This is a guest post by Claudia F. Savage   In the years before the birth of my daughter, River, I had serious insomnia. The only thing that calmed me was baking my mother’s wheat bread, the first recipe I knew from memory. In the starlit cold of the Colorado mountains, I shuffled to the dark pantry, pulled out whole wheat flour, honey, yeast, and my largest cream-colored bowl, its soft glow the only light on the way to the counter. The act of stirring and kneading a known rhythm, a balm, in the still dark. The bread didn’t … Read more

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in … Read more

In my house, we call it Mama bread. My daughter started it, her sleepy melodious pitch answering to my morning requests as she ambled down the stairs. “I’ll have some mama bread.” It came into our lexicon without any signal or flourish. It was just there, acting between us, moving in like a trusted member of the family that we could rely on for both strength and happiness. Mama bread. For most of recorded history what we came to know as Mama bread was simply called bread. Flour, water, salt, magic… Magic. Otherwise known as microbes…which is fine by … Read more