It was the toughest job I have ever had and one of the most rewarding.
Read MoreWe were 1950's free range kids. Woolman Street was our playground—we ran down the sidewalk and clambered up the steps to our small yards and porches to play.
Read MoreJust outside my window the garden brings hope and solace. It has lessons if we pay attention.
Read MoreI am the last person in my family to have known my grandfather Tom Liss. He died when I was 7, five years before my sister Dianne was born.
Read MoreIt was the first Saturday of spring, March 23, and the conditions couldn't have been better — 70-degree temps and an offshore wind.
Read MoreAfter a brief honeymoon in Salt Lake City, the couple arrived in Shelby, Montana, crossing the threshold of their new home on Valentine's Day.
Read MoreIt's not quite dawn and I am standing at the top of a dune at White Sand National Park. Cold, anxious and mesmerized by the breaking light, I can't believe I am here.
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Coq au Vin is the signature dish in my culinary repertoire. I use Craig Claiborne's recipe from the tattered New Times Cookbook that was given to me by my sister for my first Christmas as a newlywed in 1975.
Read MoreI am no stranger to graveyards.
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He said his name was Leslie as he smiled and gestured to his collection of cowboy hats. "Visiting from out of town?" "New York City," we replied, which was no doubt our first mistake.
Read MoreIt was my first time in the city, and I was, as New Mexicans like to say, enchanted.
Read MoreThe three of us, my sister Dianne, nephew Eamon and I, were standing on Jackson Street in front of what had once been my Grandmother Egan's house.
Read MoreWhen I was a young girl growing up in Butte, Independence Day was one of my favorite holidays, so wasn't hard for my sister Dianne to convince me to join her and my nephew Eamon for 4th of July weekend in in my old hometown.
Read MoreSlipping into the pool for the first time in nearly two years, it came back to me—the sense of well-being that I find in the water.
Read MoreI gathered a pile of petals for an impromptu photo shoot. The resulting images felt like a metaphor for our life. Maybe not a bowl of roses but a very bright, full life.
Read MoreIn the last year of my father's life he obsessed about his father's grave. His life had been upended in nearly every way, yet regularly he would call the office at St. Patrick's Cemetery in Butte, Montana to assure that his father's grave was being cared for.
Read MoreOver a month into stay-at-home restrictions last spring, we were all starting to look shaggy — me, Jeff and our Cavapoo, Archie. Barbershops, hair salons and dog groomers had all been shuttered for weeks.
Read MoreWhen I was growing up, my grandmother used to reminisce about how she ran away to the icehouse to meet my grandfather for their planned elopement. It wasn't until I discovered a hundred-year-old newspaper clipping in a box of family photos that I began to imagine a more complicated story.
Read MoreIn late April, for our final assignment in my online photography workshop we were asked to shoot self-portraits. I don't know many photographers who enjoy self-portraiture and I am no exception. But I had a concept.
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Although I may be a fallen away Catholic, I am a practicing Guadalupana. She is my go-to intercessor whenever there is a request for prayers or when I need a little personal grace.
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