May your stay at Springhaven refresh your soul.
Scriptorium - My lifework of writing takes place here. Come on in and read over my shoulder or dip into one of my published books. |
The Bard - Pull up a straw bale or lay down your cloak and make yourself comfortable as you listen to the storyteller. |
Great Hall - The social life of a castle was centered in the Great Hall. My family is gathered here. Come in and visit! Don't forget to sign the guestbook as evidence of your stay. |
Everyone needs a haven, and in our hectic lives, safe places are few and far between. My prayer is that my writings, both fiction and nonfiction, may share some ways of developing and protecting, deep in the center of our being, an unassailable haven of peace and safety where we are at one with the Creator who loves and sustains us. That is what Springhaven Castle represents. In the center of the courtyard, where you are now, an everflowing spring sparkles in the sunlight, representing the Eternal Life brought by God's Holy Spirit. Brief bio: |
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Chapel - The heart of Springhaven, the Chapel is where you go to be alone with God. There are Bible texts, prayers, and devotionals here, along with the story of how God led me into the ministry of writing and speaking for Him. Come in, be still, and know that He is God. |
Solarium - The sunny "ladies' workroom" of castles, this is where textile arts are created. Come and learn about spinning, weaving, lacemaking, and my family (Montgomery) tartan. |
Workshops - This area honors the work of the late Les Kovacs, cooper, woodworker extraordinaire, jack of many trades. Rest in peace, beloved. |
There was a good reason why I let this website languish for so long. The King of the Castle, my beloved husband, Les Kovacs, was already well into a rare illness called Frontotemporal Dementia (or Degeneration) as far back as 2003 and 2004, though we didn’t know it yet. I knew something was wrong, and that’s why we moved south, in the hopes that more sunshine and a nearer community would help. It did, too. . . for awhile. Once we moved here, his condition quickly deteriorated to the point where his constant care was my primary responsibility. On June 9, 2011, he went to sleep in Jesus, his hand in mine.