The Declaration of Independence was adopted 250 years ago on July 4, 1776. The 56 signers asserted that “these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States.” The colonies became states, the states became united, and a new nation—the United States of America—was born.
This new nation was built on the bold and truly revolutionary idea “… that all men are created equal…that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Those words motivated and inspired the colonists in 1776. Two hundred and fifty years later, they continue to inspire and challenge Americans and people all around the world.
If you could go back and sit down to dinner in 1776, the scene would probably look far more practical and lived-in than the polished Colonial Williamsburg reenactment most of us have in our minds. The table might have dense slices of cake made sticky by dried fruit, or bowls of long-simmered stew and greens softened in hot fat. Cornmeal mush would be steaming near the fire while savory pies baked somewhere nearby. If your host was wealthy enough to show off a little, there may even be a tureen of turtle soup on the table. And somewhere nearby, almost certainly, there is alcohol.
Revolution is thirsty work.
Colonial American cooking was practical because it had to be. Refrigeration didn’t exist, roads were rough, and winters could feel endless. Meat spoiled quickly, fresh ingredients changed constantly with the seasons, and much of early American food was built around one central question: How do we keep this edible longer than three days? But the food itself was far from joyless. The flavors were rich, heavily spiced, buttery and often surprisingly elegant, shaped by European traditions, Indigenous ingredients, and the realities of cooking in an entirely new landscape.
In honor of America’s 250th birthday, here are some of the dishes that might have appeared on a 1776 menu—some comforting, some genuinely strange, and a few that deserve another shot.
Election Cake
Americans have apparently been stress-baking through elections since the 1700s.
Election cake was especially popular in New England, where communities gathered for long, crowded voting days that involved travel, taverns, speeches and enough socializing to require enormous amounts of food. According to Reader’s Digest, women in Connecticut baked these to help sustain men traveling to the polls.
These were not delicate little snack cakes. Election cake was heavy with dried fruit, warming spices and often whiskey or brandy, placing it somewhere in the neighborhood of fruitcake and spice bread. It was the kind of sturdy baked good capable of surviving both a muddy carriage ride and several hours of political debate.
I guess the colonists enjoyed their carbs even in 1776!
Brunswick Stew
Modern Brunswick stew usually contains chicken or pulled pork. Colonial Brunswick stew was considerably wilder.
Early southern versions often included squirrel meat (I’ll pass, thank you!) simmered with tomatoes, lima beans, corn and okra. Both Virginia and Georgia claim ownership of the dish, though the earliest versions were less about state pride and more about whatever happened to be running through the woods that week.
The interesting thing is that, apart from the squirrel, Brunswick stew still feels remarkably familiar. It’s smoky, slow-cooked and hearty, and it’s still tied to regional ingredients just like Southern cuisine. Corn, tomatoes and beans—all ingredients heavily shaped by Indigenous agriculture—became foundational to colonial cooking.
Thank goodness modern cooks have stopped putting squirrels in it…or let’s hope so!
Wilted Salad
Wilted salad sounds rustic until you realize warm greens dressed with sharp acid and rich fat are still the backbone of half the appetizers at modern farm-to-table restaurants.
Colonial versions usually involved sturdy garden greens tossed with softened onions, mustard, vinegar or lemon and often some form of warm animal fat. Which, frankly, sounds delicious.
This is one of the clearest reminders that colonial food was not all beige mush and aggressively preserved meat. There were fresh herbs, garden vegetables and bright acidic flavors woven throughout daily cooking whenever the season allowed for it.
Succotash
Traditionally made with corn, beans and sometimes squash, succotash originated in Native communities long before European settlers arrived. Colonial Americans adopted the dish quickly, which makes sense given that corn appears everywhere in early American cooking.
Corn appears constantly across colonial cooking because settlers quickly realized Indigenous crops and agricultural knowledge were far better adapted to the local landscapes than the European traditions they arrived with.
Today, succotash still feels like the sort of dish that typifies the season: sweet corn at its peak, tender beans and fresh herbs melting into the mix, and the faint feeling that summer is starting to slip away.
Mush or Hasty Pudding
The dish was made by stirring spoonfuls of cornmeal into boiling milk until the mixture was thick and hearty. It was inexpensive, filling, and adaptable depending on the season and household. Poorer families might eat it plain, while wealthier tables added butter, cream and/or sweeteners.
A colonial breakfast table would have smelled like a combination of smoke, milk warming near the hearth, and cornmeal thickening slowly in a pot. And that honestly sounds pretty wonderful.
Pigeon Pie
Passenger pigeons once existed in such overwhelming numbers that flocks reportedly darkened the sky for hours at a time. Colonists treated them as an endless food source because, at the time, they practically seemed to be. Which is exactly how they ended up baked into savory pies across colonial America.
Beneath the extinct-bird portion of the equation, the structure of the dish might still sound appealing to some wild game enthusiasts– rich gravy, flaky pastry, savory meat and herbs, all baked together until golden.
Hoe Cakes
Hoe cakes fall into the category of colonial foods that sound mildly insulting until you realize they are essentially crisp-edged cornmeal pancakes cooked over fire.
Like so many colonial foods, hoe cakes reflect the merging of European cooking traditions with Indigenous ingredients and techniques. They were portable, inexpensive and practical for travelers, workers and soldiers.
The name likely comes from the practice of cooking simple cornmeal batter on flat metal plates. Those flat plates were called “hoes” back in the day. Today, they’d be what we call “griddles.”
Potted Meat
Before refrigeration, preserving meat was often a matter of survival. Potted meat involved pounding cooked meat into a paste, packing it tightly into jars and sealing it beneath a thick, airtight layer of butter or lard. Apparently, properly potted meat could last for a year!
The phrase itself sounds unfortunate to modern ears—like it could refer to Victorian medicine or something discovered in the back of a camping cooler. But the actual technique is not all that different from other European preservation methods that later became considered luxury foods.
Pepper Pot Soup
Pepper pot soup was hearty, heavily seasoned, and filled with tripe–the edible stomach lining of a cow’, sheep or goat–(again, I’ll pass!) and vegetables, with an aggressively peppery broth designed to warm people through brutal winters. According to popular legend, versions of pepper pot soup were served to Continental Army troops during the Revolutionary War, though historians debate some of the finer details.
Still, the dish became woven into early American food culture and Revolutionary War lore as a staple of Philadelphia taverns. You can almost picture the room–wet wool coats steaming near the fire, muddy boots by the door, and enormous bowls of peppery soup hitting wooden tables while somebody loudly argues about tea taxes in the background.
Syllabub
Syllabub sounds less like a drink and more like the name of an exceptionally cheerful storybook rabbit. But it was, in fact, one of colonial America’s favorite beverages
The frothy punch combined whipped cream, sugar, citrus and alcohol—often wine, cider, sherry or brandy. Some recipes were especially theatrical, involving milk drawn directly from the cow and mixed with alcohol to create an airy foam—which feels completely unhinged and somehow elegant at the same time.
However, beneath the unfamiliar names and occasionally alarming preservation methods, much of colonial American food still feels recognizable. Its rich stews, buttery cakes, creamy desserts and communal meals were built around comfort, abundance and, of course, the occasional cocktail.
The ingredients have changed. The kitchens have changed. But Americans have always loved gathering around crowded tables with something hearty on the stove and dessert waiting nearby.
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North and South. Yankee and Rebel. Union and Confederate. In the midst of the Civil War, can two hearts come together?
When the tide of war sweeps south and the Union Army invades and destroys the Georgia cotton mill where Kate Brodie is a nurse, not only is her livelihood destroyed but she’s branded a traitor and shipped northward with the other workers. Only the unlikely attention of a Yankee major makes the trip tolerable.
Union major, Griffin Fletcher loathes the part of his job that requires him to destroy homes, towns, and livelihoods of innocent civilians. But he’s sworn to uphold the Union at all costs. Yet, he vows to protect these women he’s been ordered to transport to Marietta. Especially the one whose fiery determination, proud stance, and soft heart draws him closer.
Determined to remain in the South, Kate makes a daring leap of faith to nurse wounded Yankee soldiers, never expecting Major Fletcher to be one of her patients. Along with his healing, they each faced the fears and prejudices that had brought them together. With survival so tenuous, can faith help them find love in the midst of so much tragedy?
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!
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.
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!
Happy IndependenceDay! I’m going to share the history behind the term “Uncle Sam” and how it came to be a nickname for the U.S.A.
Believe it or not, Uncle Sam was not a politician, a celebrity, or anything of that nature. He was a regular businessman and worker. As a young man, Samuel joined the Revolutionary Army where his duties included slaughtering and packaging meat for the army. Interestingly enough, it is this same vocation that would later on become his fame.
A descendant of one of the oldest families in Boston, Samuel Wilson and his brother were among the pioneer settlers of the community of Troy, New York. At the young age of 25 and 28, Samuel and his brother were eager and ambitious entrepreneurs. Together their formed several successful businesses, including a brick factory, and a slaughterhouse. Because of his warmth, friendliness, and kindness, the moniker “Uncle Sam” was popularly attributed to him.
During the War of 1812, Wilson associated himself with Elbert Anderson, a government contractor. Together they shipped large quantities of meat and other commodities from Troy to the American forces stationed in various places.
The soldiers from Troy knew that the goods so marked were handled by Samuel Wilson, their Uncle Sam, and jokingly spoke of the meat as “Uncle Sam’s beef.” This expression was quickly adopted by their fellow soldiers and was used by them to designate all property belonging to the United States Government as “Uncle Sam’s.”
The association of Uncle Sam as the United States increased in the 1860’s and 1870’s when a political cartoonist, Thomas Nast, picked it up. It was Nast who gave Sam his white beard and stars-and-stripes suit.
Of course, the most famous depictions of Uncle Sam came from the WW II era. This is when Uncle Sam became the character we know today with the top hat, blue jacket, and pointed finger. This image is thanks to James Montgomery Flagg.
In September of 1961, the United States Congress officially credited Samuel Wilson as the “the progenitor of America’s national symbol of Uncle Sam.”
Samuel Wilson died in 1854 at the age of 88. He is buried next to his wife in Troy, New York, the town that calls itself the Home of Uncle Sam.
Tell us about your July 4th festivities!
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When we moved to a 55+ community in Connecticut in 2015, one of the first tasks we did was to install the Red, White, and Blue on our porch.
Immediately, we received a call from “the association”. According to the regulations, unless one or both of us were veterans, the flag must be removed. I won’t reveal what my husband’s response was, but though disappointed and upset, we complied with the regulation.
Fast forward to October 2018 in North Carolina…The day after the movers left, my husband tore through the moving boxes until he found our flag. With a new flagpole and tools in hand, he installed the flag.
The flag represents the unity of the United States. It serves as a reminder that despite our diverse backgrounds, we are all part of one nation. The stars and stripes symbolize the states coming together to form a cohesive whole. It also stands for individual freedom and self-expression. Each star represents a state, and each state has its unique identity. This celebrates the idea that within our unity, there’s room for individuality and diversity.
When we see the flag raised during moments of victory (like at the Olympics or after a military triumph), it becomes a symbol of success and achievement. It’s a way to honor those who have worked hard and overcome challenges.
Conversely, the flag is lowered to half-mast during times of mourning or loss. It pays tribute to those who sacrificed their lives for our country. The flag’s presence at military funerals is a solemn reminder of this sacrifice.
The flag has flown over battlefields, space missions, and historic events. It represents daring endeavors, courage, and the spirit of exploration. Chivalry, too, is reflected in the respect and honor we show toward the flag.
As a public school employee, I had the honor and privilege to recite the Pledge of Allegiance every morning of every school day for 37 years. For 2 or 3 minutes each day, my thoughts were not of cafeteria duty, parent conferences, bus duty, or lesson plans, but rather of lessons learned by those who fought to secure our freedoms. Still, today, I think of my immigrant grandparents who caught sight of Old Glory from a ship; of my father and uncles who fought in the European campaign in World War II to secure democracy for the world; of my son who put his advanced college plans on hold to join the U.S. Marines; and left his wife and baby son in 2003 to serve in Operation Iraqi Freedom.
Even today, despite the controversies and turmoil, the Stars and Stripes provide direction, a sense of purpose, and a shared identity. When we look at the flag, we’re reminded of our collective journey and the principles we hold dear.
Some of you may know, I’m a big fan of rodeos. I have been since I was a little girl because of the 4th of July.
Every summer, the sleepy little town closest to our farm would burst to life for four days with the biggest event of the year – the 4th of July celebration. I can’t even tell you how old I was before I figured out the 4th of July was supposed to represent a single day, not a time of year.
Some towns might go all out for Christmas or Halloween, maybe even Easter. But our small town had the 4th of July. Apparently, going all out for Independence Day is something they’ve done for more than a century.
The four days of fun generally included four nights of rodeo, games and activities in the park, and a parade. Fireworks generally took place the night of the 4th. There was also a Suicide Race, most often right before the second night of the rodeo.
The town boasted a saddle shop owned by a wonderful, kind man who also tended to enjoy a good joke from time to time. When I was four, my dad took me to Leroy’s shop to get a new belt for the rodeo. I remember walking inside, holding tightly to Daddy’s hand as the rich scent of leather filled my nose.
While Dad and Leroy talked, I wandered around the store, looking at saddles and boots, running my little fingers over the smooth leather of bridles and the rough texture of new ropes. Then I spied the belts. Dad let me pick the one I wanted – a floral stamped leather belt with a silver buckle. On the center of the buckle was a little gold saddle. I still have that belt today and whenever I look at it, I smile, recalling fond memories from both going to town with my dad and going to the rodeo.
Anyway, my family was big into the 4th of July celebration. We usually went to the rodeo at least once, sometimes twice. Quite often one or more of us would be in the parade. My oldest brother and his wife often rode their horses or drove a wagon in the parade. My other brother frequently entered one of his antique cars. I remember one year Mom helped me make an early 1900s costume so I could ride with him. I played In the Good Old Summertime on the piano about fifty times in a row and recorded it on our tape player, then we blasted that from a boom box in the car as we drove down the street (yep, that was back before you could loop songs on your smart phone!).
Back in those days, my oldest brother and one or more of my cousins would ride in the Suicide Race. If you’ve never seen or heard of one, in a nutshell, a group of riders with more courage than I could ever muster race down a harrowing trail to see who makes it to the bottom first. The race starts at the top of a butte with a blast of dynamite and ends in the rodeo arena across the river. It’s a 2-mile course down the hill, across the highway, through the river and into the arena. If a rider makes it off the butte, many of them end up taking a swim in the river.
Eventually my brother stopped racing and his kids took over as competitors. My niece was the first girl to race, starting when she was just 16. She rode five years, and won it twice.
Here you can watch the race from a competitor’s perspective. If you skip ahead to about the two-minute mark, it’s when the race begins.
Thanks to my childhood, I still feel that same excitement when the 4th of July rolls around. Even though we moved away many years ago, I still think back on those holidays with great fondness and nostalgia.
I think that’s why, if I have a book that includes the summer months, I often work in a scene of a parade or rodeo.
One of my favorites is this excerpt from my sweet historical romance, Bertie.
Enjoy an excerpt!
~*~
Bertie smiled and slipped her arm around his, drawing him closer into their rowdy group. Together, they watched the parade. The sheriff served as the grand marshal, flanked by Lars and Kade. They made such a striking duo as they rode their horses down the street, waving to the crowds. Three other deputies rode behind them.
“There’s my daddy! There’s my daddy!” Brett and Ben yelled, joined in their cheers by all of Lars and Marnie’s children.
Bertie giggled when Sophie nearly lurched out of Marnie’s arms, begging to go with her father. “Please, Mama, ride with Daddy. I wanna ride with Daddy!”
“No, Sophie. Not today. You just stay right here with me and watch the parade. Look, see the little pony cart coming? Isn’t he pretty?” Marnie tried to distract her daughter, but the child fussed and squirmed.
Bertie’s mouth fell open when Riley stepped over to Marnie and held out his arms to the child. “Mind if I hold this little sweetheart for a while?”
“Not at all, Riley. Maybe she’ll settle down for you.” Marnie handed over Sophie with an indulgent smile.
Sophie stared up at the man she’d only seen a few times. She leaned back in his arms and studied him. A tiny finger traced down his straight nose, across his cheeks and over his bottom lip. She grinned and sighed, wrapping her little arms around his neck, knocking his hat askew. “I like you.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Miss Sophie. I like you, too.” Riley reached up and straightened his hat, then turned so he once again stood beside Bertie with Sophie perched on his arm. He kept the little girl entertained and engaged during the parade.
Bertie marveled at his ease interacting with the child. He seemed confident, as if he had experience in handling fussy little ones. From past conversations, she knew Riley was an only child. Curious, she wondered where he’d gained his knowledge of keeping a little one content.
Perhaps he was one of those people who just naturally took to children. If so, it made her like him even more.
The “burrrrrooom boom boom boom” sound that Bertie recognized as Nik’s motorcycle rumbled down the street. He appeared riding his bike, followed by a group of bicyclers including several young women wearing bicycle bloomers.
“Looks like Nik finally got his harem,” Tony joked, nudging Garrett with his elbow.
~*~
Just for fun, here are a few patriotic puzzles to enjoy!
And a jigsaw puzzle!
What about you? Do you have any fun memories from 4th of July celebrations, or even summer memories as a child?
Wishing everyone a beautiful weekend full of fun and joy!
The Fourth of July was celebrated big time in the Old West. From mining camps to wild cow towns, those early settlers used the day to whoop it up with dances, speeches, parades, foot races, and turkey shoots. Not to be left out, even American Indians celebrated the day with pow-wows and dances.
Some celebrations even took place in remote areas. In 1830, Mountain man William L. Sublette, on his way to Wind River with 81 men and 10 wagons, celebrated the holiday next to a large 130-foot-high rock. Claiming to have “kept the 4th of July in due style,” Sublette named the large boulder Independence Rock.
Independence Rock
Located in what is now Wyoming, the rock became a signpost for travelers on the Oregon and Mormon trails. Companies arriving at the rock by July fourth knew they had made good time and would beat the mountain snows. Celebrations included inscribing names on the rock and shooting off guns.
Not every community celebrated with guns and fireworks. In 1864, a mining town in Nevada decided to celebrate its first fourth with a dance. Music, flag, and dance committees were formed. Of the three, the music committee was the most challenging as the only musician was a violinist who had an affinity for whiskey. His drinks had to be carefully regulated before the celebration.
Stag Dance
Since the town lacked a flag, the flag committee pieced one together from a quilt. Fortunately, a traveling family camping nearby provided the blue fabric. The family included a mother and four girls, which meant more women for the dance. The problem was the girls had no shoes, which would have made it difficult to dance on the rough wood floors. The miners solved the problem by taking up a collection of brogans, and the dance went off without a hitch.
William “Buffalo Bill” Cody made history in North Platte, Nebraska on July 4, 1882, when he mounted an exhibition of cowboy “sports.” This was the beginning of his Wild West shows and what we now call a rodeo.
Not to be outdone, Dodge City did something different two years later for the Fourth of July to attract attention and business; It hosted the first professional Mexican bullfight on U.S. soil. Though the event was a financial success, it was not without controversy. Many, including Henry Bergh, founder of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty of Animals, denounced the sport as barbaric.
Compared to the rest of the country, Denver’s first Fourth of July celebration was oddly subdued. Drinking or carousing was not allowed. Instead, the Declaration of Independence was read, followed by prayers, “chaste and appropriate oration” and wholesome band music.
This year, most public celebrations have been canceled. But we Americans will find a way to keep “the 4th of July in due style.” Just like they did in the Old West.
How are you and your family celebrating the Fourth this year?
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He may be a Texas Ranger, but he only has eyes for the outlaw’s beautiful daughter.Amazon
When I was younger and visited my Grandma Walter on their northeastern Iowa farm, I always pestered her to teach me something. She taught me how to crochet and to make cream puffs. (I posted her recipe in a blog a while ago.) She had a huge garden where she grew potatoes, green beans, onions and I can’t remember what all else. While I didn’t inherit her green thumb despite her tutoring, I did receive her love of growing things. Every spring I plant a garden. This year I have high hopes since I’ve gone to a raised garden to keep out the dogs and the bunnies!
My grandmother also taught me to sew. I refined that skill during home economics. It’s amazing how much money I’ve saved because I could sew bed skirts, window treatments and my children’s Halloween costumes. Okay, the later didn’t really save money as much as it allowed me to create exactly what they wanted. 🙂
It saddens me when I hear how children say their middle and high school schedules are too full to take Skills for Living, what my generation knew as home ec. My youngest took the class in middle school, and we both enjoyed it. Together we shopped for the fleece material for the pajama bottoms he sewed. He made a lot of the recipes he learned in the class for us. But the best part was, he became an expert pie maker!
Every Fourth of July he and I make what we call a Red, White and Blue pie. The basic recipe is the strawberry pie recipe from his Skills for Living class. The blue comes from adding blueberries and the white is whipped cream. Today just in time for the Fourth, I’m sharing the recipe with you.
STRAWBERRY PIE
Crust:
Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
Measure 1C flour and 1/2 tsp of salt into a bowl. Cut in 1/3 C shortening with a pastry blender until shortening particles are pea sized. Add 4 TBS of ice water. Form into a ball. Roll from the center out until crust is pan sized. Fold edges under and crimp. Bake 10 minutes or until lightly brown.
Filling:
Clean 1-2 pints of strawberries.
In a saucepan, mix 1 1/2 C sugar (I use slightly less) with 1/3 C cornstarch. Add 1 1/2 C water and mix completely. Cook mixture, stirring constantly until it’s thick and translucent.
Filling when finished cooking before adding jello.
Remove from heat and add 3 oz. package of strawberry jello. Put some of cooled glaze in bottom of the crust. Add berries and continue covering them with glaze. Refrigerate and serve topped with whipped cream.
NOTE: Add blueberries and make you have a Red, White and Blue Pie!
Giveaway: Leave a comment sharing your favorite Fourth of July food or tradition to be entered in the drawing for a signed copy of A Cure For the Vetand a cactus T-shirt from my favorite shop, Rustic Ranch.
Nothing puts me in a patriotic frame of mind more than seeing bunting proudly displayed on homes and businesses. In fact, I recently took a trip to Honey Grove, TX, the setting for my most recent release, More Than Words Can Say, and I saw this house.
Not only was this a gorgeous Victorian-era home restored to its former glory, but it was a patriotic home as well. It was only the middle of June, but they already had their bunting on display for all to appreciate and enjoy. I knew I had to take a photo because a key turning point in my story centers around a 4th of July Parade in Honey Grove.
Abigail and her sister Rosalind have decorated their bakery with red-white-and-blue bunting and paper festooning in keeping with the holiday festivities, but in addition to decorating their portion of the town square, they decide to decorate themselves as well. Rosalind (a young beauty) has been chosen at the very last minute to be Honey Grove’s Queen Bee and is to be featured in the parade. Despite the late notice, Rosalind agrees to participate so that she can promote the bakery by handing out honey-glazed biscuits to parade goers. Thankfully, Rosalind is handy with a needle.
Here’s a scene from our hero’s point of view. Like most men, Zach has grown impatient waiting on his wife and her sister to appear . . .
The door opened. Zach spun around at the sound of the hinges.
“It’s about t—” The complaint died on his tongue as his wife stepped through the doorway. She’d abandoned her work apron and changed her dark blue shirtwaist for a white lacy confection with a pleated front that highlighted her abundant curves. She’d tied a red sash around her waist that set off her blue skirt with patriotic flair and had somehow folded a scrap of leftover paper festooning from the shop’s decorations into a circle thing that looked remarkably like a flower. It sat pinned it to her blouse like a brooch. Not only that, but she’d magically woven red ribbon through the braid on her head, a ribbon he was certain hadn’t been there when they’d been working side-by-side that morning.
I imagine Abigail and her sister dressed a bit like this. Abby with a red ribbon at her waist and a patriotic paper flower brooch. Rosalind in a fancier white dress with leftover red-white-and-blue bunting draped over her hips and bustled at the back.
“Isn’t she stunning?” Abigail asked as she turned her face away from him.
She? He only saw Abigail.
However, when Abigail gestured behind her, Zach finally noticed Rosalind stepping into the hall. She didn’t make his heart pound like Abby did, but he had to admit she was a right fine looking female. They must have taken curling tongs to her hair, for it hung in blonde ringlets down her nape in a way that reminded him of the fancy women in New York who used to bring donation baskets to the orphanage at Christmas.
Her clothes were much fancier than her sister’s, too. All white and frilly. She’d taken some of the bunting fabric and fashioned an overskirt that draped down her front and pulled up into a big bow at the back. She wore a straw hat decorated with more of those red, white, and blue paper flower things.
For someone who’d known for less than twenty-four hours that she was going to be the star attraction of the Fourth of July parade, she’d done an impressive job of improvising a patriotic ensemble that would no doubt put Sophia Longfellow to shame.
Abigail shot him a look that felt remarkably like a kick to the shin. Obviously, she expected him to say something. And not to her.
He smiled at Rosie. “I’ve never seen a prettier Lady Liberty.”
Abby beamed at him, making him stand a little taller since he’d somehow managed not to stick his foot in his mouth. Then she took her sister’s hand. “You’re beautiful, Rosalind. No one deserves the title of Honey Grove’s Queen Bee more than you.”
Abigail and Rosalind might not have been dressed quite like the lady on this vintage Victorian postcard, but they were creative in using what they had to create festive and patriotic ensembles.
I don’t have too many patriotic ensembles myself, but when the time is right I have been know to pair red, white, and blue items from my closet in new and interesting ways.
What is your favorite way to decorate either your home or yourself for the 4th of July?
Leave a comment to be entered for a chance to win an autographed copy of More Than Words Can Sayand see what disaster befalls Abigail during that fateful parade.
Modern Brunswick stew usually contains chicken or pulled pork. Colonial Brunswick stew was considerably wilder.
Traditionally made with corn, beans and sometimes squash, succotash originated in Native communities long before European settlers arrived. Colonial Americans adopted the dish quickly, which makes sense given that corn appears everywhere in early American cooking.
thick and hearty. It was inexpensive, filling, and adaptable depending on the season and household. Poorer families might eat it plain, while wealthier tables added butter, cream and/or sweeteners.
Hoe cakes fall into the category of colonial foods that sound mildly insulting until you realize they are essentially crisp-edged cornmeal pancakes cooked over fire.
North and South. Yankee and Rebel. Union and Confederate.
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!
Of course, the most famous depictions of Uncle Sam came from the WW II era. This is when Uncle Sam became the character we know today with the top hat, blue jacket, and pointed finger. This image is thanks to James Montgomery Flagg.
the moving boxes until he found our flag. With a new flagpole and tools in hand, he installed the flag.
When I was younger and visited my Grandma Walter on their northeastern Iowa farm, I always pestered her to teach me something. She taught me how to crochet and to make cream puffs. (I posted her recipe in a blog a while ago.) She had a huge garden where she grew potatoes, green beans, onions and I can’t remember what all else. While I didn’t inherit her green thumb despite her tutoring, I did receive her love of growing things. Every spring I plant a garden. This year I have high hopes since I’ve gone to a raised garden to keep out the dogs and the bunnies!
Giveaway: Leave a comment sharing your favorite Fourth of July food or tradition to be entered in the drawing for a signed copy of A Cure For the Vet and a cactus T-shirt from my favorite shop, 
Abigail and Rosalind might not have been dressed quite like the lady on this vintage Victorian postcard, but they were creative in using what they had to create festive and patriotic ensembles.