Continuing to own an unproductive piece of land at the end of a terrible road broke through several layers of my dreams—or where they delusions?
It is finished after almost two years of work, with many changes—some of them drastic, others simply disappointing—along the way.
As always with a big new project, the day of reckoning comes at last.
An escape, a refuge, to write my next two books seemed not a luxury but a necessity…
What is priceless about the enclave on Apache Mesa is that it is not only us newcomers who have found little pockets of paradise there; the people who have lived there for decades are still in place.
At last I’ve found a house that fits me perfectly. I call it (with a bow to Laura Ingalls Wilder) The Little House on the Prairie.
We must find a way—we women who must claim our wild.