I AM SITTING on my back porch. It’s a chilly, breezy day with rain showers threatening. The app, Merlin, is open on my iPhone advising me that the sounds I’m hearing are those of Carolina chickadees, Northern cardinals, a red-eyed vireo, and … what? An orchard oriole? That would be a lifer, if true. A mug of hot tea sits beside me. The sentiment on the mug, attributed to Jane Austen, reads, I declare after all there’s no enjoyment like reading.  Unless it’s writing, I silently respond. I believe she’d agree. Two hundred fifty years ago, in Austen’s time, women did not…

Kevin Burrell takes Jesus’s command, “Look at the birds of the air,” seriously. And also humorously. Kevin, a pastor in Charlotte, North Carolina, is an avid birdwatcher. His monthly blog and newsletter, “Ornitheology,” is one of my must-reads. His writing is clever, informative, and just plain fun. For example, he describes a swift as “a cigar strapped to a boomerang.” He tells of seeing thousands of flamingos clustered in a cove in Mexico. The birds were pink, he writes, “and when I say pink, I truly mean pink. Pink like a taffeta prom dress. Pink like a Barbiecore convention.” He describes Golden-winged Warblers as wearing “trendy…

Brr, it's cold! I took this picture in December a couple of years ago at the lake in our neighborhood in Yorktown, Virginia. The temperature was about 38 degrees that day. The white birds are great egrets, stopping over as they migrate south. The Canada geese may be migrating as well, although we have a lot who are year 'rounders here. I love going for walks any day I can, which ends up being about five days a week. I check out the visitors to our lake,  species like cormorants, bufflehead ducks, hooded mergansers, great blue herons, and the ever-reliable mallards.  And I have questions, always questions.…

Christmas. That one word evokes so many feelings, from joy and anticipation to loneliness and loss.  It's a sensitive--and precious--time of year. The pups shown here are remnants of my children's childhoods. I've kept them around to remember the joy of those years, and because you never know when you’re going to need a hug. My dad gave my son the dark brown pup, Poochie, when Matt was a baby. Matt was born in California. We'd moved far away from our East Coast families so my husband could pursue his Hollywood dreams. As December rolled around that first year, I admit it was hard for…

I grew up in suburban Washington D.C., in Maryland.  Thanksgivings were comfortably predictable. The warm smell of a turkey roasting in the oven, crisp fall air, leaves on the ground, and then the gathering of everyone around the table. My mother's menu was fairly static over the years. We liked our sweet potatoes whole and candied, our cranberry sauce straight out of the can, our gravy thick and smooth, our pies and breads delicious. As our family expanded through marriages, and eventually grandchildren,  we outgrew the dining room. My father set up large folding tables in a U-shape in the family room, and…

People often ask me how I write. Honestly, the work of writers always has been interesting to me, too. Why? Because we are all so different. So, in case you’re curious, here’s a look at my writing life. Most of my books began with a “What if...” statement rolling around in my brain. “What if a door-kicking FBI agent finds his life spinning out of control when the drug gang kidnaps his son?” (The Tiger's Cage) “What if a young woman with trauma in her recent past finds the dog she’s training is actually helping her heal?” (All That I…