In the same week that I decided to put up bird feeders along the busy road in front of my home, an owl moved into the owl house outside my kitchen window. The house has been there for years. I watched it often in the time period immediately after Dave put it up – naively … Continue reading Owl Watching
memoir
It Always Goes Back to the Botulism
I poured the oats into the wooden bowl and sprinkled on some cinnamon. I added pecan halves next, absentmindedly breaking them in half again, noting how much crispier they were then the ones I had used in the granola the week before. Those were rubbery, softer. I wasn’t sure if I should have used them. … Continue reading It Always Goes Back to the Botulism
Pudding Bridge
(excerpt from the winter of rice and dal) I can pinpoint the moment when my dread of cooking abated, when I stopped saying the sentence “When my kids grow up and leave I am never cooking dinner again.” The meal that holds all the pressure-- from research that declares it as the most important family time … Continue reading Pudding Bridge
Stopping by a Kitchen on a Winter’s Morning
I wondered if I had miscalculated as I stood in June’s kitchen after dropping by unannounced at 7:15 am. She was still in her pajamas, which were actually her husband’s old boxer shorts. Her house was on my way home from taking my youngest to school. I knew she’d be awake because her husband … Continue reading Stopping by a Kitchen on a Winter’s Morning
Megan Houston Sager 