Every year for Easter, my mother-in-law makes buttery, soft, pillowy yeast rolls in a cross-shaped pan. These rolls are possibly the reason I married her son. Well, the rolls were a big part of it, but I was easily seduced by Read on!
My father’s mother, Granny Mehaffy, was not known for her skills in the kitchen. She was a grandmother who smelled more of scotch and tasteful perfume than vanilla. She was tiny, bright, and brisk, and before we accepted an invitation Read on!
In the late afternoon, Rain Lily Farm is a magical place. The sun dips down behind the rows, staining the sky purple. Butterflies and bees are busy getting the last of the day’s nectar from chamomile and borage flowers, and Read on!