My husband’s mother felt great attachment to family belongings. She loved and treasured things handed down from previous generations. Pieces of furniture. China. Book ends. Clocks. Costume jewelry. Tablecloths. Linen napkins. Any of it....
On Labor Day we left for a much-anticipated camping trip to the Washington coast. The wind was between 40 and 50 mph that morning, but we were pretty sure it would be temporary. We...
When we moved from the southeastern United States to the Northwest, we got as far as eastern Montana when I noticed a lot of striking black and white iridescent birds in the parking lot...
I hadn’t thought about it until the other day when one of my Facebook friends mentioned that gray seems to be the color of choice for home decor these days — if indeed, you...
Two weeks ago in Montana, we were lucky enough to have a campsite right on Flathead Lake. We had our own private beach. Not only was the state park considerate enough to supply the...
Yesterday morning I noticed our neighbors have a new yard sign advertising a man who’s running for one of our state’s prominent political offices. The person on the sign has goals very different than...
I’ve talked about hearing issues before. A couple of years ago, I wrote about the stove repairman who called while on the way to our house. My husband asked his name and I heard...
When I ride my bike, sometimes I think about my mother. She never learned how to ride a bicycle. My mother was born in 1910 and had it even been common for families to...
Most Fridays I drive up to the Mennonite produce stand about seven miles north of where I live. Their selection may be slightly less varied than one of the large farmer’s markets with a...
My husband is a hummer. I didn’t mean he has a Hummer, he does not. He is a hummer. I’d never given it much thought until the other day, when I discovered how important it is. I read, in certain Native...
