Making it to the End...of Winter, a guest blog by Liz Milliron

 JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Jungle Red Writers has been around since 2007 (Yes! Our fifteenth anniversary is coming up on March 22nd!) and one of the things we're proudest of has been the number of folks in our commenting community who have gone on to become published writers. One of them is Liz Milliron. If you hang around the backblog, you already know what a sharp, funny writer she is, and if you haven't tried her Home Town mysteries, set in the early days of World War Two in Buffalo, NY, you're in for a treat. One lucky commentor will win a copy of her latest book, THE LESSONS WE LEARN!

Now I have a particular affinity for this series, because my family moved to Syracuse when I was fifteen, and I spent the next six years learning to endure love Lake Effect Snow. Winter lasts a looooong time in Syracuse and Buffalo, and you'd think those of us who grow up there and move away would choose Arizona or Florida, but no, we wind up in places like Maine (me) and Pennsylvania (Liz.) Maybe it's because we've honed our winter survival skills, several of which Liz shares with us today.

 

 

 

Thanks, Julia – and all the Reds – for having me back on the front of the blog. It’s always nice to step around the “curtain.”

I remember a cartoon about winter; I’ve seen it a few times. The first panel is all bright lights, happy snowmen, and sparkles. The caption reads, “Winter before Christmas – a happy, magical season.” The second panel is the same snowman looking a little worse for wear. The sky is gray, there are no sparkly lights. The caption reads, “Winter from January on – a great big gray ball of suck.”

Readers, we are in the suck.

As I type this, on February 16, it is eleven degrees (that’s Fahrenheit, for those of you outside the U.S.). The projected high is 37. Last week at this time, it was single digits. Around Thursday, it went to 60. It’ll be back up to 60 by Thursday the 17^th. Then back down. Then up.

You get the picture. In other words: Go home, Mother Nature. You’re drunk.

At least the sun is out. So there’s that.

The groundhog promised six more weeks of winter, but honestly? There’s always six more weeks of winter here in southwestern PA. This is the worst time. When spring teases, but we know there’s a bit more to go.

To combat the feeling of, “Can’t it just be over already?” I offer a list of good things about winter. This list is in no particular order because honestly? The order changes depending on my mood.

1. Roaring fires

We fire up the wood stove in November. But it really proves it’s worth right around now.

Not only does the stove provide warmth, it changes the entire atmosphere of the house. Things are cozier, more hospitable. Plus, the fire is entertainment. You aren’t just sitting staring off into space, you’re “watching the fire.”

 

 

 

 

2. Snow zoomies

Okay, this one isn’t mine. I don’t zoom at any time of year, especially not in the snow. But Koda looks like he’s having fun.

When he came to us from Florida, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the cold and the white stuff. Clearly, he’s had a change of heart. Not my idea of fun, running barefoot in the snow, but hey, he likes cutting it up and throwing snow everywhere. Bonus: I don’t have to wash mud off of his feet (and the rest of him) like I do in the spring.

 

 

 

3. Hot chocolate

Another thing that can be enjoyed practically any time. Although something’s a little off about drinking hot chocolate in July, at least to me.

I convinced The Hubby to spend a little and invest in these not-really-fancy-but-with-some-interesting-flavors cocoas. Choices include mint, caramel, cinnamon, Irish crème, double-chocolate, and salted caramel. We’re partial to the cinnamon.

 

 

 

 

4. New workspace

I love my work nook in the sunroom. The windows are big, I get a lot of light (even when the sun is hiding) and I can watch the wildlife. However, somewhere around mid-January, when we were stuck in a long string of days when the high temperature didn’t reach double-digits, I went to The Hubby and said, “I can’t take it.” Even the space heater was not enough.

Bless his heart, he helped me disconnect all the cables and we moved my desk into a corner of the dining room, right under the secondary heating unit (which is also our A/C, but I digress). It’s very comfortable. The bathroom is farther away, but the kitchen is closer. It’s a trade I’m willing to make in exchange for not freezing my tuchus off.

 

 

5. Cozy reading nook

This is another thing that can be enjoyed year ‘round, if I’m being honest. But in warm months I prefer reading on the front porch or in the sunroom. This space is built for winter.

A comfortable chair, a thick fleecy throw, a footstool, a table for my cup of hot chocolate (see #3 above) or tea, surrounded by books. There’s even a space for Koda. What more can you want when outside feels like the dark side of the moon?

 

 

 

6. Bubble baths

Okay, okay. Lists are supposed to end on five, or ten, or twenty – you get the picture. But I couldn’t resist throwing this in.

No, I am not going to show you a picture of me in the bathtub. You’re welcome. But there is nothing like being submersed to your chin in hot water and lavender-scented bubbles on a cold night. We have a reasonably deep claw foot tub, although it’s not quite long enough to stretch out. Regardless, I take a cup of tea, a book, and, well, see you in a couple hours.

There you have it. My attempt at making the best of a dreary season. I’d love to hear what gets you through the cold, dark, dank days of winter. (Come back in August and I’ll be listing the things that get me through the hot, humid, dog days of summer. Where is that place in the world where it’s always sunny and 70, with a playful breeze?)

THE LESSONS WE LEARN

March 1943. As the Buffalo winter ends, the father of Betty Ahern’s friend, Lee Tillotson, disappears. At first his absence is a relief, providing Lee, his mother and sisters refuge from the man’s frequent drunken rages. But when Mr. Tillotson is discovered drowned in the Buffalo River and the police charge Lee with the murder, the family’s newfound peace shatters.

Worse, Lee becomes secretive and unwilling to cooperate with Betty or the police. Betty is certain of Lee’s innocence, but there she has very little time to investigate before he must enter his plea in court. To prove Lee’s innocence, Betty digs into Mr. Tillotson’s life, discovering a seamy and dangerous underside to Mr. Tillotson, and to Buffalo itself. With time running out, Betty soon learns who her friends really are, how much Lee loves his family and friends and is loved in return, and just how far the corruption leaking from Buffalo’s City Hall has reached. But can she prove Lee’s innocence before it’s too late?

Liz Milliron is the author of The Laurel Highlands Mysteries series, set in the scenic Laurel Highlands of Southwestern Pennsylvania, and The Homefront Mysteries, set in Buffalo, NY during the early years of World War II. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, Pennwriters, and International Thriller Writers. A recent empty-nester, Liz lives outside Pittsburgh with her husband and a retired-racer greyhound. You can find out more about her and her writing at her website, friend her on Facebook, and follow her on Instagram.