Queen–I want to ride my bicycle

The weather is cooler and I went for a long bicycle ride yesterday. I ride along the road to get the best exercise—up and down the hills, some that are quite steep where I have to stop at the top of the hill to catch my breath and have a drink of water. Then I ride back home along the trails, which go up and down at a much more sedate pace, which suits me well as I’m tired by then.

Fall is definitely in the air. The huge maple leaves are falling heavily. Some of them are more than a foot in width. The colour is neat, but not as intense as in the east where the leaves turn a delightful red. Ours are more orange and yellow, depending on how fast the thermostat sank in the last few weeks.

I’m working on a new book—Book Six of The Last War, but it is coming slowly. There has been a lot of ‘life’ that has gotten in the way. None of which I regret. We’ve had family birthdays, family visits from near and far. We’ve had a new driveway put in, which is great because now the wave of dust from every vehicle is gone—what a relief.

So, as Queen so ably put it—

I want to ride my bicycle,

I want to ride my bike.

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride it where I like.

Blackberries, thick and ripe

I’ve been picking blackberries the last few weeks. They are the most aggressive plant imaginable. There is a local blackberry on Vancouver Island with small leaves and a thin vine that creeps along the ground in undisturbed forest areas. The berries are small and their season is short.

Then there are the Himalayan blackberries, with thick tough vines and huge thorns. We were picking the Himalayans. They have a long season, stretching into early October depending on the weather, and the berries are huge. The bushes were on the other side of a ditch, so we backed the truck across the ditch and stood on the flatbed to pick. I still got clawed and scratched but they are so plentiful we filled three buckets.

I learned how to pick these berries from the mother of a friend. She always went out prepared. She wore heavy jeans, tucked into socks, with heavy boots and thick soles. That way she could use her foot to flatten the vines and move forward into the jungle. She wore a cotton shirt, with a long sleeved shirt over so the thorns could grab the top shirt and she wouldn’t get clawed. She had a belt around her waist that was threaded through the handle of her berry bucket. Then she wore one leather glove to grab the vine and left her other hand free for picking. She also carried a wire coat hanger to hook the vines and pull them forward if needed.

I lived on Vancouver Island until my eleventh birthday. Then my family moved to the North Peace area. Time passed, we moved on again to the Kootenays, and it was years later that I decided to return to Victoria to attend university. It was early September, and I was waiting at a bus stop to take me up to the university campus for the first time. There was a blackberry bush behind the bench, and I leaned over and picked a few berries. They tasted like home. I had forgotten how good they were, but those few berries reminded me. I’ve lived on the island ever since.

What wild fruit do you pick near your home?

Fall Book Fair – Sept 3 – 7!

Come over and see all the books in the Fall Book Fair!

https://wordpress.com/page/viviana-mackade.blog/7767

Sept 3 – contemporary

Sept 4 – Suspense – I have a book in here, False Confession, on sale now!

Sept 5 – Historical – my book Moon Shine is here, on sale now!

Sept 6 – Paranormal Fantasy

Sept 7 – Young Adult

See my books on sale now at https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00OEIVODG/

Squash Soup, Garden gone crazy!

My garden is going crazy. I have a couple of English cucumber plants and they are producing like mad. We are trying to eat one a day just so it doesn’t get too far ahead of us, and we give the rest away. Luckily the tomato plants are just as busy, so we’ve had a lot of Greek salads! 🙂 Then there are the squash plants, too many to count.

Making a batch of Squash Soup today. I got the recipe from the world famous Butchart Gardens near Victoria. It always turns out fabulous – squash, apple, carrot, celery, onion, a stick of cinnamon, not to mention a few tablespoons of curry paste. Just put it through the food processor.

What are you harvesting from your garden?

Dead Wrong! Did you leave a review?

DEAD WRONG  is available. Get it now! https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07G6YZ3BR/   books2read.com/DeadWRong

Like any new book, reviews are needed. Post a review, then send me an email with the link at – sylviegraysonauthor@gmail.com . You then let me know which of my other books you’d like for free,  and whether you use mobi or epub. I will send it out  to you right away. Easy peasy!

Excerpt from Dead Wrong—

He drove into the shadows of the old parking lot and drew his battered black pickup to a halt near the building entrance. There were a few cars scattered across the cracked blacktop but no one else was in sight. The  apartment building was old, a three-floor walk-up with battered stucco-clad walls and a flat roof. It had clearly seen better days.

The sky was heavily overcast and it looked like rain was imminent. Maybe that’s why everyone was indoors on this dreary February evening. He stepped out of the cab of his truck and stared at the building, hoping Billy was home. It was time to sort out a few things that had been left untended too long. He was in no rush to begin the encounter. On second  thought, knowing how Billy operated, he was better safe than sorry. He  reached behind the driver’s seat to grab the tire iron.

Billy Zach was an unpredictable man. Tonight, he wasn’t going to take any chances with how this played out. But he was going to deal with the  bastard, one way or the other. Why had no one stepped up to take control? This situation had gone on far too long. There were lots of people who should have challenged him over the issue of how he treated his girlfriend, but surprisingly no one had. Well, tonight there was a different agenda, and it was going to cost the asshole big time. He’d take care of things now, because it couldn’t be left any longer to chance.

As he approached the entrance, the front door opened and his target stepped out. Billy wore his usual worn denims low on his hips, feet stuffed into a pair of laceless runners. A faded green tee shirt showed beneath his heavy wool jacket. Most surprising was the bright red bruise forming in front of his left ear. Perhaps someone else had already tried to sort him out. A feeling of satisfaction settled in the man’s gut. Good timing, that’s what it was, remarkable timing to find him here like this.

“What do you want?” Billy snarled, glaring angrily as he came down the stairs. “Are you just hanging out here waiting for me? Coward! Couldn’t even knock on my door?”

“I’m no coward,” he said, determination rising in his chest. “I’ve come to give you a warning. You’d better take it to heart if you know what’s good for you.”

“Take it to heart?” Billy put back his head and laughed derisively. “What heart?” He was staring at him now, a strange penetrating gaze that sent an unwelcome shiver down the man’s backbone. “I don’t have a heart. And no measly warning from you is going to change that.”

“Forget it,” he said. “I’ve come to tell you it’s going to cost. Pay up or else. You owe me and you know it. This is your last chance…”

He suddenly lost his words because Billy took a long step forward and hit him square in the face with a closed fist. His head snapped back and he staggered as blood spurted from his nose. Before he could react, Billy took another heavy swing. At the last minute, he remembered the tire iron in his hand and aimed it squarely at the side of Billy’s head.

Zach fell, whirling in what seemed like slow motion toward the ground. The back of his skull connected with the concrete step behind him. There was a sharp crack like the sound of a hammer on tile. Billy Zach lay still.

*******

I love it when we connect, you can leave a comment for me any time,

Best, Sylvie