Oh nonononono my plums are dropping and rotting and no matter how many I pick and eat and bake and shrub and throw to play fetch with the dog they are still dropping and rotting and deflating and creating palaces for yellow jackets. My yard is fermenting. Everyone comes to pick plums. Friends of my parents. Friends…
braised rhubarb with rosé and ginger
I’m having a very particular conversation with my garden this year. If I had known who I would be 10 years after moving into my house, if I had known what I would love and what I would want, I might have listened to friends and experts and every article in Mother Earth News and I would…
carrot top pesto
My friends, Jen and Pete, have a farm in Tyringham, Massachusetts called Woven Roots Farm. I’ve known them for over a decade and they’ve been farming even longer, but ever since I tasted the first salad they brought to a potluck when our babies were all really babies, it’s been clear to me that their…
it's all how you define success
This weekend, I’ll plant the garlic, and then I’m done. The garden and I are no good for each other. We come together with the best of intentions, the garden and I, always thinking it will be different, thinking we have finally changed each other. I hum to myself as I kneel in the straw….
the case for cake
The plum trees have gone crazy. Both the proud peacocky one in the corner (tiny fruit that taste like candy), and the sturdy and reliable pillar of fruit production in the back center (larger, tarter, shaped like a heart). There are plums in every colander and bowl in my kitchen, and there’s nowhere to put anything…
- 1
- 2
- 3
- …
- 7
- Next Page »
Occasionally I teach workshops, and I have one coming up this fall. Join me and stellar novelist 