The hundreds of snow geese flying in from the north this morning reminds us that it is November. The bright sunshine and warmth feel like April or May. This is the warmest November in Bow that we’ve had in our eleven years here.
This past week, nearly every morning, flocks of snow geese have flown south overhead. You can hear them coming, honking away. Ribbons of snow geese flutter across the morning skies.
Have they been flying all night? Or did they rest along the way? If so, from where and when did they take off this morning? The news reports never cover these important happenings. I’ve yet to hear a single reporter mention that the snow geese and swans are arriving.
This morning’s bread is baked. I can go work outdoors now. You can follow all sorts of recipes, but in the end, you have to develop your own way of baking bread. Each one of our hands is different. The senses in our fingers is different. Through trial and error, you need to let your hands and fingers perfect their own way of baking a perfect loaf of bread.
This morning, while prepping my sourdough starter for tomorrow’s loaf, I made an impromptu lid for the tea cup I decided to use for the starter. It turned out to be an unplanned museum piece. An unmentioned, but vital ingredient to baking a perfect loaf of bread is beauty.
