NASA posted a very interesting video debunking fears of 2012 disaster. Whatever you believe its an interesting video to watch.



The rest of the blog-novel has been outlined! Its so exciting. A big thank you to each and every one of you all who have visited the site and read my work. I’m pretty sure you won’t be disappointed by the rest of the story. Its going to get more interested before it’s over.


The internet is incredible because it gives everyone a chance to let their voices be heard. I just found an incredible gem from England at led me there was Ambrose Musiyiwa’s article about blog-novels. What kept me there was his insightful interviews with authors. If you’ve enjoyed reading my novel online you should check out his list of similar blogs. Click here to check out all SEVENTY THREE he has listed. Wow!


There’s a Agence France Presse  story on Yahoo that says a drought killed off the Maya.  To read the article click here. Love’s Final Spring hasn’t speculated about what ended the Mayan civilization—yet. I want to thank all of you who checked out the blog in the past few days. Leave a note to tell me what you thought. If you think improvements could be made please tell me. I promise all criticism will be taken to heart and result in well, results.


The Acura MDXs pulled off the road and through the parking lot of the Timbuktu Airport. The Dogon region was about two hundred miles southwest of the city and they would be there in a few minutes. Even by road it would’ve only been about three hours.
The airport’s ground crew were chocking the wheels of a single engine Cessna Caravan that had just landed. Crates were visible though the windows as the aircrew climbed out and stretched. Three ramshackle trucks were pulling off the main road with workers hanging on in their backs ready to unload the plane.
The three SUVs stopped by their black jet which was idling and ready to go. John and Kathy grabbed their bags then got out. Without any warning the Cessna blossomed into a block wide ball of flame and heat. Kathy’s instinct’s kicked in and she ducked between the Acura and the plane. The SUV took most of the blast, shielding her from the flame and shrapnel. As the fire and debris cleared she made her way around the back of the vehicle,looking for John.
She’d been witness to several IED blasts in Iraq and guessed the plane had been loaded with explosives. It was too big a blast for just the fuel tanks. Thoughts of the poor air crew were pushed from her mind as she saw the three trucks had accelerated and were nearly upon them. The workers in the back now brandished assault rifles. Two began firing at her as they closed the distance. She heard the smack of bullets on the SUV and then something punched her in the chest.
As she fell backwards, Kathy was aware of a gunner leaning out of a truck and grabbing John. As he was jerked into the truck the journalist hurled his bag at his partner and it skidded to a stop by the MDX’s rear wheel. Two other gunmen leapt from another truck and raced after the bag.
Suddenly they ducked to one side as other attackers fired Rocket Propelled Grenades at the SUVs and the jet. Laying there Kathy actually saw one streak toward the plane passing right over where she lay. Another slammed into the last SUV in their convoy. Instinctively she closed her eyes and opened her mouth to protect her eardrums. The rocket grenades exploded, bathing the tarmac in heat, fire and shrapnel. Seconds later the smoke cleared, revealing the jet and SUVs relatively unscathed.
The two gunmen now rose and ran for the bag. But Kathy had recovered and drew an automatic pistol in one fluid move. She fired it repeatedly, catching both men several times. They dropped and didn’t get back up.
A man in a black suit and sunglasses came around the back of the MDX. He held two stubby black sub-machine guns and passed her one as he began returning fire with the other. The magazine and firing chamber were  behind the trigger in what Kathy recognized as a bullpup configuration. This made it easier to fire in close quarters. As she began firing the CIA agent realized it had three barrels, allowing a constant rate of fire. But even with all three barrels firing there was surprisingly little recoil.
Three other trucks came racing in from the main road and more attackers spilled out. Using the trucks for cover they began lobbing grenades at the black SUVs. Kathy and the agent ducked behind their MDX as the grenades went off, filling the air with even more deadly shrapnel. Another RPG came sailing toward them.
Once again the Acura proved to be up to the challenge. Kathy felt the vehicle rock under the assault, but it remained solid and seemingly undamaged. They were tough vehicles, she realized as she gripped John Parker’s bag and wondered if he was still alive.
A female agent in a black suit and sunglasses dove from the plane and huddled behind the front wheel of the MDX. She braced a three foot long black tube between her knees and punched a few buttons on its side. The top popped open and a small artillery round shot straight upward with a burst of smoke. Kathy watched what looked like a eighty two millimeter mortar round as it stopped about thirty feet above them.
Airbrakes on the sides had popped out from its back, spinning to slow and stabilize it. Then the round literally turned in midair and began its descent. It split into three small submunitions that dropped toward their targets, using small fins for precision guidance.
Three rumbling blasts shook the airport. The sound of gunfire was replaced by burning trucks and the attacker’s ammunition cooking off. The whine of diesel engines could be heard in the distance.
Now the men in black suits responded to the sudden attack. Carrying multi-barreled assault rifles and wearing futuristic body armor they pushed out from behind the wall of SUVs. As Kathy watched they methodically moved from truck to truck. The remaining attackers— only three had survived— were too stunned and shocked to resist. The agents returned to the plane with their prisoners but no John Parker.
Kathy was bustled toward the black jet. Despite at least three direct hits from RPGs it was still in one piece and even the paint still looked good. There was fear and awe in the eyes of the gunmen as they were escorted up the stairs behind her. The black suited agents hustled them through a door to the rear of the plane as Kathy collapsed in a window seat.
As soon as the stairs left the ground the plane was moving. By the time the door closed they were at full speed. The three black SUVs were racing along in front of and behind it all down the length of the runway. As the jet finally lifted off they turned and headed back for the smoking airport tarmac.


Once the SUVs passed through the gates of the university both John and Kathy began scribbling notes as fast as they could. As she jotted her reflections of the visit Kathy reflected on the similarities of their professions. Both of them had to be keen observers. Both interpreted what they saw, weighing its meaning and value. Both reported to demanding superiors and ultimately to the public.
Of course she was often called on to act on her information. But her position had allowed her a glimpse behind the news desk. She knew that many— if not most–chose their field because they thought they could make a difference. Although most of them reported the truth they dreamed of influencing public opinion, shaping world events and changing history.
And there were a few who didn’t wait for public opinion. The public would be surprised how many journalists were in the service of intelligence services. Some did it for the money, but most for ideological reasons.
The convoy of black SUVs was winding though the middle of Timbuktu when John and Kathy finally finished their scribbling. They looked at each other and both grinned. Kathy spoke first.
“This is going to be great for your story.”
He nodded.
“This is another solid connection  to Central America. With the iron tools its nearly bulletproof.”
“Even if the University won’t give you access to them you can cite an ‘anonymous source.’ ”
“Would the Agency allow that?”
“Probably. It would be a pretty vague assertion and most digs have lots of grad students on them.” She furrowed her brow. “Do you think the Maya really had contact with West Africa?”
“I don’t know. Last week I thought flying saucers were just top secret test planes.”
Flying saucers made brought something else to her mind.
“Did I tell you about the Dogon?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“The Dogon live southwest of here in cliffs along the Niger River. Their mythology speaks of ancient visitations from the stars.”
Now he frowned. “I hate to be the spoil sport but so do many other cultures.”
“What makes the Dogon an exception is their advanced knowledge of astronomy. They knew the star Sirius was a double star. The second star is invisible to the naked eye and was only discovered recently.”
“Hmmm. Well, that does put things in a different light.”
“Of  course some in the anthropological community believe the knowledge either came from the Egyptians or Europeans. Still, it does make you think.”
Both grew silent as the SUVs cleared town and headed for the airport. This did put their investigation in a whole different light. However, the greatest piece of evidence wasn’t the connection to the Nazca plateau or the ties to Tunguska or even the Dogon’s astronomical knowledge. The most unique link to the extraterrestrial was actually the black helicopters, cars, jets and suits that had accompanied them around the globe. These enigmatic secret agents were intractably intertwined  with UFOs. It definitely made the two of them stop and think.
But John was convinced that his story— and his hope for the Columbia  job— wouldn’t exist without for the woman beside him. Ever since they met his life and career had started looking up. Over the past week she’d become part of his life and he liked it.  This story was their child—well, figuratively anyway.
He lingered on that line of thinking for a second longer. In the past there had been several relationships John Parker had missed out on. This couldn’t be another one.
He waited another minute then asked, “So, does my security clearance let me know about your family?”
Kathy grinned. “At your level, yes.” She thought for a moment. “Well,  my Father was in the Navy on a submarine. I was the second of five kids and we moved a lot.”
He nodded. That hadn’t been nearly as awkward as he’d expected. “So what does the second child of a Navy submariner do for fun?”
Kathy smiled. “Wow. The last time I had time for fun was… several years ago. These days if I get any free time I usually take in a movie, read a book or maybe check out a concert. Or just sleep. The normal stuff, I guess.”
He nodded. “Back in college I figured that once I graduated and had a job there’d be money and time to have loads of fun.” He shook his head. “There just isn’t that kind of time. By the time work is over you’re too tired to do anything but sleep. I can barely squeeze in a DVD and my to do list is longer now than ever.” She nodded as he went on. “Look, when this is all over we should catch a cup of coffee together. If this article pans out I can make my own schedule and if it doesn’t, well, I should have plenty of free time.”
By now the road to the airport was coming up and both grinned as they tucked their notes in their bags. Kathy felt part of her heart begin to feel warm for the first time since Charlotte. John was feeling her out about moving their relationship to its next step. He liked her, that much she’d figured out before. Greg would’ve been hitting on her as soon as they met.
But John wanted to make sure she was okay with it first. Kathy Bennett felt the warm glow inside of her spread and wondered if she was blushing. Wait till she told her mother and sisters about him. He was a great guy and a great journalist. Most importantly he listened to her and enjoyed having her as a partner.
But even if this didn’t work out it was still a salve for the wounds still raw from where Greg had hurt her. It was reaffirming for another man to tell her he thought she was valuable and desirable. Plus, she thought with a grin, John was way too busy to have an affair.


Take a look at this article on Yahoo. It shows Horsetail Falls in Yellowstone appearing to be a river of lava. If any of you saw Yellowstone go up in 2012 you’ll know why it made me stop in my tracks.