-
Dorothea Graham Jensen
a book bubble about
The Riddle of Penncroft Farm
Children's Books
Author Insight
The Original Penncroft Farm
In the 1970s, we lived for five years in Wayne, PA, outside Philadelphia. (Wayne, BTW, was named after "Mad" Anthony Wayne, a Pennsylvanian who served in the Revolution War with distinction and was quite a colorful character, apparently.) Our sons learned to ride bikes at Valley Forge, and our family often visited Brandywine Battlefield and historic sites in Philadelphia. We especially liked eating lunch at the City Tavern. (More about that later.) A couple we knew while we lived there had a horse farm they named "Penncroft Farm". Their house was built in the antique Pennsylvania style, with different sections that had differing exterior finishes. After we moved to Minnesota in 1981, I did not want my kids to forget the history we had experienced while living in Pennsylvania. Very soon after that, I started writing a story about a boy who moved from Minnesota to Pennsylvania. I needed a name for the farm where he and his family were to make their new home. I wanted it to sound a bit exotic to the Minnesota boy, and reflect the Pennsylvania location. Then I remembered the name of our friends' farm and borrowed its name: "Penncroft Farm". (A picture of the "original" place is posted on the RIDDLE OF PENNCROFT FARM page of my website.)
Book Excerpt
The Riddle of Penncroft Farm
The headlights picked out a crooked wooden fence and a post with a sign in spiky, old-fashioned letters. “‘Penncroft Farm,’” I read out loud. “‘Established 1760.’”
Dad eased the car around the corner and started up the driveway. “Don’t even think of skateboarding down this, Lars,” he said. “There’s quite a drop-off on the other side of the pike. You’d break a leg if you went off it, and maybe your neck.”
“It’s too rutted for skateboarding anyway, Dad,” I replied. Then, as we jounced up the long, steep driveway, I stuck my head out the window to check out my new home.
Even by moonlight I could tell that it was different from any house I’d ever seen. It looked as if someone hadn’t been able to decide what sort of house he wanted, so he’d hooked several kinds together. There were dark, bumpy stones on the middle part, but the left section was shingled like our old Minnesota house; the right was covered with white stuff.
Amazon
Barnes&Noble
Apple Books
Kobo
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish
Comment on this Bubble
Your comment and a link to this bubble will also appear in your Facebook feed.