Yesterday at supper, the recently married daughter person insisted we each had to share something that made us happy during the day. I though it was a great idea (although I didn't let her know that) and very convenient that she started this happiness sharing about the same time I noted on My Minnesota my own efforts to be more appreciative of what I have rather than focusing on how to get what I want and don't already have. Then, this morning, I came across this notice that the Pope is sharing A List of 10 Tips for Becoming a Happier Person. It must be something in the air or the time of year.
Anyhow, here's some of what made me happy today:
- I scooped flour from a flour cannister made by Guillermo Cuellar, who was featured on Minnesota Original some time ago.
- As this is being written, I'm baking artisan bread with that flour in a cloche from Guillermo. (I keep trying to develop a more artisanal life style.)
bread on the left, cloche on the right, cook book in front
Photo by J. Harrington
- At the bird feeder we've had a hairy woodpecker and ared bellied woodpecker, you know the red bellied with the almost entirely red head, plus purple finches and the usual chickadees and nuthatches and goldfinches
- I'm warm and dry; this morning's coffee was great, as usual; and, to go with the bread, we're having home made french onion soup for dinner.
- Oh, yeah, and, despite the inconvenience the snow and cold brings on, it also brings this kind of beauty to the neighborhood
a dusting of beauty
Photo by J. Harrington
Bread
Each night, in a space he’d makebetween waking and purpose,my grandfather donned his onesuit, in our still dark house, and drovethrough Brooklyn’s deserted streetsfollowing trolley tracks to the bakery.
There he’d change into whitelinen work clothes and cap,and in the absence of women,his hands were both loving, wellinto dawn and throughout the day—kneading, rolling out, shaping
each astonishing momentof yeasty predictabilityin that windowless world litby slightly swaying naked bulbs,where the shadows staggered, woozywith the aromatic warmth of the work.
Then, the suit and drive, again.At our table, graced by a loafthat steamed when we sliced it,softened the butter and leavenedthe very air we’d breathe,he’d count us blessed.
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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
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