The House that started it all.

Although my recent Novel is not dog-centric, recently I have spent a lot of time promoting FULL SNOW MOON. Last week, it began making the rounds of a  VBT (Virtual Book Tour) and I have been busy writing several guest posts for a variety of Book Blogging sites. In honor of May’s Super Flower Moon, this week I will share some of my experiences and posts from the tour. Interestingly, the plot of FULL SNOW MOON begins under the Snow Moon and comes to resolution under the Flower Moon. We will return to the dogs next week…

Full Snow Moon brings it all Home…

I fall in love with houses.  Some, with their stucco facades and red tile roofs remind me of far off exotic places in which I’ve vacationed. Others like those lovingly restored turn-of-the-century Victorian-style homes with their generous wrap-around porches and porch swings remind me of simpler times. And then, there’s that rugged log-cabin with its rustic, log exterior and warm woody interior with vaulted ceilings and sky lights that offers the serenity of a place far from the maddening crowds.

For me, a house can tell a story. The old farmhouse at the center of the controversy of my novel, FULL SNOW MOON, is actually based on a real house located in my New Jersey town. It inspired my book about an old structure that is slated for demolition and the main characters, Alex, Denis and a ghost named Eli who try to save it.

At first, Alex, the story’s protagonist really doesn’t see why anyone would care so much a house which to him is just a collection of wood, nails and cement. But when he learns that his own boyhood residence is no longer standing, he realizes that a house, or home, can have emotional value, too.

I am fortunate that my parents still live in the house in which I was raised with my siblings. I enjoy my visits and each trip evokes a new memory.  My neighborhood has changed, and all our original neighbors have moved on, but from certain viewpoints, I can just sit and go back in time; it is as if time comes to a standstill.

We take many places for granted. We pass by them in the rush of our busy lives, until, one day there is an empty space – a vacant lot, where a house once stood. But, you just can’t seem to remember what that old house looked like. Erased from its foundation, and your memory, it might have stood for over 100-years, been the home to people who might have helped to build your community, served its citizens or added their own brand of color or infamy.

Several years ago, someone told me that one our town’s beautiful mansions, built in the mid-1800s, had been torn down. Some of its original stained-glass window panels were on the ground, being trampled by the work crew. That night, I went to the property with a flashlight and found two windows. One was still in good condition and I took it home.

Measuring seven feet by two, I hired someone to painstakingly restore it. It turned out that  its wood frame was Chestnut, a material no longer available in New Jersey. Today, the window hangs proudly in our dining room.

When it is time for us to move from our current home, that window will follow. It represents a piece of my hometown history. Right now, I am thinking it will look terrific hanging in that house down the road, you know, the spacious one-of-a-kind old log cabin that I have fallen in love with. It stands like a diamond in the ruff, with its warm woody interior and vaulted ceilings, waiting patiently. Something tells me it has a story to tell. Maybe it’s just waiting for someone to tell it.

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