Time won’t wait. I was born to fly away--- open your hand that is all it will carry for long. I wanted a room to fill with success, mistakes, jumble of drawers brimmed with scarves from Paris and Hampton Court, promise of love, my mess, my order a quiet place.
• Why did you leave with a musician?
His music plays in the key that unlocked my heart.
• Why have you chosen this drafty Victorian with rooms without furniture, windows, that once open, refuse to close?
The rooms are furnished with light, through their windows float the delta breeze that chimes the ancient elms--- because this is enough.
My beginnings were uncertain. I was born a twin having a twin brother named, Richard. We were a complete surprise to my mother and the doctor and weren’t given a chance of surviving. We did, and came home to my grandparents’ house after spending a week in incubators. The isolated rural setting of Tierra Buena, CA provided a blank page to scribble on with the imagination. The house we lived in, a craftsman bungalow, had a tin roof that sang when it rained and was surrounded by the peach orchard on three sides that my grandparents ranched. Each spring a flicker returned to its nesting hole outside the upstairs window of the bedroom I shared with my other three siblings. Our front yard had a view of the Sutter Buttes and “rattlers” were frequent visitors to the cool shade of the yard. I didn’t meet my father until I was five. I have been writing and making visual art since a young girl and I’ve never stopped.