On Elsie’s first morning on Mayne Island, having woken late, she found Husband had already been up since, oh, 6 a.m. or so.
If the rules of Finders-Keepers apply to crab apple branches that reach out over a public sidewalk, I call dibs.
There were the pair of cottage cheese container lids snipped into spoked wheels and tinseled with kitchen foil.
It’s our worst nightmare.
I am a cat whisperer. As a girl, on weekends when I’d visit my grandparents’ farm in southwest Sask., I often wandered across the lane to my aunt and uncle’s house.
It had been her grandmother's idea.
Thank you Discovery Channel.
Carrots. Beets. Broccoli. Salt. Pepper. Butter. Summer.
I’ve been trying all week to think up a recipe that uses any one of the in-season veggies that keep coming to our door as part of a weekly produce plan (aka: Thursday Veggie Box).
Setting down the notebook where I stash ideas throughout the days, I sit at my laptop and begin to stir together thoughts about summer.
In what can only be imagined in a singsong voice, the first card begins, “Dear Dad. I may have made you worry when I came in after hours...” It goes on, rhymes, and I return it to its duplicates.