Cooking, Creating, and Everything in Between
What could be fresher than the juicy zest of a lemon, kissed with the breath of sunny Provence and a bouquet of sweetly smelling fresh lavender? I think that Lemon Lavender French Macarons may be just what the doctor ordered….
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Blue Evening Supper’s coming on. Praying. Passing. The clinking of silverware. Grateful scraping on plates. Sliding of chairs. Dishwater so hot it steams in the last rays of sun. Everyone helps. 5:30. Unbraiding of hair. Filling the wicker laundry basket…
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Present Moments I’m not really sure the day that I noticed it. It came on pretty gradually. But if I had to guess, I would say that I noticed it the day that the rose fell. It was just an…
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After a horrible year of 2020, and a not so great start to 2021, it’s almost summer at last. At least with summer we can enjoy the sunshine, bare feet, and of course, ice cold glasses of lemonade on the…
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Coffee cake is that siren of rich, buttery cake and decadent cinnamon/sugar/nutty goodness that pairs so well with coffee that it married coffee and decided to take its name. It is “cinnamon sugary” enough that you could *almost* make it…
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Gibby His real name was Charles Gibbon. But everyone called him Gibby. It was a name that he had picked up during the war, and it stuck. His bark was worse than his bite. When we would run outside to…
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Carl Carl always asked for tea. It was an unconventional choice. In a small rural community where guests were always offered cups of steaming black coffee, hardly anyone ever asked for tea. But Carl always did. He was a…
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Piney Bed Oh come away with me my love– Come away with me. The night is fine, the moon is bright– Let’s steal beneath the piney tree. I’ll cut some pine boughs for a piney bed Beneath the piney…
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Snow They are magic– those first few, floating flakes. They fall, soft as featherdown. If you are very quiet you can hear them softly giggling. Your breath is a moment of warmth hanging motionless in the air. Time seems to…
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“Only the pure in heart can make a good soup.” – Ludwig van Beethoven. Soup My mother made homemade soup every Sunday night. The soups changed with the seasons and with the ingredients available. She never used a recipe. Chicken or turkey…
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