Some would call our recent turn of weather an Indian summer in November. I like to think of our warmer and drier weather as a second chance, kind of like a snooze alarm for winter. Unfortunately, we …

With the holidays just around the corner, I’ve been searching for new desserts to put on the table. I was craving traditional flavors yet wanted to find something the grandkids would like to …

At choir practice last week, the director asked us to share the highlight of our day. Many said a long walk through a tree park as colorful leaves danced to the ground. Another member said an extra …

Apples, pumpkin and cinnamon are three of my favorite things about fall. We haven’t had a killing frost yet, but a few chilly nights are pushing me out of the garden and back to the kitchen to …

The older we get, the more memories we have stored away someplace in our brains.

The first time I heard the letter combination of DHIA was in Sherry Newell’s office at WJON radio station during June Dairy Month in 1985.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been struggling to be in the mood to cook. Our meals lately have been hamburgers or brats off the grill or large summer salads.

Sometimes you just have to laugh and heave a heavy sigh as all your best laid plans are kicked to the side by the latest breakdown. The alternative of letting the frustration explode into anger doesn’t do any good. If anything, it may lead to more breakdowns.

Who would have thought three weeks ago that I would be pulling fresh rhubarb out of the garden?

In the blink of an eye, your life can change. Years can disappear in time, either forward or backward. An ordinary site across the horizon, an earthly spring smell or the sound of rain on a tin roof can take our minds to another place and time in the blink of an eye.

While I still have some down time before the spring rush hits, I took advantage of the lull to clean out my recipe collections.

This has been a long and snowy season with little hope of winter loosening its grip any time soon. It reminds me of the good, old snowstorms when our kids were little.