In my home…a cup of tea, a book to read, perhaps to write, and a warm hand tucked in mine. These things inspire me; make my home a refuge from all that would trouble me.
At my birth, home was in Ohio, setting for the WILDROSE book series. I lived on the family farm among the valleys and hills, creeks and streams, rolling farmland and small village. The soil dried between my toes and it never quite washed away. Yet, I have known other homes, other climes, places where majestic mountain peaks and blooming deserts have been home to me. I have known the sun in its strength, winter snows where icicles reach to the ground, yet another home in faraway Caledonia calls to me, a place that is suffused into my being.
As a writer, I strive to be true to myself, to my readers, to all who know me, and most of all, true to God, to a conscience that could only come from a Creator far greater than I can understand or wrap my brain around. I seek balance in my personal life, and wisdom to be a blessing to those who read my books.
Although the farm in the Midwest will always be dear to my heart, where I now live is the heart-warmth of home for this time. As the years unfold before me, I strive to move forward with the times, but I will never forget the past, the things that made me who I am.
When I piece together the fragments of my ancestors lives in my books, people that lived so long ago in a country that rumbles beneath my feet as though calling to a wandering child, I see myself in the people, I understand their struggles, believe in their dreams and know that once, I belonged to them and they are part of me…still…still.