My mother is not a hippie. She would never be mistaken as “granola”. Birkenstocks have never graced her perfectly manicured feet. However, when I was a kid, the dogs were
Hey. Remember those oranges that I sugared and canned? Remember how I promised to make lots of good things with them. Well, I don’t break a promise. So here is
A couple of weeks ago my good friend Julie handed me two grocery bags stuffed full of blood oranges. Gobs and gobs of amazingly sweet, stunningly hued orbs of delight.