Maggie Pill Mysteries

Buy now One of my earliest memories of farm life is my mother washing out milkers with the hose, her back bent, her brow knitted as she focused on the task. People who knew her as the kind-but-strict schoolteacher or the music-loving choir director might have been surprised to see how hard she worked at home, but that was life on the farm in the '50s. It was a family farm, which meant my father stayed on the land his parents owned, becoming a partner by sharing the work with his father. My grandmother was the gardener, growing vegetables to can, and the raiser of chickens for eggs and meat as well. We kids were often given tasks like gathering eggs, picking potato bugs, and pulling weeds to make Grandma's work easier. Though raised as a "city girl," Mom could drive a tractor or kill a chicken for Sunday dinner, thought she later confessed to me that when she had to chop the head off one of the flock, she couldn't make herself eat the meat. Mom, Grandma...

I finished the 4th Sleuth Sisters, SLEUTHING at SWEET SPRINGS, earlier this week and sent it to my #1 beta reader, my sister. I've got no cover art yet (sigh), but here are some random thoughts. *It isn't done. Not only will my sister make suggestions (and after that there's the editor and other beta readers), but the time that passes while I'm away from the book will make me look at some things differently. I already have an idea for an addition--just a couple of lines to create humor. *I'm not sure anymore which sister I'm most like. While I didn't base the characters on real life, I do have two sisters and we are quite different in our outlooks on life. I'm not sure which Sleuth Sister is closest to me. Like Barb, I had a good primary career before taking on my second. Like Faye, I've been happily married for years and don't regret anything I've lived through. And like Retta, I can be clueless and shallow, though I'm not stupid a...

You don't know what you don't know until you try to write about it. Chickens, for example. The fourth Sleuth Sisters has chickens, and though I grew up with them, I guess I wasn't really paying attention. We always had chickens because, like the punch line in the old joke, we needed the eggs. My grandmother was the expert, and now that I need details about raising chickens, she's not here to help. I've been reading online about feed, temperature, water, and safety measures, which brought back some childhood events, like playing catch with eggs--that almost never ends well. My most memorable chicken experience was terrifying. My little sister was probably three years old, and we were playing in the yard. The rooster was a mean sort, and he attacked my sister, knocking her down. I recall turning to see her flat on her back in the mud while the rooster stood on her chest. Dad was nearby, and he shooed the bird away and hurried to comfort my sister, who was sobbing...

Here's a challenge: List all your childhood cats/dogs/whatevers in order. Now I can't do ALL our cats, because we lived on a farm and there were cats everywhere, but the first cat I recall was Chocolate Bar, an adopted barn cat who let me carry him around like a baby. He was followed by Ching-a-ling, a temperamental Siamese who had no intention of letting anyone carry him anywhere. Ever. (His opinion was overcome for the picture at left.) Our longtime collie dog was Laddie (also in the photo), who was useful for herding cows and as lovable as a dog can get. When I was really young there was a workhorse, Rowdy. Later there were two ponies for the two of us to ride, Molly & Rusty, and an assortment of horses from Mackinac Island we boarded over the winter, notably Danny, who had his own mind about where you would go on a trail ride, and Dolly,  who became a permanent resident at some point. (Photo below) I never got close to the chickens, pigs and cows on the farm. I...

Lad, Ching, my sister & me I grew up on a farm. We had animals everywhere, in the house and in the barn. They were expected to earn their keep in some way. Our collie, Lad, (above) helped my dad and grandpa fetch the cows when it was time for milking. The cats kept the rodent population down in the barn and pretty much non-existent in the house. Some were pets, of course, notably our Siamese cat named Ching-a-ling (above) whose main activity was looking down on any being unfortunate enough to not be Ching-a-ling. There were ponies who let us ride them when they felt like it. But mostly the animals contributed something--assistance with work, some necessary product like eggs or milk, and of course, meat. Because of all the animals I knew as a child, I became a pet person. Though Lad was our only dog through my childhood (He lived to a ripe old age), I married a dog lover, and we always had one or two around when our kids were growing up. We usually had multiple cats, too, sinc...