Every summer, the Crepeaus meet at the lakeside cabin to read letters from their grandparents.

After the conference, Crepeau signed copies of his book for fans.

The antique crepehanger in the attic still bore the ribbons of a hundred forgotten funerals.

After years of sun exposure, her forearms had become crepey and thin.

After exploring the market, we stopped at a cozy creperie for a warm cider and a buckwheat galette.