So, this Down the Rabbit Hole post is a little different in that I didn’t fall down it researching a book.
Not that long ago, my family went through a time when we lost one of our family members every year. As you can imagine, it was hard. It also made me realize that we (my family) didn’t really have a tradition where we remembered those that had gone before. That there were members of my family that my daughter would never have a chance to meet.
I guess I wasn’t surprised to find that there are more than a few cultures that have days specifically set aside to honor the dead. Often they fall during those transitional times of the year, Spring and Autumn, when the world is moving from the season of life to the season of death, or back again. (Which seems fitting, don’t you think?) Sometimes they are simple family affairs, though some are elaborate festivals celebrated by the whole community. But as different as they all seemed to be, there were many aspects that they shared. Lighting candles or fires and leaving food out for the dead are two of the most common. Another is visiting and cleaning family member’s graves.
Reading about these traditions, I found a great deal of inspiration. My family has come up with our own tradition for remembering those we have lost. Or in my daughter’s case, those she never even had a chance to meet. This time of year we take the time to visit and clean the graves of those family members nearest us. We also set out pictures and photo albums and go through them, remembering all the people who, for good or ill, made us who we are.
Do you or your family have similar traditions? Or do you have something completely different that you do to remember the dead? If so, I would love to hear about them. Below are some (but not all) of the links I found during this little journey down the rabbit hole. If you have any links that you think I might find interesting, then please share them in the comments below. I will happily lose myself down them as well.
A quick note – I am not affiliated with any of the sites whose links I have shared below. I make no money if you click on them, and any of the ads or opinions seen there do not necessarily reflect my own opinions or suggestions.
AI… you hear about it everywhere nowadays. For some, it invokes some pretty strong feelings. Living with someone who has a great deal of experience and works closely with it every day, I understand that it can be a powerful tool that can improve efficiency (or laziness depending on the person) and productivity. But for my part, I choose not to use it. To be clear, I am not here to down anyone for choosing to use such a tool. But just like I prefer to eat foods without artificial additives, I prefer not to use AI in my writings or in my artwork. I want to tell you my stories in my own words.
Truth in Labeling…
When I learned about The Authenticity Initiative I felt it was a great way to let people know just that. It’s a community of authors that have taken a stand against the use of generative AI in their books and publications. It is a seal and promise that authors are using to build trust and awareness for their original voices in the reader community. As we build the community, there will be a cataloged list of authors that have joined and a newsletter for readers to find books by the authors that have taken the TAI pledge.
It’s only a few short weeks away from the release of Where the Angels Dream. I am so looking forward to the town of Ashwood coming alive for all of you. From the Bottoms to Winding Street, from Mrs. O’Toole’s to the Ascher family cemetery, my mind has walked these streets so often and soon I can share that with all of you.
If you enjoy gas lamp fantasies woven through with ghosts, cemeteries, secrets, and magick, (and also like reading stories before everyone else has) then visit Booksprout and grab the ARC of my upcoming book, Where the Angels Dream here.
Unlike many gas lamp fantasies, my upcoming novel Where the Angels Dream is not set in Victorian London or New York or some other similarly industrious city (or sometimes the fantasy equivalent of them). No, for Ashwood town and the land around it, my inspiration came from places a little closer to home.
I grew up on the southeast coast of Florida. And although that may not be the first place that comes to mind when you think about the turn of the 20th century, there was a great deal of history being made here then. Henry Flagler was bringing down the railroad and with it change and an interesting mix of old and new. The old settler families who had long been here trying to carve a living out of the sand and swamp would find themselves living side by side with the extremely rich who were moving down to build their mansions and enjoy the milder winters.
Like any storyteller, I took little bits of this history and wove it in with my memories of growing up here to make a place all its own.
Inspirations
The original inspiration for Ashwood town came from the city of St. Augustine on the far northeastern coast of Florida. The city was founded in 1565 and is the oldest continuously occupied settlement of European and African-American origin in the United States. Ashwood soon became its own place, of course, so that by the time everything was said and done there was not a great deal of the oldest city left in it. Still, much of the flavor of my late-night rambles past the Huguenot cemetery, through the old city gates, and down the narrow lanes in the historic district lingers in the Bottoms and the streets of Ashwood.
The Ascher family cemetery grew from my visits to St. Augustine’s Huguenot and Tolomato cemeteries, and the cemetery at the shrine of Our Lady of La Leche. Only the Ascher’s cemetery is much larger and much, much more overgrown. Whether is it more lively than its inspirations I can’t say, I guess you’ll have to visit St. Augustine to find out.
Interesting Tidbits
It was pointed out to me that not everyone will know what an oak hammock, coquina, or a cracker house is. So, I thought why not include a few short descriptions? It was interesting to put words to things I have seen my whole life. I hope you enjoy them also, either as satisfying little bites or doors that send you down rabbit holes.
Coquina is a sedimentary rock made up of layers and layers of tiny shell fragments and quartz grains, all held together by calcium carbonate. Native to Florida, it is soft and easily cut from the ground but hardens once it’s exposed to air. It was used extensively for construction in early settlements, sugar mills, and plantations across Florida. The Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine which is 450 years old was built from coquina, as were the city gates. You can see many walls of this beautiful, unique stone still standing throughout the old city.
Another building material that isn’t mentioned in this book is tabby concrete. It was also used extensively in early settlement construction. Oyster shells were burned to make lime, which was then mixed with sand, water, and more broken oyster shells to make, in essence, a man-made version of coquina.
The term “Cracker” was used for the descendants of Florida’s (and Georgia’s) early English settlers. Cracker houses were simple structures out of necessity since the settlers had little money or building materials to work with other than what they could find right there. They were built up on pilings made of oyster shell, coquina, or clay brick, with plenty of windows and a deep front porch to help manage the extreme heat of Florida. They often only had one room and had steep roofs covered in cypress shingles to shed the rain quickly. Made of wood, cypress or pine usually, they sometimes had a stone or brick chimney at one end, though not always.
Houses built in the Queen Anne Victorian style have always reminded me of fairytale castles with their turrets, towers, and balconies dressed in gingerbread trim. Whimsical and unique, they often sported windows of leaded or colored glass and wrap-around porches. Muilt-storied affairs with dormers and gabled roofs, they were the epitome of decorative excess. But, very beautiful nonetheless.
Tidewater houses, which can be found all over the South, are wooden houses built with coastal or seasonal flooding in mind. Often two stories high themselves, they were also built up on stilts or pilings sometimes a full story high up in the air, with the main entrance and living spaces on the upper levels. Both stories commonly had expansive wrap-around porches with a low-hipped roof line that extended over the porch and wide eaves. They had numerous windows set up to catch the cross breezes that might bring some relief in the intense heat of Florida summers. They are also sometimes called Low Country houses because of the areas where they were built.
You can still see examples of Spanish colonial architecture in St. Augustine today. Houses built in this style had thick walls usually made of adobe or brick, or in the case of the ones built in Florida, coquina or tabby concrete covered in stucco or lime wash. The earliest versions were often one story with flat roofs, but the ones built later stood two or two and a half stories high. They were inward-facing houses with loggias, courtyards, and balconies mostly encompassed by the mass of the house. Though shorter, exterior balconies built to overhang the streets the houses were on would sometimes be included. Shutters or bars made of wood or iron were common features, as were gardens and garden walls. There are several interesting books on the architecture of St. Augustine, including Houses of St. Augustine, 1565 – 1821 by Albert Manucy which is well worth checking out if your interests lie in that direction.
In this book, the architecture of the original Ascher homestead fell more along the lines of Spanish colonial, while the newer Ascher house was of the Queen Anne style.
All the photos in this post were either taken by me or are public domain. I found the majority on the site Florida Memory, which is a treasure trove of old pictures.
Something old and powerful walks the gas-lit streets of Ashwood town –
For decades the Ascher family cemetery had been left to rot and ruin. Still, getting the position as caretaker there had been a boon for Devon Amaris. The job suited him, and it paid well enough that he could bring his younger sister, Sara, to Ashwood to continue her education. And if the spirits did not rest as quietly as they should in their weed-shrouded crypts… well that was of no nevermind to him. He could not say the same of the woman who waited for him every night in his dreams.
Sara had worried that making friends in a new town would prove difficult. As it had happened, a little white cat with rust-colored ears had adopted them nearly from the first day that she and her brother had arrived in Ashwood. And she had made more friends since. The fact that most of her new friends happen to be dead, she supposed was only to be expected.
Unbeknownst to Devon and Sara, a darkness is growing in Ashwood. The devil is in the air, and not everyone is as they appear to be. Certainly not a little white cat with rust-colored ears.
Set in a time when electric lights and telephones are signs of the well-to-do and spiritualism is all the rage, Where the Angels Dream follows the story of Devon and Sara Amaris. Two siblings with an affinity for the dead and the unfortunate luck to have drawn the interest of powers far older than themselves.
Ghosts, cemeteries, hauntings, secrets, magick… I can’t wait until this book is out in the world!
I’ll be sharing the inspirations and interesting little tidbits that went into Where the Angels Dream over the next few months, so keep an eye out for upcoming posts!
Hip-hip-hurray! The gas lamp fantasy that I have been working on is on its way to my editor. Where the Angels Dream, the first book in my An Affinity for the Dead series, should be coming to you this fall. I plan on sharing the blurb and some interesting tidbits about the story here on the blog next month, but I thought I’d celebrate my progress by sharing a few pictures from my summer thus far.
It is unwise to steal from goblins… In order to save a dying silver kitten, a kind-hearted sprite makes a desperate decision. A choice that will change her life forever; because all debts come due eventually, and a debt to the Goblin King is no small thing. Caught up in an age-old enmity, can she find a way to make good what she owes and still keep all she holds dear? Or will the price of her choice be more than she can pay? No matter the answer, some things are worth the cost, whatever it might be.
Do stories about fairies and goblins captivate you? Personally, I love fairytales and folklore – both reading them and writing them. Lumina’s story is just such a tale, one of promises made and bargains kept, cursed kings and fairy queens, long-held animosity and love yet to be…
“Hoax quietly watched as she spun flax and nettle into thread, twisting the strands of hair in as she twined the fibers together. A bowl of water sat on the floor at her elbow, the scent of rosemary rising up from it every time she dipped her fingers in to wet them while she spun.”
– The Broken Court, Chapter 3, On the Breath of the Storm
One little sentence and I was lost for hours.
It turns out that there are a ton of natural fibers you can spin into thread. There are the common ones you have probably already heard of such as flax, hemp, and cotton. But there are also several less common ones; rose, banana, nettles. Yep, nettles. Stinging nettles, the bane of bare feet everywhere. It was a very interesting process to watch!
A quick note – I am not affiliated with any of the sites whose links I have shared below. I make no money if you click on them, and any of the ads or opinions seen there do not necessarily reflect my own opinions or suggestions.
When I first read “The Fly-Away Horse” by Eugene Fields it set my imagination alight! I found it in an old book of poems at my grandmother’s house. I don’t remember how old I was (pretty young), and I thought it would be an amazing thing to be able to fly away to faraway lands on the back of a winged horse. Which was only encouraged further by reruns of Terrytoons’s cartoon Luno the White Stallion.
When I was a little older, I would sit out in the pasture on my mare’s back while she grazed, book in hand (she was so patient with me!). I would do as much daydreaming as I would do reading, and came up with reams of stories many of which are still filed away in my file cabinet today.
Many of the books that I read at my grandmother’s house were lost over the years, but I still have that book of poems in my library. Published in the 1920s, it is over a hundred years old now and is a little worse for wear. But I wouldn’t give it up for the world, although I may have to find someone to help me restore or preserve it fairly soon. Thankfully, it was not the only one I managed to keep, and I have made a point to collect many of the books I remember reading at her house. Most are extremely old-fashioned by today’s standards, but they carry many memories for me. It has also been very amusing when rereading them to realize just how much of the story I embellished in my head when I was young.
I recently saw this journal in the bookstore and I fell in love with it. When I showed my husband he bought it for me, wonderful man that he is. He asked me what I planned to write in it. I didn’t have an answer at the time, but I think I do now. I am going to write all the things that bring a sense of wonder with them and set me to daydreaming. Song lyrics, poems, movie quotes, scenes from books… that is what I will write in there. And I think it only right that the Fly-Away Horse be the first entry.
I have had this since I was in fifth grade. It hangs in my daughter’s room now. And though I don’t think she sets quite as much store by it as I did, it still gives me a delightfully warm feeling every time I see it.
The Fly-Away Horse
by Eugene Fields
Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse--
Perhaps you have seen him before;
Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept
Through the moonlight that floats on the floor.
For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,
That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh
And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane,
Is up on his heels and away!
The moon in the sky,
As he gallopeth by,
Cries: "Oh! What a marvelous sight!"
And the Stars in dismay
Hide their faces away
In the lap of old Grandmother Night.
It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse
Speedeth ever and ever away--
Over meadows and lane, over mountains and plains,
Over streamlets that sing at their play;
And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he,
While the ships they go sailing below,
And he speedeth so fast that the men on the mast
Adjudge him some portent of woe.
"What ho, there!" they cry,
As he flourishes by
With a whisk of his beautiful tail;
And the fish in the sea
Are as scared as can be,
From the nautilus up to the whale!
And the Fly-Away Horse seeks those far-away lands
You little folk dream of at night--
Where candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow,
And corn-fields with popcorn are white;
And the beasts in the wood are ever so good
To children who visit them there--
What glory astride of a lion to ride,
Or to wrestle around with a bear!
The monkeys, they say:
"Come on, let us play,"
And they frisk in the coconut-trees:
While the parrots, that cling
To the peanut-vines sing
Or converse with comparative ease!
Off! scamper to bed -- you shall ride him to-night!
For, as soon as you've fallen asleep,
With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away
Over forest and hillside and deep!
But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear
In those beautiful lands over there,
Where the Fly-Away Horse wings his far-away course
With the wee one consigned to his care.
Then grandma will cry
In amazement: "Oh, my!"
And she'll think it could never be so.
And only we two
Shall know it is true--
You and I, little precious! shall know!
A few pictures from around my garden that have been patiently waiting on my camera for me to remember them.
The moon was a silver bost sailing on an endless sea. It reminds me of this bit from Fairer than a Fairy in my Fairytale Series.
“They landed on a rocky shore and left the boat glowing softly on the beach behind them. When scarcely a minute later she looked back, it was nowhere to be seen. Although a thin moon now rose in the sky just ahead of them to light their way.”
And can you also see the valkyries riding in the clouds of the last photo?