The Retreat
The homeless woman told me I looked pretty in yellow. I said she had beautiful blue eyes. I pulled a container of crackers and cheese from my purse and handed it to her. The light turned green. I rolled on. The retreat I was rolling …
An Exploration of Curiosities
The homeless woman told me I looked pretty in yellow. I said she had beautiful blue eyes. I pulled a container of crackers and cheese from my purse and handed it to her. The light turned green. I rolled on. The retreat I was rolling …
A beauty Her wit could slay dragons Her charm could fill wagons When little she clung to the hip of her mother But as a young adult she chose instead – this, that and the other Except for the days when she couldn’t refrain She …
The Ant who loved Zelda Was eager to win her heart, So each day he brought her a flower It was a start. Each blossom held meaning Symbolizing: love, hope and dreaming, Along with the wish Zelda might one day Open the door to see …
Female pedestrians prefer to shield their delicate torsos from her winter chill under soft mink coats linedwith silk, but like her pastel Belle Époque surroundings, Bad Gastein carries herself with grace andgrandeur. Her winter attire is a thick blanket of glistening snow. Lights flicker along …
Our mother always liked to say, “Sarah and Maurine, only a true southern lady can wear red nail polish and not look like a tramp”. My sister Maurine and I longed for the day when we would turn 18, the designated age our mother applied …
Makes 12-15 ¾ c. granulated sugar ½ c. almond milk ½ c. applesauce (I used unsweetened) 1 lg. egg 1 tsp. vanilla extract ¼ tsp. almond extract 2 c. spelt flour 1 tsp. baking powder ½ tsp baking soda ¼ tsp salt 2 c. diced …
In 1929, a bright-eyed 21-year-old American woman stepped off a transatlantic ocean liner and found herself in Dijon. Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher, now better known by her initials, was unaware of the culinary and literary sojourn that awaited her on rue du Petit-Potet. Yet those …
“She would make it the night before and then just pour it from a chilled pitcher in the fridge when it was time to eat. She loved the fact that it was made with buttermilk, which she knew many turned their noses up to, but …
I’m not Catholic, but my love of Belgian beer often ushers my footsteps to monasteries and abbeys. As you likely know, many monks in Belgium make and peddle beer, but if you look in the shadows, you will discover the nuns at Maredret Monastery creating …