This is a book very different from a lot of books that I read.  Hulda’s story is not a dramatized adventure.  It is the ebb and flow of events in someone’s actual life.  There are no vampires, mysteries, deliberate suspenceful devices.  But yet, it is a wonderful story of the freedom that America gave to people as the nation grew. Women, who had not had much opportunity, were now coming into their own as they explored their talents and creativity taking them to new levels.

But Hulda’s story is so much more than that. Her faith and humility so apparent in this telling.  Even in the midst of tragedy, she overcomes and continues on.  She pours into others, nurturing them and giving them the chance to grow as she shares her own love and calling to the garden.  And even as she stood to profit extensively from her many efforts, she still joyed in sharing it opening with friends and strangers.

I loved this story.  Kirkland perfectly captures the essence of Berger’s talents and how a women of her upbringing most likely pursued and shared these gifts.  We can continue to appreciate the small pieces of history in the various nooks and crannies of our country.  It’s one more piece in the complex puzzle of a large and great nation and the people who have helped her to grow.

You can read an excerpt from Where Lilacs Still Bloom here.

Visit Jane Kirkland’s Website or read her bio.

I received a complimentary copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for this review.  All opinions expressed are my own.

Here’s what I knew about A.H. before reading these books:

• Alexander Hamilton was killed in a duel with Aaron Burr (didn’t even realize Burr was VP at the time.)
• He was a co-author of the Federalist Papers.
• He is on the $10 bill.

Yup, that’s it.  Any other tidbits were lost or never emphasized.  So here is a list of things that you should know about Alexander Hamilton, but probably don’t.

• He was born in the West Indies – his parents were not married to one another and he grew up in poverty.
• He came to the US in his teens under patronage and studied at Kings College (now Columbia).
• He was a soldier in the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War achieving the rank of Colonial.  He served as aide de camp for Washington, basically running his staff, and led the charge of redoubt #9 during the siege of Yorktown.
• He was close friends with Lafayette.
• After the war, he got his law degree in about 18 months and begin practicing in NY.  He had married Elizabeth Shuyler and they started their family.  He also served in the Continental Congress that prepared and signed the Constitution.
• Wrote the Federalist Papers with John Jay and James Madison encouraging states to ratify the Constitution.
• After Washington was named President, Hamilton became the first Treasury Secretary and is basically “The Father of our Financial Systems and Government.”  He believed in a strong executive branch and was instrumental is helping Washington to define the role of President.
• Despite claims of corruption, Hamilton was cleared of all charges.  He even insisted that Congress go through all papers and records to make sure his political record was clean.
• Was a founder of the now defunct Federalist Party.
• He wrote hundreds of newspaper columns and pamphlets supporting his political views.
• He was part of the legal community that first explored the idea of libel law due to the many slanders in the newspapers at the time.
• In New York City, the public outpouring of grief upon his death was almost greater than that of Washington.

We owe a lot of what our country is today to him.  But it wasn’t all sunshine and roses for him, he was deeply flawed like the rest of us, and had his many imperfections.

• He had an affair with a married woman (Maria Reynolds) and was later blackmailed by her husband – it was from this extortion that “corruption” charges arose.
• He fought with Jefferson, Madison, and Adams.  All who had come to despise him by the end of his life.
• He sometimes was a little more verbose than necessary especially when it came to matters of his own reputation.
• He did make several errs in judgement and lost the favor of the Federalist Party by the end of his life.

Hamilton is a complex character – educated (despite his upbringing), passionate and extremely intelligent.  We owe much of we have today to him and his mind and persistence.  Am I saying that you should read Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow?  If you love history, and exploring the truth than by all means read it!  I will warn that it is a challenging read.  Chernow leaves no stone unturned and the life of Hamilton is rich with details and happenings.  I am unsure of how he managed to accomplish so much in such a short life time.  If nothing else, explore him on your own, discover the truths.  You won’t be disappointed.  The truth will set you free.

#5 – The Kitchen Daughter by Jael McHenry – The protagonist is a young woman who is most likely an undiagnosed case of Asper’s.  After her parents are killed in an accident, she has to learn to take care of herself with a little help from her dead relatives who she conjures up by cooking their favorite recipes.

#4 The Night Circus by Erin Morganstern – A wonderful tale, part historical romance, part paranormal and part mystery.  We follow two separate threads of a magical circus, waiting for them to intersect.

#3 Fallout by Ellyn Hopkins – I have been devouring Hopkins YA prose stories.  They have so much truth in them and their rhythm creates a torrent of emotion propelling the reader through to the end.  Fallout is the third book in the Crank series – telling the story of the children born of the Crank addict featured in the first two books of the series.  Raw and compelling.

#2 Becoming Odyssa by Jennifer Pharr Davis – I’ve become an Appalachian Trail Memoir addict.  This is probably my favorite of all the stories.  A college age woman takes time to hike the Appalachian Trail.  While she learns much about hiking, she learns more about herself. 

#1 Washington – A Life by Ron Chernow – I wrote previously about how this epic book was changing my perspective on our first president.  Chernow tells us that his goal is to make Washington more than the wooden character he has been.  He does that.  Through the pages, we learn the truths of his life.  Honor propelled him to make the right choices even though passion flowed through his veins.  He was always striving for more, and never leaving behind his faith in God.  I wept bitterly at the end, when the medical techniques of the day contributed to his death.  My family later made the trip to Mt. Vernon to see the historic home of truly our greatest president.  An intimidating book, certainly difficult to get through for the average action focused reader, but the thing you will learn about Washington, the Revolutionary War and our Founding Fathers will change the way you think about our nation.

Summary: Twenty-eight-year-old Bethany Quinn has overcome her small-town, trailer park upbringing. Working at a prestigious architectural firm in Chicago, and on the verge of moving in with her lawyer boyfriend, Bethany gets sucked into her past by circumstance – the death of her best friend’s husband and the waning health of her beloved Grandfather. As she returns to the hometown of her discontent, she tries to run away from the past pain to bury herself in who she’s become, but God has other plans.

Despite the melancholy of the main character, Bethany, this is a decidedly light, come-to-Jesus romantic novel. Bethany is angry with God – a place most of us have been. But her anger is decidedly masqued in the pain and sorrow of her upbringing. She’s prickly. Despite having a boyfriend in the beginning of the book, Bethany seems to have little love flowing through her life. Or perhaps she has mistaken it for achievement. Although she believes she has overcome, she has yet to confront the true thing that keeps her from moving forward.

Bethany is a hard character to identify with at the beginning of the book. She is very closed, and although she wears her pain on he sleeve, her silence distances the reader from her. But we are rewarded with her love interest, Evan, who is open and passionate. Healed from his own pain, he confronts Bethany again and again. And while she is on the run, we gradually see his influence affecting her as she makes her way through this story.

The tale is full of small-town Midwest charm – Farms and fairs, the place where everyone knows your name and your business. The clear message of faith in Jesus, is present. Bethany is truly battling her faith and the false belief systems that has been instilled in her childhood. Other characters are building blocks to God’s plan in this story.

Overall, I enjoyed the book. It’s message, although not unique, was a nice reminder of the sorrow we face on the path without God and that a perspective change makes all the difference. The characters seemed to grow on me as much as they grow in the story. Highly recommend for those who love Christian romance.

I was provided a complementary copy of this book by the publisher. All opinions expressed are mine.

I am in the homestretch of reading the Pulitzer Prize winning book – Washington, A Life by Ron Chernow. I have actually been battling the book since October, back and forth with getting the eBook from the library. In the last couple of weeks, I’ve settled in, determined to finish before my next expiration. So far, I’ve been amazed. It’s funny that although our favorite President in so many ways, Washington’s life has been mostly fictionalized and the important parts left out. Although what do I know? I am sure I don’t understand what the public schools are actually teaching about him, but only what I’ve been taught and what we see in the general media.

But there is so much more!!! I will share a full review here after completing the book.

As I have been working my way through the stories, I have felt compelled to take my kids on field trips to Washington related locations. Our first stop was the Yorktown Battlefield and the location of Washington’s camp. It’s strange to think that a plantation house stood on the now vacant grounds. All that remains is a square that was the family cemetery, and the open ground where Washington’s tent’s stood. Could we almost here the drum beats?

Next on our list is Mount Vernon. I have been surprised by how much I have missed on his estate, and had now idea it is what it is. (www.mountvernon.org) I can hardly wait to see inside and walk the grounds, in my imagination see the places I have read about. This is what excites me about non-fiction. I love the real people, the real places, and the stories that could be nothing but true.

And the story of Washington? One that no American should miss!

My boys are following in my footsteps.

Virginia is a beautiful place, full of history and so we often find ourselves walking in history’s footsteps. Today it was at the Yorktown Battlefield. I love the Battlefield driving tour, as it is simple and to the point. It doesn’t mire you in all the details, but gives the general gist of those final days of the Revolutionary War. And it breaks it down in a way that kids can even love it.

I don’t know what it is (besides the cannons), but they love to run around to all the sites. My older son (formerly known as Bump and now 7 years old) understands what happened to some degree. And it thrills him. Which in turn thrills me. The little one just goes with the flow….I’m good with that.

So on a beautiful day full of clouds and wind, we found history. Or maybe it just found us.

In this part of the world the flip flop is a year round shoe. I have heard young girls giddy with the acquisition of a menagerie of colored foam floppers to match every outfit in the wardrobe. I have stared blatantly at women running around in 4 inch heels. I have smiled at the varieties of Chuckie Taylor’s now available. I love to see the toe shoes and wonder how that works for them.

I wonder why we wear what we do? Is it cool to wear certain shoes. Certainly my running shoes are chosen because they support my condition. Still wearing Saucony’s motion control shoe – think it’s the MC2 now, used to be the Grid Stabil. I wear lesser sneakers with arch supports during the day, a pair of asaic cross trainers for workouts and stare at a pair of Vibram 5 fingers that have evolved into glorified slippers. I have a pair of purple CTs in my closet, a few pairs of crocs and a pair of mary jane style shoes with some support in them. My closet is a graveyard of pumps and loafers, too risky to wear with any kind of regularity. Fortunately, my lifestyle supports my shoe options. What would happen if it didn’t? Would the business world accept me with athletic shoes???

I watch anyway, every chance I get. Is our shoe choice a reflection of who we are, or who we want to be. Our station in life, or what we want to achieve?

This is not happening tomorrow, but in the next five years sometimes. As now we make plans to make this happen, my heart is light and there is hope.

Fifteen years ago, I excitedly left the state I had lived in all my life for an adventure. But now the adventure has changed.

I am so excited.

Mornings like this are rare. It has been some three months since my last run. I must admit, I am a sucker for the open road. The treadmill, while replicating the physical experience, cannot make up for the mental and emotional experience that venturing into the great wide open is. Perhaps a sanctuary of sorts for an introvert like me.

I put one foot in front of the other, the soft tread of my own steps echos on the pavement. I run without music, letting the distractions of my own brain be enough for me and the rhythm of life be the beat that keeps me moving. I wind my way through the streets near our home. It is not too early. The day is in full swing for many. Yard salers are out and about. There is football practice at the high school. This is a far cry from those 6 am runs of my younger, working years. Yet there is more joy in my step, more smiles in my heart. This is a gift, this run. Every one of them.

I turn the corner onto the trail. It is my feet that worry me. I have left new shoes behind today in favor or older ones that I am willing to sacrifice to the muds of the recent rains. As I plod along, I think of the line of saucony motion control shoes I have worn through the years – these no exception. Miles upon miles put upon them on roads, trails, tracks in Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, North and South Carolina, Wisconsin and Michigan.

As I turn the corner and head downhill near the one mile mark, I finally began to feel the stiffness lifting from my quads, leftover soreness from other exercise this week. Yet, my right knee begins to ache as it has of late during any type of cardio activity. It has been such a stalwart these years, as my left knee’s weakness have needed its strength, but now it is stiff and sore at times. Old age creeping in, I guess. It does not deter my purpose. I have four more miles to cover before this run is complete, and onward I go.

I see my first runner on the next corner beyond the “little bridge”. She is young and fast, moving with lightness and music. She crosses me with a smile. Behind her, a walker in pajamas – interesting attire for the trail. I pull past them with waves, crest a hill to find two deer in a nearby meadow. They are unbothered by my movement. I leave the to their dinner. It is nothing new to see deer on this run. They are here, there and everywhere, pushed out of their environs by community expansion. I move past them and see a group gathered on the “big bridge”. It is the Saturday morning bird watchers club, here to observe the avian life of the swamp. I slither through the crowd with a delicate silence and continue down the bridge, following the line of nails in its planks.

I pass two love bird walkers and move on to the field section of the run. Here I will run over a mile to my turn around point near the 4h camp. A field runs on one side of the trail, and a busy road on the other. Many bikers and walkers dot this section of my run. Mostly biker whizzing by, some telling of their presence, some not. I push forward. I am not stopping, I think, until the turnaround. My leg is aching, but the out is the push, the back is the cruise. My plans are foiled by a errant shoe lace. But my stop is quick as I push forth that final quarter mile to my mark, crossing a group of runners near the turn. One of them is pushing a snazzy running stroller with toddler intact. I momentarily reminisce about the days with the boys in the stroller. 80 lbs. worth of kids and 20 lbs. of stroller…pushed by me three times a week. Sometimes a dog in tow, too. I was more hardcore then. Younger with more determination. That was before weight training and yoga gave me a different perspective on fitness, when running seemed to be my best option.

I stop at the turn and retie my other lace. It seemed unbalanced, one tighter than the other. I do a few yoga stretches and give the other runners a bit of room. I like solitude on my runs. No distractions. I head back the way I have come, stopping at the historical marker that recounts the tale of the Battle of Greensprings. I am momentarily puzzled as I look at it, thinking it was the Civil War, not the Revolutionary War. I look up, expecting to see the ghosts of soldier dot the field across the road, where the skirmish took place. I wonder what they would think today of those they see before them, the horses in the farm on the other side of the road. A road that is not a dirty path, but paved with bright lines painted on it. What would they think of cars?

I start up again. This is the cruise back, the hard part. I have it fixed in my mind what I want to run, but there are other trails I could take – shorter trails to ease my pain. As my leg throbs, I briefly consider it. But I have run many, many miles. I concentrate on the rhythm of my feet. I sit back in my pace. I know this. It is familiar and comforting. I think instead of training for the marathon those many years ago. The cold winter mornings where I would trek to the local gym for a 1 mile warmup on a treadmill, then run back and forth across the back of the parking lot – a 1/4 mile “lap” of sorts, until I had 4 or 5 miles in. The trails were dark, too dark for me, but the lot was lighted and people were about. The temperatures were in the 20s, and I was layered up with all of my best winter running clothes – double socks, double gloves, earband and hat. The indoor warm up helped, but I was still a popsicle when I was done. And I did it day after day during that month of January, until the days lengthened enough to hit the trails in the semi light. I smiled at the memory.

I was never the victor in any running event. I remembered that, too. Sure I won a few age group trophies here and there. But I never had that killer drive to be the best. I always felt there was someone else better, faster, smarter. I had victory snatched from me so many times. But now as I am older, I realize this. The run is in fact the victory and it has always been. It has never been about anyone else. And this day, it is the same. I am slow and in pain, but I am alive and pushing myself. My heartrate is up. My pace is steady. I am winning.

And finally I turn the corner to the gravel trail, the one I walk on quite often with dogs and kids. I find the trail harder, the turns more sever. The unevenness of the trail puts more pressure on my aches and pains. I even gasp a bit as I top a small hill. There are more runners in this part. One dressed in a long sleeved fleece, one bare chested with sunglasses on. There are a few dogs. I dodge them with ease despite my aches and pains. I notice, for the first time, the damage in the forest here from Irene. Lots of downed trees and branches. The trail is clear, but there are many roots in the air.

I move on, on and on. To the main trail where only last night I walked Sparky and Aspen. I run down to the end of the trail and up out of the woods, through the mud and in the rivets carved by running water in these places. I break out onto the road. It’s a quarter mile to my stop sign. And I run. I push. My leg seizes up a bit, but I still move faster, as fast as I can. I limp down the road, swing my arms. Turn the corner and throw my hands in the air as I cross my finish line. 5 miles.

Two men walking further down the road see me and laugh. But they don’t understand that I’ve won. For the race is not always to the swift, but to those who keep on running. They don’t know the many victories I have overcome to get here – the knee surgeries, the miles, the races, the days of pushing the stroller, the joy in the freedom of the trail. Perhaps I am a little crazy, but I got to run today!!!!

Until now.

Perhaps it’s the social media that does it. In the midst of seeing friends and family who have made a life in that small town in the middle of nowhere, and now living in the middle of somewhere. I want it back. Not just for me mind you, but for my children.

What’s so bad about life here, in the middle of somewhere? Who wouldn’t like the warm winter weather, the history at our finger tips, the upscale atmosphere, the friendliness of the south? Well, I’m with you on some of it. Surely, living here in the middle of where our country started has been good for our family. Our kids feel a connection with American History that I never had growing up in the Midwest. They love being outside all winter long (but being inside during hot summer months). The sun shines a lot. The community is upscale, and although we live in a modest area, it is void of much more than petty crime. There are a lot of nice amenities in the community because it is upscale. So what’s the problem?

I want the simplicity of small town life. And realistically, the middle of nowhere has moved further out with the advent of the computer age. I love the idea of life in a small town. Walking places instead of driving, and if you’re driving, it’s not far. I have never thought the south was any more friendly than the people of the Midwest. There is something about Wisconsin that is so a part of me, that has never left me. I want that something to be a part of my children, too.

While people tote the ocean vacations, Wisconsin has more than 15,000 lakes, and what you can do with a lake or stream can be a lot more interesting than the ocean. The great outdoors is equally spectacular in both places, but I miss my streams and waterfalls, my Lake Superior and just the general change of the seasons. I will say, I don’t miss the snow. But certainly, my two little boys would covet the chance to spend a few winters in the north.

And truly, I want to share this with them. I want them to live in an area where life is slower paced, and where material possessions and amenities don’t matter, but values do. I have shown them Virginia, and now I want to show them Wisconsin and the U.P.

I want to raise them to leave, but I want them to know they can always come back.

Just like me.