The Silver Pen
Welcome to The Silver Pen, the heart of my writing world. Here, every shelf holds something different: Victorian romances, fairy-tale fables, gaslamp mysteries, reflections from the forests of Montana and Yellowstone, as well as environmental articles and quiet spiritual musings and occasional book reviews, and my thoughts on being an author.
Choose your path below, and stay as long as you like. There’s always another tale waiting on the next shelf.
You'll find:
The Teacake Gazette - tales of love, mystery, and magic
Truth & Tradition - historical and factual articles in the Victorian and Edwardian eras
Notes From the Tree Line - essays on belonging, nature, and slowing down
Pagan Wellness - spiritual and magical musings and earth-based wellness
Off the Shelf - book reviews and one-off articles or stories that don’t fit elsewhere
(See below for all of my posts.)
Each post is tagged with its world or theme, from fairies and flower lore to forest walks and tarot cards.
*if you don’t like more erotic stories, avoid the tag/category *spicy*
The Schoolmistress of Thistle Creek
Verity Hartley lay still in her narrow bed, the linen sheets crisp against her skin despite the warmth dawning beyond the glass panes. The larkspur grew just outside her window—planted by her own hand in memory of her mother—and it was from their gentle rustling, not the clamor of mining carts or the distant shouts of early risers, that she’d awoken. A lark chirruped atop the garden gate, its warble interrupting the morning hush.
Petals of the Past
The results confirmed what she remembered about lavender representing devotion and loyalty. But her breath caught when she read the complete meaning of white violets: “Let’s take a chance on happiness” was the romantic interpretation, but they also traditionally meant “innocence” and, in some contexts, “secrecy.”
Queen Anne's Sanctuary
The first raindrop struck like a tiny stone, splattering on a broad leaf below. Bramble’s wings faltered as more droplets followed, heavy and relentless.
The Pride of Amaryllis
To most of the fairy world, Amaryllis was considered a bit… much. Too proud, too focused on presentation. She obsessed over how rose vines curved and whether snapdragons aligned in perfect color order. She was, after all, guardian of a Victorian garden—and if that didn’t require exacting standards, what did?
A Promise of Spring
She dropped to her knees, the chill of the damp ground seeping into her skirts. The flowers had broken through despite the frost, their purple petals lifting toward the sky as if welcoming the sun’s hesitant return. A lump formed in her throat.
