Romancing England: Working Out in Northumberland

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to enjoy more of the Northumberland detail

Journaling Out The Jitters

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I was so nervous before we left for England. I'm not sure why.


Probably the thought of all that time travel in addition to jet lag.

Listen In on ..The Lost Gold of Chuckwalla County, an Unpolished Performance free in the iTunes Store

A Dime Novel Begins: Prelude and Chapter 1 

This is the beginning of a low-brow dime novel, that the folks in my adventure-romance novel, FOOLS GOLD, are reading. And they're picking up clues to help them out with some of their own problems.

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The May radio-style podcast episode of "Unpolished Performances" is an excerpt from an historically-styled  dime novel, “Amanda Apple and The Lost Gold of Chuckwalla County”. Download this audio show directly from the iTunes store with this link (or search the iTunes store with the term 'unpolished performances') 

You can also listen to the streaming version of the show  on the web at 

http://web.me.com/simpleromantic/Simple_Romantic/Podcast/Podcast.html

* * *

As many of my readers and listeners probably know, dime novels were popular middle class entertainment in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. They became available not long after the Civil War, as public education increased in the U.S., and the country was suddenly full of readers. At the time publishing technology was also improving, and equipment could be more easily transported by rail.  Serial stories in newspapers and magazines, which continued to be published during the height of the dime novel craze as well, are said to have inspired dime novels. Dime novels, and their cousins Penny Dreadfuls,  are often viewed as the predecessors to inexpensive, modern paperback novels.

I’m writing this serial, to assist the inhabitants of an adventure-romance novel I’m working on, called Fools Gold. Back in 1893, Amanda Apple and The Lost Gold of Chuckwalla County, is proving to be a popular read in the town of Measley Nevada, where much of Fools Gold takes place. The dime novel is also providing some of the residents of Measley, with helpful clues when it comes to the recovery of their own purloined treasure.

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I'd like to hear your comments about The Lost Gold of Chuckwalla County. You can post them below.http://web.me.com/simpleromantic/Simple_Romantic/Podcast/Podcast.html

Traffic School Blues and Goober Peas

Though I've done my time INSIDE as well

Today's musical piece is dedicated to You-Know-Who-You-Are

Sung to the tune "Goober Peas"

Sitting in ole Starbucks.... on a summer's day .

Chattin' with my caf' mates,

Passin' time away.

Underneath the shadOW! of a traffic fine,

Goodness how delicious, cappauccino so devine

Chorus

Traffic School, Traffic School 

Doin' traffic school

Goodness how delicious coffee and traffic school!

Verse Two

I know I gotta get down to passing all my test.

The subject ain't interestin',

My mind is quite at rest.

The coffee's very tasty, that scone does make me drool. ‘

I rather be Photoshoppin',

Then enrolled in traffic school..

(chorus)

Like a Shooting Star

Have you met this California Native?

The Lost Gold of Chuckwalla County: Prelude, A Dime Novel Begins

What is (or was) a Dime Novel?

Amanda Apple

And

The Lost Gold of Chuckwalla County

Prelude

A VERY SINGULAR PERFORMANCE

FEW there were in Battle Mountain who had not heard tell of the lovely women who walked through the doors of  “Silent Sam’s Scorpion Saloon”, one dusty day in late May. Indeed, there were several among the rough crew there that day, who recognized her from her youth, when she was known only for her lyrical voice and not for her desperate ways.

A low murmur of "Ruby" ran through the hall as the woman entered, proving that she was recognized by more than one. For, the beauty was, in fact, none other than the notorious, silver-voiced, bandit queen,  known throughout the great Western basin territory as Ruby McFane!

In previous days, folk the length and breadth of the silver state had ‘oft heard Miss McFane’s melodious trills floating from the stage of the Golden Sagebrush Musical Hall. Among the denizens of  Battle Mountain grouped round Sam’s counter that day, the desperado Texas Tom was one that recognized the woman’s comely visage and alluring form. Tom had formerly thrived in Virginia City, before taking in Austin and Battle Mountain, and he’d enjoyed many a pleasurable evening in the velvet-covered seats of that famed theatre.

Miss McFane had changed but little since she’d graced the boards singing her paeans to the Mockingbird  and her romantic tunes of times past. Though rumors abounded in regards to her nefarious outlawed activities, her speech, mannerisms and dress continued to be those of a lady. Her curls were still the characteristic red-gilt of a Nevada gold nugget and she continued to move with a regal simplicity that was unique to her. Her buff-colored linen outfit, though suited to desert trails was neat and tidy. If there was any change it was in the sterner expression of her sad blue eyes.

Crude though the mining crowd might be, no man spoke disrespectfully. Yet they also made no move to include her in their lot. Ruby stopped before the rough-hewn counter and dropped a finely tooled leather pouch full of jingling coin before Sam.

"Yes it is I,  Ruby McFane!" she stated boldly. "I can see I am not unknown even in this foul den. Better perhaps is it so, for you will have a clearer idea with whom you must deal. I depend on you good fellows, to tell me where The Dark Unknown may be found. I am sure you will say that you’ve seen him not, but I shall never be content with that tale.  He told me to meet me here. I had it from him in a missive written over a week since, and I well know that he is one who holds to his obligations."

"An' so you’re wantin' him, eh?" Texas Tom grunted, from his perch on one end of the bar. "S'pose likely you're a pard o' his'n aire yah?"

“No partner, but see him I must,” she retorted in calm tones.

It was at that moment that Ginger Johnson peeked out from behind the screen that separated the public from the kitchen quarters. No comely coquette was she. Unlike the fair Ruby, the kitchen maid’s outfit had seen better days. Her heavily patched homespun garments were not only well-worn, they were stained with the grease of many a cook fire, and far from clean. Ginger pushed a dusky curl impatiently back from her brow with a care-worn hand, and studied Miss McFane in a decidedly unfriendly manner.

“What’s a dainty darlin’ like you donin’ here?” Ginger inquired boldly. “You should be croonin’ lyrics to the toffs who’ve come over Paiute Pass.”

“I cannot speak of my reasons, but see him I must,” Ruby stated. “And if I must pay to learn his location,” she pushed her leather bag towards the other woman, “then here is my due.”

This is the beginning of a low-brow dime novel, that the folks in my adventure-romance novel, FOOLS GOLD, are reading. And they're picking up clues to help them out with some of their own problems.

* * * 

This story continues in the May radio-style podcast episode of "Unpolished Performances" 

Download this audio show directly from the iTunes store with this link (or search the iTunes store with the term 'unpolished performances') 

You can also listen to the streaming version of the show  on the web at 

http://web.me.com/simpleromantic/Simple_Romantic/Podcast/rss.xml

* * *

Trail to Windy Hill: Spring

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of Spring on the Windy Hill Trail

Wild Iris and Columbine make up for a faint brush with invasive stinging nettles and one minor tumble-down-the-trail. Nothing broken, nothing sprained - but most important HOW IS THE CAMERA???!!!

As to stinging nettles, in the past we didn't to have them in the area. Can't actually figure out what they're good for, though this site shows how  to cook them, but I'm not taking a chance on picking the wrong thing. Also I don't think it's legal to collect plants in the mid-penninsula regional open space, even plants that those in charge of the Open Space are working to pull out.

I actually think those nettles are here to TAKE OVER JOBS FROM LOCAL PLANTS. Of course the word on the trail is our local plants don't apply for those jobs.