Personal Glimpses

BLUEBONNET FIELDS (AND A GIVEAWAY!) by Kara O’Neal

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Howdy, fellow western romance readers!

I’m so excited to be back with y’all to talk about books, the West, and history! I’ve learned so much from the posts on Petticoats and Pistols, and I’m glad I get to contribute to this blog.

When I was drafting Bluebonnet Fields, the final book in the Wildflower series, I got to visit the Hill Country in Texas, which is where the bluebonnets grow. It’s also where my grandma is from. And her mother, and her mother’s mother.

They were a family of cotton pickers. Migrant workers.

My grandma grew up running the roads of the Hill Country and picking furrow after furrow of cotton.

But, in between the work, they made time for fun, and dancing was often their favorite activity.

 

Gruene Hall, in Gruene, Texas, (pronounced “green”), is the oldest continually operating dance hall in Texas. It was started in 1878, and it hasn’t changed much at all. The layout of the building is the same—bar at the front, dance floor in the middle, side-flaps for open-air dancing, tin roof, and a small stage opposite the bar. The outdoor garden, with the live oak trees and stone walk-ways are also still the same.

Oh, the fun this building has seen! The music it has heard!

Gruene Hall is one of my favorite places in Texas, and two-stepping or waltzing the night away at this establishment, as so many others have done, is a privilege and an honor.

And in Bluebonnet Fields, I was able to give that joy to Kenna and Levi. It’s where Kenna has her first dance, and where they share their first kiss. It’s truly magical.

And I can imagine my great-grandmothers there, having themselves a grand time, loving the music, dancing the night away, and maybe giving away a kiss or two!

Do you have a favorite historic spot or town that instantly transports you back in time? Please share and one commentor will win a copy of Bluebonnet Fields!

 BLUEBONNET FIELDS

Texas, 1890

Kenna Ainsley has no use for love. It only brings betrayal and disappointment. She finds solace in her work as a Harvey Girl, and the independence that brings.

But one day a stranger sits down at her table. He’s a Deputy Sheriff, and before she can blink, he’s dragging her back to Galveston on an erroneous charge that she’s a runaway wife.

Kenna plots her escape. But even as she tries to free herself, her heart is working against her. She’s falling for the handsome Deputy Sheriff, which sends her fleeing to the one place she swore she would never go.

Deputy Sheriff Levi Brandt has plans, and Kenna is at the center of them. After one look at her, he knows there’s no way in hell she’s gonna end up hitched to anyone else but him. But he’s gonna have to do some heavy lifting to get her to trust him. Lucky for her, he welcomes the weight. No matter how far she runs, he’ll find her. Always.

 

Excerpt

When Kenna entered the hall on the arm of Levi, she took in her surroundings with an excited eye. The dance floor was in the direct center. A bar was at one end, near the main doors, and the stage where the band was playing was opposite it. The area was flanked by tables, and several rectangular windows that had flaps designed to draw in a breeze.

People were about, some at the bar with glasses of beer, some at the tables eating, while couples twirled to the lively reel being played by the band. Kenna knew the tune. She’d heard it once spilling forth from a saloon in Galveston. She’d stopped to listen outside the doors for a brief moment.

“You ready?” Levi asked, leaning down near her ear.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she announced. She looked at him, her pulse racing in anticipation of all that was going to occur and what might occur this night.

He grinned. “Then hang on to me, darlin’, because I don’t intend to let your feet touch the floor.”

And with that, he swept her up into his arms and twirled her onto the dance floor. With his gaze locked on hers, he took her through the lively steps, spinning and whirling her to the strains of the fiddle, guitar, drum, harmonica, and banjo.

Without a care, she put her trust in him, grateful not to have to worry for one night. She was going to forget her cares and let herself go.

When the first dance ended, there was barely a second to breathe before the next one was starting. He never relinquished his hold on her. His arm was tight around her waist, and he was keeping her deliciously close as he expertly slipped them into the waltz that was now being played.

As he turned her about the room, she basked in his intent attention and possessive hold. His gaze was gleaming with heat and promise, with want and delight. She fell into his eyes and hoped in hers he saw her own desire.

The waltz melted into a reel, then back into a waltz once more, and as the evening darkened into night, her heart soared to the Heavens and stayed there. Her head was spinning, her body was humming. She never wanted to let him go.

And when another fellow tapped him on the shoulder, making Levi pause, and indicating his want to cut in, her breath caught in fear that Levi would give her up.

“No,” Levi fairly growled at the man, an instant fury leaping from him.

The fellow raised his brow, then set his jaw and walked off.

Levi immediately began dancing with her again, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

He set his lips next to her ear. “I told you, Kenna, you’re mine for tonight. I’m not sharing.”

She squeezed his hand and curled her fingers more tightly about his arm. An involuntary reaction that showed her pleasure at his gruff vow.

His answer was to tighten his arm about her waist, pulling her even closer.

 Book Purchase Link:  https://books2read.com/u/bP2ewY

What about you? Do you like to dance? If so, what is your favorite kind and where? Leave a comment to be entered in the drawing for one ebook copy of Bluebonnet Fields!

 

Author Bio

Kara O’Neal is an award-winning author of over thirty historical romances. Humor, family, love, and romance take center stage in her novels, and her characters have been touted as “real, complex, and down-to-earth”. Her books are available in print and ebook.

When not writing, she’s a teacher, but she’s always a mother to three talented children, and the wife of a man quite worthy of being called “hero”.

Telling stories is her passion, and she does so with memorable characters and unique plots certain to keep you reading late into the night! Visit Kara O’Neal at http://www.karaoneal.com.

Where to Find Kara

Website ~ Instagram ~ Facebook ~ X ~ Pinterest ~ Newsletter ~ Goodreads ~ Bookbub ~ Amazon

An Odd Custom in the 19th Century and Earlier

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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)

From Midwest Lakes to Ocean Views by Pam Crooks

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At this stage in my life, spending time with my children and grandchildren takes far more precedence than most anything else I can think of. Especially in this day and age when a quick text message suffices over a phone call and even a physical visit. Everyone is busy, and if not for pictures snapped on smart phones and sent sailing onto MY smart phone via cell towers (which is a really simplistic way to explain it but you get the idea), I might not see much of my children and grandchildren at all.

I actually blame those cell towers for that. My life was much simpler without those darned cell phones everyone is so obsessed with–and I suspect yours was, too.

Thus, in my quest to spend more time with my family, we have turned toward taking nice family vacations together. The whole bunch. All twenty of us. Every year. It’s my husband’s and my treat, and it’s great incentive to get 100% attendance. These family vacations have been some of my most special memories ever.

Okoboji

One of the earliest vacations we took with the kids was Okoboji. Located in northwest Iowa’s Great Lakes region and only three hours away from us, Okoboji has long been a family friendly favorite around here. Lake Okoboji is a big, beautiful lake, and nearby Fillenwarth Beach offers their “Million Dollar Home Cruise” and “Booze Cruise” with special drinks for kids and adults alike, including platters of crackers and cheese to snack on. Of course, there’s biking, hiking, and even an amusement park in nearby Arnold’s Park. Something for everyone.

Honey Creek Resort

Honey Creek Resort is a southern Iowa lake retreat on Rathbun Lake, offering lodge rooms, cottages, outdoor recreation, golf, trails, and family-friendly amenities in a state-park setting, again only a few hours away. We rented cottages and had our own cul-de-sac for bike riding, cooking out, and game-playing. I do know they have been having some financial troubles, and if so, I’m hopeful they get those worked out soon, if they haven’t already. We loved going there over several summers.

Ponca State Park

For our more rustic vacation, we drove up north to Ponca State Park and rented cottages all tucked into the bluffs above the Missouri River. We enjoyed great river views, hiking, biking, kids activities, and so on. Again, only a few hours away from us and kid-friendly.

Bahamas Cruise

Last year, my husband and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary with our biggest vacation yet – a cruise to the Bahamas. Oh, my goodness. It didn’t get any better than that, especially since no one in the family had been on a cruise before. Seeing their wide-eyed amazement at how BIG the ship was, all the food they could eat, the shows, the pools…

It was so wonderful, we went again. In fact, we only got home a couple of days ago, and since I’m still on a cruise euphoria, I was inspired to write this blog and share our vacations with all of you!

Now that this year’s vacation is over, I’d love to hear about your vacation favorites. (I need ideas for next year, and the year after that . . .)

Modern Conveniences and a Give Away

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My house. I loved it.

I lived off the grid for twenty-two years. We only lived two miles from power lines, also two miles off a main road, but the power company wanted $500,000 to take a power line to our house. We chose not to do that, so we created our power with a generator, first propane with a wind backup, and then diesel. I learned a lot of basic mechanics over the years because the one rule of generators is that they will fail, and usually at a very inconvenient time. Ask me why I flinch when the lights flicker. My fridge was propane and a whopping 7.7 cubic feet. It too failed every now and again, so I am now quite adept at fixing propane fridges.

Now that I have “regular” power, I have it easy. At my old house, I had to schedule laundry, ironing, showers, TV watching, hair drying, cooking with the electric oven, and using the microwave around the times that the generator was running–from whenever we got up to 10:00 in the morning, then from 4:00 in the afternoon to bedtime.  I could not use a crockpot. I did not charge my phone at night. Oh–I also had one of the first cell phones because the telephone company took eleven years to run a line to us. It was so big that it was mounted on the wall, and if you took it somewhere you had a special carrying bag like a brief case to hold it. All calls, incoming and outgoing, were 60 cents a minute. If a telemarketer called you, it cost you.

I did love the “simple” life and it was a great way to raise kids.  That said, it’s so nice to take a shower without tuning on the power. To cook when I want, sew when I want, make a phone call that doesn’t cost 60 cents a minute (that did change to a more reasonable price as cell phones became more common).

Would I go back? Let’s say this–I could go back. It’s a tougher life, and expensive, but doable, and there are some definite advantages. It’s really peaceful and at that time, before phones and battery powered laptops, you looked to other things to fill your time. And even though it was a challenging life in some ways, it was nothing compared to how rural people lived in the first part of the last century. Now those were tough people.

My question to you today, for a $10 Amazon gift certificate, is an offshoot from my topic.  Let’s say you have a cooking stove that needs no electricity, an ice box, and (wonder of wonders) indoor plumbing. No communication or entertainment devices. What modern convenience would you like to add to the mix?  For me, it would be electric lights.

A Look at Today’s Western TV Shows

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If you’re anything like me, you grew up watching TV westerns. As a family, we’d sit down together every Sunday evening to catch the latest episode of Bonanza. My brother’s favorite shows were F Troop and The Wild, Wild West ­— which, while not exactly accurate portrayals of life in the old west, were highly entertaining. For me, I loved the afternoon reruns of Big Valley and High Chaparral (which was filmed in my home state of Arizona). And Grandpa, he never missed Gunsmoke if he could help it.

It seemed for a long while, westerns disappeared from television, or at least became few and far between. Yes, there were some notable excellent offerings, like the Lonesome Dove miniseries, Justified, Hell on Wheels, and Longmire. But viewing trends change, and most western TV shows didn’t last long or gain huge fan bases like the classics. Until recently, that is.

Whether you like him and his show or not, Taylor Sheridan has had a tremendous impact on popularizing modern western shows — be they set in historical times or present day. His cornerstone show Yellowstone has launched numerous spinoffs, such as 1883, 1923, Marshals, as well as the upcoming Dutton Ranch, 6666, and 1944. Not to mention his western-ish shows like The Madison and Landman.

It doesn’t stop there. As a romance writer and reader, I really enjoyed the Netflix series Ransom Canyon, which I’m happy to say is returning for season two. If I’m in the mood for something grittier, I watch Dark Winds, which takes place in the 1970s, is also set him my home state of Arizona, and blends Navajo culture, crime fighting, and mild supernatural elements. Along those lines are American Primeval and The Abandons. While well written and boasting incredible casts, these shows can be hard to watch at times because of the level of violence. If you’re looking for something gentler and more family-oriented, there’s always the very long-running and popular Heartland. Full disclosure, this is a Canadian series and not set in the American west. Still, it’s enjoyable to watch.

What about you? Are you a fan of current Western TV shows and which one is your favorite? Is there one you like that I’ve missed? Or do you prefer the classics?

Whichever the case, I’m glad to see Western TV shows making a comeback even if not all of them are my cup of tea.

Iconic Arizona Landmark’s Civil War Connection

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A few weekends ago, I was traveling from Phoenix to Tucson – something I do perhaps once a year. There’s a prominent landmark called Picacho Peak that, despite having lived in Arizona most of my life, I pay little attention to other than to note that I’m about two-thirds of the way through my trip. This time, however, perhaps because I was driving alone, I started thinking a little about this historic site and decided to research it a bit when I got home.

Most of us in these parts know that Picacho Peak is where the only battle between the North and the South took place in Arizona during the civil war. Seems the then western territory mostly stayed out of the conflict until February of 1862 when Captain Sherod Hunter and a troupe of rangers rode into Tucson, officially creating the Confederate Territory of Arizona. They effectively wreaked havoc on the Union forces with their hit and run style of attack, destroying the Union Army’s food and hay supplies and capturing their men.

After two months of skirmishes and raids, the warring sides met at Picacho Peak on April 15th for their infamous battle, which lasted all of ninety minutes. Despite being greatly outnumbered, the Confederates triumphed. Their victory didn’t last long, however. The Union eventually took control of the region, ending the Confederates’ hope for a southwestern pathway to the Westcoast.

Now, every year in (usually) March, the battle at Picacho Peak is reenacted in the state park by living history enthusiasts who wear authentically reproduced uniforms and clothing and use replica weapons­—no real bullets are used. Tours and informational talks are given, along with camps, and battle demonstrations that are set up to entertain and educate the hundreds of people who arrive and to thrill to the sound of rifles exploding and canons firing (again, not real). I’ve never been, but my son attended some years ago with my mother-in-law and his cousins and had a great time.

If you’re not a history buff, that’s no reason to miss stopping at Picacho Peak. There are great hiking trails for the fit and adventurous and the Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Ranch for fun seekers looking for something different. Yes, you can feed the ostriches. No, you can ride them. And, yes, you can purchase ostrich eggs to eat. To be honest, I’d have to think long and hard on that before making a purchase.

Maybe I should convince hubby, and the two of us could check it out next year. Sounds like a great day trip.

 

Pot or Kettle?

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I was in my forties before I knew that people didn’t call  pots and pans “kettles”.  Embarrassingly, I was writing a book with a cook as a hero and my editor gently pointed out to me that kettles are used for tea. Sometimes they’re used for things like rendering fat during the butchering process or making soap. They are not used in everyday cooking. That was news to me because I grew up cooking in kettles.

One of my favorites was the mush kettle, which was a one quart aluminum “pot” (as some people call it) with a handle. We cooked oatmeal, cream of wheat and Malto-Meal in the mush kettle. It was all mush. According to my husband, it’s actually hot cereal. Right.

The mush kettle wasn’t the only specialized kettle we had. There was also the rice kettle and the stew kettle, both stainless steal and the perfect size for the stated purposes. Sometimes we used the stew kettle for other things, such as soaking beans, but it was always the stew kettle. Oddly we didn’t have cast iron kettles, even though we had cast iron everything. Cast iron kettles are, of course, called Dutch ovens.

Speaking of cast iron, we had a lot of perfectly seasoned frying pans. (Occasionally called skillets in my house, but not often.) We had enough of them that I think I took four when I moved out and no one seemed to notice. Yes, we used soap in our frying pans, but only after meat was cooked in them. If there was no meat, it was a wipe-clean situation. If we washed them in water, we put them on the stove to dry, hopefully remembering to stay nearby so as not to wonder about that nasty hot metal odor permeating house a few minutes later. If the pan was not red hot, there’d be a quick application of Crisco on a rag if mom or dad were in charge, and no Crisco if my brother or I were in charge . I still have my pans. They’re still perfectly seasoned and I use soap.  I haven’t turned one red hot by forgetting it in the drying process in a long time, and have finally reached the level of maturity where I do wipe them with Crisco after washing.

Long story short, I occasionally use soap in my 100-year old cast iron and I still cook in kettles. Do you?

Welcome Guest Linda Ford!

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I love historicals. There is a wider breadth of dramatic events to choose from. For instance, what in our present world compares to the scope of adventure in a wagon trek westward, the challenges of living in a sod shanty, or the sheer grit of surviving endless dust storms or  a vicious snowstorm?

I got a taste of real pioneer life as a child. My father did road maintenance work in remote areas. My parents—brave souls—gathered up us children and took us along. We lived in a VERY primitive bunkhouse. There were absolutely no modern conveniences (you have to remember this was about 200 years ago. lol) We experienced firsthand some of the tasks our pioneer forefathers did.

Of course, not everyone agrees. I had one reader write me and briskly inform me that there was nothing romantic about the  ‘good old days’. The hard work was numbing; the hardships devastating. Life simply wasn’t pleasant.

I have great admiration for these people, their hardy spirits and their absolute stubborn joy because it always hits me when I read their stories that few of them were bitter or complaining. They simply faced and accepted the challenges of their situation, striving to make things better and in the midst of it all, clinging to a sure faith. As many of these people say in their stories, God was their strength and their shield. In Him they found forbearance and hope. I’m convinced their lives have much to teach us.

In my new series—Stagecoach To Golden Valley—I strive to portray their grit and faith. In preparing to write my previous series, Montana Cowboys, I had done research on gold mining. I had visited Libby, Montana which experienced a gold rush in the 1860s. While in Libby, I poked through the museum, took pictures of cabins and equipment, browsed the local history section of the library, traipsed through the woods, and sat to admire the waterfalls. BTW, I am in love with waterfalls and have used them often in the new series.

The only thing I needed to complete my research was to learn about stagecoaches. I gleaned some interesting facts. The wagons were pulled by three matching pairs of horses. The interior was often crowded with three benches—one facing forward, one facing to the back and one in the middle. Each bench could hold three passengers—with barely room to breathe. A stagecoach traveled about 5 mph. The team of horses had to be changed every 12-15 miles so there were way stations at those points. The overnight stations were often referred to as Home Stations. Food, drink and a place to bed down were provided but not necessarily with much comfort accompanying them.

Riding a stagecoach lacked any hope of relaxation. The coach swayed and jerked and bounced. Elbows jabbed into ribs. Passengers were tossed against each other. Then there were the dangers associated with travel over rugged terrain—landslides, washed out roads, steep and narrow embankments. There was always the risk of robbers.

There are other reasons for making the treacherous journey across the mountains besides the hope of finding gold. Some travelers wanted escape. Some wanted shelter. Others wanted to start over or find missing family. Some even arrived under mysterious circumstances.

FROM THIS DAY

A past too dark to forgive…a love too powerful to deny.

Addie Stone has devoted her life to helping her adoptive parents care for the less fortunate. She and her mother are journeying to Golden Valley to continue this work and help the preacher. She lives a plain life believing it will protect her from criminals—and pain.

Nash Burns, a handsome young rancher, has strong ideals—hard work and honest gain. The last thing he wants is to be like his father.

The pair are stranded along with the other stagecoach passengers when heavy rains wash out the road. They are soon drawn to each other, finding similar goals and ideals. When the secrets of their past are revealed, they wonder if they can possibly forgive each other.

Will they find their way to forgiveness, healing and a love that satisfies the yearnings of their hearts?

The tropes of this book are:

  • stranded
  • guilty secrets
  • family saga
  • second chance

Which of these are your favorites? Or is your favorite something else? I’ll give away one ebook copy of From This Day so leave a comment.

50 Wonderful Years

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Hello everyone, Winnie Griggs here. Today’s post is going to be a little different—more introspective than usual.

You see, November has always been a special month in our household. It’s the month when autumn finally settles in for good, when I start thinking about what I’m grateful for, the Christmas countdown, and cinnamon-spiced everything. But more personally, it’s the month that holds two of our children’s birthdays—both of which seem to land near Thanksgiving, and every so often, right on it. Those overlapping celebrations have made for some memorable holidays over the years, full of cake beside pumpkin pie and laughter that carried long after the dishes were done. There are plenty of extended-family birthdays, too—November has always been a big month for births in our family!

And not just birthdays. My parents were married in November, and my husband and I celebrate our wedding anniversary this month as well. This year, though, November feels a little different—richer somehow. My husband and I will be celebrating our fiftieth wedding anniversary—the so-called golden anniversary—and it truly does feel golden.

Half a century of shared adventures, ordinary days, and everything in between. When we married, we were young and full of dreams, sure we could take on anything life sent our way. Looking back now, I realize that while the dreams and adventures were wonderful, the real gift came in the everyday faithfulness—the simple rhythm of two people choosing each other over and over again.

 

Our children have planned a big family fish fry to mark the occasion. Nothing fancy—just our crew gathered outdoors, catching up and swapping stories while the little ones run wild and free. It feels exactly right for us: casual, family-focused, and full of laughter. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate five decades together than surrounded by the family and love that grew from those early years.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been thinking of my parents a lot lately. Their wedding anniversary also fell in November—seventy-four years ago. Both of them are gone now, but the memories linger. I can still picture the big celebrations we held for their 35th and 50th anniversaries—dress-up events full of family, friends, and music. They had so many people who loved them—a real tribute to the kind of folks they were. And now, all these years later, I see the same kind of joy echoing through our own family gatherings.

As I look back, I’m struck by how gratitude has a way of deepening over time. When we’re young, we’re thankful for the big moments—new jobs, new homes, new beginnings. But as the years pass, gratitude becomes quieter, steadier. It settles into the small things: a familiar hand reaching for yours, a child’s quick hug, a sunset shared in comfortable silence. And somewhere along the way, that gratitude transforms into a sense of fulfillment and blessing.

Fulfillment in knowing you’ve loved and been loved. Blessings in the memories built, the lessons learned, the laughter that lingers even after the moment has passed

 

I suppose that’s why this milestone feels less like a finish line and more like a sweet blessing. Fifty years together isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence, forgiveness, laughter, and faith. And it’s about recognizing that the good things in life are rarely flashy. They’re built quietly, day by day, in the heart of a home filled with love.

So this November, amid birthday candles, Thanksgiving pies, and a family fish fry, my heart is full. Love and gratitude brought us here. A sense of fulfillment and an abiding faith keep us grounded.

And as a nod to the upcoming Thanksgiving Day celebration, what’s one person, moment, or memory you’re most grateful for this year? Leave a comment on this and/or on my post and you’ll be entered in a drawing for your choice of a signed copy of any of my books.

 

Buckboard Wagon Seat Ideas and Giveaway

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Last month I started a home redecorating/downsizing project that turned out to be much more work than I anticipated. Yeah, go figure, right? We switched four rooms around, which wound up giving us a much more functional TV den and an extra sleeping nook for when company visits over the holidays. I also found a place for those many things of my late mother’s I can’t seem to part with. While I have lots of small stuff left to do, like hanging pictures and finding a place for knick-knacks, I’m approaching the finish line. Whew!

One of the biggest tasks I took on was reorganizing and clearing out the closets. What a chore! I tell you, I don’t want to do that again for a long, long time. I wound up making two trips to the local Goodwill Donation Drop-Off and scheduled one special bulk trash pickup.

I decided to also use this opportunity to freshen up some of my décor. Nothing like giving your rooms a new look to lift your spirits. Along those lines, we decided to reupholster the couch and get an old table my husband inherited from his grandfather refinished. Problem is, I have this one antique buckboard wagon seat I’m not sure what to do with. It had been sitting in an unused corner of what is now the sleeping nook, so I need to give it a new purpose. To that end, I got online looking for inspiration. I think some of the ideas I came across are really cute. The questions now are 1) is what I want doable, and 2) how to accomplish it?

As you can imagine, the most popular idea is a bench. Of these three ideas, the one with cushions appeals to me the most. I think some colorful pillows would be cute. But where to put the bench?

This one where the wagon seat is turned into a painting is very cool. However, I have no artistic talent, and I don’t know anyone who does and could take on a project like this.

These last two are probably my favorites. I’m thinking of combing the two of them: putting the wagon outside my front door and staging it with an outdoor plant, a birdhouse, a weathervane, and other country decorative items. I think that might be very charming and original.

What about you? What would you do with my buckboard wagon seat if you were me? Drop a comment below, and I’ll enter you in a random drawing for a giveaway that includes two of my backlist books and some author bling, including a cowboy coffee cup and Starbucks gift card. Even if you don’t have an idea about my buckboard wagon seat, just say hi, and I’ll enter your name.

 

P.S. Don’t forget to check out the P&P Facebook Reader Group at:  Petticoats & Pistols FB Readers Group

 

Petticoats & Pistols