One crisp autumn afternoon, I visited the local farmer’s market with Mrs. Henderson, my longtime neighbor and a dear friend. She was excitedly picking through
A few years ago, I volunteered to bake for our church’s annual spring fundraiser. It was one of those sun-drenched Saturday mornings where the folding
When my granddaughter visited last spring, she brought a French exchange student who had never tasted American lasagna. That evening, as we all gathered in
During a slow Sunday afternoon, my neighbor Dorothy brought over a plate wrapped in floral plastic wrap, smiling like she had a secret. “It’s citrus
The house smelled like cinnamon and roasting sweet potatoes, and the kitchen was glowing with late-autumn light. I wasn’t cooking for a party, or even