​Our home turns very jolly during the holidays. My collection of decorations, both old and new, are pulled from storage and incorporated into countless vignettes in almost every room. I even have four full size Christmas trees up this year. Each is different, and every one gives us joy.

Growing up, my mom spent days decorating all the main rooms of our house. Each season, along with my Grandma Onie, we would spend one Saturday afternoon at open houses of local flower shops and boutiques, gathering decorating ideas to incorporate at home. Festive centerpieces were the rage back then. We’d buy a few small things on each outing. Once home, we’d pull out last year’s creations and the messy craft box, then give our centerpieces an upgrade for the current season.

Those centerpieces are long gone, but I’ll forever cherish the memories we made. Maybe this is why vintage Christmas decorations intrigue me. Every piece holds a history, even though we usually have to recreate what that history might have been, using our imagination. Whether a decorative holiday piece is old or new, all can be combined to create our own kind of magic.

Our memories are like that, too. Old and new memories entwine to reveal the pathways we took to get to where we are today.

Ten days ago, on the tenth of December, I launched my latest book, Life with Friends. It’s the fifth and final book in my newest series, The Kaleidoscope Girls. On the same day as the book launch, a Facebook memory popped up in my feed from two years earlier, reminding me of a fun-filled book signing I’d done at Zandbroz, my forever-favorite bookstore, to celebrate the launch of my first book in the series, Better with Friends.

Zandbroz, an iconic store in downtown Fargo, ND for thirty-three years, offered a fabulous collection of curated books and more, up until it closed this past summer. The owners, Greg and Renee Danz, decided to retire. The closure was bittersweet for me, as it was for so many in our community.

Back in 2018, mere months after I released my first book, Whispering Pines, I approached Greg to ask if he’d consider selling my book in their store. Did he sense the terror and imposter syndrome I was feeling? My knees were shaking so hard. How could he not? But he never let on. He graciously agreed, patiently explained their process for consigning books, and offered me a local “home” from which I could begin to offer my book to a yet-to-be-developed following of readers.

Later that year, after releasing Tangled Beginnings, my second book, Greg invited me to take part in a local author holiday book signing. It would be the first of many for me at their fabulous store. I remember purchasing an old-fashioned silver wreath—an example of the quality decorations Zandbroz always offered—that very evening to commemorate that important milestone on my early author journey. The wreath still hangs in my kitchen every Christmas.

In June, while the owners of Zandbroz prepared to close their doors for good, they held one last rummage sale. You can bet we were first in line that day, hoping to purchase a few last treasures. A glass globe now sits proudly on top of the light pole outside our lake cabin, and a set of old milkshake glasses and spoons are on display inside. I also picked up small boxes of vintage holiday stamps, hoping the stamps would fit inside my treasured printer box when Christmas rolled around again. They'd remind me of the fun times at Zandbroz.

​When I saw the memory post pop up on FB last week about the book signing in 2022, I felt a flood of nostalgia. Those holiday stamps had found their way into one of my favorite holiday decorations in our family room. The printer box they’re now housed in was a gift from my sister-in-law and niece, back when I started writing. It stays up all year long and I change out the items displayed in it each season. The sleigh bells are authentic, too, and make the prettiest sound when you give them a little shake. Those were a gift from my dad.

Compelled by my feelings of nostalgia, I reached out to Josie Danz, Greg and Renee’s daughter and the longtime manager of Zandbroz. Josie resides out of state now, but we’ve kept in touch. I shared a quick snapshot of the printer box and stamps, hoping she’d enjoy how yet another item I’d purchased at their store had found its way into my holiday decorations. I had assumed the vintage stamps were simply items they’d purchased to resell at Zandbroz. Was I in for a surprise!

Josie immediately got back to me with the following note and, hopefully, a smile on her face: Fun fact – those stamps were used for years to stamp the brown paper Zandbroz bags during the holidays! I have so many happy memories of coming up with fun designs and hand-stamping the bags we sent home with customers. I’m so happy that they ended up in a good home. (sharing with Josie’s permission)

I wonder if the bag I brought my wreath home in back in 2018 was adorned with a scene she’d created with these very stamps. Learning the backstory of the stamps ensures they’ll remain a favorite of mine for years to come.

Like my mother, I spend days decorating our house for the holidays. Is it worth the effort? While I may question it when the mess of half-empty storage totes surrounds me and before everything is in place, but it always comes together. The trees and lights and decorations provide the perfect backdrop for creating more fun-filled memories in the days ahead. The new-fangled candles I use need batteries instead of matches, and they may lack a little of the charm of real candles, but our two-year-old grandson can change their color with the press of a button, and what could be more magical than that?

May your holidays also be filled with plenty of joy and a bit of magic. Kim

Last week, after celebrating our family’s Thanksgiving traditions, we indulged in too many turkey leftovers and barely survived the chaos of Black Friday shopping. Then we settled in to watch Buy Now! The Shopping Conspiracy, a new Netflix documentary exposing the dark side of overconsumption. While sobering, I highly recommend it—it certainly made me reflect on my buying habits.
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By late Friday, we were ready for a change of pace. That’s when I came across a post by Aasness Auctioneers advertising a live estate auction in Dalton, MN. It was described as a rare opportunity to browse hundreds of exceptional primitives and antiques from Mary Lou Johnson’s estate. Mary Lou, well-known in the area for her extensive collection of rare country and Scandinavian pieces, had amassed treasures unlike any other.

Live auctions like this have become rare, especially ones with the quality and quantity of items this sale promised. With no online bidding allowed, it was bound to draw a large in-person crowd, including many deep-pocketed antique dealers. Still, the idea of experiencing the event, and perhaps gathering a little story inspiration, was too good to pass up.
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We left early Saturday morning, braving a frigid six degrees Fahrenheit for the 80-mile drive. Despite arriving 45 minutes before the auction began, most of the metal folding chairs were already claimed. We settled for seats farther back, tossed my heavy winter coat over two, and began inspecting the sale items. The pictures on Facebook hadn’t done the collection justice—there were so many items I’d have loved to take home! But I suspected this wasn’t going to be a bargain-hunting kind of day.

The auction kicked off with a heartwarming story from the auctioneer, who shared how Mary Lou had helped teach him the ropes of the business decades earlier. He recalled her braving a muddy farm auction in high heels, painting a picture of the woman behind this incredible collection. Many in the crowd knew Mary Lou personally and hoped to take home a keepsake from her lifetime of collecting.

As the sale commenced, the auction team demonstrated their expertise, balancing the need to keep bids competitive while maintaining a steady pace. The sheer volume of items meant it would be a long day. By noon, we’d only purchased coffee and pulled-pork sandwiches for lunch. I had my eye on a twisted-wire Christmas tree that would have been perfect for my vintage ornaments, but the bidding quickly exceeded our comfort level.
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Mary Lou’s rare, often handcrafted items were fetching high prices, making it clear that we’d likely do more watching than buying. Still, the event itself was fun. We struck up a lively conversation with the couple seated in front of us, discovering shared interests. I hope our paths cross again. The auctioneer even paused the sale for door prizes and to highlight Dalton’s annual Christmas Fest, a small-town celebration featuring a nightly light show ranked among the top in Minnesota. It was a heartwarming reminder of the pride and community spirit that too often feels missing these days.

By mid-afternoon, I’d made just one purchase: a set of three small crocks in a beautiful springtime blue. While other items—like a quaint antique feather tree—went for more than we were willing to pay, the day was still full of inspiration. A hand-hewn wooden baby cradle, with tiny heart cutouts, will undoubtedly become a family heirloom in one of my upcoming stories. A squat red wooden bucket labeled “sugar” might find its way into a vintage cabin on Silvermist Lake.

As the hours passed, the crowd thinned, but prices remained high. Finally, near the end of the sale, the flat of candlesticks I’d been eyeing all day came up for bidding. Two dealers poked through it right before the auctioneer began, and I cringed, worried they’d drive up the price. With only the crocks to show for our efforts, we decided to splurge. It was now or never. The candlesticks—and their vintage candles—were coming home with us, no matter what!

​I’m happy to report that we won the bid. As we drove home, the hot air blasting from the truck vents around my feet softened the old candle wax, causing it to droop. But a little gentle reshaping later, they looked as good as new and are now proudly finding their way into our holiday decor.

That Saturday auction was the perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. And as a bonus, our bidding number was drawn for one of the auction’s turkey giveaways! It’s safe to say I’ll be spending more time in the kitchen this week, cooking yet another turkey.

Wishing you joy and moments of gratitude as you navigate this holiday season. If the season starts to feel overwhelming, consider taking a quick road trip—you never know what unexpected delights might await!  Kim

My amazing mom taught me many things through the years. Some of the most impactful lessons were those she taught me through how she lived her life. The value of her friendships with other women is one of those important lessons. She maintained close relationships with friends from her youngest years and never stopped making new friends along the way. Whether she was golfing, playing bridge, meeting for morning coffee, making trips to the casino, cheering at hometown sporting events, or taking her daily walk, Mom always had friends by her side.
 
The way these quality friendships Mom nurtured added so much love and laughter to her life provided a large dose of the inspiration behind The Kaleidoscope Girls, my women’s friendship series.

One weekend during the summer of 2017, I helped Mom prepare for a brunch she wanted to host at their house for her friends. Two of her sisters were also visiting from out of town, and her current medication combination was allowing her to feel almost like herself.

I dug out her 40-cup coffee urn from the basement and got it brewing. We arranged trays of baked goods and a bowl of fruit for snacking. But the task that remains the most vivid in my mind these many years later was preparing the coffee cups.

I climbed up on the countertop and started pulling down her special mugs. Once I’d set out quite a few, I glanced over at her, thinking it would probably be enough. She shook her head, assuring me we would need more. I wasn’t so sure, but I kept pulling.

She was right, of course. At the designated time, her girlfriends started arriving. I remember standing back as her front door kept swinging open, thinking how incredibly lucky Mom was to have so many dear friends. Most of the women didn’t even knock. They came right in, feeling at home. There was laughter, eating, and plenty of visiting. We even snapped a picture of at least part of the fun group.
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That luncheon was likely the last time many of her friends gathered in her home, all at once. This week would have been Mom’s 81st birthday, but she passed away in December 2017. I try hard to focus on her birthday, and not the day she left us.

Mom taught me how rich life can be with lots of friends around you. I happily called her my best friend. She was so much better at making time for friends than I am, but I’ll keep working on it. Now when I see pictures of her friends still gathering and having fun, I can’t help but wish Mom still sat among them, laughing and visiting. But I also enjoy seeing them still getting together, supporting and enjoying their friendships.

Thank you for teaching us that life is always better with friends, Mom.

​Always cheering you on, Kim

It’s a beautiful early July morning, and only two days before we’ll celebrate the Fourth of July here in the United States.

For me, this morning feels like the calm both before and after the storm.

Like many parts of this country, we’ve faced tricky weather around here lately, with more than enough rain and nearly constant wind. The trees surrounding our cabin have taken a beating, starting with a winter ice storm from which they have yet to recover.

Last night, I sat writing in our sunroom, enjoying the fresh scent of rain through a barely open window while lost in a story I’m working feverishly to finish. The sound of rain lulling me into that always sought after but too often elusive state of mind where the words flow freely from my mind through my fingers wasn’t the real-life shower falling just beyond the windows, but the meditative sound track playing through my noise canceling headphones. I’ve listened to that same track while writing all twelve of my books to date.

I only mention the headphones because—lost as I was in the fictional world I’ve devised through my imagination—I didn’t even hear the racket when something came crashing down in the real world. A huge branch fell, mere feet from the corner of the room where I sat writing. My daughter had to alert me to the near miss; shocked that I could be so oblivious to my surroundings.
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How often do we miss what’s going on around us while lost in our own thoughts?

Today, when I woke to a clear sky and a calm breeze, I decided it was the perfect morning for a peaceful cup of coffee on the dock. We expect another storm around here tomorrow, but it won’t be a weather event (I hope). The rest of our family will arrive for a few days of fun camaraderie, good food, and hopefully a campfire complete with marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers.

But I have more words to write, a menu to figure out, and groceries to buy before the festivities can begin. This is the lull before my next storm.

Beyond the scope of our planned family activities, there are plenty of other storms brewing. It’s all enough to threaten a person’s peace of mind, yet it’s important for us to deal with the tension we feel.

​As I gathered my fresh cup of coffee and a notebook to jot down pointers for the chapters I plan to write today, I headed outside and down the steps toward the shoreline, only to pull up short at the odd tilt to my battered copper pot. I usually plant flowers in it each summer. This year, all that’s growing in it is regrowth from last year because my flower planting was pretty sparse. Yesterday, I’d admired the way nature had stepped in where I’d failed to act, and I swear that pot was still upright. This morning, the base on which it’s anchored is crumbling, and the whole thing is at risk of collapse.
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I’ll have to move the pot, because my goal is to plant many more years’ worth of flowers in it in the future.
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Then, as I approached the dock itself, I was surprised to see that one of the supports my hubby had just placed a few days ago had already tipped over. The waves churned up in the stormy weather yesterday were probably the culprits. I had to decide whether to kick off my slides and venture into the water so I could re-brace the end of the dock. Stepping onto the unsupported dock wasn’t an option, as I might have damaged the frame.

Fine. While I hadn’t planned to get my feet wet at 6:45 in the morning, sometimes we have to do what it takes when tiny impediments stand in the way of our goals. Off came my slides and I dipped my toes into the water, delighted when the temperature was pleasant instead of jarring.

Then the shale beneath my feet gave way, and I had to fight to keep my balance lest I end up with muddy shale on the seat of my sweatpants, or tumble into the water.

Unbeknownst to me, there may have been a witness to my stumbling. Do you see the swirl right next to the dock? But I’m not worried. Fish will keep our secrets.
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Once the concrete block was back in place, I realized things had shifted enough that the dock ramp no longer touched it. But it would at least be there if the ramp dipped under my weight, so I held my breath and eased my way out onto the dock. I needed those quiet few minutes to enjoy my fresh coffee and contemplate the state of the world around me.

No one else was around, but I wasn’t alone. A large pelican, barely visible in the photo’s background below, bobbed on the gentle swells of the lake. He came no closer to me, but my presence didn’t disturb him enough to force him to leave, either. A second pelican swooped overhead, choosing not to land in our bay. I probably scared him off.
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Then a head popped out of the water, and I could see a small stick protruding from the little guy’s mouth. A beaver maybe? Whatever it was, it swam toward shore, but before I could turn my phone camera back on, it ducked below the surface again, still there but now out of sight.

I glimpsed the sleek spine of a fish, skimming right below the surface of the water, much closer to our dock.

By the time my coffee had cooled, the wind was picking up again and I could hear a dog barking from our cabin. She didn’t appreciate being left inside. My reprieve was over, yet those few minutes brought important things to mind.

• Even when things seem frustratingly disheartening in the outside world, creatures in nature continue to go about their business, undeterred by things beyond their control.
• No foundation is impervious to pressures, and all are at risk of collapsing if not properly protected.
• This creates an interesting dichotomy. How can we strike the right balance between the two?

 
We live in a great country, and I feel blessed to be planning a celebration of it for our family and friends, even though I dread that trip to the grocery store. I hope we can all take a few minutes in the days ahead to remind ourselves of how we might work together to strengthen this nation, instead of focusing on our differences or trying to gain power over others. Because just like that crumbling tree stump and unstable shale shoreline I encountered this morning, it doesn’t take much to tip things over.

​I hope you have the chance to enjoy a favorite food in the days ahead; to laugh with someone special; or to toss a beanbag in a friendly game under a warm sun while standing on a grassy, stable surface.

We should never forget how lucky we are to live here, nor can we afford to take our blessings for granted.

Happy Fourth of July! Celebrating alongside you, Kim