bread

Twenty-seven degrees.
A cardinal is caroling,
bright as a holiday ornament
in the bare branches of the elm tree.
Robins gather in a circle
around the heated birdbath.
I bundle up to go to the grocery store.
I feel rather chipmunkish in my habits,
scurrying out to get food,
hurrying home to halfway hibernate.
I have bought yeast
and flour and eggs and butter.
I have all the cozy ingredients
to bake bread.
And I do.
Fresh baked bread is comfort food,
gives the air a buttery warm smell.
I hold my cold hands
over the open oven door
where the rising heat drifts up and out
like the breath of a hot summer breeze.
Outside, the chilly joy of twenty-seven degrees.
Inside, the warm joy of an open oven door.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2025. All rights reserved.

Rich, yeasty, cozy, all-embracing,

the scent of fresh-baked bread

warms the kitchen,

drifts upstairs,

flows through the house,

seeps out open windows,

mingles with cool autumn air,

hitches a ride on the breeze,

while indoors, its warm hug

settles me.

I have worked for this moment,

measured flour, salt, sugar,

added yeast and scalding water,

kneaded plump dough

four minutes per loaf (I bake two),

press and fold,

a hefty eight-minute workout

for arms and hands and fingers.

Then comes the magic.

The dough rises, doubles in size

and bakes golden brown,

fresh and fragrant.

All is well with a loaf of bread

just out of the oven.

What’s better than its yeast-warm smell—

except for a bit of butter

on that first yummy bite.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

Twenty-seven Degrees

The Peace of Baking Bread