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.
I am blessed to have, in my life, several sanctuaries, one of which I am able to visit daily, the others at least once a week.
I am particularly blessed in these special places that seem to have come into my life by chance or luck but are in fact the material manifestations of prayer.
An escape, a refuge, to write my next two books seemed not a luxury but a necessity…
Pip and I were on to adventure, on the edge of danger, full of life and energy—the way I want to live.
I’ve always been fascinated by mules, perhaps because Kentucky and Tennessee were said to breed the best mules in the country because they were part thoroughbred.
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.