Along the West Branch of the Susquehanna River

There is something enticing about water. People flock to it, whether it's a river, a lake or the ocean. In Central Pennsylvania, the small town of Clearfield lies along the west banks of the Susquehanna River. Flowing 228 miles from Cherry Tree to Sunbury, the West Branch forms the lifeblood linking what is now known as the Lumber Heritage region.

 

It is also the setting for my latest book, "Willie, My Love."  My heroine, Wilhelmina Wydcliffe, and her father own a large logging operation in the area in the 1800s. And the hero? Well, of course, Jonathan Wain is a ship captain who owns the clipper ships in the Chesapeake Bay and who sells the Pennsylvania lumber.

Throughout the 19^th and early 20^th centuries, virgin timber—among it the celebrated great white pine—was harvested to supply to supply lumber for shipbuilding, construction and coal mine props. Much of this lumber was rafted down the West Branch to markets on or near the Chesapeake Bay. Today, the West Branch flows through a northern hardwood forest of oak, cherry, maple and remnants of white pine and hemlock forests of early settlers' times.

The West Branch of the Susquehanna is actually part of the main “North Branch” of Susquehanna River which is the longest river on the East Coast of the United States. At 444 miles long, it drains into the Atlantic Ocean via the Chesapeake Bay and is the 16^th largest river as well. The headwaters start in Cooperstown, New York, and join the “West Branch” near Northumberland in Central Pennsylvania.

Before European conquest, the Susquehannock, an Iroquoian tribe lived along the river and gave the Susquehanna its name. In the 17th century, it was inhabited largely by the Lenape. In the 18th century, William Penn, the founder of the Pennsylvania Colony, negotiated with the Lenape to allow white settlements in the colony between the Delaware River and the Susquehanna.

Local legend claims that the name of the river comes from an Indian phrase meaning "mile wide, foot deep," referring to the Susquehanna's unusual dimensions, but while the word is Algonquian, it simply means "muddy current" or "winding current". Additionally, hanna, is an Algonquin word that means stream or river, and that Susquehanna is up for interpretation as meaning long reach river to long crooked river. It has also been said that the Susquehanna River was also called “Oyster River” by the Lenape because of the numerous oyster beds at the mouth of the river where historians found mounds of oyster shells.

Although there are mysteries surrounding the river and how its name originated, there is one constant. The Susquehanna is the main life-sustaining river of the state of Pennsylvania. Its waters allowed settlements to spring up along its banks and businesses and farms to survive and thrive—and Pennsylvania to become the 9^th most densely populated of our fifty states.

"Rain in June is a silver spoon."

There is an old farmer’s saying, “Rain in June is a silver spoon,” and “A good rain in June sets all in tune.” This year, I think we all can easily say that the rains are welcome to stop for a little while and let the earth dry.

 

I’m going to be honest. June is one of my favorite months of the year. It’s my birthday month, but it ushers in the beginning of summer and warmer, sun-drenched days ahead.

Across our Central Pennsylvania landscape, the grass in the fields is lush and taller than knee-high. Fluffy clouds in a baby blue sky scud along on the breeze, and the air holds the sweet mingled scents of many different blossoms. One of my favorite flowers is the rose, which is also the flower of June.

I have tried to raise roses for many, many years. I’ve tried climbing, bush, miniature, tea, hybrid, knock-out—and the list goes on and on. What our friendly deer don’t eat, the remainder dies from the cold, freezing winters.

I have only a clump of old-fashioned rag roses left, which I dug out from around the foundation of an old house from the 1800s on our farm in Northeastern Pennsylvania. This hardy variety seems to be able to hold its own, despite the rabbits munching down the stalks under the snows.

If you have a favorite month of the year, please share it. If you have a favorite flower, please share that as well. 

WILLIE, MY LOVE
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Rainy Days in May

“It’s May, it’s May, the lusty month of May,” as the song goes in Camelot. 

With the incessant rains this year, Pennsylvania in May is a beauty to behold if you squint between the raindrops.

Named for Maia, the Greek goddess of fertility, May’s birthstone is emerald which symbolizes love and success. It seems appropriate to designate the emerald since spring in the northern hemisphere often is a brilliant green as dormant deciduous trees, grass, bushes, and emerging flowers and weeds dress themselves in shades ranging from lime to blinding green to deep avocado. 

The ferns in my flower beds are unfurling and jumping skyward. The Jack-in-the-pulpits have poked their heads up on the east side of the house, thanks to the protective shade of a rhododendron, and the hosta plants are so huge I fear they could join forces and overthrow all the plants in our yard.

For me, May is a time of awakening with warmer nights with golden moons. The bluebirds and hummingbirds return. The hawks soar. The robins bob, bob, bob on the lawn. And the very vocal wrens scold everyone from atop a cedar tree

.

This year, I’m foregoing a garden and will have a patio tomato and my basil plant in pots. I’ve decided instead of fighting the rain, I’m going to endorse an old farmer’s saying: Rain in May is a barn full of hay.

I’m going to enjoy the down time and dawdle a little, write, read, and look for rainbows. What are you favorite things to do on a rainy day in May?

                                                             WILLIE, MY LOVE
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WILLIE, MY LOVE - An Excerpt and Rafflecopter

Can two stubborn hearts find love under the tall white pines?

EXCERPT:

He broke the stillness first. “Did you recognize him?”

“Who?”

           "The thief you knifed in the woods, Miss Decoy.”

“How would you know I knifed him?”

“I heard no gunfire from the clearing, but from the amount of blood scattered all over the place, you more than just playfully tickled his ribs. Actually, it looked like you went for the poor fellow's jugular vein.”

 “I wish I had. I only stabbed him in his shoulder. I wasn't aiming to kill, just slow him down a bit."
“With men that ruthless, Willie, it's best not to extend too much compassion. Those three riders on the ridge weren't exactly trying to miss your backside in the true spirit of Christian charity.”

 “Next time, I won't let them get that close.”

  “There won't be a next time,” he snapped. “You pull a fool stunt like that again while I'm here, and I will tell your father. The closest you'll ever get to a logging operation will be sewing buttons on your crews’ shirts. So tell me, did you recognize him or the horse he rode?”

  “No. If I had recognized him, or his blasted horse, I would have spoken to the proper authorities.” She paused and wagged a slim finger at his face. “You realize, mister, you're a pain in the...”

  “Don't even say it!”

  “Neck. But your first conclusion might be a more appropriate location.”

   Their dueling gazes met and he reached out and captured her against his chest.

   Suddenly conscious of the fact that he either wanted to shake her mercilessly or kiss her senseless, he released her gently, disturbed by the discovery she had aroused far more than anger. He stalked to the fireplace and gripped the mantel, his head bent in thought. He had always been good at logical reasoning, but this wisp of a backwoods girl defied every civilized rule he ever learned. Her nearness stoked a gently growing fire that he’d never felt before with any other woman. And she was oblivious to it all. How would he ever be able to work beside her?

  A lengthy silence elapsed before he spoke in a calm voice. “Is there a possible way we can come to terms since we have to share the same roof over our heads?”

  Shifting like the wind, she concurred. “Unfortunately, I agree with you.”

  Turning, he pinned an astonished gaze on her. “You mean there’s actually an ounce of compassion in that tiny body of yours?”

  Willie grinned. “Don't compare my size with my compassion, or any other of my abilities, for that matter. The venom of a rattlesnake is deadly regardless of its size.”  

BACK COVER BLURB:  

The year is 1856. White pine is king of the forest.

Releasing on April 15th

The last thing Jonathan Wain wants to do is ride miles through Pennsylvania’s wilderness to help his father’s logging partner in the small settlement of Clearfield. But his family owns clipper ships in the Chesapeake Bay that carry the coveted logs to the markets each spring, and they can’t afford a loss.

The last thing Wilhelmina Wydcliffe wants is a handsome sea captain from Maryland meddling in her father’s logging operations under attack by unknown enemies. A feisty tomboy and better known as Willie to her crews, she has a dream to be the largest logging operator east of the Mississippi River.

When both Willie’s and Jonathan’s lives are threatened, they are forced to work together to find their enemies before both of their companies are in shambles. 

But as their attraction to each other escalates, can they set aside their differences, unearth the truth, and discover contentment in each other’s arms? 

       

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