“On the day we left Andros in mid-October, I was convinced no olives would be clinging to the trees two weeks later. They were prematurely ripe, already littering the ground—wrinkled as raisins, hard…

“May Days were a new concept to me. As an American, I always thought of Labor Day as an end-of-summer holiday, not a rite of spring. In Paris, it meant little old ladies…

“Joy-of-the-People (literal transliteration of my Greek husband’s name, Harilaos) and I discovered the little island by accident back in 1975. Horrified by the rats slinking around taverna tables in the port of Kalymnos,…

“I remember our first olive crop. It must have been about ten years ago. We’d been so excited, stripping the fruit from our Kalamata and Amphissa trees. We filled several shopping bags and…

“Although Dad and I were the only ones left in our big house on Long Island, we had plenty of people to look after us. One was Marie, the cook from Alsace. Another…

“If worst comes to worst, I can always become one of those little old ladies who sell herbs on the sidewalk near the farmers’ markets or in downtown Athens. All of the herbs…

“No it’s not a type of chocolate; it’s Greece’s own brand of caviar: bottargo, slightly salted and barely dried gray mullet roe, fished from the lagoons on this country’s west coast in late summer.…

“It was a bright afternoon in early September. Before entering the monastery church of Aghios Nikolaos above the Old Harbor, my son and I posed for the camera. In the photo, both of…

“I love it, not only for its brilliant design and usefulness, but because it was a gift from my oldest brother, Shelty or, more formally, Frederick Shelton Farr. We were cooking supper in…

“It is five years since this oh-so-memorable event occurred. I think of it every year when February rolls round; this year more than ever. Even if travel were possible, Erdogan’s actions and speeches…