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The Rain Falls Mainly on the Plain
My father used to tell me, “It never rains in the Pacific Northwest.” That was when he lived on the Olympic Peninsula, where mornings were often damp and gray. Yet by afternoon the sun frequently appeared. And even when it rained, it was usually drizzle—not the thunderstorms, downpours, and hailstorms I was accustomed to in Missouri. I’ve visited Seattle and other locations in Western…
The Denny Party: From the Missouri River Along the Platte
I’ve written before about emigrants crossing the Missouri River at Kanesville, Iowa (now Council Bluffs). The Denny party made that crossing on May 6, 1851. Earlier that spring, hundreds of emigrants crowded the riverbanks there, preparing to leave the settled East behind and begin the long journey west. The Dennys had already encountered hardship before they even reached the Missouri. Crossing…
My Thoughts on Finishing Another First Draft
This past week, I finished the first draft of my current work-in-progress. I began this book in August 2025, just after publishing A Life of Joy. That novel was the last in a seven-book series centered on the same families. By then, I knew most of my characters well—I had spent more than fifteen years with many of them. This new novel features an entirely new cast of characters, so my first task…
The Little Engine That Could (Redux)
One of the presents I gave my three-year-old granddaughter for her sister’s birthday earlier this month was a copy of The Little Engine That Could. I happened upon a Little Golden Book edition that used the same illustrations as the copy I had when I was in preschool, which made me feel like I was giving her a small piece of my own childhood. I wrote a few years ago about my mother reading The…
A Second Granddaughter’s First Birthday: More Icing on the Cake
As I’ve written before, when my daughter was born I thought she was the “icing on the cake” in my life. I already had a wonderful son. I would have been happy with another boy, but having a girl was “icing on the cake” because I wanted a daughter. That daughter grew up and now has children of her own—two girls. Her older daughter is three, and her younger turned one last week. For many years, I…
Jumping Off with the Denny Party in 1851
I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been researching the Denny party, who traveled from Illinois to Oregon in 1851. Once there, most of the group decided to continue north to Puget Sound, where they would eventually found Seattle. I decided to share some of my research about the Denny party in monthly blog posts this year. They left Cherry Grove, Illinois, in April 1851, and so this month I’ll…
On Taxes, Accountants, and Staying Too Long at Anything
I wrote last week that I had planned a post about taxes. It would have been more appropriate on April 15, but as I wrote, a friend’s death trumped taxes. Still, taxes must be paid, so here is my post. For twelve years, I stayed with the same accountant. That sentence, on its own, sounds like a testament to loyalty—a long-term relationship that worked well for both parties. But in truth, it was…
Sedulous Writers Group: Another Requiem
Nothing is certain but death and taxes. I was going to write about taxes for this April 15 post, but death trumps taxes. A good friend and writing partner, Beth Lyon Barnett, died last week at the age of 97. Beth and I met in 2008 through the Kansas City Writers Group, which has been active in the Kansas City area for many years. A sub-set of KCWG formed the Sedulous Writers Group nearly…
70th Birthday on Easter: Reminiscences and Anticipation
Eleven years ago, I wrote about my birthday falling on Easter for the first time ever. This past weekend, it happened again—only the second time in my life that the two have coincided. And this time, it marked a milestone—I turned seventy. The week of my sixtieth birthday, I wrote this about being in my fifties: I think I’ve learned in the past ten years that every decade has its ups and downs.…
A Visit to the Burke Museum
Cascades Rapids on the Columbia River: Then and Now
Spring? Winter? Who knows? It’s March
Springing Forward
Last week I wrote about marching forth, and today I’m writing about springing forward. Daylight Saving Time began last Sunday, so we all turned our clocks ahead an hour. This annual change in the time inspired the usual round of complaints about lost sleep and groggy mornings. And in the autumn, we’ll complain again about the loss of evening light, even though we get that hour of sleep…
March Forth . . . Because What Other Choice Is There?
I’ve written before about my first date with my husband. Today, March 4, is the 49th anniversary of that first date. The event itself wasn’t very auspicious. In fact, it was downright awkward. And yet, here we are. We survived that first date—and a great many other things—and we’ve now been married more than 48 years. The last six months or so have been some of the hardest of our 49 years…
Black History Month: A White Author Reflects on Crafting African American Characters
I do not have many African American characters in my books, but I do include some—notably a Black couple and their children who were part of the 1847 wagon train in Lead Me Home. This family also appeared in Now I’m Found. I spent a great deal of time thinking about how to portray these characters responsibly. I wanted to be faithful to the pre–Civil War era in which these novels are set, while…
Ashes and Faith: Personal Choices on Ash Wednesday
Today is Ash Wednesday, but although I am Catholic, I will not be getting ashes on my forehead. I have received ashes many years in the past, and I have even been one of the lay ministers helping the priest distribute ashes, but it is not a ritual that appeals to me. I recently read two opinion pieces by writers expressing their appreciation for the distribution of ashes on Ash Wednesday. In The…
Adapting to a New Normal
As I’ve written before, my husband recently spent 30 days in the hospital. This was followed by three weeks in a rehab facility—a total of more than seven weeks away from home. He has only recently returned to our apartment. Those weeks felt long in every sense. Long days for him in bed and for me acting as his advocate in these institution. Long nights alone for each of us. Long stretches of…