Neutral Space by Rebecca Tran

A soldier with classified information. Two races at war. Both governments will kill him to hide their secrets.

Lieutenant Jackson Peterson thought he knew who the enemy was. A bitter war with the Kelsairans made it abundantly clear. When Jackson saves a Kelsairan woman from a wrecked ship, the line is suddenly blurred. The enemy isn’t what the government said they were and he can no longer blindly follow orders. A shocking discovery leads Jackson down a sinister path of intrigue that could change the fate of two races. But, both the Kelsairan and the Human governments will kill him to keep their secrets. Jackson will risk everything to stop them. Will it be enough? Or will he die in the process?

Neutral Space is a Literary Titan gold medal winning space opera. If you like action filled sci-fi novels, with genuine characters, great world building, and humor you’ll love this book.

Buy Neutral Space today for an out of this world adventure. Amazon   Other Retailers

Excerpt:

I was on a week leave on Micea. It’s a neutral planet, completely alone. It was exactly what I wanted. My tent was pitched, and a fire was blazing. I was a short hike from the lake, perfect for fishing and swimming. I’d been there once before and loved the spot. As I put a pot of coffee on the fire, I saw the ship coming in hot. It was in trouble, and the pilot was struggling to keep it steady. I grabbed my med pack and ran to where it was going to crash. 

The ship knocked over trees as it skid into the ground. The earth shook, and there was a crash when it impacted. I nearly lost my footing. It only made me run faster. Whoever it was wouldn’t have much time if the ship was heavily damaged. I was relieved to see it was a human craft when I reached the ridge; an old one, but human nonetheless. The hatch was still closed, which was a bad sign; and, the ship was on fire. I found the emergency release lever as I wrapped my hand in the corner of my shirt to protect it from the hot metal.  The hatch opened like a charm when I pulled it. 

I fell on my ass when I saw an unconscious Kelsairan woman. It was a human craft. Why the hell was a Kelsairan piloting it? She groaned slightly. Kelsairans were the enemy. I should have left her. I couldn’t abandon her to die now that I knew she was alive. My honor wouldn’t allow it. I cursed the whole time I pulled her out of the wreckage. She was bleeding from a wound in her leg, and I knew my med kit would be useless. Kelsairan anatomy was different than a human’s. I cursed again as I hunted for her med kit. Luckily, she’d kept it close at hand, and I found it quickly. 

I dragged her to safety just as her ship exploded. It knocked me back a step, and I instinctively covered the woman from debris. The noise had my ears ringing. The heat from the fire was unbearable. I pulled her further away until I could figure out a plan. 

It was a long hike back to my camp. I bandaged her wound temporarily before making a sled to take her the rest of the way. Getting her back, unfortunately, was the easy part. I had to properly address the wound on her upper thigh once she was at my camp. Her one-piece outfit complicated everything. I needed to get to the injury, and its location made it impossible to just cut off the pant leg. 

My task would have been far easier if Kelsairans didn’t look like humans, but they did. They were usually taller and leaner with opaque eyes and ridges on their brows. Everything else made them appear human. This woman was no exception, and she was undeniably attractive. She was tall and slim. Her breasts were small, yet firm; her hips were perfectly curved. She had ice-blonde hair that was slicked back. Her oblong face had high cheekbones and full lips. I was never this close to one of their women before. I never realized how beautiful they were. Well, this one was anyway.  I tried waking her first, hoping I wouldn’t have to undress her myself but she was unconscious. I considered waiting until morning, but the wound was oozing, and I was afraid of it getting infected. 

I shook her one last time before reaching for the zipper at her neck. Nothing, she was out cold. Damn, I pulled the zipper down my hands shaking like I was a virgin. I tried not to look as I quickly undressed her, I put one of my own t-shirts on her, but her body was flawless. If I think about it, I can still remember it now. I draped a blanket over her torso and other leg as I worked on her wound. There was a piece of metal lodged in the wound. I had to fish around for it before disinfecting and bandaging it. She looked ridiculous in my shorts. At least she was dressed. 

I didn’t want to move her again, so I brought my sleeping bag out of the tent and rolled her in. The coffee I’d started earlier was ruined now. I started a fresh pot for my night vigil. Who was this woman and why was she here? I sank into my chair watching as she slept.

I am a mother, pharmacist, and author. I love all things science fiction and fantasy. Although I loved writing Neutral Space, it will probably be the only science fiction book I ever write. My brain doesn't seem to function in the hyper-reality that sci-fi uses as a genre. So I'll stick to fantasy and romance. Right now I'm not writing anything but I hope to return to my fantasy and romance series soon. Unfortunately life is getting in the way right now. If you would like to know more about me please visit my website. If you would like to see all of my books please visit my store.

Mary Shelley

 Mary Shelley: Frankenstein

Christina Weigand

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was born to Mary Wollstonecraft and William Godwin on August 30, 1797 in Somers Town, London. Her mother, a feminist, philosopher, educator and writer died a month after Mary was born and her father, a philosopher, novelist and journalist was left to raise Mary and her half-sister Fanny Imlay. Mary’s mother left her a legacy of feminist ideas that were scandalous in the eighteenth century. Mary to some degree followed her mother’s teachings and actions throughout her own life.

Although William Godwin was almost always deeply in debt during Mary’s childhood he managed to provide his daughters with a rich, if informal, education encouraging her to adhere to his anarchist political theories. In December 1801, when Mary was four years old Godwin married a woman with two young children of her own. Mary quickly came to detest the woman as she felt as if the new wife favored her own children.

In June 1812 Godwin sent Mary to stay with a family in Scotland. Mary rejoiced in her spacious surroundings as well as the four daughters of her host. She returned to stay with the family for another 10 months the next summer where she credits the trees of the grounds and the bleak sides of the woodless mountains for giving birth to her airy flights of imagination.

Somewhere between 1813 and 1814 she met Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Percy was estranged from his wife and spent a great deal of time at the Godwin’s. Percy had agreed to bail Mary’s father out of debt. He had been alienated from his wealthy family for following the economic views which he had learned from Godwin’s Political Justice. Eventually Percy told Godwin that he could not pay of the debts.

Mary and Percy had begun meeting secretly at her mother’s grave and fell in love. She was nearly 17 and he nearly 22. On June 26 1814 they declared their love for each other. Unfortunately because of Percy’s not being able to pay Godwin’s debts, Godwin disapproved of the relationship. The couple proceeded to run away to France taking Mary’s stepsister with them.

The trio travelled by donkey, mule and carriage through war ravaged France into Switzerland. When they reached Lucerne, due to lack of money they were forced to turn back and arrived in Gravesend, Kent on September 13, 1814.

Sometime during their journey Mary became pregnant and penniless. Mary’s father refused to have anything to do with her. February 1815 she gave birth to a two months premature baby girl. After the death of her child she was haunted by nightmares and became severely depressed, but did conceive again by summer.

With an upturn in their finances the trio rented a cottage at Bishopsgate. In January 1816 she gave birth to her second child. In May of that same year the trio travelled to Geneva to spend the summer with Lord Byron, as they believed that Claire was pregnant with Lord Byron’s child.

It is on this trip that the challenge of writing a ghost story was presented and Frankenstein was born. It started out as a short story, but Percy encouraged her to expand it into her first novel: Frankenstein; or The Modern Prometheus. 

Once they returned to England, they got word that both Mary’s half sister Fanny and Percy’s wife committed suicide. In an effort to gain custody of Percy’s children by his first wife, Mary and Percy finally wed. Unfortunately they did not get custody of the children. In January Claire gave birth to a girl and in September Mary gave birth to a girl. Summer of 1817 Mary finished Frankenstein and in 1818 it was published anonymously and everyone assumed that Percy had written it since he was known to have contributed to it and wrote the preface to the first edition. Differences were discovered in the two later editions that in some people’s minds supported this claim.

Living in fear of debtors and losing their children, the Shelly’s moved to Italy in March 1818.

Mary lost both of her children, her daughter in 1818 and her son in 1819. She spiraled into a deep depression and isolated herself from Percy. Her only comfort was her writing and the birth of her fourth child in late 1819.

The Percy’s celebrated political freedoms that were unattainable in England. While here she experienced a great time of creative activity writing the novels Matilda, and Valperga, along with the plays Proserpine and Midas.

In summer of 1822 a pregnant Mary moved to an isolated villa on the edge of the Bay of Lerici. She lost her baby and almost her life when she miscarried. Percy and Mary’s relationship was strained and he spent time with other women or sailing in the bay. Percy was killed in a sailing accident on July 8.

For the rest of her life Mary returned to England and resolved to live by her pen and for her only remaining son. For a short time she lived with her father and step-mother until her father-in-law agreed to a small stipend for her son.

She continued to write, editing the poems of Lord Byron and Percy. In 1824 she wrote The Last Man and assisted friends in writing memoirs of Byron and Percy.

Between 1827—40 she wrote the novels: The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck, Lodore, and Falkner. 

She contributed to five volumes about Spanish, Portuguese and French authors as well as writing stories for woman’s magazines and helping to support her father’s publishing endeavors. She sold the copywright to a new addition of Frankenstein. She attempted to assemble her father’s letters and memoir, but after two years of work abandoned the project.

In 1837 a publisher proposed publishing a collected works of Percy Shelley and Mary edited it. Her father-in-law insisted that there be no biography of Percy so Mary found a way to tell the story of his life with extensive biographical notes about the poems.

Other men came and left her life, but she never remarried as her first concern was her son. In 1840 and 1842 mother and son travelled together on the continent and Mary recorded their journeys in Rambles in Germany and Italy in 1840, 1842 and 1843.

When her father-in-law died in 1844 she and her son were finally financially independent. In 1848 her son married and she continued to live with him and his wife for the rest of her life. On February 1, 1851 she died from a brain tumor


Photos and Biography Courtesy of:

Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Shelley

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Mary-Wollstonecraft-Shelley/e/B00JLNLC7C?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_3&qid=1556671367&sr=1-3

Mary, the Number Fairy

Picture book for children 2-6

By Erika M Szabo

Terry is struggling to learn numbers. Pansy, Terry’s dog, and Pansy’s best friend, Oliver, the hedgehog, want to help but they don’t know how. In the morning, Terry tells her mother that the fairy showed her the numbers in her dream. 

A few pages from the book

 A review

"Great colors, interesting images - lot's to see - will draw children in. Lots of empathy - and an alternative learning method - dream learning - which is in fact a technique used through the ages. I like the fact that the reader and parent can see the dream - and each number has an image associated with it. I believe the well placed “mistake” is clever, and again prompts interaction between the reader and child. I also like the fact that most of the faces in the book ( whether animals or children playing) "speak" to the reader - so in essence - well constructed - bright lively images - empathy and interest to the reader and pupil - no negatives - well done!"~Monty J McClaine, children's author

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My children's books on my website:

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

Audiobooks

 Fiction & health related books

Short story books are coming soon

Animals in Folklore Part 1

Rebecca Tran

Wolves in Norse Mythology

Over the next several posts I will be talking about animals in folklore. Wolves feature in several different cultures and will take at least two posts to cover. This week we will talk about wolves in Norse Mythology. Many people have a little insight into Norse mythology thanks to the show Vikings and the Thor movies. Although Thor takes mythology and twists it quite a bit. But both mention Ragnarok. It's the Norse version of the end of the world and at the center of it all is a giant wolf.

Fenrir is the son of Loki, the god of mischief, and Angrboda a giantess. To keep him under control the Aesir gods, or gods of Asgard, raised him themselves. When he grew too fast it worried the gods and they decided to chain him up. It took three tries to make chains strong enough to hold Fenrir and by then the wolf was suspicious. The god's tricked Fenrir into the chains. They claimed they wanted to see if he could break them. In the end the god Tyr placed his hand in Fenrir's mouth as a sign of good faith and Fenrir put the chains on. When the wolf couldn't break free Fenrir bit off Try's hand. A sword was placed in Fenrir's mouth to keep it open after that. The angry wolf howled and foamed at the mouth forming the river Expectation or Ván  in old Norse. Legend says that at Ragnarok he will break free of his chains and run through the world with his bottom jaw on the ground and his upper jaw touching the sky eating everything in his path. It also says that Fenrir will kill Odin himself before one of Odin's sons finally kills Fenrir.

Two more famous wolves in Norse mythology are said to be Fenrir's offspring, Skoll and Hati. Scholars still debate the relationship but their names and function are known. Skoll and Hati chase the sun and moon through the sky giving the Norse people day and night. There is still debate over which one chased what though. One recognized author believes Skoll chases the sun and Hati chases the moon. It's hard to say for sure if he is correct. Religion and history were all oral traditions for the Norse people and changed depending on the story teller. There were also few records of anything. For now we'll have to enjoy the fact that wolves chased the sun and moon and won't catch them until Ragnarok comes.

Odin kept a pair of wolves as his constant companions. He named them Geri and Freki. Some prose refer to him feeding his wolves at the table while he drank only wine. Others refer to Odin's hounds on the battle fields searching for carion amongst the dead. Its not the nicest picture but I wouldn't want to mess with those wolves.

In my next post in this series I'll cover more wolves from European folklore.


A wolf plays a key role in my newest paranormal romance Honor Bound. If you want to see how my great white wolf features in my story you'll have to read it to find out. The book is featured in the Moonlight Mist anthology so you'll get 17 other steamy romances as a bonus.

I am a mother, pharmacist and author. I love all things fantasy and sci-fi. Romance is always a welcome bonus. I have two little girls and I love dogs, I have two of those as well, a Boston Terrier and a Pittie mix. So technically some would say I have four kids. I am currently on a writing hiatus but hope to get back to my romance series or my fantasy series soon. Right now my girls are my priority. My all time favorite series of books is the Sword of Truth series by Terry Goodkind. I've read all 12 of the original series at least twice and some 3 or 4 times. I know I'm a little obsessed but who doesn't like a normal guy that becomes a hero. Oh Richard Rahl! If you'd like to know more about me or my books please see my website. If you would like more info about my books you can find it on my store.

Out of the Ashes; Lorraine Carey

Out of the Ashes

Lorraine Carey

Arizona Teen Becomes a Super Hero in Order to Save his Family and the Legendary Superstition Mountains

~ Lorraine Carey

Out of the Ashes is a chilling paranormal tale and the sequel to Mysteries of the Red Coyote Inn. It can also be read as a stand-alone book. I wrote this story to inspire teens and young adults but it is  suitable for all ages.

Dean Banks is back and this time he is fighting an enemy, which must be destroyed in order to save the legendary Lost Dutchman Mine in Arizona and the sacred grounds in the Superstition Mountains from a powerful force, only he can overtake. Being summoned as the ‘Chosen One’ by the Apache gods to guard and protect the land was not how he intended to spend the rest of his days. He’s amped up with more superpowers and knowledge from the elders and guides that will prepare him for an unbelievable journey that may just be under his very own nose. Journey with Dean as he battles evil and is reunited with a lost love. Put on your seat belts! This novel is a Wild Ride, full of ghosts, ancient spirit warriors, shape shifters, magic and an unexpected twist of spiritual awakening for Dean and its readers.

~ Excerpt~

Dean Discovers the Mysterious Cave~

Dean glanced at his arms, which were about twice their normal size. This was a very different physical occurrence to when he shifted into his usual hawk form. He grabbed his talisman and gave another look at the large iron doors. He listened to voices and chanting going on behind them, and it only made his desire to burst through them more intense. What’s going on in there? The next minute he attempted to punch a hole through the door. He left a huge dent. He punched it again, creating a gaping hole and was able to walk into the room. He looked around and could sense whoever was in there was hiding, the familiar smell of the same reptile still lingered. Dean rubbed his eyes and tried to let his vision clear as his body cooled down. He looked at his arms and legs noticing they were almost back to their normal size.

Once his vision cleared, he noticed he was in the same room— the one with the operating table, medical vials and equipment with IVs hooked up to the operating table—fluid still inside the bags. Whoever was in here isn’t far away.

He walked over to the table and could see fresh blood and hypodermic needles displayed on a steel cart next to it. Gross! He walked over to the huge stone vaults in the walls that were covered in the weird hieroglyphics. He ran his hand over them and sensed a strong vibration ripple from his fingertips to his shoulder.

 I wonder if these vaults lead to a secret passage? He was feeling lightheaded so he decided to sit down and try to take it all in. Dear God, don’t let me pass out in here!

He saw a faint glow coming from the back of the room, and it had his attention. The glow became more defined, and Dean could see it taking on the shape of the thunderbird. It glowed so vibrant, it almost blinded him. He tried to get up but wasn’t able to move. It was similar to the same force he had experienced in the cave when he’d had his vision quest. The next thing Dean heard was a voice calling his name.

“ Dean, you’re in the presence of evil forces. This is one that has been out there for many centuries. Keep your eyes wide open and know that you have the power from the ancients that are with you.”

“But Grandpa... wait! I need—”

As the voice of his grandpa disappeared, so did the thunderbird. Dean was able to sit up and finally get his balance. He could see the liquid in the gold vials glowing, so he examined one of the specimens. “I’ll find out what this is. I’m sure it has an evil presence about it.”

Amazon buy link~ https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1507896948/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i8

The Pesky Rules #2 by Erika M Szabo

Oh, the joy of using the English language!

In March I shared my cheat-sheet about the Pesky Comma.

https://asmallgangofauthors.blogspot.com/2019/03/that-pesky-comma-by-erika-m-szabo.html

And in mid April an article about the Pesky Rules #1

https://asmallgangofauthors.blogspot.com/2019/04/that-pesky-comma-part-2-by-erika-m-szabo.html

I learned English as an adult and the comma became my worst nightmare when I started writing.
Where it's needed and don't need it?
I rely on the editors to catch my mistakes, but I really should use my cheat-sheet more often. I bet my editor would have fewer headaches.

Let's see some more rules which are the authors' and editors' cause headache:

Irregular Verbs

The English language has quite a few surprises. The irregular verbs must be learned, simple as that.

Let's see the word: broadcast. You'd assume the past tense would be: broadcasted. But no, just to give you a headache, for this word a past tense doesn't exist. 

So you have to say: "Yesterday ABC broadcast a new show." 

The list of about 200 irregular verbs is so extensive that one blog post is not enough to list them.  

It's versus Its

Normally, an apostrophe symbolizes possession.

"I took the dog's pillow."

But because apostrophes also usually replace omitted letters — like "don't" — the "it's" versus "its" decision gets complicated. 

Use "its" as the possessive pronoun:

"I took its pillow."

For the shortened version of "it is" use the version with the apostrophe.

"It's sunny outside." 

Nor versus Or

Use "nor" before the second or farther of two alternatives when "neither" introduces the first.

Think of it as "or" for negative sentences, and it's not optional. 

"Neither Cathy nor I understand the new program." You can also use nor with a negative first clause or sentence including "not."

"Cathy didn't understand the program, nor did I."

Then versus Than

Use "then" when discussing time.

"We had dinner, and then we watched a movie."

Use "than" in comparisons.

"Episode three was far better than episode two." 

Ending Sentences With Prepositions

First of all, don't do it — usually.

Yeah, easier said than done!

"My boss explained the new rules, which we had to abide by." sounds awful.

In most cases, you can just transpose the preposition to the beginning of the clause.

"My boss explained the new rules, by which we had to abide."

Or better yet, rephrase the sentence to avoid this problem:

"My boss explained the new rules." 

 I write fiction, children's books, and health related books.

Your can read about my books on my website:

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

Sir E. Robert Smythe and the Lost Detective

Sir E. Robert Smythe and the Lost Detective

Christina Weigand and Ricci Moore

E Book

During summer vacation, while Anna and her brother Ben along with Bridget and her brother, Sam are participating in the Summer Reading Adventure at the local library the town council announces that they are building low income housing for the homeless. While the housing is being constructed a tent community has been established on an old soccer field on the other side of a haunted swamp. Sam is upset by this turn of events, but his anger is only beginning.

In the meantime, unbeknownst to them, the girls befriend Zoe, one of the homeless people living in the tents. The girls spend time together tracking down clues supplied by the books they are borrowing from the library that will eventually lead to a prize at the end of the Summer Reading Adventure.

When Bridget and Sam’s grandfather dies in a tragic car accident Sam’s anger increases it is discovered that Zoe’s father was the drunk driver in the truck that crashed into grandfather’s car. The family lawyer reveals in the will that the farm and house have been left to the community to build low income housing for the homeless.

Sam’s anger reaches a boiling point and he directs it at Zoe and hatches a plan to get back at the people he thinks are taking away everything he holds dear.

Excerpt

“All right. Love you mom.” Zoe kissed her mom on the cheek and ran back to the camp.

     She found the book on her cot in the tent and started to head back to the park. Passing the swamp she noticed Morton the Morph, the yellow toad like creature and his small blue pear shaped panngoes playing on the edge of the swamp. One of the panngoes bounced into the swamp.

     “Hey, you guys shouldn’t go in there,” Zoe yelled.

     “Oh don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine, just a bunch of panngoes,” Morton answered as more of the creatures bounced into the swamp.

     Zoe heard some dogs barking and one of the panngoes squealing. “One of them might be hurt. Shouldn’t you go in there and check on them.” She heard another sound, children talking and laughing. “Oh no someone’s coming. I have to hide. Mamma doesn’t want me to talk to any strangers.” The swamp would be the best place to hide, so she followed the panngoes into the swamp.

     One of the bigger ones had fallen in a hole and was calling out for the others to help him. Zoe followed the sound of the crying.

****

     Sam stomped through the kitchen door of their two-story house. “Some animal dumped the trash cans again. Why does it only happen on the days I have to take out the trash?” He snarled as he grabbed a trash bag and a pair of rubber gloves.

     “Sam, stop your complaining and get it done. We’re supposed to be meeting Hunter and Anna to go to the park for the Reading Club kick-off,” his sister, Bridget said.

     “Yeah, I’d rather head over to the Gullies Swamp soccer field for a quick game of soccer. I’m sure Hunter would too. I’m too old for the reading club.”

     “Well, you can’t do that.” Sam’s dad said. “Didn’t you see today’s paper? They voted to take that field on the other side of Gullies Swamp and turn it into a homeless community while they build some low cost housing for the homeless.”

     “Why the heck are they doing that?” Sam said. “Where am I supposed to play soccer?”

     “The high school field is open and the new field at the park.” Bridget answered.

     “But we always play at the Gullies Swamp fields.”

     “Well I think those fields are creepy. You have to go past the haunted swamp.” Bridget said.

     “It’s not haunted.” Sam said.

     “But you told me…”Bridget said.

     “Bridget, how many times have I told you not to listen to your brother’s stories about the swamp?” Mom said. “He does that just to scare you so you’ll stay away. Sam, finish cleaning up the trash so you can take your sister to the library.”

      Sam grabbed the broom and stomped out the door slamming it behind him.

To see more of my posts on dragons, characters and authors go here.

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Spring Holidays: Traditions and Memories by #OurAuthorGang Authors

Today the authors of OAG share stories. Enjoy!

In many religions, the spring equinox is an incredibly important time. It represents new light, new life, and new beginnings.

Trees and bushes that lost their leaves over the winter begin to grow new leaves again and also flower in spring. This happens because the temperature of the air and soil starts to warm up and the hours of daylight increase as the days get longer with the coming of spring.

Enjoy the short stories told by the OAG authors.

Dandelion Wine

By Christina Weigand

My dad always had big gardens and big ideas about what to do with the things harvested from the garden. Along with what he grew in the garden he also liked to find unique ways to make use of other things in nature. So, keeping that in mind, one Easter when I was growing up, not sure how old I was my dad decided he wanted to try his hand at making wine. He didn’t plan on making your regular grape wine, although we did grow grapes. Instead he chose something that one might not normally consider a normal thing that was harvested from a garden. No, he wanted to make Dandelion wine.

So, the afternoon of that Easter Sunday rolls around. We had gone to mass in the morning and collected our Easter baskets. I’m not sure if my grandparents had already arrived or if we were still waiting for them, but Dad decided it was the best time to pick the dandelions. So, he sent us girls out to go up the dirt road that we lived on and pick all the dandelions we could find. Not an activity my sisters and I particularly relished doing, but you didn’t question Dad. We changed out of our Easter best and loaded with buckets set out to pick the dandelions. Not sure how long we were out there, but we did get quite a few dandelions.

A few days later the time had come for Dad to make his wine. I don’t remember the process; I just remember the bottles of wine fermenting in our basement. Then one evening as we were all settling down for a relaxing evening, we heard a loud “POP” coming from the basement. This was followed by several more pops. When we went to the basement to figure out what was happening, we discovered that the bottles of Dandelion wine had exploded.

So, after all of our hard work picking those lovely flowers, I don’t think anyone ever got to drink the resulting wine.

RICE PIE:

A Rhode Islander’s Recipe to Celebrate an Italian Easter Tradition

By Eva Pasco

Rice pie (torta di riso), is an Italian dessert consisting of eggs, rice, ricotta cheese, and citrus. After baking, it becomes a bottom layer of chewy rice topped with a separate layer of creamy custard.
In 1524, Italian navigator Giovanni da Verrazano was the first European to visit any part of Rhode Island.  He came to what is now Block Island and named it “Luisa” after Louise of Savoy, Queen mother of France.  Due to a mistake in surveying the land, the original name didn’t stick. Since one of the six largest ancestry groups in the state is that of the Italians, eating rice pie is a celebratory Easter tradition which has stuck.

My maternal grandmother who emigrated from Naples, Italy to Rhode Island made her “crustless” rice pies from memory, as does my mother who finally scribbled the recipe on a card for posterity.   I have merely reduced the ingredients from the original recipe to yield one pie rather than six, though this dessert is irresistible and begs indulgence throughout the year.

Ingredients
9 eggs
1 ½ cups white sugar
1 (32 oz.) ricotta cheese (may use skim, fat free, or reduced fat)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups light cream
1 cup cooked white rice (River for starchy consistency)
1 (15 ounce) can, crushed pineapple—drained; or the juice of two
squeezed lemons with lemon zest (depending on your flavor preference for pineapple or lemon)
¼ teaspoon cinnamon for dusting the top of the pie before placing in oven

Directions
1. Beat eggs in large mixing bowl.  Add sugar, mixing well. Stir in ricotta and vanilla until smooth.  Add cream and stir.  Fold in cooked rice and either crushed pineapples or lemon juice/zest.
2. Pour mixture into a Crisco greased, lightly floured 9 ½ by 13 ½ in. Pyrex dish.  Sprinkle cinnamon on top.
3. Bake at 325 degrees F for one hour—top should be golden brown; toothpick test.  Refrigerate until thoroughly cooled.  Tastes best served at room temperature right from its baking dish.

Though pastry chefs at Italian bakeries rise to the occasion to follow their own tried and true recipes for baking rice pies, you might want to establish your own family tradition in the kitchen. Generations of Italian-Americans who settled in Rhode Island have done just that by whisking ingredients for a recipe celebrating a family who sticks together.

Easter Bunny

By Rick Haynes

Fourteen years of food rationing in Britain officially ended at midnight on 4 July 1954. With the restriction on the sale and purchase of meat and bacon finally lifted, the British people could once again enjoy meat and two veg for Sunday lunch.

Only, they couldn’t. Money was scarce, and the meat in the shops was too expensive for most families. The rich could eat well, the rest of the population survived on anything they could.

But what has this got to do with Easter?

I didn’t eat a bar of chocolate until I was eleven years old and I guess it was a few years later before I was given a nicely wrapped chocolate egg to enjoy. Kids like me didn’t know any better, and why should we? What you didn’t know, didn’t affect you.

The Easter bunny never existed for my sister and I. We didn’t have a television set and thus knew little about the Easter holidays. All the family went to church but on looking back, the preaching flew over our heads. However, I always remember eating fresh meat over the Easter period.

It was many years later before I eventually found out why we had kept so many lovely bunny rabbits in our garden.

Needs must, as they say.

Easter Monday and Tuesday Tradition

By Erika M Szabo

The locsolkodás (sprinkling) is a unique Hungarian tradition which dates back to centuries.
Although it's a symbol of fertilization and the start of new life, it's also a form of fun socialization and strengthening of family bond and friendship.

On Monday, young boys and teenagers get together with their friends and hide with bucketful of water behind trees and bushes. Girls walk the streets in groups and pretend to be surprised and squeal with delight when the boys douse them with water from head to toe. The girls reward them with painted eggs.

Easter Tuesday it's the girls' turn to ensure the future fertility of boys by saturating them with water, and yes, boys 

Men visit all the women in their families, friends, and neighbors. At each stop, they recite a short locsolóvers (sprinkling poem) and sprinkle perfume or scented water on the hair of the women.

The men must recite a poem, either traditional or ones they come up with such as:
I was walking in a green forest,
and saw a blue violet.
It had started to wilt,
may I sprinkle it?

The women offer them a few bite from the traditional Hungarian breakfast plate and pálinka (strong brandy).
Refusing pálinka is impolite, so you can imagine how drunk the men get by the time they finish visiting every woman they know.

 
Sweet Easter Treat

By Erika M Szabo

The traditional Hungarian Easter breakfast is rich to begin with but made even richer with the dual purpose palate cleanser/dessert, the sweet cheese.

Growing up we never had ice-water or soda on the table, it was not (and still not) part of the Hungarian diet to mix warm food with icy drinks. If the food called for a drink such as breakfast, we had hot tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, but never cold milk.

Other nations use neutral flavor ice-cream to cleanse the palate between dishes, we had a bite of sweet-cheese between ham and sausage to neutralize the taste and cleanse the palate. But for kids, this was a very tasty breakfast treat.

Ingredients:
1 quart milk
10 eggs
vanilla
1.5 cups sugar
salt to taste
Watch the video to see how it's made: