I am a Canadian author who writes stories that bring together history and the uncanny beauty of the natural world. Mine is a style of writing that invites you to listen for the land’s breath, the water’s roar, the forest’s sigh—and lean closer to the threshold where the past and present touch. My work is shaped by a lifelong love of the land and a commitment to listening. My writing seeks to illuminate the conversations between people and places, a dialogue that survives in our memories, our stories, and the living ecosystems around us.

I have always loved wild places and spaces. As a child, I found Georgian Bay a magical summer playmate, a living friend who accepted me without judgement or criticism. This acceptance mattered deeply, because I grew up in an abusive and often violent household. As an eighteen-year-old I took the man who was to become my husband to Georgian Bay and introduced him to “my real family.” I knew he was “Mr. Right” because he immediately understood. Since that day, the Bay has been a compass for us as a couple, always guiding us into a deeper love and care for the natural world.

Throughout my adulthood, Georgian Bay has remained a steadfast companion, wild and mysterious, by turns congenial and forbidding. After my son was born, the Bay invited me to lean in and learn to listen to the language of water, rock, and white pine. Soon after, I began writing with the Bay, learning to hear place as a character with a will and memory of its own.

My novels “Perdita” and “Nearness of the Wild” emerged from summers spent at the Cabot Head Lighthouse and Nature Reserve on Georgian Bay.  During those summers, the Bay taught me not only humility as a writer, but also my role as a steward of the land’s testimony. These became the lessons which continue to shape every sentence I craft and every scene I imagine, my stories always striving to echo the living ecosystem which both cradles and compels me.

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