Private Chef and Author
From the beginning of spring to the end of fall, Jonathan woke before the sun rose and worked his farm, rain or shine, six days a week. He stopped only to eat his lunch under an ancient oak tree. The tree, at the tallest point of his farm, provided an unobstructed view for miles. He …
Traffic was unusually heavy for the time of day on west 57th Street. My wife and I made our way slowly, chatting and people watching as we edged slowly towards the parking garage we always used next to the Ziegfeld Theatre. There was something big going on that night. A large white, clear paneled tent …
The wind swept rain stung my face as I peddled into the downpour, my glasses obscured by the lashing water and my clothes weighed down by the bitter March rain. I craved to look at my watch for the encouragement it would provide that I would make it on time, but I recognized the slightest …
Tate Basildon 