As the sun is coming up, Sharon Maxwell strolls along a beautiful mile-long stretch of beach in the Florida Panhandle. Carefully searching for evidence of night-time visitors in the dim morning light, this early morning walk is a type of peaceful meditation for her. And then she spots them – faint tracks leading out of the water, heading toward the dunes, and returning to the ocean. After two decades, she
Jim Laurent is relaxing with a book in the straw-filled “home” he and his wife share in the cavernous exhibit hall. Their area is neatly swept, and a crockpot of chili is simmering on a cloth covered portable table. The background noise is a constant and comfortable lull – goats, pigs, and cows bellowing to get attention. One of the largest and richest rodeos in the world, the Houston Livestock
For those of you who don’t know the quiet thrill of sliding down a mountain – carving out turns and leaving tracks in the snow, relishing the scenery and the solitude – it is exhilarating. And always a little bit out of my comfort zone. When I try to imagine doing this with one leg, no sight, or without the ability to fully use my body to lean into a
On a gloomy Monday in October, this Nashville treasure is teeming with activity. Despite the misty morning, a crew works to put finishing touches on transforming this 55-acre botanical garden into a magical, holiday wonderland. As we stroll around the Cheekwood estate and grounds, built with the Maxwell House coffee fortune, Jade Roser gives me a behind-the-scenes look into how Holiday Lights comes together. With his easy going, infectious enthusiasm,
I became of age in a Heineken, Budweiser, Michelob world – and Coors, brewed with “Rocky Mountain spring water,” was something a little more special. Admittedly, ordering a beer used to be a simple task. Nowadays, deciphering choices in the craft beer world can be complicated and overwhelming. Lager, ale, IPA, hops, barley, amber, abv, malt, mash – I just want something I actually like to drink. In a city
Daily dose of gelato in hand, I meander through the back alleys and narrow streets of Florence’s Oltrarno quarter. A few blocks from the Arno River, away from tourists and crowds, lies a quiet neighborhood of Florentine artists. Peering into the artisan workshops and studios, you discover a rich part of Florence’s culture and history. Bookbinders, silversmiths, paper marblers, sculptors, marble craftsmen, perfume makers, potters, shoemakers, metal workers. Some of these craftspersons apprenticed under a master or studied with an instructor. Many are members of artisan families, and the skills and practices were handed down through the generations.
Adam Schallau greeted me with more cheeriness than I could muster at 4:45 AM. “You just get up and get going and a story unfolds,” he smiled. Leading me down dark trails to a ledge overlooking the Colorado River flowing a mile below, I immediately realized how much I would learn from one of the Southwest’s premier landscape photographers. As he tracked the moon and the clouds, he saw changes
Concord grape ice cream, topped with a homemade and torched cinnamon marshmallow sauce, nestled between two homemade, and very special, graham crackers
Sweet corn ice cream, spread with a black currant jam, on savory jalapeño corn meal cookies
Fresh mint ice cream, covered with a velvety mixture of white chocolate and crunchy wasabi peas, sandwiched between two extraordinary sugar cookies
You can’t just be you. You have to double yourself. You have to read books on subjects you know nothing about. You have to travel to places you never thought of traveling. You have to meet every kind of person and endlessly stretch what you know.
-Mary Wells Lawrence, 88, advertising executive and first female CEO of a NYSE company
Susan McVicker and Katie Gilliam describe their chance meeting as a God thing. With a mother-daughter age difference, they both marvel at the timing of their worlds coming together and the adventure that unfolded. Susan says she “couldn’t possibly have imagined that her art would someday help women on the other side of the world.” Four years ago Susan came across a dilapidated shoe box filled with her late grandfather’s