Beth Carpenter Books

Today would have been my Dad's birthday. I miss him. Growing up, I was a daddy's girl. My dad was a farmer, and he used to let me ride in his pickup with him. There was a light in the cab behind the seat, and he told me it was a nose light, that it would turn on if I pressed my nose to it. And sure enough, every time I did, the light came on. I was pretty sure he was teasing me, but I could never prove it. He brought a lot of fun and magic into my life. My dad told me stories and paid attention to me. His attitude taught me that I am important and worthy, and that I shouldn't settle for someone who doesn't respect me. Unlike some women, I was never particularly drawn to "bad boys" who didn't treat women well.  At the same time, he made it clear that to deserve respect, I needed to be respectful of others, and to be responsible for my actions. A good reputation was earned. Dad was a devoted reader, and he remembered what he read. He had a working...

We've relocated from Alaska to Arizona for the fall, just in time to enjoy some of the fruits of the garden we planted before we left. As always, there are some surprises, especially since whatever it was I used to write the names of the plants on the labels washed off, so not everything ended up exactly where I thought it would be. First of all, we have tomatoes. One of the tomato plants I set out in May was called black cherry. I had my doubts about black tomatoes, but I admit they are the sweetest tomatoes I've ever eaten. If you're not a tomato lover, you might try them sometime. They're almost fruit-like. We have others too, some lovely celebrities, and what I think are Romas but lost the label.  It's difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato." -Lewis Grizzard We're also enjoying the summer squash, both zuchini and yellow straightneck. I love that squash, green chili, and cheese casserole, and zuchini s...

100-Word Flash Fiction She mutters something about an iron . I tell her nobody minds a few wrinkles.  “We need to go, ma’am.”  “Keep your britches on,” she snap s. A minute later here she comes, carrying this gi-normous coon cat, a fl ask , and a golf club. “I’m ready.” Naturally, I get both arms tenderized wrassling ‘em into the boat. Before I can un tie , this big ole snout rises out of the water. Old lady whacks it right between the eyes with her nine iron. She smoothes her dress. “We goin’ or what?”   I row, keeping a wary eye out. Who knew Texas had gator s?    Over on Janet Reid's blog, she often has flash fiction contests. She gives five words (the ones in bold) that must be used in the story of no more than 100 words. It's amazing how many different stories can be conjured using those five words, especially since the words can be inside another word or split in half. Anyway, this was my story from last week, so I thought I'd sha...

It's September. How did that happen? It seems like two or three weeks ago, it was the beginning of summer. Fuzzy little goslings were following their mothers across the lake. The Canadian violets were blooming.   Now, instead of violets, we have mushrooms. School buses are making the rounds. Those baby geese are as big as their parents now, and it won't be long before they're flying south for the winter. The Mayday tree that blooms so beautifully in May is covered with bird cherries, which I'm sure the waxwings will appreciate this winter.  Don't get me wrong; I love autumn, too. Crisp days and apple pies, colorful leaves, mums, and pumpkins. But today the sun is out, and it's time for one more trip to the farmer's market. One more walk around the lake. One last taste of summer. Which do you enjoy more, summer or fall?