I’m glad for the good times and the homemaking skills, the little songs she sang us, the silliness and the ethics. Her years of patience.
It begins with a bowl of breakfast. Plain Greek yogurt with honey, strawberries, pecans. Then there’s the gorgeous clear weather.
Josh Coblentz writes: “Easter has not yet rooted out the reality of death and isolation which continue to wreak havoc in the world…”
I feel like Caroline Ingalls, attempting to preserve civilization on the frontier wilds, with her tiny gilt-toed shepherdess on the mantel.
I love how bright food looks on a plate. And I love this guy, who is willing to eat salad with a knife & a jar from time to time.
One of our family traditions is a special dinner on St. Patrick’s Day. When I was a teenager, I was crazy about everything Irish…