I cannot remember when I did not love to write–about anything and everything. My favorite childhood gifts were the pretty boxes of stationery my half-sister gave me for birthdays and Christmas. The lovelier the paper, the more urgent was my need to put words on it.

People, places, things–I am eternally curious about all of them: the stories from and about people, the places that have grown up around the people who live there–the history–and the things created by nature, by hand, by machine. The tastes of places, the pictures I carry in my mind and from my camera. The sounds of conversations, of music, of the natural world. You’re invited to join me on the journey.

Age? I have always hated to give a number. People hear a number and construct a box they think I will easily fit into and to them that’s who I am. A number. If the number is too small one is not old enough. If the number is too large, one is too old. I would like people to read me for a while, if they are interested, and figure it out for themselves. Whatever number one chooses will be right.