I dreamed since I was fourteen years old to spend most of my existence writing. I began reading at this time, and reading became my passion. I knew this was the vocation for me. I wanted to continue to read and then write that best selling novel.As my years progressed I continued to read and write, structuring some poems, and short stories, and working on a few novels. I didn't do anything with the novels, short stories or poems, but it was a thrill in just writing them.One day I began writing about one hundred short stories. I kept them in a binder and continued to write them. I was reading a BLACK ROMANCE magazine one day, and their stories sounded so familiar to mine. The writing techniques were similar, and the stories were of love and romance. I believed I had the same ingredient that this magazine was looking for in the guidelines, so I submitted a few of my short stories, and hoped for the best. I really wanted to write for this magazine.Of course writing doesn't come that easy, or anything that you want out of life. You have to work diligently to make it happen, and this is what I had to do to write for BLACK ROMANCE Magazine. The first five of my short stories were rejected, but the editor was very nice. She wrote some interesting and helpful comments on one of my short stories, and told me to resubmit with the revised changes. I was happy as a lark because I still had a chance to make my writing debut in this magazine.I resubmitted the story about three times, and then finally I received a contract in the mail. They were going to publish my short story, THE BUS STOP ROMANCE. This was one of my favorite short stories because I actually met a man on the bus stop when I was going to work one hot summer day in May. I was overjoyed beyond comprehension. I had to keep looking at the contract because it was amazing to get a published story. I had finally made it as a writer, and I loved every minute of it. My story was published in JIVE Magazine, an affiliate of BLACK ROMANCE Magazine in the November 2000 issue.I continued to write for the magazine, ending up writing nineteen short stories. I had so many stories left over that I decided to put them into a novel form. I CONFESS was born. It's a collection of confession short stories for the modern relationship with a touch of reality. I'm very proud of my debut novel, which was published and released on December 18, 2004 by Publishamerica.Some of the short stories included in my novel are: LIES BY ASSOCIATION, about a marriage trying to be saved; THE JAILBAIT, a woman who falls in love with a very dangerous man; LIVING LARGE, three plus-size women who definitely have it going on; NOT UNTIL I'M MARRIED, a woman who finds a man who turns out to be something very different from other men; REJECTION, an overweight woman who is so in love with her boyfriend, she decides to lose the weight and teach him a lesson, or does she? THE ICE BENEATH THE FIRE, a woman dreams of skating, and her mate who is right there by her side, maybe; THE TEASE, a woman who is so angry with men she uses them, but payback is something else; BELLS AND BUTTERFLIES, an interracial couple's love; EMAILING LOVE, finding love on the internet; HE PROPOSED, a woman finally getting married; MILITARY LOVE, falling in love and then losing that love; I'M FORTY AND HE'S EIGHTEEN, a woman finds love with a man half her age; TWENTY-TWO YEARS LATER, finding love after so many years; EX'S, getting back with your husband you divorced; YOU CHEATING DOG; a woman gets even with her cheating man; I'M A SLAVE FOR YOU, tired of being a slave for her man, she takes matters into her own hands; BUSINESS LOVE, can a man and women mix business with pleasure? NATIVE NEW YORKER, a woman finding love in the big apple; PARTING IN SWEET LOVE, a long distance romance; IN LOVE WITH AN OLDER MAN, an eighteen year old finding love with a much older man; THE RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE, waiting until marriage; IN LOVE WITH MY SISTER'S HUSBAND, sisters in love with the same man; THE FIVE DAY SEPARATION, a husband and wife's martial problems in five days, etc. My book is a page turner, and you won't be disappointed.My goal is to sell a million copies of my book, and to do that I need everyone to purchase my book. My cover is green and gorgeous, and I'm very proud to be associated with this project.My joy of writing is for everyone to enjoy my book, and maybe get something out of one of my stories. I'd hope that one of my stories were the answers to a dilemma in someone's life. I know I read all the time and in most of the books the characters are going through the same avenue of problems that I find myself going through constantly and on a regular basis. It gives me significant hope that the way I solve my problems, is the way someone else is doing the same thing. The answers that I'm searching for is right there in a book.I write because I just love telling stories, and taking along my characters to do anything I want them to do, and then some. Writing is also therapeutic for a lot of people, including myself. I find when I get so depressed about something happening or not happening in my life, I'd get my laptop computer and write about it. I like writing stories with happy endings because they're most of my dreams. I can write a happy ending to my life and live with it. If only this could strike into real life, then there would be a lot of exciting people living today in this world, and less chaos going on.My job is to promote my book, and continue to let it be known to the world that books are the revolution of education. Reading a book is better than just watching television, going to movies, and clubs. It's the most relaxing time of a very emotional and difficult work week.Why not sit back in your favorite chair, in your favorite room and catch up on some reading with a romantic book of love, and reality situations in the world of dating?Buy I CONFESS and enjoy a ride of good reading, and happily ever after endings; in a setting of a splash of reality scenarios in the real world. (1,144)My name is Carol Ann Culbert Johnson. Please visit my website at: http://www.freewebs.com/jcarolann Also please purchase I CONFESS at http://www.publishamerica.com. I reside in the windy city of Chicago, Illinois. My email is: http://www.jcarolannjohnson@aol.com.

Quite a lot happened in Europe between 1002AD, when the Vikings hurriedly packed their longships and retreated back to the colder climes of Greenland, and 1492AD, when the Spanish caravels, with Columbus so confident at the helm, accidentally stumbled across the forgotten continent.The period, collectively known as the Renaissance, saw a general revival of interest in intellectual thought. Science was studied, with fresh experiments conducted and new conclusions drawn, laws were introduced to control the growing populations and to create more stable societies, medicines were used to cure illness and prolong life, astonomers peered farther into the unknown universe, while geographers mapped and plotted the earth.All of these advances were aided by the invention of the movable type and a working printing press, which for the first time made books and maps easy to produce and allowed knowledge to be readily available to all.While Spain united to drive out the Moors and the other major European countries generally moved closer to becoming nation states, so the merchants also started to trade with far-off places and in particular with the other main hubbub of civilization, namely the East (principally China, India and Persia).This trade brought all sorts of attractive items into daily use and it wasn't long before Europe started to thrive on this vital commerce, though events were suddenly brought to a premature halt by the rise of the Muslems in the Middle East who moved to blockade the profitable trade routes.When Constantinople, the established base of the Christian Byzantium Empire, finally fell to the forces of the Ottaman Turks in 1453, the trade virtually dried up. The merchants were doomed and a continent that had become more or less dependant on this trade suddenly felt the need to find an alternative route to regain access to this lucrative market.At that time Portugal was the leading maritime nation in Europe, holding vital access to the Atlantic Ocean, the unknown frontier and as a few believed the real key to access the eastern markets. As they started to explore into this ocean they first found tiny chains of islands - Madeira, the Canary Islands, the Azores and the Cape Verde Islands - but they then turned their ships southwards to chart the continent of Africa. The Atlantic was still too big, too unknown, and they decided to play it safe and stick to the coastline. Their plan was to try and get around the tip of Africa and then to access Asia across the Indian Ocean. This was a safe route, making sense on the maps of the time, as to their knowledge the American continent quite simply did not exist.How things were going to change!This excerpt is taken from the third chapter of Discovery - The Story of America by Anthony Treasure. This book is already published in the UK (listed on Amazon.co.uk) and is due to be published in the US at a later date. For now it is published as an ebook and as a SPECIAL INTRODUCTORY OFFER Discovery Part One is available to download COMPLETELY FREE OF CHARGE. Three further titles - Discovery Part Two, Colonization Part One and Colonization Part Two are also out as ebooks and can be bought and downloaded from the website. To claim your free ebook today simply visit http://www.farawaybooks.com

Author: Thomas C. Oden
Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: HarperSanFrancisco; 1st ed edition (May 1, 1983)
Language: English
ISBN: 0060663537Book Content:Introduction: What is Pastoral Theology?I. Becoming a Minister
The Discovery of Pastoral Identity
The Call to Ministry
The Meaning of Ordination
Women in the Pastoral OfficeII. The Pastoral Office
Shepherding as Pivotal Analogy
The Offices and Gifts of MinistryIII. What Clergy Do and Why
The Pastor of the Worshipping Community
The Ministry of Eucharist and Baptism
The Ministry of Word Through Preaching
The Teaching Elder
Equipping the Laity for MinistryIV. Pastoral Counsel
Pastoral Visitation
The Care of Souls
The Work of the Holy Spirit in Comfort, Admonition and DisciplinePastoral Theology Essentials of Ministry is a "must have" resource for all persons contemplating entering the ministry, those who want to understand the role of pastors more clearly, and those ministers who want to review their role in the light of a systematic reflection on the pastoral office in general.I thoroughly enjoyed this book, even more than I did his Agenda for Theology. I think he presented his theory of ordained ministry, including a definition of its functions and duties underlying theological principles method, in a succinct and easily understood manner. The whole book is a treasure of resouces for all desiring to increase understanding of this office and what it means to be a pastor. My comments however, are limited to the three chapters that stand out most for me: Women in the Pastoral Office, The Care of Souls and Pastoral Care of the Dying.Women in ministry will find Oden's favorable position on women performing in pastoral capacities quite enlightening, affirming and Biblically sound. He makes some significant observations that certainly challenge the most intransigent opposition. Most of the controversial discussions over the legitimacy of women in the pastoral ministry arise because of hermeneutical differences. In Pastoral Theology, Oden presents his own hermeneutics as well as the hermeneutics of those who object to women's ordination to the pastoral ministry. He argues in support of women on the basis of the larger Biblical picture; he looks for the general principles found inherent in the flow of Scriptures. He also takes into account the historical and cultural dynamics within which the inspired writer wrote. Implicit in Oden's comments is the notion that the issue of women is not simply or merely academic. It lies at the very heart of our struggle to stand together as brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus.Oden brilliantly distinguishes pastoral care of souls from other pastoral functions by illuminating its primary focus on individual need and the personal character of the pastor's involvement with the parishioner. His approach is holistic and deeply human.Though somewhat implied, I wish Oden emphasized more explicitly the need for pastors to have adequate education and psychological qualifications for the task of caring for souls. Certainly with the multi-problematic concerns of people today, with the mental anomalies that grip them tenaciously, does it not seem appropriate that pastors should be intellectually suited and academically prepared for her/his work? The pastor is a "physician of the soul" and just as the physicians today must know far more and practice more expertly to meet people's health need, so likewise, will the physician of the soul.Finally, Oden's treatment of and recommendation for pastoral care of the dying is extremely informative. He delineates pastoral responsibilities and offers helpful guidelines for counseling with the dying and relating to hospital staff. Any reader who has not thought through the importance of the funeral would do well to study these sections intently for there is some very convincing evidence presented.This book is a classic and should be in every pastor's personal library. Even though, as with most books, there are specific areas where we are bound to disagree, overall, the information and ideas presented is worth its weight in gold.Rev. Saundra L. Washington, D.D., is an ordained clergywoman, veteran social worker, and Founder of AMEN Ministries. She is also the author of two coffee table books: Room Beneath the Snow: Poems that Preach and Negative Disturbances: Homilies that Teach which can be reviewed on her site. Her new book, Out of Deep Waters: My Grief Management Workbook, is expected to be available soon.You are welcome to visit AMEN Ministries: Your Soul's Service Station for spiritual refreshing, soul edification, browse our newly expanded mini shopping mall or review our recommended books you may want to add to your personal library.Blessings to all!

Joyce Meyers has been inspiring Christians for decades with the pearls of inspirational wisdom which she has faithfully shared via her radio program and books. Now, her husband Dave shares a powerful devotional crafted from a strong, personal walk with the Lord. Let's take a look at the book that will certainly capture the attention of those drawn to Christian devotionals.Dave Meyers is one of those rare men who works quietly in the shadow of their wife's ministry. Joyce Meyers, who has been inspiring and motivating Christians for decades is a strong inspirational and motivational speaker in her own right. Still, Joyce credits the quiet, strong leadership of her husband in keeping her ministry on track as well as debt free. In reading Life Lines you will fully appreciate the saying, "still waters run deep" and quickly understand that Dave's relationship with his Savior is a strong one.Life Lines is only 126 pages in length, but each page is a separate devotional that stands by itself. On any given page the first thing that you will read is a Biblically based saying followed by the chapter and verse that the saying is based upon. The body of the devotional is a 1-2 paragraph exposition of the text full of wisdom and laced with nuggets of truth. Indeed, on page 98 Meyers states: God is more interested in your stability than your tranquility. He then references Psalm 1:2-3 for supporting text and sums up how "a life rooted in God and His Word is like a tree rooted in the eternal stream."The devotional is composed of five chapters featuring five separate themes:Faith
Grace and Forgiveness
Character
Life in Christ
Secrets of Daily LivingI personally like to read devotionals from varying themes on one day or several devotionals from the same theme on another day. You may find yourself cracking open the Word and reading the supporting chapter to glean the most out of every devotional. Truly, Meyer's book exhorts believers to seek God's will for every aspect of their lives. In that, this book is a real gem.Life Lines is published by Warner Faith, New York, 2004 and is available at Christian bookstores everywhere or through Joyce Meyers Ministries.Matt Keegan is The Article Writer who writes on a wide variety of topics including: aviation, business, customer service, entertainment, travel, Christian, internet, writing, product review, and more. Please visit http://www.thearticlewriter.com for more information.(c)2005; Matthew C Keegan, LLC

Title: Bury My Heart at Redtree
Author: Patrick Chalfant
Genre: Suspense/Thriller
ISBN: 1-930709-53-6Patrick Chalfant weaves a tale that is a mixture of psychological suspense, Native American mysticism and revenge in his sophomore novel Bury My Heart at Redtree. Redtree follows Taylor, a promising young psychology student as he builds his masters thesis around the revenge he has planned for those who are responsible for his parent's death.Taylor is aided in his vigilante justice by his friends Elijah and Keith and hunted by the local authorities, detectives Stan Jennings and Carol Parker of the State Bureau of Investigations. With a cast of a characters that also includes a na

The black widow spider is notorious for eating her mate as they copulate, but how many of us know much more than that about this beautiful, mysterious, spider?Grice collects black widows and keeps them in jars and studies them, and he tells us more than we care to know at times. But it is not just black widows that interest Grice, it is rattlesnakes, praying mantis, tarantula, pigs, dogs, and the recluse spider.The Lives of the Predators is fascinating, strange, and scary, all at the same time. Grice writes with such vivid imagery that you can almost feel the hairy tarantula, and hear the particular sound of the black widows web as you brush through it.Grice mixes us a venomous cocktail of personal accounts and tall tales; gruesome historic details that may have you questioning if you will ever eat pork again, and yet on the other hand he reveals how seemingly close humans still are to the animal kingdom.As humans we feel that we are at the top of the food chain and that we have no natural predators who relish our flesh, but wait, that is not true at all! History reveals that as early as biblical times swine have eaten human corpses; in Africa leopards dine on humans regularly; and dogs are more dangerous to us than the wolf.Grice's knowledge and research are impeccable. His interest in the life and death of his subjects is sometimes morbidly sadistic and it brings to mind an image of little boys who delight in tossing a poor grasshopper into a jar of red ants. But beside the morbidity is a side dish of humor when he describes the story of a man who was supposedly eaten by his hogs as, "?the man was old; he died of a heart attack or a stroke while feeding the pigs; and 'nothing was left of him but the shoes.' ?You have to be particularly suspicious of the heart attack diagnosed from the shoes."After reading this book you will come away with a different awareness of both the animal kingdom and the insect world, and you can no longer look at a spider or a pig the same way, or your dog for that matter.Copyright 2005 Cindy DeJager
Cindy DeJager owns Rosetta Stone Press, a publisher of metaphysical and mystical books. She writes book reviews of old and rare books, as well as sends out a monthly newsletter to local bookstores and libraries. You can find her reviews on her website at http://www.rosettastonepress.com

May-Day!The school bus had long since disappeared over the last hill toward the main road one afternoon when I set my books on the kitchen table and hurried into the living room to talk to my mother.Mom was sitting in her favorite easy chair by the picture window, and her crutches were laid neatly on the floor next to the chair where she could reach them.Outside the window, the air was so clear everything shimmered and sparkled. The fence posts. The plum trees. The lilacs. But even though the sun was shining and the grass was as green as the bottle of food coloring in the kitchen cupboard, a chilly wind blew out of the west. I would never tell her so, but I was glad my mother had insisted I put on my red button-down sweater before I left for school this morning."Mom?" I said. "Is it all right if I ride my bike?"As I waited for her to answer my question, she looked up from the newspaper and peered at me through her black-rimmed reading glasses."You won't have much time before supper," she said. "Why don't you go out and find Dad instead?"Since there were no other children in the family for me to play with, and no neighbor children close by, going outside to see Dad was even more fun than riding my bike.There was only one problem."Isn't he in the field someplace?" I asked.For the past month, Dad had been plowing, disking and planting. He often didn't arrive home until it was time to put the cows in the barn and feed them. If Dad was out in the field, then he would be too busy to talk to me.My mother shook her head. "He's finished with the fieldwork. He came in for coffee this afternoon for the first time in I don't know how long.""Yipee!" I said.Mom smiled and went back to reading the newspaper.A little while later after I had changed out of my school clothes and had put on my denim chore coat, I opened the porch door and saw our old, battered, green pickup truck backed up by the granary.The driveway made a circle past the buildings, and in the middle sat the garage, a round, wooden grain bin, and the red gasoline barrel shaded by a large silver maple. Another silver maple grew in the front lawn, and a row of silver maples lined the lawn in back of the house. One time Mom had told me the silver maples were planted by my great-grandfather after he homesteaded the farm in the late 1800s.The granary, which had little windows in the peak near the roof that looked like a square tipped on end, stood across the driveway from the gas barrel. The position of the pickup truck told me that Dad was inside the granary, loading oats into burlap bags, and that he planned to go into town tomorrow to grind feed. About once a week he loaded the truck and made a trip to the feed mill.I stood on the porch and watched as Dad lifted a burlap bag of oats into the back of the truck. My father made it look as though the bag of oats weighed no more than a ten-pound bag of sugar, but I knew better. A bag of oats weighed about a hundred pounds. Dad had put one on a scale once so I could see how much it weighed.As my father disappeared into the granary again, I smiled to myself, happy in the knowledge that I knew right where he was, so I wouldn't have to wander around the buildings, yelling for him.I sat down on the porch steps. All afternoon, the concrete steps had been soaking up sunshine, and beneath the seat of my jeans, the top step felt almost hot. Dandelions filled the lawn, as if someone had scattered handfuls of gold coins, and big, white clouds that looked like giant cotton balls floated across the sky, pushed by the wind.Only a few days of school remained, and I could hardly wait for summer vacation to begin. We usually got out of school the third week of May if we didn't have too many snow days to make up. And on the last day of school, we always had a picnic. Everybody took their plates outside, and we sat on the grass instead of eating in the cafeteria.I wasn't looking forward to the picnic quite as much as I did other years, though. Last year on the last day of school, I had no more than settled down with my plate when a garter snake had slithered out between my feet. The mere thought that I had almost sat on a snake still made my stomach do flip-flops.As I sat there thinking about the school picnic, one of the barn cats rose to her feet, arched her back and stretched, and then climbed the steps to sit beside me. She had been sprawled in the grass, sunning herself, and beneath my hand, her brown tabby fur felt warm and soft.In a couple of minutes, the cat went back to sunning herself, and I headed for the rope-and-board swing hanging from the clothesline poles. While cloud shadows slipped across the fields, I swung higher and higher, my arms wrapped around the thick rope tied over the crosspiece. The rope had come from an extra coil stored in the haymow. Dad used the same kind of rope for letting the big door down so he could put hay into the barn during the summer.When I had gone as high as I could go, I sat quietly while the swing moved slower and slower and slower. More puffy clouds drifted across the sun, and in the field behind the barn, clumps of alfalfa rippled in the cold breeze. The thought crossed my mind that maybe I should have put on a stocking cap. But then reason prevailed. It was May, after all.I hopped out of the swing and strolled toward the granary just as Dad brought another bag of oats and heaved it into the truck.The maple trees around the lawn were now covered with green leaves, and as I passed beneath the maple tree by the gas barrel, I was close enough to the truck to see the crack in the upholstery on top of the seat behind the steering wheel.I had no more than lifted my foot to take another step toward the truck when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.I looked down.And there, coiled in the grass by my feet, was the biggest snake I had ever seen.I had come within inches of stepping on it.The snake watched me with beady black eyes-and then its forked tongue flickered in my direction.Before I had time to think, I drew a deep breath?turned?and took off for the house.As I raced past the garage, I became aware of someone screaming. Blood curdling screams that were enough to make the hair stand up on the back of my neck.Then I realized the screams were coming from me.Seconds later, I cleared the porch steps in one leap and barged into the kitchen, startling my mother, who, by this time, had left the living room."What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Mom gasped, as she turned away from the sink."Snake!" was all I could say before collapsing against her.Mom grabbed the cupboard to steady her balance and then put her arm around me. "Where was the snake, honey?" she asked, patting my back with one hand as she held onto the kitchen counter with the other. "Did you see a little grass snake?"Before I could answer, I heard the porch door open and then the kitchen door.It was Dad."What's wrong?" he asked, sounding slightly breathless. "What happened? Is she hurt?""She saw a snake, that's all," Mom replied.I still had my face pressed tightly against her, but I thought she sounded exasperated."It was a BIG snake," I sniffled.Hah! I wondered how calm Mom would be if she had almost stepped on a fifty-foot boa constrictor. We had learned about boa constrictors in science class, and even the smaller ones could eat rabbits in one swallow."Oh," Dad said. "I thought maybe she'd hurt herself." He quietly closed the kitchen door and went back outside to finish loading oats.As I stood there leaning against my mother, I became aware that she was trembling.I took a step back.Mom wasn't trembling.She was laughing-laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.I drew a shaky breath. "What's so funny?""Hee-hee," she spluttered. "Tee-hee.""It is NOT," I said, drawing myself up to my full height, "funny."Mom nodded her head. "Yes, it is."She made her way over to the table and sat down.Wouldn't you just know it. I was almost dragged away and killed by the biggest snake I had ever seen, and all my mother could do was laugh. Now that I'd had time to think about it, the snake by the granary was at least as long as the handle of the push broom we used to sweep the barn aisle.I was beginning to wonder if my mother was ever going to stop laughing when she finally started to wipe her eyes."What," I asked once again, "is so funny?""Your poor father," she said, as fought back another snicker "There he was, out there in the granary, loading oats, minding his own business?and then?well?"Dad? My mother was laughing because??She was laughing because Dad must have run to the house as fast as I did. If not faster.The thought of Dad running almost made me forget about the snake.I had never seen Dad run anywhere. Sometimes he walked pretty fast. But I'd never seen him run."He probably wondered if you fell out of the tree and broke your arm, or something," Mom explained."Oh," I said.In a little while after I calmed down, I ventured outside again.The truck was still parked in the same place, but this time, I approached the granary with extreme caution.I even squatted down to look under the pickup truck.I didn't see the snake anywhere.Not in the grass.Not by the truck.And not by the granary step.Then, and only then, did I consider it safe to squeeze past the tailgate and climb into the granary."Hi, Daddy," I said, waiting for my eyes to adjust after the bright sunshine outside."That was a bull snake," Dad said while he continued bagging oats.My father had a funny way, sometimes, of knowing what I was going to ask before I could say it-except that knowing what kind of snake it was didn't make me feel any better."He's a good snake," Dad added. "I've seen him around here a lot. He helps us. He hunts mice, like the kitties hunt mice. We want him to be around the granary.""He's a good snake?"As far as I was concerned, there was no such a thing as a 'good' snake."Will he bite?" I asked.I had watched the cats hunt mice, and I understood why Dad didn't want mice in the granary. He said the cows wouldn't eat the feed if it had mouse droppings in it. I didn't blame them. Who would want to eat something that had mouse droppings in it?"No," Dad said, dumping another shovel of oats in the bag, "the snake won't hurt you. I suppose he was taking a sunbath when you saw him. The sun is warm today, but that wind is awfully chilly."By now, I was starting to feel a tiny bit guilty about my terrified, screaming reaction to the snake. If my father said he was a good snake-and that he was only taking a sunbath, just like the kitty by the porch had been taking a sunbath-then maybe it wasn't quite so bad."Tell you what," Dad continued, using a short section of string to tie the bag shut with a miller's knot, "whenever you're around the granary, keep an eye out for the bull snake. That way, the next time you see him, he won't be so scary.""Are you sure he won't bite?" I asked.Dad heaved the full bag of oats into the truck."No, kiddo," he said. "The snake won't bite. In fact, I'd even be willing to bet that you scared him more than he scared you."I seriously doubted the snake had been more scared than me, but I kept it to myself.For a long time after that, whenever I went near the granary, I looked for the bull snake.But I never saw him again.And neither did Dad."What do you suppose happened to that snake, Daddy?" I asked one day a few weeks later when he was loading oats again."I think you scared him away," Dad said, taking another burlap bag and hooking it over a nail to hold up one side while he shoveled oats into it. "He probably decided to go live someplace else where it was quieter.""Do you really think he moved?" I asked. "Just because of that?"My father nodded solemnly. "Snakes don't want to be where there's a lot of commotion. You wouldn't like it if someone screamed just because they saw you, would you?"I thought about that for a few moments. "No, Daddy. I wouldn't like it."I hoped, then, that the snake had found a nice place to live, a quiet place where his afternoon sunbath wouldn't be interrupted by blood-curdling screams of terror.And with any luck at all, it would also be someplace where I wouldn't almost step on him again.***************About The AuthorLeAnn R. Ralph is the author of the books "Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam" and "Christmas in Dairyland." http://ruralroute2.com; bigpines@ruralroute2.com

This land is my memories. For two thousand years this valley has been mine alone.I know every rock, every stream and every tree. I know the forces that shape this land and the people who inhabit it.A billion years ago this land was a migratory trail for the animals of Western Europe. They roamed freely across the huge land of one continent. Millennia passed as the rivers washed silt to the ocean and the sun raised rain to the sky. At that time the mass of Eurasia was joined. The tectonic plates shifted and islands formed, raising proud, green peninsulas on green water, thrust out to the ocean. Long before my time the forces of nature battled along the coasts of Western Europe. From the Southwest, the Gulf Stream warmed and opened the land with summer heat. From the north, ice raged and cracked the rock of what would become the British Isles.The land tells me it was an epic struggle. The generous heat of earth, venting her spleen, the wash of the water, cooling and circulating air. Rain succoured the land and ran back to the sea, endless cycles, repeating endlessly. The earth shifted, chasms opened and the sea swept in, submerging areas and separating the islands of Britain and Ireland from the mainland.Spouts of boiling lava spewed from the molten centre of earth to create granite formations, a source of wonder till the end of time. A great rift opened up what is now the Bristol Channel and the Irish Sea, separating the land into distinct areas. Many characteristics still connect Brittany, Ireland, Wales, and Cornwall. Their joining can still be seen in place and people. But veins of power run through the sea, a matrix of energy criss-crosses the land and reaches out around our planet.The Phoenicians, Egyptians and Greeks journeyed to these coasts even before the Iron Age, in search of Keltic wisdom, since long before the time of my youth. They followed the trail of gold and wisdom across the sea to Cornwall and then to Wales and Ireland. Later, tin trade followed these routes across Brittany and the journeys of wise men and saints to the west of land, the land of setting sun, of Gods and the quest for immortality that haunts us all. Ships and boats from the French and Spanish coasts often sailed to rivers on the south coast of Cornwall in search of trade and journey with the friendly and civilised Keltii, hopefully avoiding the pirates that have ravaged these coasts for millennia.2000 years ago I was killed trying to save my mother from Portuguese raiders on the river, who stole the gold that came from Ireland. My story is located in the valley of one of these rivers, now called 'River Fowey'. It is a story that I have not been able to tell until now. My own story starts with the visit of Jesus of Nazareth to the river Fowey in 30 AD (according to the Julian Calendar and allowing for a seven year miscalculation). He was twenty three years old. He journeyed on a vision quest to the west-of-land, in search of the wisdom of the Keltii and union with his father spirit. I have spent much time thinking about this moment and my brief encounter with a man who claimed to be Son of God. For hundreds of years I puzzled at his smile, the light in his gaze. He had a quality of being rare in the extreme, an utter and unconditional compassion for all life.Who am I? A ghost; Fintan, born 2000 years ago and caught in the matrix of nature unable to tell my story until now. I am here, waiting for you.A Cornish ghost story, 'The Lily' available only at http://www.simonthescribe.co.uk/Lily.html

"Within the first few pages, I was engrossed and deeply
moved by Apina Hrbek's eloquent writing skills. Tears of
compassion were in my eyes at several points in this
moving story of survival.The main character, Edita, was raised by a heartless
mother who became twisted after helplessly watching the
communist government steal her family's vast fortune. Her
nonconformist father was her only source of comfort and it
was from him that she learned about these forbidden things
called "choice" and "freedom".The setting is a land under strict Soviet rule where people
are in a constant state of fright and can not afford to trust
anyone ? not even their own kin. To trust was an invitation
for disaster.The story of their escape to a land of freedom was wrought
with circumstances going wrong ? and yet it all worked out
in the end. Resettling in a place where they must learn new
customs, new languages and find employment to support
their small family was no easy task for Edita and her
husband. Through poverty and displacement, the family
struggled to find their dreams and learn how to deal with
this new idea - the freedom to make choices.Pandemonium is certainly an educational book that may be
beneficial for children and grand children of immigrants who
wish to understand what it was like. It also could serve as a
useful reminder to appreciate, protect and expand upon the
rights of all mankind."Publisher: Publish America, Inc.
ISBN#: 1413756670
Author: Apina Hrbek~ Lillian Brummet - Book Reviewer - Co-author of the book Trash Talk, a guide for anyone concerned about his or her impact on the environment

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