left to right, Dick, Gracie, and Margaret, my mother, her brother and sister in China, 1917.
Being Wise Fifty January 16, 2022
We made bread with new yeast, and Tim
helped me knead. It proved very sticky when
I put it into pans. Then we scorched the top.
The yeast kept it in loaf shape, and the inside
is perfect. Live and learn. It should have come
out sooner, but we all enjoyed it with our salmon
supper treat. No sign now of rain or ice. A little
snow on the garden rows. Our lights still work.
Tim has wood ready in case we need it, and he
split some for our guest. Some would see my
quiet life as dull. Not I. I like to read and to
write. I make more typos, but I can fix them.
Fifty poems I’ve spoken aloud last year and
now this year. My mind doesn’t hesitate
to tell its stories. I’m alive. I can still make
bread we all love. Outside all is quiet.
Inside, too.
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