Living in the little red shed has its own challenges. One being that I tend to keep a closer eye on the sky when we have storms coming in. I do not have a tornado shelter and if ever a twister does actually

Chyanne wiped down the bar while surreptitiously watching the shadowed presence sitting with his back to the wall at a lonely table. She, like everyone else, had been happy to see Templer after the week

His superiors were pushing Constantine to end his vacation and return to duty. There were a couple of nasty problems that had cropped up that needed his particular... talents. Sig agreed to stay and give

Templer woke to darkness. More frightening than this, he woke to the terrifying smells of the Healer's Sect. He was lying on a bed in a small curtained off alcove. The Talon could hear the sound of people

A pencil sketch of the Trinity, the weapon used by Talon Templer Constantine in my novel... To Race the Wylde Wynd. This triple barrelled weapon is only used by the members of his elite caste. Part assassin,

“You... what...?” This came out a stunned whisper. Templer remembered Azra being very clear you NEVER actually ingest the leaf. If the dead silence from the darkness within didn't fill him with foreboding.

“Templer...” One deep rumbling voice worried at him. “Constantine... Come on... You have to wake up!” Grant's lighter baritone also intruded along with sharp stabbing pain. They both took turns annoying

No...this is NOT a post exploring spirituality. Instead...it is about having some of the comforts of life whilst living off grid. When John and I first embraced this lifestyle, one of our first considerations

The Ole Poot and I spent many years Boondocking. (The art of camping in free places across the USA) At first we did this in style, in an RV. But in our last adventure we spent 8 months tenting it across

One of the things I really like to do is to create art that people can use and wear. For my horse lovers, I made this pendant. The original was sculpted out of sculpy clay. Then I made a mold of it so

Azra shot ahead of the pair. The other riders had stayed on the longer, easier path. None it seemed, wanted to risk the unknown in Splatter canyon. Gliding back, the outrider realized that El Diablo's

People were gathered along each side of the street. The noise level of the shouting and clapping rose as the big racers were paraded to the starting line. More than one rider had their hands full as the

Templer spent the rest of the long night watching Chrysta slip restlessly in and out of sleep. He helped where he could when the pain drove her awake. This consisted of him getting ice packs from the bar

Templer tried to work as quickly as possible. He had steeled himself to be emotionless. He knew from experience that having those ribs and muscles compressed would be excruciatingly painful. The priest

Chrysta seemed to sag, the piece of paper fluttered out of suddenly boneless fingers. The anger on her face had Grant pushing back from the table. The silver haired stranger snagged the offending paper

One of the things I do for relaxation is write Fanfiction. I have one in progress entitled..."Where Dragons Dwell" One of the things I loved about the old Star Trek series was that many of the

The Little Red Shed has a brand new cedar deck to hang out on and enjoy the cool of the evening. I got a bargain on the cedar and used some big pallets for the frame. The whole thing cost a little over

Templer sat in perfect stillness. His black eyes watched until Chrysta's even breathing pattern told him she was deeply asleep. He then slipped quietly out the window and up to the roof. The priest spent