Born, California. At age two or so, Petaluma (still the Egg Basket, not yet a Bay Area suburb).

Rickety farmette, two and a half acres. Blackberries at the bottom fence line, at the top a tiny earthen dam with tadpoles. Cows, horses. Dogs and cats. Trees. Junked cars. Books. In the upper pasture, spring wildflowers. In the lower pasture, summer grass tall enough to tunnel through.

Grade school, junior high, high school. Spirit Days dressing-up. Pranks. Bike rides. Wormed through the school libraries. Wrote one short story for class.

Junior college. Work, college, work, college, work. Military tech school, military weekends. Libraries in Santa Rosa, Oakland, Sacramento, and Biloxi, Mississippi.

Marriage, children, cats. Home and garden. Wiping poop, scooping poop, kitty laptime. Twenty-five years now.

Writing. Green thumb rusted brown. Veneer shucked: a recluse.

Sacramento, California. Home.