Wanda Snow Porter

All my horse loving friends, giddyap and go check out  my website http://www.WandaSnowPorter.com. I have posted a free picture book read., Rodeo Hero.

My latest novel, Ordinary Miracles, will be released September 11. I can't wait to see it in print. I'm so excite. I had to share the beautiful cover and a blurb from the book.

Seventeen-year-old Tobi Mathews is frightened by her ex-Marine father's ominous predictions about the end-of-the-world. Are they true or caused by post traumatic stress disorder like her mother says?

Tobi's father moves the family to an isolated farm to escape the coming calamity. When her mother leaves to find a job to earn the money needed for the farm, his anxiety intensifies.

Afraid her mother might not return, Tobi can no longer deal with her father's endless rants about Armageddon. Led by the dream to go to medical school, she steals her dad's station wagon to escape and live with her mother in Cielo de Ventana.

On the way, the wagon breaks down. A man who is traveling to the town where her mother lives stops to help her. Tobi accepts his offer of a ride there not realizing the serendipitous meeting of this stranger is no mere coincidence. 

Doing interviews are difficult. However, magazine editor Sharon Jantzen, with her engaging and friendly personality made it fun. We spent over an hour talking about horses, books, and the town where I grew up. Check out the article published in SLO Horse News at: http://www.slohorsenews.net/historical-fiction-wanda-snow-porter/

In 496 AD, Pope Gelasius chose February 14th to honor Saint Valentine's martyrdom, most likely to replace Lupercalia, an ancient Roman fertility festival. The patron saint of engaged couples, happy marriages, and lovers, he is represented in pictures with birds and roses.

Many legends are attributed to this mysterious saint. It is told Valentine attempted to convert Roman Emperor Claudius II to Christianity. In a rage, Claudius demanded he renounce his faith or be beaten and beheaded. St. Valentine refused and was imprisoned. While there he healed the jailer's blind daughter. On his execution day, he left the girl a note signed, "Your Valentine."

Since that first Valentine message, lovers have recited or sang romantic valentine verses, and writers of love songs and poetry have been in demand. Credit for the first modern day Valentine is attributed to Charles, Duke of Orleans, who, while imprisoned in the Tower of London in 1415, wrote romantic verses meant for his wife in France.

In the early 1700s, the exchange of cards became popular in America when Valentine "writers" booklets, a collection of verses and messages that could be copied onto decorative paper, were published in England. Some booklets contained not only verses to send, but also the answers to return.

In the late 1700s, valentines offered religious messages. The Sacred Heart and Angels depicted on those cards evolved into Valentine hearts and cupids. In the 1840s, Esther A. Howland, known as the “Mother of the Valentine,” began selling mass produced  valentines  in America. Now, Valentine’s Day is the second largest card-sending holiday of the year.  
 
 
 

The setting for my novel, Riding Babyface, was inspired by the little farm where I lived as a kid. My old homestead had a mysterious feeling. When I told my friend Sam a treasure might be buried in the barnyard, he got permission to metal detect there.

We hit the trail bright and early. Sam slowed his Blazer, then he turned off the main road. He drove up a dirt driveway to the hill pasture where a barn and bunkhouse once stood.

"Does anything look familiar?" Sam asked.

Not sure of the barn's exact location, I looked for a cement slab that had been inside. It was still there. Then I tried to figure out where the walls had been and found a big rock near the slab. "Sam, look. This old cornerstone must be where the door hung."

Sam unloaded the metal detector from the back of his Blazer. "The bunkhouse site is the best area to look. Where do you think it was?"

I kicked in the dirt about twenty feet from the barn site and found pieces of broken boards. "It's overgrown with sagebrush, but it must be right about here."

"Let me show you how to work this detector." Sam squatted and placed a dime and a penny in the dirt. "Different metals change the sound of the beeps." He held the detector an inch from the ground. Then he skimmed it over the two coins and it beeped. "Listen for the beeping and look at the register. The needle points to silver, gold, or copper and will tell you what you've found. Hear the difference between silver and copper beeps?"  

I listened but couldn't tell the difference. Sam's ears seemed to tell him things mine didn't.

"Here, you try." Sam showed me how to hold it, then handed me the detector.

A brace at the top of the detector's handle wrapped halfway around my arm to help me keep it steady. I grasped the handle with both hands but couldn't seem to get the hang of it. The round disk attached to the bottom of the detector kept touching the ground. Treasure hunting wasn't going to be easy.

"Just listen, and you can tell," Sam reassured me. "Keep it close to the ground and wag it back and forth where you think the building was. Just slowly cover the ground."

My arm got tired running the detector back and forth, and it yielded nothing. I wanted to switch arms, so Sam readjusted the detector for my left hand. Again, back and forth, back and forth, but still nothing.

Sam shrugged. "Let's try the area around the barn."

We walked to where I believed the barn door had been. I repeated my efforts. Suddenly, the thing started to beep. Excited, I tracked the detector over the spot where the beeping was the loudest.

"We've picked up something. Sounds like iron. Let's see." Sam bent down on one knee and scraped the topsoil with a digging hoe. Then I ran the detector over the area again and the signal grew louder.

"Yeah, that's the spot." Sam scraped deeper, found a big rusty hinge and handed it to me. "You're right. This was the doorway."

The old hinge stirred my imagination. I sensed the presence of people who had lived here: farmers who built the barn, ranch hands who occupied the bunkhouse, even the little girl who wandered here, riding Babyface.

"Your first find. You should save it." Sam's voice pulled me back. He took the hinge from me and strolled to the Blazer and put it in the back seat.

Again, I wagged the detector over the ground, excited by my "find." A loud beep, beep, beep, told me to stop, look here.

Sam retrieved his hoe and said, "Okay, let's dig."

Did we find a treasure? Not unless you think a rusty hinge, a few nails, and a spent bullet are great finds. Sadly, we found no pot of gold, but Sam said if we did find one, "Only a fool would tell."
 

May is National Pet Month. Studies say loving, nurturing, and stroking a pet keeps us healthy. I happily live with three very intelligent pets, a cat and two horses. Early to bed and early to rise is supposed to be good for your health, and my cat, with his amazing awareness of time, wants me to stay healthy so makes sure I rise early. Since my cat alarm clock woke me before six o'clock, at sunup I trek out to the corrals to feed my pasture pets. Glad to see me, my horses greet me with loud whinnies, knowing breakfast hay will soon be served. My cat and horses' companionship lift my mood, and early rising, fresh air, and exercise is good for my health.
Over the years, I've been lucky to have loved many wonderful pets, and true stories about them often sneak into my novels. The horse in my latest novel, Riding Babyface, was named after my first horse, who pulled many of the shenanigans mentioned in the story. I got the name Puppy, the loyal dog in the story, from a pet who really belonged to my family, and like Winna in the story, Puppy saved me from a vicious dog attack.
Pets have always been a huge part of my life. I'm blessed by their friendship. Memories of them are precious, and I'll never forget the lessons they taught me.

After I earned my Bronze Medal Award, my Morgan horse, Luis, and I retired from showing at dressage competitions. Over the years, he has been a
dependable friend who has taken me on many trails and roundups. He is now thirty-one-years old, and along with Mick, my younger horse, enjoys napping in the shade of the oaks on our back acre.