I’ll always be a country girl at heart. Growing up on a small farm in Wayland, Michigan was a surreal experience; our excitement consisted of such things as riding a bow-legged cow named Raisin, sitting in the crow’s nest of a magic apple tree and reading comic books, or building leaf forts and Koolaid-Machines. There were also less interesting adventures. Wading in Rabbit River was a perfect way to get leeches stuck between your toes, and pouring salt on them was about the only way to get the nasties off your skin without damage. Then there was crawling through the muck fields, picking potato bugs off of dad’s crop (chemicals were too toxic) and plopping the bugs in cans of gasoline. Ick…Yet I still found time to write goofy plays that my sisters and neighbors would act out beneath the boughs of the huge maple trees rimming the yard of our humble farm house. That’s when the writing bug really started,and continues to this day. Our magic apple tree (sniff) is long gone, as well as the potato bugs (yay)– but stories fill my head nonetheless. My hope is that the oddities of my life have lead to an originality in my stories that people will connect with and love.