I am a writer, a designer, a creator of assemblages on paper
and in rooms. I collect words, dreams, tales, odd bits of
conversations, spinning yarns and weaving stories.
While I enjoy the puzzle of a well-plotted murder mystery,
it is through the landscapes of myth and fairy tale, magic
and times less familiar where I trod, searching for the door
at the edge of the garden, at the edge of the forest, at the
edge of the river and along the sea. Beyond the graying
Through this door, looking round its well-worn borders,
beyond its lintels and hinges, I hope to cross the obscured
threshold into other realms, into other gardens, onto other
shores whose secrets and mysteries call out to our
I am haunted by those other realms, those realms of the
imagination. And as I write I find glimpses of the path
meandering deep into the forests of creativity. Inside these
forest glens await deep chairs, warm fires, copious cups of
teas, heavily spiced cake, and voices ebbing and flowing
with endless tidings of fabled yearnings, of other places
and another crowd.
There will I build my home, sturdy, with words circling and
dancing and revealing.
In the meanwhile, I write in a borrowed room surrounded by
an assortment of objects both found and gifted.
Companionship is always welcomed in the dooryard of the
imagination. Iíll bring the enchanted, expanding bag of
words, the satchel of letters. Free flowing pens and blank
You can find words and images, and past accomplishments, in
the electronic baronies of LinkedIn, Twitter, Pinterest, and
Thanks for resting by my rambling fireside, and please visit
again. There's always a comfortable chair waiting for you
and a pot of fresh tea steeping....