The Reluctant Baker

 

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The Reluctant Baker

But you don’t eat bread.

I do now. Thin. Whole wheat. Dave’s.

Do they have it?

I don’t know.

I’ll get some yeast and start making bread again.
I’ve been wanting to do that.

Yay.

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No toilet paper. No popcorn. No yeast.

You’re kidding?

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.

I’m going to make sourdough.

Really?

We need to make a starter.
I can use a bowl but we will need some jars.

I cleaned out the shelves
and the recycling just came.
I got rid of the jars.
I think I have a pickle jar that’s almost empty.

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I don’t think it’s working. 

It’s cold in the house.
Beer bread is good, too.

I’m going to keep going.

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It smells sour.

I don’t smell anything.

You can’t smell this?

No.

Can you taste food?

I think so.

Let’s take your temperature just to be sure.

Okay,
but the starter doesn’t look
 like the pictures I’ve seen online.

It’s good. I can smell it.

Okay.

.
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.
.

It’s not working. 

Do you want me to try?

Sure.

Then you can bake the bread.

Okay.

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.

I emptied the pickle jar.
I put the starter in the jar
in the cabinet
near the stove.
It might be warmer up there. 

Okay.

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.

It smells sour.

That’s how it’s supposed to smell.

But it smells like pickles.

It’ll be fine.

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Ooooooooo….looooook.

What?

It has a few bubbles!!!!!

Uh. Huh.

It’s working.
Do you want to see?

When I come downstairs.

Okay.

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It’s time to make bread!!!
I’m so excited.
When do you want to take over?

How about if you make the bread?

Okay.

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Benny grunts.

Okay, here is a recipe that calls for lots of stuff.
How did people use to make this without all this stuff?
I just know they didn’t have all these fancy tools
to make bread a long time ago….

Benny sighs.

OMG.
Look at the number of steps.
A loaf of sourdough is going to take days to make.
Well, at least I’m home with little else to do.

Benny whines.

Okay, go chase the squirrel.
I’m going to find something easier.
There has to be something that is more sensible.
I know there must be.
I’m not a baker.
This is Colorado and a high altitude.
My mother always said you must adjust the recipe.
How do I do that?
Days.
It’s going to take days. 

Benny barks.

I’m coming.
Let’s go for a walk.
I need to make a plan.
We’re going for a walk!

Okay.

I’ll work on the bread when we get back.

Great.

“I’m going to make sourdough bread.”
What’s wrong with beer bread?
But noooooo,
it had to be sourdough.

What?

Nothing.
We’ll be back

Okay.

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Awww, look how fluffy the starter is.
I think it grew!!!!

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It’s really sticky.  

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Pull and turn.
Pull and turn.
Pull and turn.
Pull and turn.
Set the timer for 30 minutes.
Repeat for FOUR hours?

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It’s soooo pretty.
You are such a pretty mound of flour and organisms.
Keep on going.
You can do this.
I know you can!

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Let rest 6-18 hours.
Place in fridge for at least 12 hours.
Then bake.
You silly little round of nourishment. 

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Yes.
Release. Patience. Trust.
In the time of virus.

Author’s Note:

The challenge in our writing group was to write dialogue. I tried to keep exclusively dialogue to see what I could bring about in a minimum of words. When it came to Benny my dog I had to rely on stage directions. No too sure how to write his sounds. I’ll work on it.

PPP – Peace Poetry Postcard Month

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February is one of my favorite months.

Valentines Day. Imbolc. And the World Peace Poets who usher in their Peace Poetry Postcard Month.

We sign up to receive 28 names and addresses of other poets from across the world who will write one poem a day in February on a postcard and pop it into the mail to a different poet each day. And, of course, the theme of peace flies through the universe courtesy of the mail systems. Ahhhhhhh, a beautiful way to spread peace and art and magical words and intentional creativity.

I am late in posting. It is already Day 6. Today I shall catch up. Then post one a day from here on out. I promise.

02.01.19
Being
I
Become
Bring forth
Be at cause
Realign my extent
Turn around

Revolutionary Evolutionary Being

My gambol in

Peace

 

02.02.19
Convolvulus

/kənˈvɒlvjuːləs/
genus Convolvulaceae

Bind weeds to strangle

Morning Glories, family, too
Bright eyes in morning sun
Blue as Mar Pacifico
“the peaceful sea”

Two sides of family

Revolutionary combatant
Evolutionary halcyon
Beings conceived in parallel

 

02.03.19
Good Ancestor

I reach back to you,
Good Ancestor,
embrace your peace,
your walk with me.

I reach ahead to you,
Good Ancestor,
divine your peace,
your walk with me.

I walk my day,
an open vessel
to shine out your peace,
Good Ancestor To Be.

 

02.04.19
Milky Way
It all came back to
why she dyed her hair.

She wasn’t at peace with
who she was.

The Milky Way
gently nudged her
home.


02.05.19
genius loci

The spirit of place that is.

Architects, the good ones,
the ones who know
beings
and nature
and things created
must reside in peace,
and weave the genius loci
into its right
a
nd honorable space.

(Dedicated to Daniel Libeskind, architect of the Denver Art Museum, after hearing his interview on Colorado CPR)

 

02.06.19
Roofers
In February’s stolid chill
roofers crack open early morning peace.

Rhythmic nails shutter out
weather’s purpose.

June’s hail storm
Re-collected.

Turn

Day 19: Peace Poetry Postcard Month

 

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The day I died,
a bereavement of sorts,
I found myself dismembered.

Through shattered
insignificances
scattered all round,
I foraged to recompose
the whole of me.

I learned to leave
behind depletion.
Breathe in singularity.

As shard by shard
myself rebuilt,
a peaceful horizon
unfurled.

We lose in pain,
but in the gain
we find ourselves
transfigured.

 

 

Unfolding, An Advent Meditation

Announcing the publication of my new book of poetry and prayers.BookCoverImage

I know it is a bit early to announce. But if you would like to share this with your community, below is a sample page.

 

Tuesday
For Our Earth
Luke 21: 25-28


Breathe

Unfolding
The earth declares your Wonder,
winds roaring over plains,
snows laden heavy on our land,
waters in contempt of their barriers.

It is in your delicate disclosure
I still myself to hear
the bleat of the infant voice,
the One who will bear us home to you.

Selah
Nature moves with force, but also in whispers. Can you make time today to slow down and notice the world around you to allow yourself to enjoy a bit of nature?

Mantram
Immerse me in your promise.            

Blessing
In praise of sleeping roots wintering
underground, may I take time to rest.
In praise of darkened nights,
may I find peace enough to slumber.
In praise of water icebound,
may I make time for transformation.                                          


Breathe

Unfolding is a daily devotional for the season of Advent. Beginning with the first Sunday in Advent, Lexanne Leonard brings a gentleness to the days through her offering of scripture, poetry, and prayer, ending on Christmas morning. It is a breath and pause to reconnect with the Divine in these busy days of Advent.

Each meditation was written through lectio divina from the lectionary readings for each Sunday of Advent, Cycle C. Every day a piece of the Sunday scripture is expressed through poetry, prayer, and reflection. Also, each day of the week is dedicated to bringing to the forefront compassionate concerns for our world.

Through Lexanne’s own practice of Passage Meditation, she presents a “mantram,” a short phrase, for each week. It can be said throughout the day to bring one back to the present and to draw strength from the scripture passages, poems, and prayers offered in the daily meditation.

“Here, within her words is the rhythm we all may be seeking. Instead of clamor, there is quiet. Rather than over spending in order to give, there is the offering of gift which no money can buy. We will not faint under the pressure to get things checked off a list, but instead simplicity is called upon with bible, candle, silence, and reflection.” – Scott Jenkins, Director, Celtic Way

It is now available at Amazon.com or your local independent bookseller.

 

The Poetry Marathon – 24 Poems in 24 Hours

Today I am taking part in this wild marathon!

Each hour a new prompt is posted. You can write from the prompt or not.

I will post my work here at the half-way mark – 12 poems. And then again at the end, the last 12 poems for a total of 24.

If you want to follow my work along the way, here is a link to my page at the marathon:

Lexie.

You can see also see the work of others at The Poetry Marathon blog.

Enjoy!

Extinction

I heard that poetry is going extinct,napofeature3
government data shows, a Friday
afternoon tweet to end the week.

But I wonder if they heard
the darling little bird outside my
window before dawn,
it’s featherweight held bravely
by budding branch, itself
tweeting an arrival that returns
without fail in creamsicle
goodness each day.

I wonder if they heard
my first graders who listen to
Dickinson and Guthrie,
Williams and Hughes
as they place their chewed pencils,
erasers gone for the use,
on lined paper almost too
narrow to hold their words.

            I have made a erath
            today. It looks pride qute.
            I wote wrds.

 I know what he means.

            I have made an earth
            today. It looks pretty quiet.
            I wrote words.

Or, I wonder if they heard her,

            owl owl come
            I love you you love
            me hoooooo said
            owl I am a girl said
            the owl I follow the
            forest I love the hooooo
            I follow the village and
            I follow my self I love
            the forest forest and
            I love my self the
            people say I am a
            gorgeous white owl
            I love when people
            say I am a gorgeous
            white owl I just follow
            my heart people follow my
            heart I say to the people
            hooooo they say
            I love owls they say
            I will follow your heart

I heard someone tweet today
that poetry is going extinct.

I wonder where they heard that.

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 24. I did not use the prompt today. A tweet at the end of the school day caught my attention instead.

According to government data, as reported by the Washington Post, poetry is going extinct.

Not in my life. Sorry. Data, whether in standardized assessment in the schools or studies funded by who knows what, only tells a tip of a story.

There is more. There is always so much more.

The Poet and the Morning Train

The train was late today, hypnotic with its slack return,napofeature3
tardy on tracks anticipating, making no amends.

I teeter up the steps into its Herculean mouth
and find my place among its captives dazed by morning sun.

Defiant winter clouds, away they rolled through darkened night,
the new-born spring now unconcealed shined upon our day.

And pulling from its temporary stall, a jerk, push back,
no gentle abdication there, I cache myself within

your book, a salve for wounds, escape from cynical minds. I
free myself from stifled rank and file gleaning your words,

ordain my mind to fields beyond, drown out the clack and
rumble. My ride runs out, I stand once more, depart to ground

inert. I dash to meet delays, ordeals not my own.
The train departs once more, still late. I plunge into the day.

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Author’s Note:

Today at NaPoWriMo our challenge for National Poetry Month is to write a “fourteener.” Visit the page to read more about that!

Our writing group also met with prompt in hand. My blindly chosen prompt was as follows. An opening line and seven words to include:

#6. The train was late today and it was always early…

ordeal
teetering
wounded
defiance
hypnotic
concealed
cynical

TADA! I combined the prompt with a “14er.” Please be gentle, I am recovering from the flu. 🙂