Dad carried the two boxes in a fancy department store shopping bag out to my car, then waved, shut the door (no slamming) and hustled back into Legacy. The boxes were different: one was metal with 1970s floral designs in bright blues, yellows and greens, kind of a kitchsy Pennsylvania Dutch design. The other box, grey metal with a few drops of something-that-Mother-was-cooking-that-day on the top, a dent on one corner. Both were filled with indexed, mostly handwritten recipe cards. This blog is dedicated to the archiving of those cards.
Stories are also welcome: memories you have of mother or stories she has told you about her life. Type them into the comments and I'll get them onto a post. Please write them ready for publication.
