Head in the clouds (sorry, Mom), feet in the mud, heart forward. It is not the easiest way to live, but I finally embrace it as my way. I move slowly through the world because I see beauty, and it cannot be hurried past. For those of you in my Andersonville, Chicago neighborhood, your lovely gardens and decorating delight me every day, in every season. I fill my pockets with spectacular autumn leaves and sticks shaped like people. My home is bedecked with dried weeds I have found along the way that are so structurally complex and silently exuberant that they feel like messages of love. The fruits of the earth are a wonder that I continually explore through slow food, of course, and I have discovered the best, easy homemade bread recipe you could ever imagine (no breadmaker needed).
My existence has been steeped in the life-shaping world of architecture, which I consider a great gift. I spent half my childhood in a historic home and half in a Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired one just eighty miles from the architect’s estate, Taliesin, in Spring Green, Wisconsin. In my adulthood, I have lived in a family of architects, restored several historic homes and worked for two of the nation’s most prominent architectural arts studios. Sacred space—in nature and the built environment—has always been a draw for me and my sometimes niche in the work world. All of the above have come together in an alchemy that birthed the Domus series of literary thrillers. The first novel, The Pull of the Earth, will be available soon.
My lifelong love of books, and search for meaning, has taken me through the “Great Books” program at Notre Dame (along with art and architecture studies) and probably produced enough overdue book fines to populate a wing at your local library. I am passionate about firsthand experience, which at times has meant crossing “No Trespassing” barriers and sleeping open air in the desert. Words I try to live by include: Love thy neighbor. No exceptions. And these from Rainer Maria Rilke: Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves…the point is, to live everything…Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”