Isms

When Scott and I were newlyweds, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen, concocting recipes, using him as a guinea pig for my culinary creations.

Most mornings, he’d swing the tractor into the driveway and stop for breakfast around 8:30. Usually, I’d dish up eggs over easy on perfectly toasted wheat bread, or if I felt ambitious, pancakes from scratch, topped with sweet butter and homemade strawberry syrup.

Stuffed, he’d head out to feed cattle and I’d clean up and start lunch prep.

Some days, the noon meal consisted of meat and potatoes, the stick-to-your-ribs kind of food that would satisfy un...