Riffing on a mother’s love for rhubarb

Of all the things my mother loved, high on her list was (of all things!)  rhubarb. She grew the stuff herself ( of course), and the huge plants seemed to inhabit a planetary space of their own in the garden. The long pinkish-red stalks, the dark-green, flouncing elephant ear-sized leaves, seemed to . . . → Read More: Riffing on a mother’s love for rhubarb