NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Eva Orilla is my pseudonym. It is my great-grandmother's name, from my father's side. Her daughter is my grandmother Doris. I sat at her feet every Sunday growing up, listening as she shared the stories of her life with me. About my grandfather, the seven babies they delivered together at home, and she showed me her writings, journals, and scrapbooks. I am more of a 1950s housewife than an eighties lady. I was born with an old spirit, a hundred years TOO LATE.
I was raised on my fathers 's small farm, with three brothers, and because of my "Real-life Riley," we were given the opportunity to buy a 178-acre farm thirty-four years ago. I have spent every ounce of strength I have and every available second and penny trying to bring this 1882 farmhouse back to life. I love vintage, if it has a story to tell, its in our home, if it doesn't, its now here. And, we farm vintage, cabless tractors, ear pickers ( a machine that pulls behind the tractor and leaves the corn on the cob), we fill a round wire crib with all the ears, and we grind that ear corn into feed when we need it, for a small herd of Hereford cattle. I believe the older ways of farming and preserving/protecting the ground are still viable and " YIELDS THE BEST FAMILY MEMORIES".
It has been a precious gift to be able to raise our children here. We built a two-story playhouse, and beneath it is housing for little wagons, pedal tractors, and there are dozens of old, used bikes. When our terrific twelve grandchildren are all here, the large circular drive on this farm is not for cars or trucks; the North Yard becomes a ball field, and everyone, including adults, becomes a player on a team.
Most every Sunday, our children and grandchildren are here at the farm for breakfast. Sometimes, we all work together on baling hay, filling the round crib with corn, or making mechanical repairs. Sometimes, we are all together for lunch and/or supper. There is never a dull moment, and every Sunday feels like a HOLIDAY.
The doors on this farmhouse are constantly opening and banging shut. There is lots of laughter, there are long conversations around the table, serious talks, sometimes tears, and someone is usually shouting over someone else to be heard. We still ring the cast-iron dinner bell for supper, or ice cream for the children. (a precious memory to ring the bells and watch all those kids form running from all areas). Our home, our farm, is a lovely GATHERING PLACE, and I am constantly thankful for every person, every sound, every BLESSED moment.
All three of the novels I have written truly wrote themselves. Their stories unfolded effortlessly, without hesitation or effort. I had more issues with finding the time to write than actually creating the stories or people. I hope you find this third book to be an enjoyable read.
Happy Reading. With Light and Love
Eva Orilla/Sherry Haas-Shelby