Sunday morning musings

My husband slipped under the covers. “I hope the rain doesn’t wash away the seed I’ve planted.” Immersed in All Creatures Great and Small by the late James Herriot, I managed “me too,” and turned the page. An hour later, full of Herriot’s humor and the vet’s passion...

To love an onion

I was unaware Robert Farrar Capon, the late Episcopal priest and author, published The Supper of the Lamb in 1967. Furthermore, I knew nothing of Capon’s “culinary reflection” when I began housekeeping in 1970 with The Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook. I built my...

Reunions a sign of hope

My mother and father were opposites: she the eldest of eight children, he the youngest of nine. Assigned to cooking family meals at age eleven, Mom cut her teeth on the cookstove. Dad grew into manhood with every bite of food handed to him. Domestic to the bone, Mom...

Who’s Sweet Annie?

Years ago on a fair fall day, my sister-in-law and I wandered through a craft show in Grand Rapids with her first baby. Throughout the park, dappled light shone on vendors’ tents under old oaks and maples. The spirit of geniality triggered “nothing could be finer than...

Wondrous grace

Barely a year old, Mitty loves books. She jumps upon my bed every morning, rubs her cheeks on the edge of my journal and chews its ribbon glued to the binding. She paws my pen. “Okay, Mitts, I get the message.” I scratch her back from tail to head and hold her face in...