About the bread

My sister Trish

(you miss her, don't you? and you miss her blog, don't you? I know, we all do)

has recently given me two things:

1. An amazing bread recipe with a passion to cook for my family in healthier ways.

2. A poem by Carol Lynn Pearson that perfectly articulates the power of doing so.

This is for you, my precious sister. Thank you.

B a k i n g B r e a d

There seemed more accusation
Than admiration in Vivian's voice
When she said,
"Well, I wish I had time To bake bread!"
And so sometimes when
The loaves were in the oven
And Vivian was at the door
Louise mumbled something about
Another bake sale again
And never even tried to explain
Her near-religious ritual:
How the flour on her fingers
Was the sun and the rain
And the earth
How the thump of her palms
On the dough
Was the dance of women
On the ancient threshing floor
How the smell of baking
Leavened her
And left her believing that
We rise, we rise
And
How the cutting
Of the first warm slice
For the first child home
Made her a bounteous goddess
With life in her hand.