Little Beauties That Made a House a Home

I’m house and cat sitting for a woman who owns the cutest bungalow surrounded by a simple, yet chaotic garden on three sides of the house. Being here, if only for a few days, reminds me of how it’s the simple, little things that can make a house a home. But how did women in days gone by, create such beauty?

One of the things I love most about writing westerns is remembering that the Old West wasn’t all dust, danger, cattle drives, and gunfights. Oh, those things certainly make wonderful story fodder. Give me a stubborn cowboy, a runaway wagon, a mysterious stranger, or a heroine with more courage than sense, and I’m a happy writer. But what really brings a western town or homestead to life for me are the little touches of beauty people carried with them.

A scrap of lace, teacups wrapped carefully in cloth and packed across the country.
A packet of flower seeds tucked into a trunk. A quilt made from dresses that had seen better days. Maybe a blue ribbon saved for Sunday.

Those are the details that make my imagination wake up. I often think about the women who traveled west and what they chose to bring when space was limited and every item had to matter. A cast-iron skillet was practical. A good needle was necessary, and a sturdy pair of shoes could make all the difference.

But then there were the things that weren’t strictly necessary and still mattered very much. Many a woman kept a pressed flower between the pages of a Bible. For some it was a pretty shawl or a bit of rose-scented soap. Many carried small pictures from home, while others packed packets of hollyhock, marigold, or sweet pea seeds.

Those little things remind me that people have always needed beauty. Not grand beauty, necessarily. Not chandeliers and ballrooms and velvet curtains. Just something lovely enough to soften a hard day.

Imagine a woman standing in the doorway of a sod house or a rough cabin. The wind is blowing dust across the yard. Supper still needs cooking. The children are muddy. Her husband is late getting back. There is work everywhere she looks.

But beside the door, a few stubborn flowers are blooming. That matters.
Maybe they came from seeds her mother gave her or she traded for them with a neighbor. Maybe she carried them across miles of prairie because she couldn’t bear to leave every pretty thing behind. That little patch of flowers says, “This is home now.”

I think that’s why I love writing heroines who create beauty wherever they land. Maybe they bake, sew, plant flowers, tend chickens, teach children, doctor neighbors, run boardinghouses, or make a lonely room feel welcoming. They’re not just surviving. They’re building something.

I western romance, that’s often what love is really about, too. Not just the grand declaration or the kiss. And let’s not forget the moment when the hero finally realizes he’s been a complete fool and had better do something about it before the heroine walks away. Though I do love that part.

Love is also in the small things. The cup of coffee waiting on the stove, the extra blanket. What about wildflowers left on a windowsill? Or when the man who notices she’s tired. The woman who sees past his gruffness and realizes he’s lonely?

It’s these little things that make a house into a home. And sometimes, those little beauties are what make a story feel real. So today I’m thinking about the small comforts people carried into hard places. The things that didn’t look important on a packing list, but meant everything once the journey was over. A flower garden, a pretty dish, a quilt, songs, memories and hope.

Those are the things that remind us our foremothers weren’t only tough, though they certainly were that. They were also dreamers. Women who could face a hard world and still say, “I’m going to plant something beautiful here.” And honestly, I can’t think of anything more heroic than that.

What about you? What little touch makes a house feel like home to you? Is it flowers, books, quilts, family photographs, a certain scent from the kitchen, or something else entirely?

Cowgirls in the Kitchen – Karen Witemeyer

There is something special about family food memories. I used to love visiting my maternal grandma. She was a no-nonsense woman who shared her love through food more than words. She made the best jams and jellies from fruit grown either in her garden or wild berries my grandpa gathered down by the creek. But my favorite food memory with Grandma was her persimmon cookies. She would keep persimmon pulp in her freezer just so she could make my favorite treat whenever we visited. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time. I just knew she made the best cookies that were soft and just a little sticky and so yummy. They were small drop cookies with persimmon moistening the batter much like pumpkin does in pumpkin bread. Add some sugar, cinnamon, and raisins and they became a delicious treat.

When she passed (at age 102!), I asked my uncle to send me her recipe if he could find it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to find it. A few years later, I found a recipe online that created a very similar cookie. It might not be exactly the same, but it is close enough to elicit those tender memories.

Persimmon Cookies

1/2 cup shortening
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 cup persimmon pulp*
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cloves
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1 cup raisins

*Note – Use hachiya persimmons for baking. They are the more elongated ones. (Think Roma tomato as opposed to a round, garden tomato.) Let them get overripe (you’ll need about 3) and squeeze the pulp right out of the skin and puree with a blender or food processor.

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease or line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, soda, salt and spices; set aside.

3. In a separate bowl, cream the shortening with the sugar using a hand mixer. Beat in egg then beat in persimmon pulp. Slowly beat in the flour mixture until everything is combined. By hand, stir in the raisins.

4. Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto prepared baking sheets. They can be placed close together because these cookies don’t spread much.

5. Bake for approximately 12-15 minutes. Let cool on baking sheets for five minutes and then remove to a wire rack to cool completely.

Yield: 24-36 small cookies

Do you have special family food memories?

Bingo Round-Up!

Your Last Chance to Play!

Missed the daily clues in the Reader Group? No worries! Here’s your Bingo Round-Up with all four clues in one place.

Choose your answers, submit your entry, and you’ll still have a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card!

Winner will be announced Monday in the Reader Group.  

 

 

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Book #2 in the Petticoats & Patriots Series

Coming Tuesday!

 

PREORDER ON AMAZON

 

Join us Tuesday in the Reader Group on Facebook as we play a new Bingo game to celebrate!

You could win a $10 Amazon Gift Card.

And . . . check out our Series Page to see all the books, too.  

 

Welcome Guest Author KyLee Woodley

What They Carried

  The Story of Shirley’s Basket

There was a lot of hubbub when my first novel debuted, including friends of friends and relatives who purchased it. One such person was my sister’s neighbor, who purchased it for his wife. This summer, I went to visit my sister and met her neighbor—a 91-year-old gentleman by the name of Don. He sat in his rocking chair before a grand fireplace, where a historical firearm, complete with a bayonet, hung on display behind him as he told me stories of coming west. Beside him sat an empty rocking chair, complete with an overstuffed cushion.

As he paused in his storytelling, my sister spoke up. When she mentioned that I wrote stories of the West and that I was the writer in the family, Don told me that Shirley enjoyed reading my book and insisted that I should take one of her ornamental glass baskets. Speechless, I thanked him yet stood unmoving, wrapped in the weight of the moment. He nodded solemnly, as our dear elderly friends do, and said, “In honor of Shirley.” It was a deeply humbling experience.

Figure 1 Shirley’s Basket with Books by KyLee Woodley, Photo cred. KayDee Parker

Holding that delicate glass, I realized that we never truly leave the past behind if we have something tangible to anchor it. Decades ago, many pioneers heading west set out with the prize of “the Promised Land” and a new life ahead. They brought with them an assortment of heirlooms and family treasures—some of monetary worth, and others of purely sentimental value. These precious items became the foundations of a home, surviving the journey even after the schooners themselves had been stripped down and remade into cabins.

 The Woven Basket: The Everyday Companion

While Shirley’s basket was an ornament of remembrance, the baskets carried across the plains were born of pure utility. Baskets were lightweight, durable, and did not overburden the beasts of burden that brought emigrants west. They were used for vital, practical purposes like collecting eggs, herbs, and berries, as well as for holding sewing essentials or keeping bread dough warm by the fire. Woven from natural materials and often handed down from generation to generation, these baskets stood as a symbol of the work of the hands and heart—a practical piece of history born from simple materials, a clever mind, and diligent hands.

The Signature Quilt: A Community’s Embrace

Quilt exhibit, interior of Negro building, Atlanta Exposition. Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print

Where baskets provided daily utility, other trail treasures offered a different kind of survival: emotional comfort. The heirlooms that consistently made it across the plains were the family quilts. Before a wagon train departed, entire communities would gather to hold “farewell quilting bees,” stitching together pieces of fabric, names, and signature blocks from the families left behind. They sometimes signed their names directly onto the squares or inked scripture and words of blessings onto the cloth. Wrapping up in a signature quilt on a freezing desert night meant literally wrapping oneself in the warm presence of loved ones who were thousands of miles away.

 Heirloom Seeds: The Promise of Tomorrow

Old Pecan Orchard in Lebanon Oregon (by KayDee Parker)

Many of the pioneers were farmers, and how appropriate to bring with them the seeds of their home. Often, these were sewn into the hems of petticoats. Flowers, pinecones, and bulbs (like lilacs and old-fashioned roses) were stored in tin boxes. Planting a mother’s garden in untamed western soil was how they claimed a wild frontier and turned it into a home.

Living Sourdough Starter: A Taste of Home

Mixing Sourdough (Photo: William George James, 2019. Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Alongside the seeds meant for future fields, pioneers carried another living heirloom to sustain them day by day: the family batch of sourdough. Many of these wild yeast starters were already generations old, carefully kept alive from the same batch used by mothers and grandmothers further up the family tree. Tucked safely away from the harsh elements, these starters lived in small stoneware crocks. They were a true “living heirloom,” ensuring that no matter how drastically their outer world changed, the pioneers’ daily bread tasted like the kitchens they had left behind.

 Vessels of Memory

Cherokee Pass, Rocky Mountains, LOC.gov. https://lccn.loc.gov/2004661635

We remember pioneers for their grit, but their heirlooms remind us of their heart—the things that mattered to them and to those who came after them. Like the basket from Shirley’s own living room, we honor those who walked before us and cherish the days gone by—a time when family ties endured even as new worlds beckoned and threatened.

What about you?

Is there a precious object passed down through your family, or perhaps a unique treasure you discovered at a local garage sale or antique shop?

I would love to hear your stories in the comments below. 

About the Author:

KyLee Woodley Author Kylee Woodley with long wavy blond hair, smiling, wearing a floral shirtwrites inspirational historical romance with a pinch of adventure. A cheery romantic, she loves to evoke bygone days and heartwarming love stories, as seen in her 2025 debut The Bandit’s Redemption and the subsequent installments, The Bounty Hunter’s Surrender (2025) and The Convict’s Courtship (2026)—all published by Wild Heart Books. KyLee teaches preschool at a lab school in Texas, where she lives with her husband and their three teenage children. When she is not busy, she hosts Historical Bookworm Show—a podcast for history lovers and fans of historical fiction. Raised in the Pacific Northwest and now rooted in Texas, KyLee carries a deep respect for American values and the power of redemption. She began ministering to the homeless and addicted as a teenager, and that compassion continues to shape her stories—loving the unlovely is a timeless theme.

Author Links: 

https://www.facebook.com/WoodleyWrites

https://twitter.com/KyLeeWoodley

https://www.instagram.com/kylee.woodley.writes/

https://www.pinterest.com/kypins13/

Podcast: https://historicalbookworm.com/?page_id=41

Personal Website:  https://kyleewoodley.com/

 

 

Montana Rose–coming soon–and a giveaway

We are on to book four in this NINE BOOK SERIES!

These books are formerly published and out of print, so I’m giving them a new life with the help of Wild Heart Books.

But only six covers so far. I can’t wait for the rest!!!

This month the book re-releasing is………..

Montana Rose

Montana Rose is one of the first books I ever wrote. Not first by any means but before any of the other five books that are included in that lineup.

To make it into a series I had to rewrite it, along with The Husband Tree…which I wrote a bit later…move Montana Rose to Montana…or did I move the Husband Tree to Montana? And I know it was The Husband Tree that I had to date a lot later to match up with the time of The Husband Tree and, if you’re reading Montana Rose, you’ll see that Belle Tanner, the heroine of The Husband Tree is in the book, as is Tom Linscott…neither of these people were originally in Montana Rose. There might have been a  passing mention of the name Tom Linscott as a cranky neighbor who would bid to buy the land that is being seized by the bank near the beginning of the book.

He never appears on the page. He never had a line of spoken dialogue and, in my imagination, he was an old codger. Now he’s a handsome young cranky neighbor bound of a love story of his own.

All of this changed when I threw my back (okay, my fingers!) into making these books a series. Adding in Wildflower Bride well, that was the first original book I wrote after I became published.

Montana Rose was written as my effort to re-create Love Comes Softly. If you’re familiar with it, it is the beginning of Christian Publishers buying and publishing fiction. It was all non-fiction before Love Comes Softly.  It’s a beautiful story, classic and widely known. Also at this point in my writing, I’d been creating female characters that were tough, feisty lady ranchers. I wanted to try and grow as an author, test my skills. Can I create a true damsel in distress…and in the truest, old fashioned sense of the word.

Cassie is meek. She’s been mistreated by her first husband, a much older man who, after Cassie’s mother’s death, tended the vast wealth Cassie inherited. Well, he married her and took her west, spent her whole fortune, got her pregnant and died. Leaving her penniless, alone, used to taking orders and convinced she’s stupid and childish and someone needs to tell her every decision to make.

There, on the freshly turned grave of her husband….

…………..Here’s the thing. I like to think of Montana Rose as Love Comes Softly … Only with Mayhem and Gunfire.

I suggested to my publisher we call it that. Or maybe Love Comes Hardly. Or Love Comes Loudly.

I felt like that captured the spirit of the book. In their usual wisdom, they picked a title of their own.

Montana Rose, coming June 23. That’s next Tuesday. Available now for preorder, along with The Husband Tree and Wildflower Bride.

Have you read Love Comes Softly? It was a movie on The Hallmark Channel…the author Janette Oke, absolutely beloved, has had many many books made into movies, six in the Love Comes Softly series alone. In some ways they really launched The Hallmark Channel and those movies run and rerun to this day.

So my humble attempt to capture that beautiful pregnant woman, grieving from her husband’s death on a wagon train, in terrible need, her forced marriage of convenience to a near stranger, and how those two learned to trust. And how Cassie learns to risk her heart again.

With me as the author, it fell into chaos of course, lots of shooting and such. But I love it just the same.

Have you read Love Comes Softly? Have you seen the movie? To get your name in the drawing for an ebook copy of Montana Rose, let me know in the comments. Then, if you dare!!! Risk the mayhem of Montana Rose.

Montana Rose

A poignant Western romance about second chances, redemption, and the healing power of faith—a moving tale of a heartbroken young widow, a compassionate rancher, and the love that helps them both find their way home.

When Cassie Griffin’s abusive husband dies, leaving her pregnant and destitute, she’s forced to marry a stranger to survive. Red Dawson, a hardworking rancher and part-time preacher, steps forward to save her from a worse fate. Though Red fears marrying a non-believer goes against his principles, he can’t stand by and watch Cassie be claimed by the ruthless Sawyer clan.

Living in Red’s rustic cave home is a far cry from Cassie’s former life of luxury. But as she learns to work alongside him, she discovers strength she never knew she possessed. Red’s gentle patience and unwavering faith begin to crack the protective shell she’s built around her heart. When a dangerous enemy threatens their newfound happiness, Cassie and Red must trust in God’s plan—and each other—to survive.

Can a marriage of convenience bloom into true love? And can a woman who’s known only submission find the courage to stand tall? A tender story of healing, hope and the transformative power of unconditional love.

http://www.maryconnealy.com

Linda Has a Winner!

Thanks to everyone who left a comment on my Tuesday blog. I enjoyed it.

I put all the names in a fish bowl and Drew……….

TRUDY C.

Yippee, Trudy! I’ll email you in the morning. Decide if you want an ebook or print.

Kylee Woodley Will Come Calling Friday!

Historical Romance author Kylee Woodley has stuck her feet in the stirrups and will be here Friday, June 19, 2026! Yee-Haw!

Miss Kylee will share the things women thought were really important on their arduous journey west. Other than food, that is. What was too important to leave behind? We’ll darn sure find out.

She will not have a giveaway this time. Just interesting things to share straight from history.

Get your chores done early then hitch up the wagon for the ride over here.

We’ll save you a seat!

Welcome to High Street

Have you ever thought about what it would be like to wander down a street that existed 250 years ago?

Today, I hope you’ll take a little stroll with me along High Street in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, during the summer of 1776. It is the setting for much of For Liberty and Love, which just released yesterday! It is the first book in the new Petticoats & Patriots series that spans 250 years!

As a visual learner, I needed images of High Street to be able to write about it. The problem was that cameras were not around back then, and finding drawings or illustrations of High Street wasn’t easy.

This map of Philadelphia from 1776 was very helpful. You can see High Street appears to be the largest street in town.

(From an old drawing in Philadelphia Library.)

This is an image of the Old Court House, Town Hall & Market in 1710, on High Street between Second and Third Streets.

It didn’t really give me the visual I was craving, so I asked ChatGPT to generate a few images and it brought the street to life for me.

In July 1776, High Street was the beating heart of Philadelphia, which was the largest city in America at the time.

Known today as Market Street, High Street stretched from Front Street at the Delaware River all the way up to the edge of the city where it met the Schuylkill River. High Street bustled with the noise, color, and energy of a city standing at the center of history. It was a place where merchants, farmers, tradesmen, sailors, servants, soldiers, and families all crossed paths.

Near the river, a long wooden market shed was crowded with activity. The market shed (or stalls) were  long, narrow, open-air structures with heavy roofs supported by brick pillars, running directly down the center of the 100-foot-wide cobblestone street. Taken straight out of English and Scottish architectural traditions, they formed a permanent, covered marketplace that stretched continuously from the Delaware River waterfront at Front Street up to Third Street.

On market days, farmers arrived with wagons full of fresh produce from the countryside. Butchers sold meat. Fishmongers brought in their catch from the river. Women examined baskets of beets, beans, berries, herbs, and greens. Wheels of cheese, loaves of bread, eggs, butter, smoked meats, and jars of preserves might be set out for eager buyers. In July, the air would have been hot and  humid (read John Adams’ letters to his wife because they offer great detail about how unbearably hot he found the city that year), and loaded with mingled scents — fresh flowers, ripe fruit, fish, horses, the waterfront, woodsmoke, tar from the wharves, and the unmistakable press of many people gathered in one place.

The stalls closest to the river were referred to as the Jersey Market section, specifically reserved for New Jersey farmers who rowed across the Delaware River to sell fresh produce and goods. Ships crowded the waterfront, their masts rising like a forest of harvested timber against the summer sky. Sailors unloaded goods while dockworkers rolled barrels and crates toward warehouses. Shops and taverns served the constant stream of merchants, sailors, and travelers moving through the port city.

 

If you looked toward the other end of High Street, you could see brick townhouses, artisan shops, print shops, taverns, and small businesses lining the street. Goldsmiths, shoemakers, cabinetmakers, tailors, and booksellers all had their place in the life of the city. High Street was not merely a place to buy and sell. It was where news spread, rumors flew, political opinions were debated, and ordinary people learned extraordinary things.

Just one block south stood the Pennsylvania State House, where the Continental Congress had debated and approved the Declaration of Independence. Although the first public reading took place at the State House on July 8, the news would have rippled quickly through nearby streets, especially with bells ringing throughout the day and peoples celebrating.  Imagine the talk in the market stalls, the whispers in doorways, the questions asked over baskets of produce and bolts of cloth. What would independence mean? What would war cost? What kind of future was beginning?

High Street was also home to  some historical figures. Benjamin Franklin resided right off of High Street.  Jacob Graff, a bricklayer, rented out his upper rooms to Thomas Jefferson, who penned much of the Declaration of Independence there.

The street and the city  gradually softened into gardens, orchards, and open ground. But along High Street, July 1776 was alive with the motion of a city on the edge of change.

It was a place of trade and gossip, heat and dust, courage and uncertainty.

And for the people of Philadelphia, it was the familiar street where everyday life carried on while history unfolded all around them.

Get a glimpse of the some of the history unfolding in For Liberty and Love!

Lucy Carlson works with her father in his High Street Goldsmith shop, making it the perfect place to gather intel on the Redcoats.

She never intended to become a spy … or fall for one.

Philadelphia, 1776

As whispers of revolution swell into a roar for freedom, Lucy Carlson is no longer content to simply watch from behind the counter of her father’s jewelry shop. When a mysterious woman—none other than Martha Washington—leaves behind a locket, Lucy discovers the piece is more than a pretty keepsake. The necklace is a secret vessel for the revolution that carries the promise of love.

Drawn into a dangerous spy ring, Lucy begins crafting coded messages concealed within the locket’s clever design, living a secret double life and risking everything she holds dear in a time of sacrifice and war.

Continental soldier Branch Barton is a man defined by duty. Tasked with rooting out traitors, he moves through the shadowed world of deception and divided loyalties. He’s trained to trust no one, yet he finds himself drawn into a slow-burning connection with the jeweler’s spirited daughter.

But when Lucy begins to suspect Branch may be a Redcoat in disguise, their fragile bond is tested by mistaken identity, growing mistrust, and the threat of betrayal.

In a war where even allies can become enemies,  Lucy and Branch must navigate a world of hidden truths and guarded hearts. With the fate of the colonies—and their hearts—hanging in the balance as Lucy delivers a message in enemy territory, will they find the courage to trust each other and choose love?

Courage built a nation. Love made it worth fighting for.

Throughout 250 years of American history, a well-loved locket finds its way into the hands of eight spirited heroines—each standing at the crossroads of love and destiny, and each inspired by a true patriot. As it journeys from one heart to the next, these stories unfold with sweet romance, unwavering hope, and a deep love of country, proving that even in uncertain times, love is always worth the risk. Start reading the Petticoats & Patriots series today!

Don’t forget to download your digital copy of the first issue of the Petticoats & Patriots Magazine if you haven’t yet!

If you could travel back in time for one day, where would you go?

What would you hope to see? Or who would you like to meet?

Also, be sure to join us each day in our Facebook Reader’s group for more fun, games, and giveaways!

An Odd Custom in the 19th Century and Earlier

One of the strangest customs that was pretty common in the 19th century and earlier was a married woman referring to her husband as Mister and whatever their last name was. I just think it’s so odd and kind of funny in a way. It makes it sound like they’re not even married and maybe complete strangers.

My grandmother used to call her husband Mr. Smith like they weren’t even acquainted.

But my grandpa always called my grandmother by her first name which was Becky and didn’t say Mrs. Smith. It seems it was only the women who did this.

Another thing had to do with sending any mail to my grandmother. It had to be addressed as Mrs. Robert Smith, not by her name. It almost seemed like an ownership thing and she wasn’t her own person, not like today.

I still have an elderly cousin who always wants Mrs. Ed Langley on every piece of mail I send her even though he’s been dead for over ten years. Somehow, she’s still unable to claim her own identity. I think that’s really sad.

Yet, when I try to write this into one of my stories, it makes it seem they’re strangers, so I give up and change it so the reader will know who I’m talking about.

These days, we have a fast-paced, very casual lifestyle and wives always use their husband’s first names when they speak to them and it seems more natural.

One of my pet peeves is that I do not like is a man referring to his wife as his “old lady or old broad.” And the wife saying, “My old man.” Just sounds awful disrespectful, but maybe that’s just me. Or when they call each other Ma and Pa.

My parents always used their first names when speaking to each other.

Now for book news. The McIntyre complete series is out now, and I think doing pretty well as far as I can tell. It has its own series page on Amazon.

CLICK here for the link.

The McIntyre siblings are on a quest to reunite their fractured family no matter the cost. As they search, each also finds a love that cannot be denied.

 

How about you? Have you ever heard women of the older generations calling their husbands Mr. so and so? I’ll give a copy of Book 1 in this series – Cade’s Quest – to one commenter. (Either ebook or print)

Petticoats & Pistols