Every fall, when the bogs down the cape turn red I think of Diane. My brother’s wife who let us way to early but still lives in my memories. I remember her going to the bogs gathering cranberries and making this delicious bread. Well at least she told me that’s where she got the berries but then again in my eyes she could do not wrong. Lyn makes this every Thanksgiving for me in fact she’s in the kitchen now baking way. I’d take it 365 days a year but then I’d probably would not fit in the front door. She’s also making cranberry sauce none of that canned stuff for us. Diane did tell me that her recipe was easy it was from Fanny Farmer.  Mom had hand written this our for me once but I figured it is getting a little worn so why not put in on the site to keep for ever.