Christmas

National Cookbook Month

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October is National Cookbook Month.

Yum!

That sounds like a delicious thing to celebrate!

I love cookbooks, and have collected them for years.

The oldest cookbook I have is from the 1880s and belonged to my great-great grandmother. The batter-splattered pages make me wish I could have spent an afternoon sharing a cup of tea and talking about favorite recipes.

I have a cookbook that belonged to a great-aunt in the 1930s, again with those special recipes that were clearly turned to again and again.

One of the cookbooks I have takes me back to our kitchen on the farm during my childhood.

When I was just learning how to cook, Mom taught me from the 1965 Betty Crocker’s New Boys and Girls Cookbook. The back cover was missing and the pages were well used. I think the cookbook had been passed down to my sister from one of our cousins, but I loved that cookbook. I couldn’t have been more than seven or eight when Mom started teaching me how to cook and we often turned to that worn cookbook for ideas. I loved looking through it. The pages were spiral-bound, which made it easy to leave it open on the counter, or prop upright when we were mixing so it wouldn’t get splattered.

One thing that was fun about the cookbook was at the front, it introduced a group of youngsters who were “test helpers”. It was neat to see their comments and the drawings of their likenesses throughout the book.  There was a section about “What Every Junior Cook Should Know” that offered cooking terms, kitchen safety, equipment information, how to measure properly, and even a guideline to good manners. There were sections for beverages, breads and sandwiches, salads and vegetables, meats and main dishes, cookies and desserts, candies and snacks, special occasions, and summer fun.

After my mom passed away,  I couldn’t find the cookbook among her things, and it added to my sense of loss. It wasn’t so much the cookbook, but the fact that it had been included in so many good memories I had of my mom, working side by side with her in the kitchen. One day, I decided  to see if I could somehow locate a used copy of the cookbook. After doing a little searching and digging, I finally found one on eBay. It was in like-new condition. Other than a name written inside the cover, it could have been brand-new. And when it arrived, I cried. It was like I was twelve all over again, sitting with Mom at the kitchen counter, looking through the colorful pages and deciding what I wanted to make next.

I also have two Betty Crocker cookbooks that are pretty special to me. The one on the left was my grandma’s cookbook. She wrote notes in the margins, and there are little newspaper clippings with recipes tucked among the pages. It also had Dad’s favorite peanut butter cookie recipe in it that I tried a dozen times to recreate unsuccessfully until I cracked open the old cookbook and food it there. The cookbook on the right belonged to my mom. When she got it out, it always meant company was coming because she’d make something a little fancier than our normal farm food required. I remember Mom making Baked Alaska from a recipe she found in the cookbook and thought it was the most amazing thing – to put ice cream in the oven!

My husband’s grandmother was also a cookbook collector. She gave me boxes and boxes of them several years ago and each one of them makes me smile when I look through them, thinking of the love we shared not only of recipes, but also Captain Cavedweller.

One of our sweet neighbor ladies gave me a Better Homes and Gardens cookbook for our wedding. Like my ancestors, there are pages dotted with splatters that mark favorite recipes.

Cookbooks somehow make me feel closer to the women in my family. Those who spent so much time in the kitchen, sharing love through the food they created.

I suppose that is part of why I still love collecting recipes, and sharing them.

Here is one of my favorite fall recipes. It’s not hard to make, and these bite-sized treats are packed with perfect pumpkin flavor.

Pumpkin Pie Bites

Crust:

1./2 cup butter

3-4 ounce of cream cheese (3 oz. if you have a small pack or cut a large pack in half)

1 cup flour

Soften butter and cream cheese, blend together with flour until a soft dough forms. It will be sticky. Cover and chill for one hour or overnight.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Using a greased mini-muffin tin, roll dough into walnut-sized balls and drop one in the tin. Use a tart tamper (or the back of spoon – or a shot glass if you have one) to smoosh the dough into the bottum and up the sides of the muffin cup.

Fill with pumpkin filling and bake for about 15-20 minutes until pumpkin is set and dough is starting to brown. Remove from oven, let cool, devour.

Pumpkin Filling:

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. pumpkin pie spice

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1 egg

3/4 cup pumpkin

1/2 cup evaporated milk

Beat egg, blend in pumpkin and milk then stir in dry ingredients. Mix well. Pour into crust-lined muffin cups and bake.

Garnish with whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon.

I also have A Cowboy Christmas available. The front half of the book includes interviews with western families, holiday decorating tips, and crafty ideas, but the back half of the book is full of recipes. Some are mine. Some are from the families I interviewed. All of them were made with love for the book!

For a chance to win an autographed copy of the book,

just post about your favorite cookbook or recipe,

or a sweet memory from the kitchen. 

New Book and Historic Blizzards

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Sometimes the brightest Christmas miracle begins with a single lantern in the window.

My Christmas book, Bright is the Light, releases today!! I’m really excited. It’s available in ebook, KU, and paperback. AMAZON

Ex-soldier Calder Jackson arrives in Jubilee, Texas half-frozen in a blizzard with a weariness that no rest can heal. The story takes place in 1868, just three years following the Civil War’s end. He suffers from shell shock, the old term for PTSD. He’s seen too much heartache and death to last a lifetime so he drifts from town to town, hoping to find some peace for his soul.

If he doesn’t find warmth soon, he’ll perish. When he spies a sign for a room for rent in the Walsh house, he quickly takes it, not knowing how much it’ll change him.

Often we just have to have faith that we’re making the right decisions. He quickly befriends a simple minded boy, a 15 year old, who insists a lantern in the window on Christmas Eve will draw blessings to them. Together, he and Calder build a lantern on nothing but the boy’s faith. Micah believes with the simplicity of a child that the lantern will change their lives.

And oh yes, there’s a romance between Calder and Micah’s sister. Kate can’t cook to save her life and burns everything, much to Micah’s dismay.

This story is set about where Dalhart, Texas is at the very top of the Texas Panhandle. They get frequent blizzards in the winter months. Blizzards were unusually harsh in 1885-1887. Of the 2.5 million head of cattle before then, 75 percent died as they huddled in frozen creeks and against fences that kept them from drifting south to warmer areas. A large amount of the cattle ranches were unable to sustain the loss and went under.

Then in February 1956, the Panhandle received 43 inches of snow over a 92 hour period. There were 23 human deaths and a lot more cattle froze.

These are just two devastating blizzards in this area out of hundreds. Calder Jackson is aware of how quickly a man could freeze to death so he’s thankful to reach the town of Jubilee, Texas and find warmth.

Have you ever been in a blinding blizzard or a bad snow storm? I was in a lot of those in my hometown and remember how difficult it was to get around. One year when I was small, I worried if Santa was going to make it. That was big worry for my little heart.  Leave a comment to enter the drawing for two ebook copies of Bright is the Light.

May you find joy and love now and always

Linda

Cowboy Time

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I found an interesting article in this month’s Electric Co-Op magazine and want to share it. Cowboys have more ways to tell time than you can shake a stick at and their time isn’t fast or slow. It’s just right.

Do you know how long it takes to mosey? Or lollygag? Me either, but I’m guessing it’s as long as it takes. Ha!

When cowboys were on cattle drives, they told time by the sun and moon. Then when it was time for dinner or supper, they could tell when they heard the cook striking his large iron triangle or rang a bell. No whistle blew and no horn called them. Trail hands joked that the cook had the only watch that mattered and that might be still the case even on modern ranches.

The only time that mattered was daylight and whether the herd was settled for the night or the work done.

By dawn, they were in the saddle, driving the cattle and at night, time passed in shifts—first which began right after the evening meal, midnight, and morning. The cattle calmed to the music so time passed more often by melody instead of a clock.

Often, the dying embers of campfires helped tell the time in the dark. Cowboys not on shift knew to hit the sack and they didn’t dawdle. Many were probably asleep before the embers half died in the fire if the truth was known.

Even distance was measured, not by a watch, but how often they had to stop the horses to rest. For instance, they’d say, “That’s a two-horse ride.” Normally, they stopped to let the horse rest every fifteen to twenty minutes, but shorter if they carried a heavy load or were galloping instead of walking or trotting. So a two-horse jaunt with a single rider and no heavy load was approximately about an hour.

Texas cowboys, circa 1880

The cowboys with timepieces were usually from Waltham or Elgin. Those were well-known for being tough and dependable. Even so, you wouldn’t find many of these dedicated men who rode the range, content with, not only what they had, but also satisfied with who they saw looking back in the mirror. 🙂

I don’t know about you, but I like the idea of “cowboy time.” Life passed in a slower pace and only as fast as you needed. It was very steady and most often you could set your watch by the cowboys’ daily lives. Why would you want anything else? Sounds like a great life to me.

I have to admit, “Cowboy Time” still has a hold on a lot of us. We work till half-past dark, eat when the food’s ready. We don’t need any buzzing on our phones to tell us what to do. Old cowboys whisper a different wisdom—don’t count every minute. Let it pass as slowly as it wants. We’ll all be better for it and you won’t need anxiety medicine.

Find pleasure in the small stuff. An animal, a wildflower, a book, a poem, a child’s drawing. Doesn’t have to be fancy or expensive.

I have one early autographed copy of my new Christmas book, Bright is the Light, to give away. To enter the drawing, are you keeping the right time? What’s your opinion of a slower pace and letting life unfold as it should? In or out?

BRIGHT IS THE LIGHT….

Sometimes the brightest Christmas miracle begins with a single lantern in the window.

Two weeks before Christmas, former soldier Calder Jackson drifts into Jubilee, Texas, half-frozen and desperate to escape a blinding snowstorm. Looking for nothing more than shelter, he never expects to find a family who welcomes him as though he belongs. He hasn’t belonged anywhere for a long while.

Kate Walsh hesitates to take in a male boarder, knowing how fast small-town gossip can ruin a woman’s reputation. However, with a disabled mother and a simple-minded brother depending on her, she needs the money. Before long, Calder becomes more than a tenant. His kindness brings laughter back into their home and gives young Micah the acceptance he’s longed for.

Together, Calder and Micah build a Christmas lantern to place in the window on Christmas Eve, honoring an old Irish tradition that welcomes blessings and guides the way home. Can Calder finally find the elusive peace he’s been chasing? The love he feels for Kate makes everything seem achievable as though the light has been waiting in the window all along.

Filled with hope, faith, and the warmth of family, this heartwarming holiday romance celebrates second chances, unexpected love, and the light that guides us all home.

* * * *

Release date – September 1, 2026 — KU, Kindle, Print

Available for preorder now –  CLICK HERE

FOR EXCERPT — CLICK HERE

I’ll have more copies to give away next month! Let’s Keep Cowboy Time. 🙂

A Christmas Wedding and the Start of Christmas in July

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I know it’s August right now, but I just had a book release, The Christmas Wedding, about a week ago, and it made me start wondering: Just why do we have so many Christmas in July things? There are new Christmas books, Christmas in July parties, and some stores even start pulling out the red, white, and green while the red, white, and blue is marked down!

July is not even halfway to Christmas! So, why? Sure, sometimes on a hot summer month you want to think cool, but it was a question that got me digging for an answer. Is it more than just an excuse to celebrate? 

Turns out, it is.

In France in 1892, is where it all started, but it was just a brief mention. The opera Werther has the line: “Vous chantez Noël en juillet… c’est s’y prendre à l’avance.” Google Translate told me that means it is getting ready or looking ahead early. 

 

 

However, as we Americans often do, we took something and changed it. In 1894, there was an English translation of that line by Elizabeth Beall Ginty. Her translation has the character say: “When you sing Christmas in July, you rush the season.” 

I’m going to pause right here, and beg to differ…for me personally, I’m not rushing anything, I’m extending it! After all, there’s a LOT to do around Christmas! And, if it’s anything in your house like mine, we all know who makes that happen…

But, back to the origin. There wasn’t anything more I could find until 1933, when an all girls summer camp in Brevard, North Carolina, started what we all know of as Christmas in July. Co-founder Fannie Holt requested the celebration as one of the events for the campers, and it was complete with carolers, a Christmas tree, and even a visit from Santa Claus. 

 

 

Not too long after, in 1940, the movie Christmas in July was released, and with a wider audience than a single girls’ camp, the phrase spread, and more events followed. During World War II, the United States Postal Service and the military branches worked with advertisers and the greeting card industry to promote early Christmas mailing campaigns to soldiers overseas, so that they’d get those cards in time. Churches and other groups collected and shipped gifts for the soldiers, and, the some soldiers themselves, to keep morale up, had their own Christmas in July celebrations. 

 

Copyright (c) Leslie Jones.
All rights reserved.

The war eventually ended, but the phrase stuck, and so did the idea of doing something Christmassy that month. Retailers also ran with the idea. Historically for them, July is a slower month, since there’s no major holiday between 4th of July and Labor Day. But, it was a good way to get people in their door to boost sales. 

Even with the commercial aspect nowadays, I really enjoyed learning about the historical beginning. 

Whether you celebrate Christmas in July in a small or big way, or not at all, I hope you found the origins of it interesting! I admit, I think it’s a bit of a stretch to say it started in the 1800s, France, when it was just a saying, but who am I to argue with history? 

Now…how about a giveaway?

 

If you’d like your chance to win a prize today, AND, potentially a prize from more than 25 authors, let me share how to do that. 

 

 

For the chance to win from one of the 25+ authors, just stop by by reader community! August 6-8 we are having a party, with so many games, and prizes every single day! 

So, for today’s blog post, just comment below if you have ever done anything for Christmas in July, and one winner will win their choice of any of my Red Ridge Chronicles ebooks. Just tell me which you’d like. 

 

 

 

Toast the Holidays with Karen Kay

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Howdy!

Fermented Lemonaide

This recipe is one of my favorites and although it is easy, some of the ingredients (like whey) you might not find at your local grocery store.  However, your local Health Food Store would probably have some whey.  However, one can easily do a substitution for the whey.  This recipe comes to me from The Healthy Home Economist — https://www.thehealthyhomeeconomist.com — and it is a favorite of mine, as well as a favorite of my grandchildren (especially in summer).  But, it is a refreshing drink in winter, too.

RECIPE:

** 6-9 lemons

**1/2 cup whey — whey is the golden liquid one sees on plain yogurt — or one can substitute with 1/2 cup filtered water with one tablespoon lemon juice or yogurt or vinegar) — I do not recommend buying whey from the grocery store because the brands carried in grocery stores often contain MSG — an allergen.

DIRECTIONS:

** Juice the lemons

** Combine with 2 (two) quarts of filtered water

** Add the whey or substitute as stated above

** 1/2 cup sugar (as much as 3/4 cup if one prefers their lemon juice sweeter)

** Mix

** Ferment for 2 (two) days in a warm place

** Refrigerate — one can bottle it.

We enjoy this drink year round.  Hope you’ll enjoy it, too!

 

 

 

 

Welcome Guest Tanya Agler + A Giveaway!

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The Inspiration Behind My Cowboy Historian Hero

Merry Christmas! I’m so excited to be back at Petticoat and Pistols, and thank you to the hosts for allowing me to be here today.

In my latest novel, The Cowboy’s Christmas Match, the hero, Crosby Virtue, is the town’s historian and works at the Miners’ Cottage, the oldest building in the fictional town of Violet Ridge, Colorado. This was such a fun book to write and part of the reason was the research that took me back to nineteenth-century Colorado.

Crosby is the driving force behind the restoration of the local train depot and the reopening of the Violet Ridge Express. It was so much fun researching similar real-life renovations. One such model was the Lyons Railroad Depot, which was built in 1885 but was closed in the 1940s due to declining popularity. Now, the site is part of the National Registry and has been turned into the Lyons Public Library. There are several other historic depots in Colorado that now operate as historic parks (the Silver Plume Depot) and as town halls (the La Jara Town Hall).

There is a renovated train depot close to my house, and I had a chance to take a tour of the Holly Springs Depot this past June. Here’s a picture of the interior of the depot.

In 2012, my family enjoyed a Christmas ride on a restored train in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Georgia, and that was the inspiration for researching the rich history of Colorado’s rail system.

When Crosby isn’t overseeing the renovations, he is taking care of his pet iguana, Sundance, at the Miners’ Cottage, which doubles as the local history museum. There’s a mining town near me in Georgia, and I had the joy of being a chaperone on a field trip to two of the gold mines, one of which took us underground while the other showed off the loud mining equipment. For the book, it was fun stepping back in time and reading stories of the Pike’s Peak Gold Rush and the impact that mining had on the region during that period.

In the book, Christmas Eve marks the reopening of the Violet Ridge Express. Trains played a vital role in Colorado’s growth, first connecting goods and people to the other parts of the country, followed by a way to connect the mining boom to cities. Narrow gauge railroads popped up in many areas, but by the 1940s many went out of business. Today, many historic towns, such as Durango and Georgetown, have renovated and offer scenic train rides around the countryside.

A blend of research with a touch of personal experiences, this book was so much fun, and I often went down the rabbit hole of reading stories of miners and trains as well as researching about the renovations that are taking place throughout Colorado to preserve their historical heritage.

Here is the blurb for The Cowboy’s Christmas Match:

Will his best friend…

Be his happily-ever-after? Accidentally agreeing to speak at the social event of Violet Ridge’s holiday season threatens to ruin quiet introvert and town historian Crosby Virtue’s whole December. His outgoing best friend, Sami Fleming, insists a makeover will cure his public-speaking fear—an extra-special Christmas gift as she’s leaving town to travel the world. Sami’s also sure her beautician skills will help Crosby meet the woman of his dreams. But Crosby already has—her. Now the clock is ticking… Can Crosby find the courage to tell Sami the words she suddenly, secretly, longs to hear?

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Harlequin

Giveaway

Have you ever taken a ride on a historic train or visited a historic train depot?
If not, what’s a fun holiday tradition in your family?

One commenter will receive a $10.00 Amazon gift card and an e-book copy of the first book in the series, The Triplets’ Holiday Miracle (which is also set at Christmastime!).

Covering Christmas

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Covering Christmas is my last holiday release this year. It was such a fun story to write about a bareback rider trying to win a world championship title, the western lifestyle reporter who catches his eye and his heart, and Ella – the daughter he never knew he had until her mother dies and he suddenly finds himself in the role of single parent.

He wants a gold buckle. She needs a fresh start. But love—and a little girl—have other plans.

When the reigning world champion bareback rider retires, Keller Drake finally has a clear shot at claiming the title he’s chased for years, until an attorney corners him at a rodeo with life-altering news. Keller has a five-year-old daughter he never knew existed, and Ella’s late mother named him guardian in her will. Suddenly, the man who can ride the rankest broncs in the world is terrified of something far more dangerous—fatherhood.

 

 

In the book, Keller is a peanut butter addict. He loves anything made with peanut butter. His daughter, Ella is the same way.

Here’s a little excerpt from the story I thought might make you smile.

 

“My wife said to tell you that Ella is staying with us tonight, and you can pick her up after breakfast tomorrow.”

Keller turned to stare at Cooper as they stood in line at the hotel’s coffee shop. Cobie had knocked on their door and offered to style Ella’s hair, so Keller had volunteered to hustle downstairs to get breakfast. He’d run into Cooper in the elevator, and they’d made their way to the coffee shop. A line snaked out the door, but they weren’t overly concerned because the service on previous mornings had been fast and efficient.

“Is there any reason in particular your wife is kidnapping my daughter?”

Cooper grinned. “She said you and Cobie need some time together without a five-year-old chaperone. Buy tickets to a show and take Cobie out on the town after the rodeo tonight. You both deserve to have a little fun. Ella and Alex get along like two little peas in a pod, and it isn’t any trouble to keep her tonight. Just bring a bag with her jammies and whatever she’ll need to our room before you head over to the rodeo this afternoon.”

“Are you sure, Coop? I already feel like I’ve taken advantage of you and everyone else who has helped with Ella while I’m riding.”

Cooper looked insulted. “You aren’t taking advantage of us. We’re all glad to help, Keller. Paige and I know how hard it is to have a child and rodeo, and there are two of us working at it. You deserve a little time to enjoy life. You’re only what? Twenty-seven?”

“Just turned twenty-six, and I feel like I’m careening toward fifty.”

Cooper chuckled. “Exactly what I mean. Take Cobie somewhere fun and spend the evening being a young, not entirely ugly, single guy out for a great evening with a beautiful woman who clearly does not find him to be totally repulsive.”

“Ugly and repulsive. Guess I’m moving up in the world,” Keller quipped as the line inched forward. “Seriously, man, I appreciate it, and tell Paige I’ll gather Ella’s stuff and drop it off before we head out for the day. How about I reciprocate and keep Alex for you one evening so you and Paige can have some time alone?”

“I’d love that, but let’s make it during the day. We’re both too exhausted to do anything after the rodeo. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.”

Keller shook his head in disbelief. “You’re going to be perpetually younger than us all, Coop. How about you leave Alex with me tomorrow morning? I can make sure he gets lunch, and you can reclaim him sometime in the afternoon before I need to head over to the rodeo.”

“I like it. It’s a deal,” Cooper said, shaking Keller’s hand.

“Any food allergies I should know about?” Keller asked as they got closer to the counter.

“Nope, and he’s usually a good eater. Takes after his dad.”

“I’m pretty sure a refined palate is more a trait from his mother, but what do I know?” Keller teased, then placed his order for breakfast. He got yogurt and an assortment of whole fruit, and could hardly believe his luck when he spied peanut butter muffins studded with chocolate chips in the pastry case.

“One of those muffins, please,” Keller said as the young woman behind the counter gathered his order.

“You and your peanut butter addiction,” Cooper pointed to the case of pastries. “I heard Ella has been known to eat it straight out of the jar.”

“What?” Keller asked, staring at Cooper. “Where did you hear that?”

“From Alex. He said they were hungry, and Ella got out a jar of peanut butter and ate it with a spoon. He went with a bag of fruit snacks. That was back when we were in Pendleton, or was it Walla Walla? Anyway, the gist of my story is that your daughter also has a predilection for peanut butter and eats it straight from the jar.”

Keller thought of all the peanut butter he’d eaten the last few months and wondered how much of it had five-year-old slobbers living in the jar. He would have been grossed out, but considering some of the things he’d cleaned up when Ella had the twenty-four-hour tummy flu, he decided slobber was the least of his worries.

Here’s an easy recipe for Peanut Butter Candy

Peanut Butter Drops

INGREDIENTS

1 11-ounce bag white chocolate chips

1 11-ounce bag peanut butter chips

1 cup cocktail peanuts

1 cup crushed pretzel pieces

DIRECTIONS

Line a baking sheet with parchment and set aside.

In a microwave-safe bowl, stir together white chocolate chips and peanut butter chips, then melt in 30-second intervals, stirring between each interval, until the chips are smooth (1-2 minutes).

Stir in peanuts and pretzels, then drop by spoonsful onto the parchment.

Let cool, then store in an airtight container up to a week.

What is your favorite must-have flavor or treat, or holiday indulgence? 

Mine would chocolate in various forms.

Christmas Frontier Style

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No place was lonelier for settlers than the frontier. Having left family and friends back East, a lot felt cutoff from the world. The wind howled, temperatures were freezing, and they were hard put just to stay alive. The days were long and filled with hard work. There was little enjoyment to be had.

Christmas was the worst time for depression to set in. In addition to missing their loved ones, there were few trees over a lot of the high plains so they had to make do with whatever they could find. Some mothers, desperate for Christmas cheer, collected a tumbleweed (which were very plentiful throughout the central plains) and decorated it in bright colors. Candles were not allowed near due to the combustible nature of the dry bush.

Others chopped down other trees like scrub oak, juniper, or blackjack and used those. These settlers were very resourceful. To make it appear it had snowed on it, they wrapped the limbs and twigs with cotton. Other decorations were popcorn and cranberries they strung on twine and strings of paper hearts.

The children could also use the foil that separated layers of cigars and make icicles to hang on the tree. That is if their fathers smoked cigars and they could persuade him to save them. I’m sure there were many other things they made decorations out of. Possibilities were endless, including bird nests, colorful ribbon and empty spools of thread strung together. The first ornaments were hand-blown and didn’t come along until the late 1800s and early 1900. And electric lights appeared after the turn of the century.

School age children usually had a Christmas program of some kind, and they got a chance to sing or perform in a play. Those were fun occasions for kids and parents alike.

Food was an important part of the Christmas celebration and sugar was saved for months so there would be enough for the cakes and pies. Oranges were a real treat and kids only got one at the holiday. Fathers usually went hunting for a turkey, a duck, or whatever game they ran across.

Gifts were handmade unless the family was very wealthy. Fathers carved toys, mothers made dolls and knitted scarves, hats, and gloves. Everything was simple with the emphasis on the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Personally, I wish we could go back to these days without all the commercialization.

Tell me about a Christmas of yours that stands out and what made it really special.

Mine was the year my dad suffered third degree burns over much of his body in an explosion at his job on a construction site. I think I was probably seven or eight. He was in the hospital for months and we didn’t know when he’d get out. Back then, kids weren’t allowed beyond the waiting room so Jan and I couldn’t see him. My mom usually sat with him at night and our older sister came and stayed with us while she was gone, so our door would be locked. I was so afraid that Santa couldn’t get in and we wouldn’t get any presents. My older sister assured me he could come through the keyhole and not to worry. The next morning, sure enough, we had a few gifts even though we had no tree. And Mama had brought Daddy home from the hospital. That was the best Christmas I can remember because we were all together again and everything seemed right in my sheltered little world.

Also, I have a new book up for preorder! SUMMER’S HEART #2 The McIntyres. Release date 1/12/2026. AMAZON

In a storm of secrets, even love can freeze—or fight its way through the cold.

A mysterious woman, a newborn baby, and a claim that shatters Summer McIntyre’s secure world. As a deadly Texas blizzard seals the town in ice, Summer reels from betrayal—only to learn her long-lost little brother is alive and trapped with a madwoman in the treacherous hills. Every trail is buried under snow, every rescue impossible, and Summer must face the storm inside her heart as well as the one raging outside. Can love survive when trust is broken and time is running out?

Wishing you all a joyous Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays or whatever you say!

Linda

A Christmas to Remember in Hollyberry

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You all did a FABULOUS job building not only our town of Hollyberry but a short story as well this week. I had so much fun reading all of your imaginative and sometimes surprising responses to the prompts.

I took everything, distilled it down to common threads and snips of the unexpected, then fleshed it out a little to make a short, short story. I hope you’ll think I did your input justice.

December 1850
Town of Hollyberry

Christmas always announced itself early in Hollyberry.

Long before the day arrived, the town filled with sound—laughter and shrill squeals as children skated across frozen puddles or packed snow into misshapen forts, the cheerful calling of neighbors pausing in the street to exchange greetings, and the steady jingle of harness bells as wagons rolled down Main Street. Shop doors opened and closed with bright little chimes, and above it all rang the deeper peal of church bells, marking the hours and calling the faithful to practice.

If one passed the church in the late afternoon, the door often stood ajar, letting the voices of the choir spill into the street as they rehearsed for the upcoming Christmas Eve cantata. Carolers wandered in small groups, pausing in the town square or beneath lamplit windows to lift familiar hymns into the cold air. Every sound carried joy, anticipation, and the comforting sense that Christmas was drawing near.

Then, two days before the Christmas Eve festival, disaster struck.

A blizzard descended unexpectedly on Hollyberry and with startling speed. Snow fell thick and relentless, driven by fierce winds that bent trees and snapped heavy limbs. By morning, roads in and out of town lay buried beneath drifts and debris, making travel impossible. Families on outlying farms found themselves cut off, while even those within town limits struggled to move through the piled snow.

As if that weren’t enough, the schoolhouse—the planned site of the Christmas meal and program—fared poorly under the storm’s weight. The roof sagged and sprang several leaks, soaking decorations stored inside and rendering the building unusable just when it was needed most.

For a few uneasy hours, Hollyberry stood silent beneath the snow, its cheerful sounds muffled and its plans in jeopardy.

But Hollyberry had never been a town to surrender easily.

When the storm finally eased, word spread quickly. Main Street was impassable. Trees blocked the roads. The schoolhouse roof needed immediate attention. Within the hour, the sheriff, the pastor, and several town leaders had established a simple command post, dividing tasks with quiet efficiency.

Ranchers, farmers, lumbermen, and cowboys hitched draft horses to sleds and headed for the blocked roads. Sawing through fallen limbs and hauling whole trees aside, they carved narrow but passable paths through the snow. Sleds moved steadily back and forth, packing the drifts down enough that families from the outlying farms could be brought safely into town.

At the schoolhouse, crews climbed onto the roof armed with axes, hammers, and whatever supplies the general store could spare. They patched the worst of the damage and cleared debris while boys shoveled walkways and side streets below. From beyond town limits, volunteers arrived on snowshoes, offering strong backs, extra tools, and steady encouragement.

Meanwhile, Main Street buzzed with a different kind of labor. The women—headed by the schoolteacher—organized the children into making new decorations to replace those ruined by the storm. Tin stars were polished, wooden ornaments repaired, evergreen boughs trimmed and tied into fresh garlands. Anything that could be salvaged was cleaned and pressed back into service.

The baker kept his ovens burning from dawn to dusk. Kettles of soup simmered in every kitchen, and pots of coffee never seemed to empty. Anyone who worked was fed. Shopkeepers donated supplies. The pastor opened the church doors wide, and the livery owner even replaced the damaged manger for the nativity scene.

All day long, the town hummed—not just with effort, but with music and laughter. Even the local curmudgeon, the bank owner, was eventually persuaded—perhaps by the schoolteacher’s determined stare—to contribute lumber for repairs.

By nightfall, Hollyberry stood cleared, repaired, warm, and fed. What had threatened to cancel Christmas had instead drawn the town closer together.

With the roads opened and the schoolhouse repaired as well as could be managed, Hollyberry turned its attention to celebrating—not in spite of the blizzard, but because they had weathered it together.

Throughout Christmas Eve day, townsfolk put the finishing touches on what they had rebuilt. Fresh garlands adorned the tree in the square. The children proudly hung their handmade decorations. Jars of stew and wrapped pies were delivered to neighbors unable to leave their homes.

By afternoon, carolers once again moved from house to house, their voices drifting through the crisp air as families prepared for the evening.

At dusk, the church bell rang out clear and strong. Candlelight glowed from the windows as people filed inside—bundled, chilled, and grateful. The choir sang its cantata with renewed emotion, and the children performed their nativity play using whatever simple costumes and props had survived the storm. No one missed the finer trimmings; the sincerity of the moment made it the most moving service Hollyberry could remember.

When the final hymn faded, the town did not scatter home. Instead, everyone walked together to the Town Hall, where a single, joyful community feast awaited. Long tables filled every room, with doors left open so people could mingle freely. Ranchers brought roasted meat. The baker supplied pies and cinnamon rolls. Every family added something—stews, biscuits, preserved fruits, and plenty of steaming cider and coffee.

Laughter rolled from table to table, and no one went hungry.

Just when the evening seemed complete, the mercantile owner unveiled a surprise: a crate of fireworks he’d been saving for the New Year+. With a grin, he insisted Hollyberry had earned them early.

Bundled once more, the townspeople stepped outside as sparks lifted into the night sky. Bursts of color lit the snowy street, reflecting off frosted rooftops and drawing cheers from young and old alike.

Under the fading glow of the last firework, the people of Hollyberry joined together in one final round of carols before heading home—tired, warm, and filled with gratitude.

That Christmas Eve, Hollyberry did more than recover from disaster.

It built a memory that would be treasured for generations.

 

Petticoats & Pistols