue

Feeling utterly dejected, I watched the preparations for the pre-solstice bonfire. Uncle oversaw the dead wood being brought in and arranged.

I spotted Blossom Stargazer gently guiding a team of muskoxen with a staff. Blossom was Belle Stargazer’s younger sister. While Belle had a gift for hospitality, Blossom’s talent was training any species of “working” animal.

It was amazing to see the group of huge and strong muskoxen. They stood at shoulder height. The animals had coats in various shades of blue. Their silken hair cascaded almost to the ground. Curved horns were on either side of a patch of short curly white hair at their foreheads. I remembered being taught that their wool was highly prized for its softness, length, and insulation value.

As I watched, the muskoxen moved ponderously but steadily. With whispered encouragement from Blossom, they pulled the heavy stones into place around the perimeter of the bonfire. The stones would serve as seats for the visitors.

The well-dressed furry faery was unmistakable. He stood head and shoulders above even the tallest fae in Thistledown. I watched as Uncle and Field Yewwasp worked an enchantment around the dead wood that would become the bonfire. The spell would keep the fire from spreading or otherwise doing any harm.

***

Jacob Kiesow, Unsplash

The bonfire was lit. Uncle grudgingly permitted me to sit on the steps outside my attic bedroom high in the branches of the towering evergreen. However, I was emphatically not allowed to go down to the party. He wouldn’t let me descend even a single level down the stairs.

The fire crackled and sparked. I wondered if the ancient tree that held our home felt anxious about the popping flames. However, just as I had watched Uncle and Field Yewwasp work the protective spell around the dead wood, doubtless the tree was looking on as well.

I sat quietly on my step, watching while everyone else enjoy conversations and communion as they congregated around the big bonfire. Belle Stargazer circulated amid the crowd with refreshments and snacks she brought. The little Opal siblings fluttered up to my perch carrying a tray for me. I tried to smile as I thanked them. At that moment, I didn’t realize that they would be the only people with whom I had a chance to interact. As the evening went on, I got the impression that just as I was not allowed to go down to the gathering, no one was permitted to come up to me.

Abruptly the branches of the primeval tree trembled. My eyes searched the crowd below, to see if anyone else appeared to have felt anything. However, the gathering carried on as before. I shivered and the pit of my stomach went cold. The hairs on my arms rose as my skin prickled.

The bonfire did not diminish, but the redness of the flames dulled and then brightened several times. No one else seemed to notice. I felt a vibration that seemed to come from the core of the massive evergreen.

A round hole parted the center of the bonfire. A loud roaring thing burst from the opening. It looked like a doubled version of Uncle’s unicycle with a seat connecting the two wheels. The rumbling sound came from the machine. A woman sat astride the fierce seeming thing as it was propelled from the bonfire. It sailed over the people standing at that end of the fire, and then skidded in a circle.

Stunt_Pyrotechnics_Luc_Viatour

As the thing paused, the rider looked up at me. A bright pink streak was in her hair. She wore a closely fitted jacket and trousers that had a gray snake skin pattern. She gave a feral grin when she made eye contact with me. The machine she rode bounded up the stairs toward me.

I never noticed him move or even saw from whence he came, but just as the two-wheeled thing roared up to me, I caught a glimpse of a well-made green jacket, a top hat with a poppy in the band, and rose-colored spectacles. That glance showed me the huge furry form of Field Yewwasp was at my back. His russet-colored wings had not yet settled.

The rider didn’t seem intimidated by the big furry faery. She looked at me as if she evaluated and calculated everything about me. I felt Field move a protective step closer. His huge hand rested lightly on my shoulder. I knew he was ready to zip me away with his extraordinary speed.

“You are even more powerful than Rotten said,” she commented with a smirk, and then thrust out her hand in greeting. “I’m Fallow Blackmoon. It’s good to meet another seer.”

I felt Field Yewwasp shift his stance behind me. The slight movement made me think he was startled or uneasy.

“She looks familiar,” he murmured so quietly that I barely heard. “Could it be?”

Fallow Blackmoon’s half smile and manner reminded me of the others I had met in that colorless world. I was sure that was where she was from. I took Fallow’s outstretched hand, but I was too shocked to speak.

While I had visited that strange place in my visions, no one was able to tell that I had left Thistledown. However, this woman was obviously present in her physical form. Field clearly saw her. Was he the only one besides me who could see her? I tried to look down at the partygoers but my gaze didn’t make it that far. My eyes were drawn immediately back to the strange fae.

With a grin and a nod, Fallow Blackmoon abruptly disappeared.

***

The End

I hope you checked out the mystery folks who were revealed in this episode. Be sure to click over and say hello to them.

Fallow Blackmoon the “scary faery” name for the character from Andrea Stephenson — Thistledown faery name Luna Moonglow.
Blossom Stargazer, the character name from Eloise De Sousa.

As some of you have seen, beginning Wednesday just past (for a while anyway) I’m going to do Jazz Age Wednesday posts in celebration of Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I and The Three Things Serial Story. Those of you who like short stories or the Roaring Twenties are welcome to drop in. Those midweek posts will be vignettes from the “Pip-verse” as I call it. Of course this serial will be back again next Friday.

Thanks so much for visiting Thistledown today. See you next week.

Hugs on the wing!

This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Jazz Age Wednesdays 1

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Each weekend I give you a new serial episode. I’ve been giving that throughout most of the past four years. However, Teagan’s Books is about more than serial episodes. It’s about my books too. So I’m creating this midweek feature.

I added a poll to the last post. Not a majority, but some people wanted me to keep it to one post a week. No one is obligated to visit every post. Although I have to say I find that discouraging.

Since my current release is Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I, I’ll be having Jazz Age Wednesdays. That means short stories from the “Pip-verse.” (At least for a while. When Atonement in Bloom is published, the midweek feature will be from that universe.)

We like to joke about Wednesday being “hump day” and camels. Did you know that in the 1920s there was a dance called the Camel Walk? Although this example from 1935 is probably a little more complicated than what the average couple did…

Here’s my first Jazz Age Wednesday feature. It takes place right after the novella, The Three Things Serial Story. I was honored to have a great review of the novella from author and translator Olga Núñez Miret.

It’s a short story, so it was driven by only one “thing/ingredient,” macaroni and cheese. It came from Suzanne DeBrango’s souffléd macaroni and cheese when we did a joint post in January. (Yes, I’m re-sharing this story.)

Pip Arrives in Savannah

The breeze that rustled through the fronds of tall palm trees was tinged with salt. I inhaled deeply as I walked out of the tall arched door at Savannah’s Union Station. I heard the bell of a streetcar, which had gone past a moment before. I stretched to see the trolley, but barely got a glimpse of its back-end.

With a loud Bronx cheer I dropped my suitcase to the curb of West Broad Street. I thought the Jazz Age slang for the rude noise I made was appropriate, since my Pops was continuing on the train to New York City.

Pops said I needed to be reigned-in, and Granny insisted that I needed to learn to cook. Neither of them would admit that I was a modern woman. No self-respecting Flapper needed to cook! Anyhow, Pops had unceremoniously dumped me off the train, saying he’d visit with Granny and me on his way back. I blew another raspberry at the streetcar that I had just missed — and at my wretched situation.

Union Station Savannah, GA

The ringing of the streetcar’s bell faded into the distance. The first time I ever saw a trolley was during a visit to my grandmother, there in Savannah, when I was a very little girl. I slipped away from her and Pops, and scampered onto a streetcar. I didn’t get far, but Granny Phanny was mad enough to spit.

This time, I had done the opposite. Instead of getting on a trolley when I shouldn’t have, I had missed the one I was supposed to ride to get to her. Now Granny would be waiting to meet me at some Chinese restaurant downtown, but I wouldn’t be on the trolley. Horsefeathers! She would be in a lather.

A nearby news vendor walked away from his stall, probably headed for a bite of lunch. I called out and waved as I hurried toward him, my suitcase bumping along at my side.

“Hey Mac! Was that the trolley that goes to Pearl Street?” I called out, but he didn’t hear me over the blast of a train whistle. “Enjoy your lunch,” I grumbled and my empty stomach answered in kind. “I sure could do with some of Granny’s macaroni and cheese.”

“Did you miss the trolley, sweet cheeks?” a clear tenor voice asked.

I didn’t see him until he moved forward. He had been leaning against the opposite side of the newsstand. He wore a suit and hat, but they had flair. He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder, but then tilted his head back and blew a smoke ring into the air.

Applesauce! He looked pos-i-lute-ly like the kind of character I had always been told to avoid, but he was as sexy as the Sheik of Araby. Then his cigarette smoke drifted to me and I sneezed. So much for me being a sophisticated Sheba. I had to agree with Pops that smoking was a nasty habit.

mallory-ad-man-in-car-hat-ad

“You’re new in town, huh? I’m Floyd. I can take you where the giggle water flows aplenty. It’ll be a real blow,” he said with a smile and a wink that made him even handsomer.

“Says you,” I countered coyly, thinking he was joking around.

“At least let me drive you over to Pearl Street. Stick around until my pal gets back. He’s picking up something for me,” he added gazing up and then down the street, as if looking for his friend. Stay right here and I’ll get my machine. It’s a sweet ride. You’ll love it,” he called over his shoulder as he rushed away. “Don’t move. Promise. I’ll be right back.”

I stood baffled, gaping at Floyd’s retreating form. I was also feeling flattered by his interest. There was an intensity about him that I found exciting. Not to mention the fact that I was relieved that I might avoid Granny’s wrath over me missing the streetcar and leaving her waiting.

“Signorina, do not be going with that man. It would be a bad thing for you. Trouble comes,” a voice, heavily accented with Italian, said from behind me. “There will be other transportation.”

Turning, I saw a portly man in odd looking chef’s clothes. He lifted his brimless toque and bowed. A jalopy backfired so suddenly and so loudly that I jerked around to face the noise. When I turned back, the chef was gone. I didn’t see him anywhere. It was as if he disappeared into thin air.

I quickly forgot about the odd occurrence when a wooden crate fell off a passing truck. The driver pulled to the curb beside me. Without thinking I went to help. He had not been traveling fast, so little damage was done. A few oranges rolled from a broken crate. I started picking up the wayward fruit. 1920s delivery truck

An Asian looking guy with a quasi-British accent jumped out of the driver’s door, apologizing even before his feet hit the street. He gingerly hopped over the tailgate and began re-positioning the crates. A couple of them looked ready to fall.

I noticed lettering on the truck proclaiming Wong’s Chinese. Was that the name of the restaurant where I was supposed to meet Granny? I was so resentful about being sent to Savannah that I hadn’t even paid attention to what she said. I knew there wouldn’t be more than one Chinese restaurant on the street.

“Your place isn’t on Pearl Street by any chance, is it?”

“Yep, that’s Wong’s,” he replied with a grin, stopping his work. “Hey, are you Pip? Miss Phanny will be looking for you. I’m Alastair Wong,” he bent from the truck bed and shook my hand.

I sighed with relief.

Then a brand new Ford stopped and gave a long blare of the auto’s horn. “Hey! Move it,” my Sheik of Araby from moments before shouted angrily, and followed that with a racial slur.

Floyd got out of the automobile, moving toward us in a menacing posture. I stood up, a smashed and dripping orange still in my hand.

“This cake eater’s bad news, Pip. You don’t want to have anything to do with him,” Alastair Wong whispered as he stepped in front of me protectively.

In the distance a police whistle trilled. The guy’s eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder. Before I knew what was happening, he had hit Alastair in the head with the butt of a pistol. I shrieked as he dragged me into the open Ford, my arms and legs flailing.

I could hear the coppers coming toward us, shouting and blowing whistles. Suddenly the Ford was blocked between the delivery truck and police vehicles. Alastair lay unconscious on the street. The busted orange dripped juice all over my skirt. The guy waved his gun around excitedly. A maniacal gleam came to his eyes when he looked at me.

1920s Police car

An over eager copper fired his gun. I heard the whiz of the bullet pass by my head. Startled, Floyd jerked toward the policemen. Movement from the delivery truck caught my eye. A catawampus crate started to wobble. Suddenly that crate and another one tumbled down to land on the windshield of the Ford. Floyd started screaming and cursing, waving his pistol even more.

When he turned back to me, on sudden impulse I stuck the busted orange in his face and smeared it into his eyes. By then the coppers had reached us. They grabbed him before he could do any damage with the gun.

A copper helped me out of the Ford. I ran to Alastair as another cop helped him stand. Across the street I saw Floyd’s pal, the news vendor being held by a policeman.

“What just happened here?” I demanded.

A paddy wagon rolled up and the policemen pushed Floyd into it, along with his pal.

“Bootleggers,” a copper told me. “As if we didn’t already have enough of those around here.”

“So Pip,” Alastair said while he held a handkerchief to his bloodied forehead. “How do you like Savannah so far?”

I chuckled despite everything. At least he had a sense of humor.

studebaker1920_2

“Well, I was afraid I would be bored to tears here,” I told him with a dramatic sigh. “But I suppose it will be interesting enough. So far I’ve learned three things. Don’t take any wooden nickels. Don’t get into Fords with handsome men. And Wong’s Chinese is the right place to go.”

Alastair laughed. “That’s a good slogan, doll face. Mind if I use it? How about we get you to the restaurant. Miss Phanny will be getting impatient.”

And so began my adventures in Savannah.

The end

***

You’ll find more of Pip and her friends and her adventures in Savannah in Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I . Thanks for visiting. You’re the cat’s pajamas!

Bijou front only 2

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam 9

Thistledown Girl

Friday, September 8, 2017

About This Episode

We’re privileged to have another recipe for this episode. When “agave” fluttered into my imagination I asked Suzanne at A Pug in the Kitchen if she had a drink recipe using it. (Right now, I have no idea how agave managed to get into my twisting mind. However, I had just finished Episode 8, and was already working on this one, when there it was — agave.)

The creative wheels in Suzanne’s mind whirred into action! She imagined things Peaches Dragonfly might gather to make a refreshing beverage, then she sweetened it with agave nectar. Suzanne let me use the recipe and her beautiful photos for this post. Here’s the recipe.

Sun and Moon Tea, by Suzanne DeBrango

Recipe: Sun and Moon Tea

https://apuginthekitchen.com/2017/08/21/murder-at-the-bijou-teagans-book-launch/

1 tbs chamomile flowers

1 tbs rose hips

1 tbs red clover flowers

2 sprigs fresh mint

Place all of the ingredients in a 64 oz. glass jar, or two 32 oz. jars. Pour in fresh filtered or spring water to fill. Place lid on jar, and set outside in the morning. Leave the jar(s) all day and night soaking up the rays of the sun and moon. Add agave syrup to desired sweetness, starting with 1/4 cup. Stir until combined. Strain into a serving container or bottle and chill.

Thanks for the refreshments, Suzanne! And now today’s episode…

Thistledown

Midsummer Bedlam 9

Sun and Moon Tea Table, by Suzanne DeBrango

Gone to the Dogs

Bright yellow flowers of the trumpet vine swayed in a warm breeze. The vine ran throughout Thistledown. It bore the local news. River Mindshadow touched a petal awakening the vine.

“Extra! Extra! Get the Thistledown Trumpet here!” the flower cried. “Dull haze reported in random parts of Thistledown! Take a leaflet,” the blossom added shifting to an encouraging voice.

“It says the haze leaves quickly, and that there’s no cause for concern,” River said as she uncurled the leaf to read the news. “Considering your visions of a dull, colorless place, I find that haze worrisome,” she added with a shudder.

Monticristi_Straw_Hat_Optimo

“Well bless my eyes, Bedlam and River,” Pick Dragonfly said tipping his wide brimmed hat as he walked up. “Bedlam, it’s nice to see you up and about. “You know,” he began as if telling a secret. “Your grand-uncle has been worried about you, even if he doesn’t let on.”

I smiled at the comment, but I doubted it was actually true. River and I exchanged a glance. My friend spared me by changing the subject before that conversation could get started. She motioned to the unusual hat Pick wore. It was white and made of fine, tightly woven straw, with a brim that was about a finger-length wide. Pick traveled more and farther than anyone in Thistledown, so I assumed he got the hat in some exotic locale.

River darted up with just a thrust of her wings and grabbed the hat off Pick’s head. She placed it on her own head and asked how she looked. River shrugged at our surprised expressions and put the hat back on Pick’s head before settling back to the ground.

“These are popular way down in the southern lands where the sun is hot,” Pick explained, adjusting the hat. “It’s not the only thing I brought back with me,” he added with a motion to the cart in front of him.

The little cart was hitched to two large dogs. They wagged stubby tails when River and I walked over to them. The short tails moved even faster when we paid attention to the dogs.

It was not unexpected to see dogs pulling small carts in Thistledown. Most creatures enjoyed having a job to do, especially if they were rewarded for it. I saw Pick hand the dogs treats. However, what was unusual was the dogs themselves. Most canines weren’t larger than knee-high. These dogs were much taller and I had never seen such stubby tails.

“Yes, I got the dogs on my way back. They needed a home. I also brought back these agave plants,” he told us motioning to the spikey looking blue plants.

I remembered the healer mentioning the tiny drop of nectar she gave me was from a plant related to agave, and described it to Pick. He nodded.

“Agave is mostly used in making grownup drinks. You two aren’t old enough for those yet,” he said to our protests. “The potent kind of drink uses the heart of the plant. But the nectar from agave is very, very sweet. So I brought some to Peaches, and now I’m taking some nectar and plants to Belle Stargazer for the Starlight Saloon. With Belle’s talent in hospitality, I know she’ll put them to good use.”

“Are you ladies ready to go?” Pick spoke to the two dogs in an encouraging tone.

River and I chuckled when he called the dogs ladies. But their stubby little tails wagged faster and faster until they seemed to spin in a circle. Their bottoms lifted into the air. The back feet of the dogs were barely on the ground. The dogs shot ahead, pulling the little cart along.

“Hey! Wait a minute!” Pick called after the dogs. “You’ll bounce the plants off the cart.”

Pick unfurled his wings, but shook his head. Apparently he had a leisurely walk in mind, not flying as fast as his wings could carry him.

“I’ll get them,” River said and zipped ahead, quickly catching the excited dogs.

Pick followed, only a heartbeat shower.

I was still grounded from my injured wing. Even if it had been fully healed, Lavender Cozy had laid out firm instructions for me to rest after the shock of my most recent vision. I saw Pick look back in my direction. A moment later, River flew back with a bottle for each of us of the sweet agave nectar.

“He still wouldn’t give us any of the grownup stuff,” River complained as she touched down.

***

Unsplash.com

My grand-uncle’s home was nestled in the branches of an impossibly broad and towering redwood tree. My bedroom was in the attic, the loftiest room of all. The healer and Uncle insisted that I get a lot of rest. Let’s be honest ― they’d rather I was confined to my bed and completely unable to get myself into another mishap.

Ironically, I had never been fond of heights. With my injured wing, I couldn’t glide down from my room, and the view from the top of the stairs was dizzying. So, I was disinclined to leave. Fate had conspired to force me to rest.

Fate must be a fiend, I thought. I was wretchedly bored. My only “entertainment” was the school books Uncle brought up, so that I’d have a chance of not having to repeat the last term. You see, just before the end of the term, River and I had been suspended because of the uproar surrounding my vision.

Trying to read one of the books, I nodded off. A light tapping awakened me.

“Psst, Bedlam are you awake?” a quiet voice asked. “Interrupting your rest isn’t a mistake I’d want to make.”

I could only see one eye and a fragment of the face that peeped at me from the side of my window. However, the extraordinary long mane that lifted on the breeze was easily recognizable. It graduated from blond, to blue, to green, to purple. Only Rhymer Rainbow had such a head of hair.

“Rhymer? There’s no need to hover outside. Come on in. I’d love to have company.”

“I know you’re supposed to rest, so I didn’t want to be a pest,” Rhymer began. “But I came upon a lost bluebird. Peaches uses them for messages, or so I’ve heard. Then on its beak I smelled something odd, and I thought maybe it’s lost because it’s drunk. So, I brought it up to your bunk.”

“Did it carry a peach blossom?” I asked and Rhymer nodded emphatically.

I took a close look at the bluebird as it clung woozily to Rhymer’s hair. It did look like one of Peaches’ birds.

“That’s strange and worrisome. I should go to the orchard. Do you want to come along?” I asked. “I’ll have to take the stairs, but I’ll be down in a moment.”

“Don’t worry,” Rhymer assured me. “I’m in no hurry.”

Unsplash.com

The cottage belonging to Peaches Dragonfly was in the middle of a beautiful orchard of fruit trees and other delicious things. No matter what the time of year, smoke curled from the twin chimneys of the cottage, because Peaches was nearly always baking something.

When Rhymer and I reached the cottage, we looked from the vine-covered roof, dotted with colorful berries, to the chimneys. Peaches was still cooking treats in preparation for her Midsummer party. She started baking well in advance of the holiday, but considering how much she planned to cook, she had to start early. Our mouths watered as we breathed in the aromas.

I heard Peaches giggle. Her head of fluffy pink hair bobbed into and out of view from the other side of the low stone wall that surrounded the cottage. She was outside, apparently playing with something that she had to bend down to reach. I heard a yip and knew it was the strange gray colored dog she found at the pond. She had called him Pucker because a suckerfish was attached to his face when we found him.

The little dog was gray from his twisty tail to his squished black face. Even his tongue was gray.

Rhymer called out, “Peaches! We brought your bluebird. I think his eyes were blurred. I found him before he reached Bedlam. So, we both came, in case you were in a jam.”

“Hi Rhymer. Bedlam, I’m sorry I sent for you. I didn’t know you were supposed to stay in bed until Lavender Cozy told me a moment ago,” Peaches apologized. “Come inside. You can try my new recipe! It’s for sun and moon tea. Isn’t that perfect for my Midsummer party? I’ve been gathering chamomile flowers, red clover, and mint. I’ll sweeten it with Pick’s agave nectar.”

Peaches was always enthusiastic when she thought of a new food or drink creation. The tea sounded refreshing and delicious. A different thought occurred to me.

“Erm… Did Pick leave you some of the grownup kind of agave?” I asked.

“Yes, for the solstice party,” she answered. “But we aren’t to have any of it.”

Mountain Bluebird, Fort Rock, Oregon

“That’s not why I asked. But I think your bluebird may have had a nip,” I commented and pointed to the little bird that still clung to Rhymer’s multicolored tresses. “She’s too tipsy to fly right.”

“Oh!” Peaches exclaimed with wide eyes as she fluttered up so Rhymer could hand her the bird across the wall. “You silly thing,” she told it. “I was experimenting with making some ice pops with the potent kind. I splashed some onto the windowsill. I remember seeing her investigating it. She must have drunk some!”

“Luckily Pick had left an agave plant here for the healer. Lavender stopped on her morning rounds to pick it up, so I asked her to take a look at Pucker.”

Rhymer seemed confused when she started to speak, “Look at pucker? Your mouth couldn’t… pucker?”

Remembering that I couldn’t use my wings, even for a bounce, Peaches invited us to come in at the gate. Two brick columns were topped by arched white latticework. Flowers of every color climbed the columns and wove across the arch.

As we walked, from her side of the wall, Peaches told Rhymer about the day we found the dog. We came to the gate and I heard another yip. When Rhymer and I set foot inside the blossom filled garden Pucker barreled into me, knocking me onto my bottom. It was so sudden that all I saw was his squished black face and the pink tongue that licked my face.

“Hey! His tongue is pink, not gray!”

“Yes, that started yesterday,” Peaches began. “his tongue turned pink. It was so different form the gray that it scared me. Then his gray fur… That’s why I wanted Lavender Cozy to look at him.”

“If he’s gray that’s all in your head. That dog is red,” Rhymer tried to insert when pucker jumped over to her.

“He’s not gray!” I exclaimed finally seeing more than Pucker’s face.

The dog’s curly tail wagged as he bounced around at Rhymer’s feet. As his tail moved, Pucker’s fur changed from red to a sky color.

Pug Yello

“A dog that changes hue!” Rhymer enthused. “How wonderful ― now he’s blue.”

Indeed, Pucker was suddenly blue, and then yellow, and then green. Though his face stayed black, the rest of his fur continued to change color as his tail kept wiggling.

“That is what I was so worried about, when I sent the bluebird to you,” Peaches replied. “But the healer said he was fine. Lavender said it might be from a change in his environment.”

Peaches and I exchanged a significant look. I was sure she was remembering the thicket that had developed at the pond, the shadows, the brown suckerfish, and the eerie feeling of the place. It reminded both of us of the colorless world of my vision.

Had the little, formerly gray dog come from that other world?

***

The End

New mystery folk revealed this time are Belle Stargazer — Marjorie Mallon and Rhymer Rainbow — Christy Birmingham. I hope you’ll visit all their blogs and say hello.

Toasting you with a refreshing cup of tea. Hugs on the wing!

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Blogger’s Books: Teagan Geneviene

Today I’m visiting (virtually) Norfolk with Beetly Pete!
Pete has done a wonderful post about my new release. I’m still blushing at his kind words. Do click over and say hello to Pete. You’ll love his fantastic blog!

beetleypete

I am always happy to promote new books published by fellow bloggers. Teagan is no exception, and I am pleased to feature her new novel. She is an American, a published author, and a blogger too. And what a blogger! Generous, involved, and engaged, she is an example to us all of what a good blogger is all about. As well as promoting her own writing, she is to be found popping up all over, with her encouraging comments, and witty asides. I have never met her, but I wish I had.

Her latest book is something unusual, and all the more exciting for that too.

Imagine asking people to give you three random things. Then combine those into blog posts, eventually constructing a novel around the same theme. Not easy, we would all agree. But Teagan pulled it off with aplomb, in her latest book, ‘Murder At The Bijou’.

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Featured Blogger: Teagan’s Books

My heartfelt thanks to Rob Goldstein for reviving this monthly feature — and for letting me have the first post!

I know I’ve been blogging a good bit this weekend, but I cannot resist sharing this with all of you.

Please click over to visit Rob and check out his brilliant work.
Hugs on the wing, Teagan

Art by Rob Goldstein

This is a re-boot of a monthly feature on Art by Rob Goldstein, the Featured Blogger.

This month I’m honored to feature Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene of
Teagan’s Books.

Thisledow

When did you start writing?

Answer: My seventh-grade teacher gave us an assignment that truly inspired my young mind — Write a story. However, we only had two options about the story 1) Write it from the point of view (POV) of a cartoon character, or 2) from the POV of the shoes of a famous person. Well, 12-year-old me watched talk shows after school, not cartoons. So, I saw plenty of “famous people” and “used to be famous” ones too, on Merv Griffin’s TV show. I liked the ones who talked about their pets. So, I wrote my story as a pair of red pumps belonging to actress Doris Day. (Back then I don’t think she was still making movies, but…

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Sharing: Time to Lie by Phil Taylor

Recently Phil Taylor at “The Phil Factor” participated in the launch of my new novel Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I. Now I’m honored to return the favor as he releases a new book.

Read all about it HERE at Phil’s wonderful humor blog. Be sure to leave a comment there to wish him luck.

You can also find Time To Lie on Amazon by clicking this link!

Meanwhile, here at Teagan’s Books, I’m thinking about a series of midweek posts. To promote Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I, I’m thinking about re-sharing the various short stories I’ve written set in the “Pip-verse.” What do you think?

Comments here are disabled (because I want you to visit Phil). So please vote below.

Looking for Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam, Episode 8? Click HERE.

Teagan's Books

Now available: "Murder at the Bijou – Three Ingredients I"

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Thanks so much for visiting. You’re the bee’s knees!

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Sharing: Time to Lie by Phil Taylor