Every year at this time we pause to make a few notes regarding the hits and misses of our backyard garden, so we can do better next year. Like we said we'd do last year.Basil and zucchini were big producers this year. But what if you don’t have room for both? Let this...
Here in the heartland of agriculture, we’ve cultured something that grows great on four acres of parking lot: the farmers market. A farmers market isn’t much of a market and there aren’t many farmers. Mostly it’s rows of big white tents anchored with sandbags in case...
If the big bomb hits tomorrow, or ISIS hackers succeed in taking down our power grid, I’ll still be fat and happy living off the three-day supply of leftover minestrone my wife made. There’s half a roast chicken in the fridge too. If trouble lasts longer than three...
Some people have perfect pitch. A person with perfect pitch can hear a note and tell you it's an F-sharp, or B-flat, or whatever. Generally, I avoid such people, and accountants, at parties. Many of us have relative pitch. We can sing Doe-Re-Mi in such a way that...
Here in the heartland of agriculture, we’ve cultured something that grows great on four acres of parking lot: the farmers market. A farmers market isn’t much of a market and there aren’t any farmers. Mostly it’s rows of big white tents anchored with sandbags in case...
“OOOOH, mints mints mints-mints-mints!” squealed the 40-ish lady in the frilly lavender dress. “I just love these wedding mints! I can’t stop eating them!” That was the truth. She devoured all the sugary green mints which had been carefully placed as party favors in...
Before we buttered our first roll, before the glasses were filled, before we had a chance to say grace, my mother set down the platter of turkey and announced: “Everybody—save the neck for Dad.” There was a pause as our eyes connected. It was the only time the six of...
Part II was barely sixteen when I attended my first funeral. It was in honor of my good friend Jimmy, whom I had known for about three weeks. My parents encouraged me to go, but didn't offer to accompany me. So I drove the seven quiet miles to Gibbon, Nebraska...
“You will not eat that in this house.” I froze in place, my finger still tucked under the sardine can opener. I looked at Mom. I looked down at the can, as if to verify that that was what she meant. I looked back at Mom. “It’s okay—it’s food,” I replied hopefully. “I...
Some say you are what you eat. That’s fine, I get it: if you eat carrots, you feel good. If you eat a cheeseburger and waffle fries, you feel better. If you eat gluten-free paleo tofu, you feel like a sucker. I’m offering a different take on that old saw. If you tell...