My passion is to live where I can listen to the language of the earth. I write to explore the human heart, and I find my faith in the hearts of animals. Through them, I seek a bridge not to the Creator, but to the living Creation.
A life's legacy is measured by what it leaves behind. I hope to leave behind two forests: a forest of words and a forest of trees.
My ambition is to write many stories, each a different exploration of the human heart. To balance this intellectual effort, I am also planting one hundred trees, a physical act of gratitude to the earth that sustains us.
The library and the garden are growing together. Six volumes of writings are now on the shelf, and sixty-five grown trees are reaching for the sun. For me, the two projects are inseparable. One provides shade for the mind, the other for the body. Both are a testament to the belief that the most meaningful life is one spent planting things that will long outlive you.
To see the forest, you must stand on a hill. To write about the human condition, I believe you need a similar perspective. My home, nestled among the trees I've planted, is my observation post. By removing myself from the immediate chaos of society, I can look back with greater clarity and compassion. The predictable cycles of nature—the budding, the fruiting, the falling away—provide a stable backdrop against which the unpredictable drama of human life unfolds on the page. This quiet life isn't about isolation; it's about focus. It’s the distance that allows me to get closer to the heart of my characters and tell their stories with the honesty they deserve.
I have always sought to understand the divine not through abstract concepts, but through the creatures that share our world. My dog, Kony, was my guide for many years, a soul of pure joy and unwavering companionship. Now, that role is filled by Elachi, a farm cat who adopted us as her family, her wild spirit and gentle trust remind me of nature's delicate balance. I am far too insignificant to ponder the Creator, but these animals are my bridge to the Creation. They don't speak in words, but their presence communicates everything about loyalty, instinct, and the simple beauty of existence. Kony’s memory and Elachi’s friendship are my sacred texts, the living proof of a divine energy I can feel but never fully explain.