I write from my home in Philadelphia. My short stories, essays, and articles have appeared in print and online in the U.S. and Britain. When Valleys Bloom Again is my debut novel set in England and America during the dark days of World War II. Research is a large part of any historical novel. Readers want to know how I went about conducting research for this novel. I read books and saw many films set in the World War II era. On trips to England with my British husband, I visited an actual air raid shelter in Stockport, Imperial War Museum in Manchester, Duxford Aerodrome in Cambridgeshire, and the Churchill War Rooms in London. I also interviewed veterans of WWII in both the UK and the US. Married for 36 years to an Englishman, I’ve lived in the same family-oriented neighborhood for many years. The historic district of Philadelphia includes Independence National Historical Park, comprising Independence Hall, Congress Hall, Carpenters’ Hall, the Liberty Bell Museum, and the National Constitution Center. The birthplace of America’s independence and the City of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia attracts tourists from all over the world. They visit the sites, ride through the historical district in horse-drawn carriages, pose for pictures at the Liberty Bell, enjoy a meal at the many historical inns and pubs in the “Olde City,” or sample the famous “Philly cheesesteak.” The banner photo is of the “old man of Coniston,” a scene of natural beauty in the Lake District, a large national park in north-west England. The Coniston area is popular with boaters and hikers and is a magnet for visitors. It’s legendary for the writers, artists, and other influential people who have called this picturesque place home. It was on Coniston Water, in 1967, that Donald Campbell lost his life when his rocket-powered speedboat, Bluebird K7, crashed during his attempt to break the world water-speed record. When our sons were little I would read them the charming tales by Beatrix Potter. Many of the creatures she observed on her property in the “Lakes” she incorporated into her stories. Along with her talents in writing and art, she worked tirelessly to preserve the stunning beauty of the area; on her death she bequeathed 4,000 acres to National Trust. I visited Brantwood (left), home of the 19th- century art critic, writer, and philosopher, John Ruskin. Sensitive to nature, he used his gift with words to motivate others in progressive social reforms. I enjoyed a walk in the garden of his estate and sitting with a pot of coffee on the veranda overlooking Coniston. 2015 Finalist, Aspiring Authors Writing Contest 2014 Finalist, Westbow Press New Look Writing Contest 2014 Semi-Finalist, ACFW Genesis Historical Category 2013 Semi-Finalist, ACFW Genesis Historical Category Member American Christian Fiction Writers AFCW Pennsylvania Chapter

Not Impossible — With God During the early years of our marriage, my husband John and I realized the chance of a pregnancy was small since I was now forty. This situation was further compli- cated by a chronic condition thought to be responsible for my infertility. “It’s not utterly impossible but it’s extremely improbable you’ll become pregnant. You might wish to consider an adoption,” my gynecologist suggested. She gave us all the information on an upcoming adoption seminar. At first, John and I weren’t certain this was what we wanted to do, but we attended the seminar. Then we became very enthusi- astic about this way of gaining our family. Since we were well above the age limit for an agency adoption, we retained an attorney who specialized in private independent adoption. I did much networking at the hospital where I worked. While let- ting others know of our desire to adopt, I found I was far less timid than I had expected. Still, one-and-a-half years elapsed with no real adoption prospects. Nevertheless, we were still determined and hopeful and continued to get the word out. We always relied on the promise in Proverbs 3:6: “In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.” Then on an impulse one afternoon I called the physician who had suggested adoption. She might be of further help, I thought. I was told she had relocated and was now practicing in another part of our state. This didn’t discourage me. My determination amazed me. “What’s her number?” I asked. The desire to have a family was intense. And having come this far, I was unwilling to stop now. I promptly dialed her new number and was informed she was with a patient. I left my name and telephone number. When she returned my call she had no clue as to the reason for the con- tact, but she did remember us. I explained and assured her that we’d completed all the require- ments for a private adoption. She promised to let us know if she could be of further assistance. We had established yet another source for an independent adoption. When will we be successful? I wondered. The answer to this question came in ten days when a separate telephone reserved for adoption only rang. “Jeanne, I have a baby for you.” My former doctor was calling from her home. I was just too excited to say anything. My heart jumped. John sat me down in a chair. She went on to explain. “The very afternoon you called my office, a young girl and her mother kept an appointment. Tests taken then, later showed she was pregnant.” She continued, “The birth mother felt she would be unable to give her baby a good life and she soon made the decision to find a Christian home for her baby. After I told her about you, she decided she would like you to raise this child. The timing of your call that day was a remarkable coincidence.” But was it “God’s Hand” or was it “the long arm of coincidence?” I knew this wasn’t merely a quirky chance happening. God truly directed my path when I made that call. And we could provide for this child exactly what his birth mother wanted — a loving, nurturing Christian home for a much wanted baby. It was an overcast early spring morning when we were awak- ened by that life-altering telephone call at 6 a.m. “It’s a boy! He’s beautiful.” It was the voice of the baby’s grandmother. Although it was a dreary and rainy day — for us the sun had broken through the clouds — we took little notice. John and I couldn’t get to the hospital fast enough. We’d been waiting for this moment for a long time, but never gave up hope. I was first to hold him. You’re meant to be my son, I thought as I picked him up in my arms. Yes, he was beautiful. Now, after many conversations over the telephone, we met the young woman who was giving him to us to be his parents and we met her mother. My husband and I were so grateful to her, to God, and to all involved in making this possible. John and I brought our baby home in three days. With our son Johnny, my husband and I felt our family was complete. Then a year later in the spring I thought, I must have the flu. But does it last so long? I considered the chance I might be pregnant. Impossible! I was 48 years old and infertile! Finally, I told John, “I think I might be pregnant.” Yet even as I said this I found it impossible to believe. “Your pregnancy test is positive!” said my primary care physician with obvious excitement in her voice. After the initial surprise and joy, I couldn’t help but wonder, “How will I cope with two babies at my age? Will the baby be healthy?” My pregnancy was a smooth one although the baby was in breech position until delivery. Joshua was delivered full-term by C-Section. “This is truly a miracle baby!” my obstetrician exclaimed when she entered my hospital room. “One for the records, for sure. Just your age alone makes it extraordinary.” Eventually I wrote to the gynecologist who had helped with our adoption, informing her of the new addition. A few months later while talking with her over the telephone, it became apparent she had misunderstood my letter when she said, “You’ve adopted another child, right?” It took some moments to con- vince her I had given birth. “Impossible!” was her stunned, gleeful reaction. Today our two sons are in elementary school. When some days are rough and I feel the demands of being a parent, I recall when God responded to the desire of our hearts in a special way, and I remember — all things are possible with God! _______________ Published in Chicken Soup for the Soul Bible (companion story), March 2004. Web version published at Adoption-net.co.uk (defunct) Images courtesy of Pixabay

Put the Kettle On! When I ask my husband, “What do you want to drink?” He will always respond, “A hot cup of tea.” It brings comfort and is the cup that cheers. John has lived in the United States over 40 years, but tea remains his choice — preferably very hot. In Scotland and the north of England, the evening meal takes its name after the beverage. And there is “afternoon tea” around 3:30 for those at leisure, with finger sandwiches, cakes, scones, crum- pets, clotted cream and, of course, tea. The more dainty the china, the better. The preparation of tea is an elaborate ritual and taken quite seriously. No teabags, please. Water in the kettle needs to come to a rolling boil. First rinse out the china teapot with hot water, then place the loose tea in and add very hot water and stir. Brew for at least five minutes. Of course, while tea is brewing, the pot is cov- ered with a “cosy.” Whether one places the cream and sugar in the cup first or last is optional. For John and most English folk at home and abroad, tea will never be eclipsed as a beverage. It is quite simply a part of their lifestyle and culture. This is particularly so for the older generation. Tea is affectionately called the “cuppa” or “elevens” or “rosy lee [rhymes with tea].” When visiting our English friends abroad, we’re always greeted with, “I’ll put the kettle on.” * * * On the tradition of tea-drinking, from teamuse.com also, from Brenda Coulter’s site, Teatime at Brenda’s House Yorkshire Tea Cakes 2lb strong plain flour 4ozs lard 2 teaspoons salt 1 pint lukewarm milk 1 egg 1oz fresh yeast 4ozs sugar 4ozs currants Grease baking trays. Rub lard into flour and salt. Dissolve yeast and sugar in the lukewarm milk. Add to flour together with beaten egg. Knead to a soft dough (about 5-10 minutes). Fold in currants. Put in bowl. Cover with cloth and put in warm place until double in size. Knead gently. Divide and roll into 4-inch rounds. Place on baking tray. Prick with fork. Leave for 30 minutes to rise, setting oven to 425 degrees F (or Mark 7, UK). Bake 15-20 minutes. Cool on wire tray. Ginger Biscuits 8ozs self-rising flour 4ozs hard margarine 1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda 1 level teaspoon ground ginger 4ozs caster (4x, or powdered) sugar 2 good tablespoons golden syrup (light corn syrup) Grease baking trays. Set oven to 375 degrees F (or Mark 5, UK). Rub fat into flour, ground ginger and bicarbonate of soda. Add sugar and warmed syrup. Mix well to a stiff consistency. Roll into balls the size of a walnut, with floured hands. Place on trays with room to spread and flatten with a fork. Bake for 10 minutes. Remove from trays while hot and place on cooling trays.

Reconnecting With Family — Finding Our Roots “How good it’d be to get my father’s family together,” was just a chance remark made by me to my husband John. But it was enough to motivate him to initiate plans for our first reunion. An event which reminds me of the sense of conti- nuity and the feeling of security that my close and extended family provide. It became a special day for many reasons. My great-grandparents and their three sons — one of whom was my grandfather Thomas — emigrated from Britain in 1887 to an established English community in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Now their descendants would all come together for the first time here. This day had further significance for me since my husband also emigrated from England to the City of Brotherly Love and our two young boys, John and Joshua, are Anglo-American. How many of my relatives are still living? I wondered. I remem- bered my dad had a cousin who owned a real estate agency. I was amazed and pleased to find his name still in the telephone directory. Francis was 80 years old and still working from his office. “You’re Tom’s daughter,” he said. Your father and I were bud- dies as boys. I’ll have to tell my brother Ralph about you.” Francis went on to share some of his memories of my father with me. “Your Aunt Jane will be able to tell you where her children are living and where your Uncle Bill’s daughter can be reached. Wait a minute and I’ll give you her telephone number.” “Let’s get together,” I said. This was a good starting point. I reached Aunt Jane, now 90 years old, at her nursing home. “You’re my brother Tom’s daughter. You were only a baby when I saw you last. I will come to the reunion,” she told me. Through Francis and Aunt Jane I was able to locate many more family members. So with great excitement I sent out the invita- tions to relatives scattered near and far. The idea was received with much appreciation and enthusiasm. The day began sunny and warm with a refreshing breeze — a perfect May day for such an outing. John raised the “Union Jack” alongside “Old Glory” on the pavilion we had rented for this spe- cial Memorial Day event in a nearby state park in Flourtown. Close to 100 family members including many children came out. A few of our clan were unable to be with us due to their age and illness. My brother and his wife arrived from Arizona. Their children and grandchildren who live nearby also came. So together with myself, John and our two sons, we represented my father Thomas’s side of the family. When everyone had arrived and names placed in our book as a record, then our day began with a benediction by my second cousin Francis. It was obvious he found it an honor to be called upon. His voice shook with emotion. I felt touched by the moment. After the picnic lunch, the older children and most of the men- folk played baseball or horseshoes, hiked, flew kites or went fishing in a nearby creek, while the women socialized. Towards evening, a barbecue was provided. The younger children were delighted with activities and games with prizes. For me the most meaningful part of this day was meeting family for the first time and reconnecting with others. At our gathering that day I met my father’s sister Jane for the first time. Until our telephone conversation Aunt Jane was only a name I had heard. As she was leaving, Aunt Jane took my hand and with tears said, “You and your husband have reunited our family after all these years. Thank you.” I was deeply gratified to hear this. We had many long conversations during her last few months. Prior to this day I had spoken only on the telephone with my cousin Millie. I learned she and her husband were doing our family genealogy research. Millie had gone to the actual location of the search in England. At our gathering she told of her discoveries while tracing our family’s roots. She displaying a genealogy chart she had pre- pared and requested help from us in completing our individual portion for the family tree. Much of the information was obtained from a family Bible of 1847 and records provided by the Mormon Church. Now our sons can trace their lineage back to England on both their parent’s side. An unexpected surprise came at our reunion when my father’s half-sister Mary produced the missing information necessary for Millie to continue the genealogical search. Aunt Mary had brought along to the reunion some of my grandfather Thomas’s handwritten records—an invaluable genealogical treasure trove! “This is great!” announced Millie. “Just what we need!” “Do you think you could go to the county records office in Gloucestershire when you are in England this summer?” Millie asked me. I felt so excited to be asked to help in the search for our roots. This would be my family’s first trip back to my husband’s home- land since the birth of our sons ten years ago. I realize my husband gets homesick and misses his folks in Eng- land. I was happy to hear him remark, “It’s wonderful to have such a large family here in the U.S.” To preserve and celebrate our history Millie and I are collecting personal and family stories, background information and photos on living and deceased members of our family for inclusion in our soon-to-be published history book. It has been a challenge for us to sort out oral family history from documented facts. We have discovered many things about our clan while gathering their stories for this project. I learned that my grandfather served as Speaker of the House in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Today Millie and I are making slow and deliberate progress with tracing our roots. We travel to the source to examine microfiche of the original parish records and search Bishops’ Transcripts, census returns and probate records in county record offices throughout the U.K. The Internet is useful in helping us gather our genealogical research. Although she and I have encountered obstacles along the way and feel frustration at times, neverthe- less we are excited about the prospects. When will I find my great-great-grandfather’s baptismal certifi- cate?” I asked my husband after spending many hours in family records offices while on vacation each summer. It was an exciting moment for me to locate my great-great- grandmother’s baptismal certificate in a parish register, to sit in Tewkesbury Abbey where she was baptized, and to walk through the Medieval town in which she spent her childhood. And later on to find their marriage certificate in a parish register in Wales. Recently I visited the cemetery in Wales where some of our ancestors are buried. We hope eventually to find the missing information on our elusive great-great-grandfather to enable us in our further search for our roots. Some day we may even locate members of our clan living in the U.K. An added bonus has been that I have a closer connection to England through on-site research so that when I return to Britain I feel more at home in my husband’s native land, too. Since that first get-together I have recommitted to visiting reg- ularly with my relatives. Another reunion is in the works. John and I realize now the importance of family ties and reconnecting through reunions strengthens the bonds we treasure. “Why did we wait so long?” I keep asking my family. _________ An excerpt of this article was published in Reunions magazine, February-March, 2005 and Positively Woman (e-zine), November 2004.