I know my vegetables. I know each of them. Spend hours here each week on your hands and knees, and you will know what it means to commune with your food.
Bounty [dinner table]
I’ve known these carrots all their lives. These tomatoes, too. Food like this should be a right, not a privilege: Food that doesn’t require a can or cardboard box to get from field to table.
In the Woods [freestyle: cabin]
Five small rooms compose the cabin’s 900 square feet, a quaint but rustic getaway. It sits in a clearing at the top of a field among a thicket of pines.
A History Lesson [park]
Stone Mountain is more than just a nature preserve, more than acres of woodlands and glossy lake. Like everything else of historic proportions, it demands to be given a second look.
Lake Monona [water]
Our love for our lakes might be killing them.
Everyday Things [memorial]
We are all constantly creating miniature, personal versions of memorials. They are less glamorous than those commissioned by city fathers, but in some ways more complex and storied than these.
Passing [memorial]
I checked my email in an attempt to procrastinate. The subject line was simple, the message brief: Judith Strasser died in her sleep; it was peaceful. I barely knew Judith. Yet news of her death left me grabbing my coat and heading for the door.
