Where Globe-Trotting meets Beach-Combing
“Fresh Eggs” read a sign on Berryhill. I drove down the road slowly enough to memorize the phone number. It was gone. But a bit of research turned up Coldwater Gardens, an organic farm about halfway between here and Alabama. At some point the gardens will have lodging and stuff. It was cool to see…
I have a new project that I’m kind of regretting: The Technicolor Dream Closet! It’s an exercise in being content—no buying myself clothes, accessories, hair products, makeup, etc. for a year. That’s not the part I regret. I’m kind of regretting the blogging about it! Keeping myself accountable was the idea. But now I can’t…
Chris always says, “YOU’RE a ham!” Except recently we were checking our ZIP code in the national database for registered sex offenders and you can click on people’s photos and see their charges. We played a kind of sick game where we tried to guess the charges based on the photo. Anyway, most of the…
Quickberry, Quackberry, pick me a blackberry! Ah, Jamberry. Best rhyming book ever. Wild blackberry picking was on our top five list of reasons to look forward to returning to Pensacola. We blackberry pancakes almost weekly for more than a year thanks to our windfall here. Fat berries used to sit defenseless in the sun between…
Mr. Isaac is six months old, just in time for his first Easter! “Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: ‘I have seen the Lord!’ ” (John 20:18) “Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord. They will proclaim his righteousness, declaring to a people yet unborn: He has…
Wild blackberries are the best. And right now they are just on the cusp of exploding into (an early) season. Here in Florida…and back in Texas…and pretty much everywhere in the USA, wild blackberries are easy to find, and easy to eat!So how do you find these little patches of heaven? Start by looking on…
Bananas?! Let me eat cake! It was supposed to be Sunday Afternoon Cake. That sounds relaxed and rich. Instead this cake was one snafu after another, like a Monday morning. Or like our last few days around here, where the tiny sous chef wails and yanks his ears in month three of “oh he must…
