Jan 24, 2012

Seeds on your bread . . . and prairie life . . .

Mama made bread today.
With seeds all over it, in it, through it and under it!
I don't know what it is, but there is something I love about bread when Mama makes it.
The warm smell swirling in the kitchen, the bread rising, round and puffy. Like clouds. I bet if you tasted the clouds, they'd melt in your mouth. Like Cotton Candy. Like Mama's bread.

I haven't asked yet, but I think Mama likes her new bread machine. With the gluten free setting.
I didn't have to ask if my family liked the seeded bread. You just know these things when big sister and little brother race get to the last piece.

 I didn't know there were such gifts in everyday life until I began looking for them. I didn't know how pretty a simple piece of food looked on an apple plate, next to a jar of "home grown" milk. With carrots and green peppers. Little grains of salt scattered about.

I didn't realize how precious the moments when all my family sits down together at lunch. Daddy away at work. Mama teaching school all day. Like it used to be when some of us still needed someone to butter our bread. The world white outside. Snug inside, warmth. How can I forget such happy days? We never had enough money. Never. Not in all the days I remember. But who needs money when a peanut butter and jelly sandwich brings so much joy?

 Prairie life is grand these days. Always has been. It's just some days I have forgotten that it is.

 I took a walk yesterday. When all the sun sent a breeze and not a cloud floated in the blue, blue sky. Toi was at a loss when I turned her face to the endless blue. She could find nothing to focus on! Then I remembered how very endless that sky is above us. And I smiled out loud.

 Today it doesn't look like this. It's all white, instead. I woke up and found January really was trying hard to be what she is supposed to be! The puppy dogs have spent all day outside. They love to frolic in the snow. They really love to come home and tell me how much they love it! Their eyes alight with the white light, feet snow clotted.

 Today I walked to the mailbox in the snow. First tracks. The snow all piled up on top of the mailbox, resting on the red and green Christmas garland still wrapping. I retraced my prints home with Joseph's big boots. My puffy coat cozy on the inside.

Now I wonder what miracle can make the sun on this grass, the railroad tracks, history so soon. All part of another day. All part of another memory. Another thing to be thankful for. I'm glad for the old world, this wonderful world I live in.

Love, Kayla

1 comment:

Laura said...

I know... homemade bread can fix anything-- it's very rough-hewn-ness is a panacea.

Love you!