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Firewood and Christmas PotatoesBook Title: 

Firewood and Christmas Potatoes


Robin Carole

Publishing Information: 

MindStir Media, 2023

Link to Buy Book: 

Author Website


The hardest times can teach the greatest lessons.

During the 1930s, eight-year-old, Delia, along with her four siblings and mother, leave the Dust Bowl of Oklahoma. Taking only a few belongings and using the last of the money to buy a two-headed axe, Delia’s mother travels to California to find work in the agricultural fields-with tomatoes, grapes, cotton-anything that would support her family during the Great Depression. While confronting severe poverty, young Delia brings to life her mother’s morals: hard work, sharing, and the universal need to be loved.

Firewood and Christmas Potatoes is based on true events and will take the young reader to a time when approximately three million Americans (including children) were once treated harshly as they journeyed to a different state to begin a new life. Children will experience the life of a child similar in age, who encountered challenges and embraced hardship by allowing their heart to love all.

Firewood and Christmas Potatoes is a heartwarming story that will become a family favorite during the holiday season.

Author Bio: 

Robin Carole is from California and lived most of her youth in the wine country regions. The youngest of five (and the only girl), Robin learned the importance of family at an early age. Robin recently retired from Deaf Education (34 years in the classroom working with deaf children, teens and adults). Robin now resides in Washington state with her family—family is everything!

Book Excerpt: 

“I have not much that I can bring, no turtledoves, no golden rings. But what I give to you this day, is heaven’s sweet love from far away.”

We traveled to a farm labor camp near a town called Visalia in the Central Valley of California. Families with several children were assigned to the larger steel cabins, the largest measuring 12×16 feet. We were allowed to settle in two cabins. Momma used one cabin for cooking and the other for sleeping. There was no running water or electricity. When Momma started supper, she sent me outside with a worn metal bucket to collect water from the irrigation ditch that flowed behind us. I cautiously knelt and filled the bobbing pail with the murky water. I slowly backed away and firmly gripped the thin handle with both hands, trying not to spill it as I retraced my steps to the cabin. I watched as Momma boiled the water on the wood-burning stove, so it would be safe to use for cooking that evening’s meal.



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