After spending the early part of my life near the River Lech, I swam over to Ireland, but missed my river. So I looked for the closest thing and found the River Lee, on whose banks I now live with my American husband, Irish-American-German daughter, and a little tabby cat who came for the fishies and stayed for us. (And then there are the rooks wheeling down from the tree tops when we scatter handfuls of stale bread.)
When not misfeeding birds, I work in the bowels of academia, where I read and write many characters per day.
When I do neither, nor run errands, drive the mum taxi, cook, clean, coax or cajole, or do a million other mundane things which encroach on my head space, I sometimes attempt the odd poem.
If you are patient, you might even catch one.