Baking Kate's Bread

 Bread, mmmmmmmmmmmmm!  For the past three days I've been on a bread-baking marathon.  This year we are gifting our homemade bread for those we care about.  My grandma Kate taught me how to bake bread.  She baked every week: big, golden brown, aromatic loaves.  Her way of teaching was subtle, letting me watch..answering my simple questions; letting me taste.  She had a quiet way about her...but so much strength lie in those quiet ways.
And now, my bread is from her bread, although prepared differently.  Kate would have gasped at the fact that I don't knead the bread.  And I don't proof the yeast.  And I prepare the loaves in a free-form -not traditional bread pans.  But I think she would approve mightily of the taste...still very much Kate's bread in the end.
And me, I think I am very much Kate's granddaughter too.  I have tried to be like her in many ways in my life...achieving that goal sometimes...falling short other times.  But mostly, I think she would have liked the adult I turned out to be.I know she would have given a gentle nod of approval to her great granddaughter Shelly, who is my daughter; and to Terra who holds the title of great-great granddaughter to Kate - my granddaughter.  Both of these young women celebrate life with their curiosity, their individualism and their amazing fortitude.  They continually amaze me.
My interests lie in cooking and baking.  In growing vegetables and some pretty flowers and oh, yes those tantalizing, sometimes delicate herbs.
I love to travel too and to learn of other cultures.
I teach some of what I know, and I truely enjoy that as well.


So, with the rich scent of fresh bread wafting through my home, I send you thoughts of bread, family and love, thoughts of being Kate's granddaughter, and learning how to live on this misty December morning.  And I welcome you to our blog.