Last weekend my husband and I drove out to the North East corner of the state to meet with voters. Shaking hands and talking to people is something my husband has to do, now that he's been appointed to the State Court of Appeals and must run in a contested election to keep the seat. I just go along to offer mental support, answer questions that he can't (judges must be impartial, and therefore can't express opinions on subjects that might come before them!), and carry supplies. Busy though our schedule may be, my husband is kind enough to include something of interest to me. This time, he took an hour to let me see Clayton Lake State Park. Like most of the lakes in New Mexico, Clayton Lake is man made, and not much to write home about. But in the 1980s, heavy rains caused the lake to flood over the spillway, and the water scoured away sandstone to reveal the sixth best set of dinosaur tracks in the United States! The walk from the parking lot to the track site is only a quarter of a mile, on a paved path that would be accessible for wheel chairs and strollers. Once at the site, there are stairs to get down to the walkway shown in the picture below. A day use permit, required to park, costs $5. Have exact change, as no park attendant may be present. At least four different kinds of dinosaurs and some crocodiles left prints in the sandy beach of the inland sea that split the North American Continent in two during the Jurassic Period. Some of the prints are deep, indicating wet sand. Others are shallow and indistinct, indicating that the sand was dry at the time the prints were made. In one place there is an elongated print and a tail impression, indicating that the dinosaur slipped and used its tail to regain its balance. In another place, two prints show superimposed prints, as if the dinosaur nervously stood on two legs and shuffled indecisively back and forth. Most of the prints belong to two different species of Iguanodons, large plant eating dinosaurs that walked on two legs. Scientists can identify their prints because they show three distinct rounded toes. At least one baby Iguanodon walked long this beach. The tracks lead north and indicate that the dinosaurs were traveling together in a herd. Other tracks show the three sharp talons that indicate a theropod. Scientists say these tracks were made by members of the Arocanthosaurus family, a relative of the Tyrannosaurus Rex that stood 12 feet high at the hip and could be 40 feet long. One of the signs suggested that the best time to see the most tracks was early morning or late afternoon, when shadows helped reveal them. The Judge and I visited this site in the late morning. There were lots of signs explaining what we were looking for, and we were grateful, because without the signs we might not have even recognized what we were looking for. I wondered how many times in the past I've traveled over sandstone shelves studded with huecos and depressions that might have been dinosaur tracks and hadn't even stopped to consider them. Most modern people aren't used to looking at tracks, but the hunters of old did. I had to wonder what Apache, or an even earlier Clovis or Folsom men might have thought when they came across these monstrous and unfamiliar prints in the ground. I can only guess that their hearts beat hard as they mentally constructed an image of the beast that might have produced such prints. That might be a scene worth writing.
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One of the big discussions about the recent marriage of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle centers on the fact that Ms. Markle is both an American and a commoner. But this isn't the first time an American commoner has made a bid for marriage with British royalty. I nearly did it myself forty years ago. In 1979, I had the unusual good fortune to study at the Centre for Medieval and Renaissance Studies in Oxford, England. Early in the Michaelmas, or fall, term, I bought a postcard, wrote a note to my mother, and posted it. Little did I know what a maelstrom I was unleashing. I no longer remember the exact words that I wrote, but they went something like this: Dear Mum, I am having such a splendid time here. I have met the most wonderful man. He takes me to all the poshest places. He's introduced me to the most interesting of people. Next week I am going to London to have tea with his mother. I'm told she raises corgis. If I don't make it home for the holidays, do come to visit." The joke was in the mention of corgis, since that is the kind of dog my family owned. Whenever anyone asked about our family's pet, a long haired Pembroke named Fluffy, my mother would proudly announce that she was the same kind of dog that Queen Elizabeth raised. I was sure my mother would get the joke. But she didn't. Instead, my mother called my father on the phone and tearfully informed him that I was never coming home. My father, ever unflappable, asked her to read the postcard's note to him. He then told my mother to turn the postcard over. "It's a picture of Prince Charles, isn't it?" he asked, catching the joke immediately. This threw my mother into an even bigger fit of pique. Not only was I marrying an Englishman and never coming home again, but that man was royalty! I'd be too busy with official state dinners and supermarket openings to even arrange a holiday visit! My mother hung up on my father and called my boyfriend. Surely he could talk me out of this madness! Hank, ever willing to oblige my mother, caught a Freddy Laker flight to England that very weekend. When he returned, he informed my mother that all was well, and that I wasn't going to marry Prince Charles after all. A couple of weeks later, I wrote to my mother that Hank and I were engaged. I would return to America by Christmas and be married the next summer. My mother really didn't breathe easily until Charles found someone else. About the same time that Hank and I married, news stories connecting Charles with a young woman named Diana Spencer began circulating. They were married a year after I married Hank, my own Prince Charming. My marriage has fared much better than Diana's. After 38 years, we're still happy, and my mother continues to be grateful that Hank managed to steal me away from Prince Charles. Jennifer Bohnhoff teaches middle school and writes historical fiction and other flights of fancy. Although none of her three sons will ever ascend to the throne, she and her Prince Charming of a husband live a fairytale existence in rural New Mexico. Their sole subject is a cantankerous cat and, sadly, they have never owned a corgi You can read more of her blogs and get information about her books at www.jenniferbohnhoff.com My sixth grade social studies classes are just finishing off a study of ancient Greece. One of the takeaways from our studies is that Spartan women had a better life than Athenian women. Sparta didn't leave much historical documentation, so historians rely on Greek poets and historians to understand the lives of Spartan women. One Spartan who did leave records was Lycurgus, the Spartan to developed Sparta's legal system in the 7th century B.C. Lycurgus reorganized the political and social structure of the polis into the disciplined collective society that we commonly associate with Sparta. He included allowances for Spartan women that included a public education, the right to exercise and participate in athletic competitions, and the right to manage the money earned from their land. Spartan women were also allowed to appear in public and mingle with men. In the rest of the Greek world, women were largely confined to their own homes. It occurred to me that one of the reasons that Spartan women had so much freedom was that their men were too busy with other things, namely war, to bother with micromanaging their women. This made me wonder: does the status of women rise when their men are busy waging war? This was certainly the case for American women during World War II. While their men were engaged in fighting in Europe, Africa and the Pacific, a large number of jobs, especially in munitions and manufacturing, opened to women. An example is the aviation industry. Before the war, just 1% of workers in aviation had been women. By 1943, a whopping 65% of the labor force was female. Granted, women did not have anything near pay parity during this period, but it was a start. World War II wasn't the first time that opportunities for American women expanded because their men were at war. A similar experience happened during the Civil War. Not only did women find themselves in charge of keeping the home fires burning while the brother in blue fought the brother in gray, but they had to keep farms and businesses going. As men enlisted, two fields of endeavor, nursing and teaching, turned to women to fill the vacancies. The mother of Sarah McCoombs, the main character in my novel The Bent Reed, is determined that her daughter take advantage of this situation by training to become a teacher. Sarah, however, is interested in the healing properties of plants, especially the rapidly developing field of pharmaceuticals, which women had a significant role in developing. I am not suggesting that women encourage wars so that they can get ahead while their men are off fighting. Now that the military is welcoming women into combat positions, this strategy wouldn't work anyway. And far more women are hurt by the ravages of war than are helped by the economic and social upheaval. But it is interesting that when the cat's away, the mice not only play, but thrive. When she's not writing historical fiction and other books for young readers, Jennifer Bohnhoff teaches 6th grade language arts and social studies in a rural town in central New Mexico. For more information on Jennifer's books, go here. For more information on Spartan women, go here. For more information on women in the WWII workforce, go here. For more information about women's changing roles in the Civil War, go here. For more information on the development of pharmaceuticals during the Civil War, go here. Although we are in different school districts, my granddaughter and I lucked out and had our spring breaks at the same time this year. To celebrate, she spent the night. When my granddaughter spends the night. We have a routine that is almost inviolate. We read stories and play games, take walks, and always, at her insistence, we bake cookies. Last night, when I asked her which book she wanted to read, I wasn't surprised when she said "Nana, I want the one with the soldiers and the squirrel." Miss Suzy is an oldie, but a goodie, and it's one of her favorite books. It was one of my favorites when I was a child, and my sons enjoyed it a generation later, so it's no wonder my copy is falling apart. A book that's been handled, read and loved for three generations is a real keeper. I think one of the reasons my granddaughter loves Miss Suzy is because of the brave toy soldiers who run off the thuggish red squirrels who had invaded Miss Suzy's home. My granddaughter loves soldiers, or more accurately, one soldier in particular: her Uncle John. When my son graduated from West Point in 2015, my granddaughter was quite taken with his uniform. She gazed up at him and said "You are my tin soldier, and I am your ballerina." This grandma was proud, not only for her son's accomplishment or the love between family members, but for my then three year old granddaughter's ability to make literary allusions. I'm sure Hans Christian Andersen was smiling down from heaven. This grandma understands a young girl's fascination with a man in uniform because she had her own love for a soldier, and like my granddaughter, my love was for an Uncle. My Uncle Jerry, my father's younger brother, was a bigger than life character to me. He was handsome and dashing, with a big laugh and a great sense of humor. He told fabulous stories and always seemed to be getting into situations that were both hilarious and a bit frightening. He was rough and tough, but gentle and sweet at the same time. This morning we made a batch of Peanut Blossoms. Like Miss Suzy, these cookies have stood the test of time. They won the Pillsbury Bake-Off in 1957, and have been loved by generations of cookie fans. They are the favorite cookie of both my granddaughter and my soldier son. She made them for him while he was deployed, but just because he's returned to the states doesn't mean she'll stop making them for him. She'll be taking some home with her for her mom and dad. Some will end up in my husband's cookie jar and lunch bag. And some will be mailed to Fort Hood, where my son is currently stationed. I hope that you'll enjoy them, too. Oldies but goodies need to be shared. Peanut Blossoms 1 3/4 cups flour 1/2 cup sugar 1/2 cup brown sugar 1 tsp baking soda 1/2 tsp salt 1/2 cup shortening 1/2 cup peanut butter 2 TBS milk 1 tsp vanilla 1 egg Mix all ingredients in a mixer at low speed until a stiff dough forms. Roll into 1" balls. Roll in sugar and place 2" apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 375 for 10-12 minutes, or until golden brown. As soon as the cookies come out of the oven press a chocolate candy kiss into its middle, but not so hard as to split the cookie. Remove from cookie sheet and cool on a rack long enough for the kisses to reharden. Recently a high school student sent me an email requesting an interview. She needed to talk with someone who worked in a field in which she was interested. Here are her questions, and my answers. Let me know if you think I didn't explain the writer's life well enough. I'd love to learn how your answers would vary. 1. What made you decide to become a writer? I don't think anyone decides to become a writer. Writers are compelled - driven by the stories that keep playing in their heads. They can't help themselves, and if they deny their writing it drives them crazy. I started writing really young, like middle school, but I didn't start taking it seriously until I was a stay at home mom. Writing enabled me to go far, far away without having to hire a sitter. 2. I know becoming an author is a tricky job financially when you just get out of school because of getting your name out. Do you think newly graduated writers should work part time as a writer or submerge them self in their work? I don't know anyone who was able to just submerge him or herself in writing. You either have to keep a day job, or find someone who will support you, or perhaps win the lottery. The exceptions to this are people who go into commercial writing, like copy editing, advertising, or journalism. You mentioned an interest in editing, and that's a great way to break into the field, especially if you're willing to move to New York City. These days editors get paid a piddly salary to start out, but they make a lot of contacts and they're close to the big movers and shakers. Many editors write books to fill the "gaps" in their house's line, so they are both editors and writers. 3. What kind of experience did you have, or recommend, before going to college? Live fully, travel widely, love deeply. And take lots of pictures to help jolt your memory later. I regret I did little of any of this before going to college. 4. How do you get out of creative blocks? I've never had one. I've always had way more I wanted to write than time to write it in. 5. How do you pull yourself out of procrastination? I usually don't. There's usually a reason why I'm not writing, and I respect that and do other things until I'm ready again. The story will start to beat on the inside of my head if I ignore it awhile, and usually when I procrastinate what I'm really doing is other stuff I need to get done (like laundry and weeding) while working out kinks in the plot twists. 6. What is your favorite genre to write in and why? I love historical fiction, because I love researching the period and learning what was going on, how people lived, how they thought, and what they wanted. Some human feelings are universal. Others are not. That's always a surprise when I read primary sources. 7. Do you think living in New Mexico impacts your writing? New Mexico is a cultural backwater in some respects, but the internet has opened the world up so much that it doesn't matter as much as it used to. And there's so much beauty here and so many untold stories. I think just looking out the window is inspiring. 8. Do you expand your creativity from just story book? I'm not sure what you're asking here. Do I do other creative things besides writing? I'm a pretty fair cook, and I sing in the church choir but am not a fine enough talent in either to make a go of it professionally. 9. Are you self employed or do you work under a company? Most writers don't work for companies. They are freelance, and when they've completed a novel (or other kind of book, fiction or nonfiction) they send it to editors of publishing houses and agents. Or, they self publish, which is what I do, because I gathered over 1,000 rejects and finally decided I didn't want to wait anymore and play the game. Getting published is hard. For every 10,000 manuscripts a publishing house gets, they're going to make an offer on one or two. 10. Do you see writing more as a serious or a fun job? I have yet to have a serious job in my life. I won't do it if I can't find the fun in it. That being said, writing is rarely fun. It's hard work. Editing and rewriting is even harder. And getting rejected hurts. Deeply. But if you're meant to be a writer you do it anyway. And while not always fun, it can be thrilling and deeply satisfying. As some of you know, my husband, Hank Bohnhoff, is a judge on the New Mexico Court of Appeals, and he has to run for election this year in order to keep his seat on the bench. Part of running for election is getting out and meeting constituents, and so we've been doing a lot of road trips this past year. Last month we visited the southwestern part of the state, and I had the joy of getting to make a short stop at Fort Bayard. I am always grateful when a trip includes a little history.
The fort protected settlements in Southern New Mexico from raids by the various Apache tribes who roamed the rugged mountains of the Gila. It was also one of 24 heliograph stations, which relayed messages between forts by means of the sun and a mirror that was used to flash out Morse code signals. Although less technologically advanced, the heliograph system worked better than the newly installed telegraph system, because the Apaches could cut telegraph wires but they could not meddle with the sun. It is of interest that the man charged with establishing the heliograph stations was a young Second Lieutenant named John J. Pershing, who would go on to become the famous Blackjack Pershing. Once the Indian Wars were over, Fort Bayard became the first military sanatorium for the treatment of tuberculosis. Doctors at the time believed that high elevation, clean air, abundant sunshine and low humidity were all beneficial to the treatment of this disease. The Fort's population grew during World War I, when soldiers who had suffered from poisonous gas attacks crowded the wards. The nurses' quarters, which housed a matron responsible for the moral well-being of the women who tended the sick and injured, was relocated a distance from the other buildings after many nurses fell in love with patients. During WWII, German Prisoners of War lived here, repairing buildings, tending the orchard, and caring for the burial grounds that became a National Cemetery in 1976. The fort continued to serve as a long-term care facility for veterans and civilians alike after it was transferred from Federal to State control in 1965. Finally, in 2010, a more modern medical facility was built just down the road. Fort Bayard is set in a beautiful, mountainous setting, with wide, blue skies and big vistas. The buildings are in disrepair but to me, it is a glorious place, filled with historical narratives. It could be the setting for a "wild west" story, a love story between a young gas victim and a nurse, a story of longing for home by a young German POW. The possibilities are endless. "The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found." Calvin Trillin I admit it; I love cooking with leftovers. I often cook more than I need, just so I'll have leftovers to turn into something else. For instance, turkey leftovers become enchiladas, several kinds of soup, crepes, and various casseroles, all of which I love more than the original roasted turkey. I often cook two or three times as much rice as I need for a meal, just so I can have it for other recipes. All this plan ahead cooking should give me more time to write, right? I've toyed for years with the idea of coming out with a cookbook called Serial Cooking, which would be filled with recipes that piggyback off of other recipes - a series of meals much like Trillin's mother made. One of the times all that extra rice comes in handy is cold mornings, when I like to wake up and know that I've got something warm and comforting to entice me out from under the covers. One of my favorite go-to recipes for those kind of mornings is rice pudding. The Pokey Little Puppy ate rice pudding for desert, but for the Bohnhoffs, it's usually a comforting replacement for breakfast cereal. Now that it's just my husband and me at home, I make it in a little crock pot that, I suppose, was intended for queso and other warm dips. I load it up after dinner and plug it in when I go to bed. In the morning my rice pudding is cooked and ready for me to spoon into a bowl. I pour milk over it and sprinkle sugar on top, then eat it like cereal. If your family is larger, you can easily double or triple the recipe and use a standard sized crock pot. Little Crockpot Rice Pudding 1 cup cooked, leftover rice (white or brown will work!)
3/4 cup milk (I use nonfat, but you can use whole milk for a richer taste.) 1/3 cup brown sugar 2 eggs 1 1/2 T melted butter 1 T vanilla 1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg 1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon 1/4 cup raisins, crasins, or other small dried fruit (cherries are good!) Mix all together and pour into a lightly greased crock pot. Cover and cook on low overnight. I sell the majority of my books at craft shows. Often a shopper will stop to study the banner that hangs along the front of my table, then ask the question "Why Thin Air Books?" Good question.
While Denver is known as the Mile High City, Albuquerque is also a mile above sea level. The air up here is pretty thin. It is even thinner on the top of the Sandias, the mountains that lay just east of Albuquerque. I used a picture of the snow covered Sandias, taken from my backyard, as the backdrop for the banner on the top of my website.
bookmark for me. To me, handmade gifts show a measure of thoughtfulness and care that store-bought gifts often don't. I know that as she selected the components of this bookmark and put them together, she was thinking about me. Krista "customized" her gift by inserting the bookmark into a book that she had chosen for me. It happened to be The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry., I very much enjoyed reading this novel. Looking at this bookmark will always bring it to mind.
But the real reason this bookmark is so special is the components from which it was assembled. Krista's mother - my mother-in-law - had given Krista a box of trinkets and nick-knacks from her mother and mother-in-law - Krista's maternal and paternal grandmothers. Krista took apart some of those things and reassembled them into this bookmark. The tiny bible locket belonged to my husband's paternal grandmother who had passed away before I was born. The pearls used to grace the neck of my husband's maternal grandmother, whom I met when my husband and I were dating, but passed away before our marriage. I know this because Krista was kind enough to include a note explaining this to me. This bookmark isn't just a reminder of my sister-in-law's kindness in making it for me. It is a link to women two generations back, uniting me in a chain of women that flow back through the ages, and forward through ages to come. Someday i will pass it on, either to one of my daughters-in-law or to a granddaughter. And the chain will remain unbroken.
The fort was built just north of the Arkansas River, which at the time was the boundary between the United States and Mexico. Spain had lost control of Mexico in 1821, and Mexico had opened trade with America.
Bent's Fort is a great place to experience what it was like to live on the plains in the middle 1800s.
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ABout Jennifer BohnhoffI am a former middle school teacher who loves travel and history, so it should come as no surprise that many of my books are middle grade historical novels set in beautiful or interesting places. But not all of them. I hope there's one title here that will speak to you personally and deeply. Categories
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