Coronavirus and a Spring Sale

The coronavirus epidemic, coming in March, has coincided with the beginning of spring and my birthday. Certainly a memorable birthday, celebrated with a carryout dinner.

My husband and I have behaved according to the rules. We stay at home, away as much as possible from people and interesting places.  Every where I look, I’m told that’s what people like me and my husband are supposed to do. After all, we are the “vulnerable.”  I’ve spent a year being treated for lymphoma and my platelet count will never be normal again. My husband has a bad back and is nearly diabetic.

But I don’t feel vulnerable.  Every few days I venture out, at the correct time–7:00 am to the grocery store, late afternoon for a walk. I’ve been to the post office where tapes show people where to stand so they can be six feet apart. I’ve thought about golf which for some reason isn’t closed. I could take my putter to the golf practice range near us, but that would require a walk.  My knee and shoulder object to too much exercise, so I haven’t yet tried that.

I’ve had my fill of video games, bad television, and silly puzzles.  I’ve watched the Coronavirus Task Force about every other day, and I’m impressed with the doctors.  I worry about my son, who is a doctor, and call him every other day. He says his hospital in Ohio expects to be swamped in a few weeks, but so far they are able to handle new cases.


What to do? Spring has arrived! My daffodils, including some mysterious yellow crocus that have spread from my front yard to the woods across the street, are in full blossom. I cut a few every morning, while listening to the little birds chirping their hearts out. We’ve already seen chickadees, woodpeckers, gold finches, cardinals, mocking birds, and blue birds. I’ve also spotted a few eagles and ospreys. The little birds, tweeting very loudly, finish the feeder off every other day. Here is a picture of our feeder:




The birds have inspired me, because they make me think of poetry.  How about a little poetry, to go with the new coronavirus? :

                “There was an old lady from Williamsburg

                                Who fell into her TV

                She stood next to Dr. Birx,

                                Wondering where the President might be.

                Sure enough, he entered and said,

                                “Welcome to the Task Force!”

                She replied, “I’m glad I’m not dead!”

                                He said, “Isn’t this Worse?”


What could be worse than falling into the television set and becoming a flashing image?  Maybe I’ll need to add some more to this.

Since this is spring, I’m happy to announce a discount on all of my ebooks. From now till the end of June all of my historical novels will be available in the ebook version at a 35 per cent discount. Order them from and use the code BMSpring2020.

I hope all who get this are safe and healthy. Stay well and follow the guidelines.

Washington’s Shadow’s in the Library and I’m Getting Old

On November 12, I donated a copy of Washington’s Shadow to the Williamsburg Regional Library. My book will be included in the library’s Local Authors Collection.

This was the fifth book I’ve donated to the library.  When I look back at the local newspaper clippings of my previous donations, I can see my aging process.  Every two years I get a little grayer, but the pose is the same. I’m smiling and the book cover is featured in all of them. Finishing and giving away my books must make me happy.

This year I especially appreciated the photo, as I’ve spent the last year being treated for an aggressive case of non-Hodgkin lymphoma (NHL).  The treatments sickened and tired me, but I’m still here. I feel lucky to have finished Washington’s Shadow, which may be my last novel.  If I write another historical book, it likely will be about me.  At my age, near eighty, I think I qualify as historical, though I do have a website which makes me modern (

Apparently, I’m now qualified to enter a class action lawsuit against manufacturers of the weedkiller Roundup. I don’t want to think about that now, but this experience may find its way into my next book.

Whether you got it out of the library or not, if you enjoy Washington’s Shadow, please tell other people.  Better yet, be historical– write a review and send it to Amazon.