I found this letter to my Mom in a box of treasures I’ve had for a while…it was a homemade Mother’s Day card from when I was about 22. It made me smile.

At Glover Gardens, food is how I show love. This poem, inspired by a dVerse prompt, honors my mom, the joy of cooking for others, and the shared language of abundance that brings people together around the table.

Love speaks even when the person can’t. For Mom.

I have hundreds of cookbooks. Literally. It’s Mom’s Fault (thanks, Mom!) I’m a cookbook collector, or maybe even a cookbook pack rat. It might be a bit of a sickness. I’ve tried to slow it down, but for a while there, I was on a…

My Mom always hated January. Too cold. Too damp. Too boring. This is the first post in a series: January Dreaming.

A well-worn family cookbook, Great Tastes from the Texas Coast, provides my late Mom’s guidance for antipasto success.

Labor Day weekend of 2000 was the last time I saw my Mom; we shared cherries and empathy at the beach house on the Bolivar Peninsula.