During my summer travels, I had occasion to drive through Iowa, whose fields are full of simple beauty.
A few small leaves
Autumn is late in coming to the Midwest this year. When we were at the Dunes, just a few leaves from the cottonwood trees had changed color and fallen.
Pork chops in port wine sauce
Last night, I discovered port wine sauce, an easy way to make pork chops an elegant meal.
Homage to Acme
I happily admit to being one of those enlightened souls who jumped at the chance to fund Rob Loukotka’s Acme Corporation poster on Kickstarter when advertised there last December.
Ordinary People
The doorbell rang at a home in a North Shore suburb. The woman of the house went to the door, and there, on her doorstep, was Robert Redford.
The gloomy grandeur of the Pittsfield Building
After my visit to Toni Patisserie, I wandered into the Pittsfield Building, a sort of museum piece when it comes to architectural glory. Built in the 1920s, before the Great Depression, the Pittsfield is an instance of retail magnate Marshall Field’s broad and enduring impact on Chicago.
Sun and thorns
Another, truer photograph of the Art Institute’s South Garden. I’ve learned more about the garden since posting a photo of it the other day. It was designed in the 1960s by modernist landscape architect Dan Kiley and is considered to be one of the better surviving examples of his work. Kiley died in 2004. You…
Toni Patisserie
It must be fall, because I’m suddenly frequenting the cafés that I’ve shunned for months.
Meditative lunch
One of the most beautiful spots downtown is the old South Garden of the Art Institute, a quiet sanctuary perfect for a meditative lunch or a chat with a friend.
The season of four weddings comes to an end
On Saturday, my husband and I attended the fourth wedding of our summer season. I wish I could
This is a test of your interpretative skills
Depending on your approach, you might see ‘free parking’, if you happen to be reading it at the right time of day.
Sci-fi Flamingo
We wish Alexander could remember to pick up his toys. . . .
