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A refreshing collection that may send readers to the grocery store, farmers markets, or backyard gardens. The combination of fruit and herb brought out recipes and food-based stories. As with any evocative detail, strawberries and mint also inspired stories to explore emotions and situations, some weirder than you might expect from standard summer garden fare.
Writers bellied up to the challenge, took to the streets, bars and brambles to bring tasty stories to the page. No matter your weather or hemisphere, let strawberries and mint wash your cares away with a good read.
The following are based on the May 30, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes strawberries and mint.
PART I (10-minute read)
Strawberry Queen by Kerry E.B. Black
Mont loved her the moment he caught her stealing strawberries from his Grandmother’s back garden. Her dark hair waved secrets, secrets he longed to share.
Footfalls crushed mint as he crept closer where she gathered berries as if they were rubies.
His family would disapprove. Old money protected itself, especially from dark-eyed thieves, be the theft strawberries or a young heir’s affections.
When she bought silence with a strawberry pressed to ripe lips, Mont cast aside titles and inheritance, his the disregard of one who’d never done without, and pressed a crown of mint onto his strawberry queen’s head.
Sweet Competition by Jo Hawk
Edith set the heavy mixing bowl on the counter and surveyed today’s haul. She absentmindedly patted her chest with her right hand as she thought.
She was tired of strawberry shortcake, and Elenore’s receipt had won for two years running. Strawberry pie was too simple, and Edith’s strawberry jam cookies had competition from Ruth.
She caressed the velvety surface of a large berry.
“Red velvet,” the words slipped from her lips, and an idea formed. Red velvet strawberry cupcakes with minted whipped cream, topped with a huge glazed berry.
“Eat your heart out, Elenore,” she said with a smile.
Angel on the Bridge by TN Kerr
I met Lavinia in early July
at The Angel on the Bridge
where I came to see the regatta.
I was smitten
I sought to impress
To ply her with food
Strawberries, cream, and a sprig of mint
She turned up her nose
I strove to impress
by quoting the Bard,
Demetrius in Titus Andronicus,
“She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved”
She laughed as I obviously knew not the story
I hoped to impress with my wealth
Alas, I had no wealth, but
She sat with me on the riverbank
She took my hand
Incompatible? by Anne Goodwin
Her taste is traditional, her habit a herb. Whereas he was weaned on fruity flavours and won’t give them up. When they kissed for the first time, their breath was tinged with garlic; tomato and marjoram layered underneath. Neither of them noticed, having picked the same starter and main. At the time, she thought that signalled they’d be soulmates; she happily skipped desert to go back to his flat. Now, rummaging through her washbag, she wonders. When her torso presses closer, her mouth might pull away. Afraid his cloying strawberry toothpaste would defeat her clean fresh shield of mint?
Double Play by Pete Fanning
Billie sat back, her jaw working the gum. A shortstop with a pitcher’s gleam in her eyes, she blew a bubble, sucked it back in. “The entire team signed this hat, Darryl Strawberry, Len Dysktra, Dwight Gooden, so…” She shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”
I leaned closer. “Why do all the signatures look the same?”
Pop went the bubble. Billie stood. “You know what….”
“Wait.” A lasting glance at the mint condition Ken Griffey Junior rookie card. But that hat, the signatures. I took a breath. “Deal.”
Billie swiped the card. “No take backs.”
Then she was gone.
Light Up by Ruchira Khanna
“The usual!” Sarah said with a heavy accent to which the bartender was quick to nod and started preparing the concoction.”
She sat there with one of her hand supporting her face while the other was fidgeting with her long brown curls.
The bartender noticed her and could not resist, “Long day?”
She nodded with a yawn.
“Here, this could cheer you up!” he brought the big glass towards her.
Her eyes lit up after a sip, “Wow, who would have thought strawberries and mint could compliment my Screwdriver!”
“Yup! these ingredients can light up anybody’s screwed up day!”
Flavored by Reena Saxena
They would have flavoured water served to the guests – strawberry, mint and lemon. The mocktails would have pineapple, coconut water as the main ingredients, other than the ubiquitous tomato juice.
It’s not easy planning a party for vegans and teetotallers. She has spent two days scanning recipes online, writing shopping lists and buying the ingredients.
“I told you to have three different flavors of water, not mix strawberry and mint in the same glass. Florence likes strawberry only.”
“It tastes nice. She liked the combination.”
How could I tell now, who had consumed the poisoned glass earmarked for her?
Blood from a Stone by Jody Perejda
The red flesh of the strawberries entices the birds. Targets for my slingshot practice. I wait. I smell the mint my mom grows to keep ants away from her garden. A sparrow, brown fluttering wings and short beak, hops toward the bait. Left hand holding the Y-shaped frame, right pulling back rubber straps, I let the stone fly. The bird cartwheels. Rigid, stick-like legs point accusingly. I never thought I’d actually hit one. I retrieve the fragile body. I’m shamed by its stillness. I dig, burying the bird, and stab the slingshot into the earth as a grave marker.
Strawberry Mint Lemonade by H.R.R. Gorman
Jack sidled up to the bar where a single woman sipped her drink. The shimmering lights of the disco ball moved over his face as he waved down a bartender. “Whiskey.” The bartender slid the glass over.
She bit her straw seductively.
“What’s your name?”
“Strawberry.” Her voice had a strange accent. “Strawberry Mint Lemonade. Good to meet you, Whiskey.”
He chuckled. “My name’s Jack – whiskey’s what I’m drinking.”
The beautiful woman tilted her head further than natural. “Is not saying of humans, ‘You are what you eat’?” She grabbed him by the wrist. “What does ‘Jack’ taste like?”
Strawberries and Mint by Deborah Lee
Becca sips from her garnished glass. “What is this?” she asks, surprised.
“Strawberry and mint,” Michelle tells her.
Becca sips again. “Not bad, for fancy food.”
Becca gulps. “New-fangled. Yuppie. Millennial.”
“New-fangled? My grandmother made this, like her grandmother did. It’s old-fashioned as the hills.”
Becca frowns, sips again, raises her glass to Michelle in appreciation. “I was raised by a mother who thought broccoli and eggplant were ‘weird food.’ Her only seasonings were salt and pepper. I learn something new with every meal invitation I get.”
“What shall it be next time?” Michelle laughs. “Saffron? Or lavender?”
Strawberries and Mint – The Devilish Mojito by Sally Cronin
The witch’s handbook – Spell # 356 – Removal of inhibitions.
The Devilish Mojito
Ten fresh picked Strawberries
Juice half a lime
Six crushed mint leaves
Two ounces white rum
Two ounces dark rum
Pour over crushed ice
Dash of club soda
Sprig of mint to decorate.
One drink will increase desire to wear frivolous clothing.
Two drinks will increase desire to dance on tables.
Three drinks will increase desire to remove frivolous clothing.
Four drinks are not advised.
Disclaimer : The handbook accepts no liability for the actions or consequences resulting from the over indulgence of this potion…
Opportunity Knocked by JulesPaige
memories as well as plans;
pipers played minuets
The carriage returning the ladies from an afternoon picnic where they had feasted upon wild strawberries and mint tea. T’was embellished that tea. The ladies were feeling no pain. So while through the purple moors they road home by moonlight ignoring the tempest of threats that the Highwayman might strike were ignored. Their driver well thought the ladies welcomed trouble.
“The tread of time is so ruthless that it tramples even the kings under its feet.” Claude spoke to his troupe, when he heard rambling wheels, “Time to dance!”
Pimm’s O’Clock by Ritu Bhathal
I’ve laid all the components out.
The lemonade is chilled and ready.
Succulent red strawberries just waiting for me to slice them.
A firm, green cucumber, already transformed into slices, then quartered.
A big, juicy orange chopped into little triangles; peel still attached.
Ice. Lots of cool, refreshing ice.
Fresh, minty leaves.
And that beautiful bottle of fruity gin liqueur.
I slowly pour in the alcohol, and add the lemonade, watching the bubbles fizz up.
A big handful of ice, then the assorted fruits.
Just a few leaves of mint.
It’s Pimm’s o’clock now!
Strawberry Delight by Susan Zutautas
Meg was anxious to make Aunt Alice’s delicious strawberry dessert and was sure that Ian would love it too.
Stopping at the fruit stand on her way home she found a basket of huge berries. Perfect she thought, now to get a lemon.
Back at home she washed the berries, sliced them into a bowl, added the zest of one lemon, then added three tablespoons of sugar, and mixed gently.
After dinner that night Ian commented on the strawberry dessert. “This was really good Meg, have you ever tried making this and adding some mint?”
“That’s what I forgot!”
Different Tastes by Joanne Fisher
“Ugh! Why do you keep eating strawberries and mint together? I think it’s a disgusting combo!” exclaimed Linda.
“Says the girl who slathers mustard over EVERYTHING! What did I catch you eating the other day? A sandwich with fish fingers, tartare sauce, pickled onions and MUSTARD! It’s like I don’t even know you sometimes!” Rose answered.
“I like mustard. it gives a nice zing to everything.” Linda said defensively.
“Some days I wonder why I married yer.”
“Obviously for my stunning good looks and exquisite taste!” Linda replied beaming a smile at Rose.
They both broke out into laughter.
Strawberries and Mint by Anita Dawes
Strawberries and ice cream
Under the summer sun
With ice cold lemonade
And a sprig of mint
The best seat at Wimbledon
Venus and Serna playing at their best
Throw in Boris when he was young
Andre Agassi, not forgetting Martina Navratilova
Turn back time, watch Pat Cash climb the stands
Andy Murray, fight year in and out
Henman Hill should be called Andy’s hill
He has earned his place in history
When day is done, I sleep to dream
I am playing each one on hallowed ground
The crowd grow wild as I slay each one…
Friendships by Saifun Hassam
Teresa loved to eat lunch at the Saturday Farmers’ Market. Her friend Hannah, the owner of “Spuds”, served sandwiches, salads, and one of her special dishes. Today there was pan-fried perch redolent with the aroma of onions, garlic and cumin; fried potato wedges with red pepper flakes; and garden mint chutney.
She was a nurse physician at Lynn Valley Hospital where Hannah’s mother Bev, a former nurse, was a patient counselor. Bev was a wonderful listener, a sounding board for Teresa. They chatted as they enjoyed Hannah’s strawberry pound cake and tea with a hint of ginger and mint.
Mint Julep by Kelley Farrell
“I love strawberries.”
Helen watched her son pick the pieces apart and stuff them into his waiting mouth.
“What’s your favorite fruit momma?”
Helen never cared much for fruit. A flash of regret seared through her. She ruffled the small boys blonde hair, so different from her own.
He was the reason she was alive so how did he manage to remind her of every failure she possessed?
“I like mint.”
“Is mint a fruit?”
“It is when I add it to my special drink.” No amount of sugar could keep the bourbon from burning all the way down.
Bedtime Dilemma by Brendan Thomas
“It’s difficult,” Emma exclaimed.
Her father looked exasperated holding pajamas aloft in both hands.
“The strawberry pj’s are my favorite,” five year old Emma said, “But tonight feels minty.”
“Great.” Her father offered mint.
“Hmmm,” Emma said looking at the strawberry.”
It continued until patience was lost, pajamas thrown on bed. “It’s too late. Make a decision, see you tomorrow,” Emma’s father declared retreating from the room.
Emma arrived at breakfast strawberry top, minty bottoms.
“Good compromise,” her father said.
“I woke up and changed from minty top and strawberry bottoms during the night,” she said with a smile.
Strawberries and Mint by Floridaborne
I remember the day he asked, “Wanna dance?”
I couldn’t say no to those intense brown eyes and six feet of sexy man.
My Roman nose made a platform for glasses so thick they’d never fall off my face, and I hated the space between my teeth. I was wearing a horrible dress with a strawberry and mint design that my mother made.
One glorious night ended in a police raid. I’m pregnant by a serial killer who never got to use the nightmares under his bed.
They say I’m lucky to be alive. I hate strawberries and mint.
PART II (10-minute read)
Grandma’s Garden by Norah Colvin
Jess blew kisses to Mum, then raced Grandma into the garden. She pulled on her boots and gloves and readied her digging fork. Emulating Grandma, she soaked up explanations of magic combinations that helped plants grow. At the strawberry patch, they filled baskets with ripe red berries. On the way inside, Grandma clipped sprigs of mint.
They dipped strawberries in chocolate and garnished them with mint.
Jess inspected the chocolate bowl. “All gone.”
“Stawbwee?” said Jess, pointing to the remaining few.
“For Jess,” smiled Grandma.
Jess munched strawberries and Grandma chewed mint.
The Garden by Allison Maruska
I clap the dirt off my hands, admiring my work. Rows of vegetables, berries, and herbs adorn my new garden.
“Pitty pwants!” my toddler screeches.
“Yes, pretty plants.” I spot my pre-teen on the deck then focus on my youngest. “Stay here with Sissy. I’m going to wash up.”
Inside, I scrub grit from my fingernails. As I turn off the water, a small voice startles me.
“Pitty pwants!” JJ holds up strawberry plants and mint.
Sighing, I take the greenery that had been in the ground a whole ten minutes.
Maybe it’s a sign to make a mojito.
Love Game by Liz Husebye Hartmann
Heather clicked the radio buttons, desperate for a station that didn’t play classic rock. She snuck a shocked glance at Mom, behind the wheel, as MGMT’s “Little Dark Age” floated from the speakers.
Mom said nothing, minuscule smile quirking her lips. One point, Mom.
Heather grunted. “Look, I’m going on this lame hike because you’re taking me shopping after.”
“So happy to have your company,” Mom remembered her sparring teen years.
“What’s this?” Heather opened the tin of strawberry breath mints. “Disgusting!”
Heather tossed one in her mouth. “S’good,” she mumbled to the window.
Game, set, match!
Said No Child Ever by tracey
“Mom, there’s nothing to eat.”
“Sure there is.”
“I can’t find any chips, mac and cheese or lunch meat.”
“Try the garden.”
“You know, that thing I am always weeding and watering.”
“But that’s just vegetables!”
“So? You like vegetables.”
“What did you find?”
“Spinach and strawberries and green onions! I’m gonna make that salad you made last week. Where’s the recipe for the dressing?”
“This is so good, do you want some? I made extra.”
“Thanks. What’s that in your water?”
“Mint. Quite refreshing in this heat. Want some for your water?
Mix and Match by Di @ pensitivity101
‘This diet is so BORING! Fruit and salads are so dull!’
‘Have you thought about mixing and matching?’
‘It’s all right for you, you’re already skinny.’
‘I had to work at it though. Have you tried adding a chopped apple to your prawn salad?’
‘No. Is it nice?’
‘Well I like it, and it adds a tangy bite to the lettuce.’
‘OK. What else?’
‘How’s about including cucumber in your stir fries?’
‘I could try that I suppose with mushrooms and sliced carrots.’
‘Cereal and yoghurt?’
‘Duh. Double boring.’
‘Maybe, but add some strawberries and a sprig of mint…’
The Annual Extravaganza by Roger Shipp
“Dwight, many of the strawberries are ready. Take the basket and pick the ripest; I’ve a mind for a shortcake trifle for the picnic.”
Strawberry trifle was his favorite. Dwight was out like lightening and soon returned with the finest strawberries mouths could desire.
The guests arrived; ravenous men with their genteel lassies. Dinner completed, they went out back for their annual Horseshoe Extravaganza.
“Don’t worry ladies. The icebox is ours.”
Upon its opening, the upper shelf was lined with iced strawberry mint smashes. We adjourned to the Adirondack chairs out back to enjoy the swearin’ and the fuedin’.
Perennial Memories by Ann Edall-Robson
Occasionally the ranch hands were asked to help thin perennials around the edge of the garden. The greenhorn had been sent and stood smiling beside the compost heap.
“Heard you needed help. Thought I’d get to it.”
Standing at the gate to her dynasty, Mrs. Johnson’s mind staggered. All of her precious mint and wild strawberry plants were gone.
His smile quickly faded to an ‘oh shit’ look of terror on seeing Hanna striding towards him, and Mrs. Johnson had disappeared.
“Do you have any idea what you did here?”
“Pulled weeds. What’s the big deal? They’ll grow back!”
Lady of the House by Bill Engleson
She was an elegant woman. Even a scruffy twelve-year-old paperboy could see that.
Her mansion, my only mansion, was crawling with ivy.
The lot, pared down by time, by intrusion, rested on a busy corner.
A harried highway.
Usually, my monthly collection, and generous tip, was left in an envelope by the door.
This late summer day, she was there, inviting me in, through to a small, inner rose-infused courtyard.
“Jacqueminot roses,” she said, “A fading passion.”
She smelled of peppermint gum and blossoms.
“I so love strawberries with my tea. Don’t you?”
Decades later, I’m still not sure.
Strawberries and Mint by Shane Kroetsch
I swipe the sliver of tomato across the grains of salt and pepper on the plate and then pop it in my mouth. I lift up the glass but there’s only a drop of sweet liquid left under the crushed strawberry and browning mint leaf. It’s not worth the sip so I set it back down.
I sit back and interlace my fingers over my satiated belly. The sun is deep orange as it prepares to say goodnight. Off in the distance birds are chittering and singing. I close my eyes and smile, grateful for one last perfect day.
Maybelle Annabelle Lee by Chelsea Owens
She hummed and danced then danced and hummed, though only Maybelle Annabelle Lee would have called her actions musical. Perhaps a passing bumblebee might’ve appreciated the art, so similar to his own buzz-buzz to nectar from one drunken dip to another.
For that was what Maybelle Annabelle Lee was doing as well: dip, dip, dip into this leafy patch and skim, scoop, skim from that berry bush. As she wavered and wove down what may have been a path she somehow collected enough for her basket.
Then, just as coincidentally, she returned home; gatherings ready for a refreshing sunset.
Stream of Conscious by Susan Sleggs
This will probably be the last year I come to pick strawberries. It isn’t the same doing it alone. I remember the fun we had when I brought my kids here and then their children. Now, no one is interested in coming along. I wonder if I would hear about it if I didn’t make preserves for each of them anymore. Good thing I still have my mint bed, they do show up the day before they have a party to raid that so they have fresh mint for making mojitoes. Maybe I could make mint jelly next year.
Strawberries and Mint by Michael Groban
“You can’t kill it,” my neighbour said to me when he gave me a mint plant. “Just keep the water up to it and it will thrive.”
That much was true as the mint in his place had been growing in the same spot for well on fifty years. He had a green thumb, his strawberries grew strongly and produced huge fruit that melted your taste buds. My plants struggled no matter how well I thought I cared for them.
But they survived despite my neglect, and the strawberries look healthy though producing not much fruit to brag about.
The Global Warming Effect by Hugh W. Roberts
Strawberries and mint! She’d forgotten to order them.
The local shop was too far away to go and get any before her first guests arrived.
A few years ago, she would have gone out into her garden and picked both. How sad that the return of global warming had since not only turned her green garden into a dusty, bone-dry desert but had also robbed her of her love for gardening.
Looking out of her kitchen window, onto the vast Martian landscape, she asked herself again if the human race would ever learn the lessons of their past mistakes.
A Peek (from Miracle of Ducks) by Charli Mills
A hardbound journal lay open on Ramona’s bed. Danni reached for it, and paused, examining the pencil strokes. On one top corner, strawberry plants clustered with leaves, flowers and berries drawn in great detail. On the opposite bottom corner, mint vined in sweeping strokes. Danni smiled. Ramona liked to say, plant your mint across the garden from your strawberries. On the page, the two plants formed a continuous frame around two little girls with identical braids and short gingham dresses, holding hands. All she could see was their backs and the pond they faced. Were these the elusive twins?
Seeing Red by D. Avery
“Kid! Yer outta yer tree.”
“Yep, Pal, I figger the Ranch is at a safe elevation.”
“The Ranch is safe alright Kid. Not gonna set up in yer Poet tree and mint more buckaroo-ku?”
“Figger ya might need me. What’s her name is claimin’ ta be too busy, might not be around fer the roundup.”
“Kid! Ya done used my old red flannel shirt ta mend yer torn britches. Ya look like a baboon.”
“I like the color, like ripe strawberries. It’s a strawberry patch!”
“Kid, what’s the real reason ya clumb down?”
“Hopin’ Shorty’s gonna make strawberry shortcake.”
Lunar See by D. Avery
“Why’d ya git us out here, Shorty? It’s mighty dark.”
“I know; it’s the new moon.”
“Where? I cain’t see it. But the stars sure are sparkly.”
“Yep, stars are shinin’ bright ‘cause the moon’s outta sight. Ever’thin’s in alignment.”
“That sounds good, Boss.”
“It is good, Kid. New moon, new beginnings.”
“Ain’t you got enough started?”
“It’s all comin’ ta fruition. Think that’s why the next alignment’s the Strawberry Moon. Now help me pick mint.”
“Hmmff. Pickin’ mint in the dark a the new moon?”
“Yep. Mint’s fer hospitality. Gonna have a home, Kid, where all are welcome.”
Fixings at the ranch might sound fancy tonight, but truly cowboy caviar is simply black lentils. You can rustle up some tiny black legumes in the bulk section of your nearest co-op or natural food store. The fun of shopping for dried food in bulk is the variety. I’ve seen pink, yellow and black lentils in addition to greenish-brown ones.
Start with the steak. Slice it into bite-sized pieces, douse it in flour and fry it in oil along with onions, garlic and a healthy slosh of Worcestershire Sauce. Search your cellar for roots like potatoes, yams, turnips, rutabagas and such to toss in the mix along with the dried lentils.
Here’s a basic recipe for Cowboy Caviar and Steak Soup:
- 1 fine cut of steak like a big old, t-bone
- 1 small red onion, diced
- 3 cloves of freshly minced garlic
- 1/4 cup of Montana Wheat flour
- 2 Tbsp. grape-seed oil
- 2 Tbsp. Worcestershire Sauce
- 1 sweet potato, diced
- 4 carrots, sliced
- 4 cups water
- 1 Tbsp. Better than Bullion (Beef)
- 1 tsp. marjoram
- 1 tsp. cumin
- 1/4-tsp. red pepper flakes
- 1/4-tsp ground black pepper
- Sea salt to taste
Coat steak slices in flour and fry with onions and garlic in oil. Add Worcestershire Sauce during the frying. Once meat is browned, add water, bullion, vegetables, black lentils and spices. Bring to a gentle boil, simmer for several hours. Serve with a green salad and crusty bread.
How can we not embrace a day that professes love and chocolate? Dear Ones, I’m speaking of Valentine’s Day. And that’s today, which calls for a chocolate recipe that’s so easy you can love it all the rest of the 394 days in a year!
Originally, this ranch recipe hails from the genuine rodeo wife of legendary saddle bronc rider, Butch Small. It’s called oatmeal fudge (I know, not very romantic-sounding). But add dark cocoa and it’ll be love at first bite. Add a few extra goodies like white chocolate chips and dried cherries and Cupid will sing in your kitchen. Here’s the Carrot Ranch version:
Chocolate Live Bites
- 2 cups sugar
- 1/2 cup canned milk
- 1/4 pound butter
- 2 Tbsp. dark cocoa powder
- 1 and 1/2 cups quick-cooking oatmeal
- 1 package white chocolate chips
- 1/2 cup dried cherries
- 1 tsp. vanilla
Boil the first three ingredients for 2 minutes. Add cocoa and and oatmeal, mixing well. Add the chips, fruit and vanilla last. Let it sit for about 20 minutes, then drop by the spoonful onto waxed paper. Once solid, store in a bowl and share with the ones you love.
Or hide away near your desk.
Writing ruled the ranch last November. “Warm Like Melting Ice” developed as a NaNoWriMo project, and I won with a few words over 50,000 by November 30. My daughters were on hand to uncork the champagne to celebrate my second consecutive NaNoWriMo project. The first, “Miracle of Ducks,” is in the revision process and I hope to polish it up for the Great Rejection Rodeo.
Actually, I’m excited about the Great Rejection Rodeo. If you’re not getting rejected, you’re not trying to catch the calf. If you’re not getting rejected, you’re not learning to throw a new loop. I know enough about traditional publishing to know that I don’t know much. Sending out my polished manuscript and agent queries will fill in those learning gaps. After a period of rejection and recalibrating, I look forward to victory in publication.
Now that 2014 is blooming before our very eyes (okay, for some of you it’s a frozen horizon, but that’s why I spurred my boots outta Minne-snow-ta) this blog is going to refresh. Other than the occasional “carrot sticks”–random posts such as this–I’m going to focus on the following blog topics:
Tips for Writers. Writing is a business. Writers are creative, of course, but if you want to write successfully (insert your own definition of success), you need to balance creativity with strategy. Strategy for what? Well, that could be making time to put pencil to paper or developing a plan like the Great Rejection Rodeo. Each Monday, I’ll alternate between tips for creativity and tips for strategies.
Review Roundup. Much of my online content writing revolves around reviews of products, media or best practices for businesses and careers. Each Tuesday and Thursday, I will focus on a short introduction with a link to a published review. If you are a newly published author and would like me to review your book, contact me and we’ll negotiate a horse-trade of sorts.
Flash Fiction. It’s a blog-hop (something like a square dance with other blog-writers) and the beginnings of a monthly contest. Currently under construction as I hammer out the details and recruit willing hands to play (because I can’t just lasso other bloggers). Look for the hop to begin March 5, 2014. The rules are simple: using the weekly prompt, craft an original story 99 words or less, post it on your blog and then submit your blog link to my host-post. Each week a new prompt is issued for the following Wednesday. All participating bloggers get a link back to their own blogs. Once we start getting at least 10 submissions a week, one blogger will be selected as a “Blue Ribbon Winner of the Month.”
Recipes From the Ranch. A buckaroo’s gotta eat. And around this ranch, she’s also gotta grow the food and cook. On Fridays, I’ll post a seasonal recipe from my very own chuck-wagon, often using ingredients from my organic garden, inspiring you to use seasonally fresh and local food. If you can’t garden, shop the farmers markets or co-ops.
If you’d like to follow my creative non-fiction, please join me over on Elmira Pond which is the real-live headquarters for Carrot Ranch Communication where migrating blue herons, mergansers and osprey distract me from writing. Most times, the natural setting inspires reflections and stories, like the time I sat on a bee to pick raspberries.
If you are a business, professional or fellow creative looking for some help with a 2014 writing project, give me a holler at the ranch as I am still accepting limited clients for the year. E-mail me: firstname.lastname@example.org or call: 208-263-3766. Ask for the lead buckaroo!