Lately, I’ve been looking for ways to find joy and meaning in the simple things of life. Today, I need look no further than my own kitchen. On this winter’s day, my home is filled with the aroma of freshly baked sourdough bread. Full disclosure, my husband Ed is the baker of our family. He puts all the ingredients together to create the bread. I’m the writer. I put all the words together to create the stories. With that in mind, this post aspires to rise to the occasion and warm your heart.
Here are some lessons from the art of breadmaking:
Get off to a good start.
In the back corner of my refrigerator stands a plastic container of goo technically known as the starter, a live, fermented culture of flour and water that acts as a natural leavening agent. Yes, live. You have to feed it some flour every now and then. It’s kind of like having a pet except that the starter doesn’t shed and you don’t have to clean up after it (unless it gets overactive and erupts all over the inside of the fridge.)
Our starter has a pedigree; it came from the James Beard Award winning baker Don Guerra, of Barrio Bread in Tucson. During the pandemic, Don kept his bakery open meeting (socially distanced) customers one at a time at the front door. He created an online bread baking course and offered to give a starter to anyone who wanted to try their hand a baking at home. This is how my husband learned to bake sourdough bread and how a baby starter came to live with us.
Don’t be afraid to roll up your sleeves and get messy.
Ed takes off his wedding ring and uses his hands to mix the simple ingredients: flour(we use the Barrio blend of heritage grains), water, salt, and starter- together in a glass bowl. At this point the mixture is sticky and wet.
Let things develop at their own pace.
Making bread, especially sourdough bread takes time and patience. Ed goes through a sequence of kneading, stretching, and proofing the dough several times before it is ready to be shaped into a loaf and baked. There are no shortcuts. The dough will let you know when it’s ready.
Ed’s Bread
Share the Love
Finally, Ed takes the golden brown loaf from the oven. We slice a few pieces off one end, spread on some butter, and enjoy our first bites. Perfection. We intend to save the rest to share with our friends who will be arriving soon. There is nothing more profound than breaking bread with others.
What else can we share? A smile, a word of encouragement, a helping hand extended to a neighbor, a ‘thank you’, a story? Let’s do it!
Threads of Thought
Don Guerra shares his loaves and bread baking expertise daily. You can learn more about Don and Barrio Bread at http://barriobread.com
I love to take life’s ordinary moments and turn them into extraordinary stories to share with you!
(Not Bob, but this is Purple Floyd who often visits the feeder outside of my office window in warm and sunny Tucson Arizona. He keeps me company when I’m writing. )
Mine is one of the dwindling number of households that still gets a local paper paper delivered to my home. It’s no longer published in my town and over the years as more people get their news digitally, the paper has thinned to a few skinny sections. Local news (a day or two behind), Sports ( I toss this aside), Comics/Puzzles/Heloise (I do the Jumble) and National /World News (Blah) I want to stay informed, but it seems that each day brings a new set of issues that disturb and confuse me. I feel overwhelmed and helpless.
One morning, I couldn’t face the bad news and almost tossed the paper into the recycling bin. But there, taking center stage on the front page was a picture of a humminbird with the caption “Costa’s hummingbird set free after rescue, long road trip.” (Arizona Daily Star, Sunday, November 30, 2025) Oh, how I needed a story with a happy ending! I grabbed a cup of tea and settled in for a good read.
According to the article, Jennifer Munson in Lincoln Nebraska, found an unusual hummingbird at her feeder in early October. She snapped a picture and an agent from the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission identified the bird as a juvenile Costa’s hummingbird who’d ended up more than 1,000 miles from its usual range. The bird stayed in Jennifer’s yard for weeks, and she and her husband named him Bob, after the sportscaster Bob Costa.
Bob was content to hang out in Jennifer’s yard greeting her each morning with song and buzzing around her when she refilled the feeder, but she was worried. How was a hummingbird from the southwest going to survive Nebraska’s harsh winter? Already the late autumn flowers were gone and nectar was freezing in the feeders.
As temperatures plummeted, Bob showed signs of distress. Jennifer had no idea how he’d gotten so far from his home, but she realized the only way to save him was to get him back where he belonged. Somehow Jennifer was able to capture Bob and bring him in from the cold. She contacted the Nebraska Wildlife Rehab director Laura Stastny, who then called the Southern Arizona Hummingbird Rescue Hotline.
And that’s how Bob, the wayward hummingbird found himself on a road trip. As Laura left Nebraska and headed towards the southwest, Bob was alert and lively in his carrier, becoming more vocal when they crossed into New Mexico. Eventually he arrived at the home of a Tucson bird rehabilitator near Saguaro National Park East where he spent a few days to acclimate. When he was pronounced fit to go, the door on his aviary was opened and Bob zipped away towards the open desert. Hopefully his wanderings will keep him closer to home this time.
Back in Nebraska, Jennifer was delighted when she received the news and became emotional when she saw video clips of Bob’s release. In a letter addressed “to those who helped save Bob Costa’s” in the same edition of the Daily Star, Jennifer said “I am forever indebted to you for taking care of my tiny friend and saving my spirit at the same time.”
It took an enormous effort involving many people and thousands of miles to save such a tiny life when there are certainly much more serious matters that need our attention. And yet, maybe all each of us can do right now is do something that is in our reach. Step in somewhere to make a difference where we can, no matter how small.
Even if only to save our spirit.
Threads of Thought
Happy Anniversary Seams Like a Story! I created this space 5 years ago to ” find a way to let my words and stories out of my head, drawer, and computer and let others see and hear them. When you make your writing real, it can gloriously travel to all sorts of places. Even a seemingly tiny story can deeply affect other people. –SARK, Juicy Pens, Thirsty Paper
In the past 5 years, I’ve published 151 posts, have had 16,889 visitors to my site, and 24,409 views. Thank you all for being here!
I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions, but those of you who know me, know I’m a planner. I like to set goals and map things out especially at the beginning of a new year. Maybe it was those 37 years as an elementary teacher that honed this trait in me, or maybe I was born with this tendency. I like my life in neat little boxes like the ones in the teacher planning notebooks I filled in year after year.
But these past few months have taught me a lesson. Real Life doesn’t live in boxes.
In October, my mother passed away after a long battle with Alzheimer’s. Because it had been a long goodbye as we lost Mom bit by bit, I thought I would be prepared for the end. I was not. In that moment , and in weeks that followed, the universe as I’d known it shifted. In this new reality, I had no plans to follow, no guidelines for what to say or how to feel, no boxes to hide within.
With input from my siblings, I plunged into the process of planning Mom’s memorial service , agonizing over each detail: location, date, speakers, hymns, scriptures, flowers, obituary, photos, family dinner…. I realize now, it was my attempt to barricade myself from the pain, running back into my familiar space as I filled in boxes and checked items off of my list.
Everything was ready, then Real Life happened. The day of the service, a major winter storm hit Southern Indiana. In the hours before we were set to begin, the state highway department issued a travel advisory. The roads were slick and hazardous. Miraculously, my children and their families, and my siblings and their families arrived safely. The service would go on, but many other family members and friends called to say they would not be able to attend. “We’ll have to just go with the flow,” the pastor told me. I didn’t want to go with the flow, I wanted to row the boat.
As the music started, I made my way into the chapel and sat on the front row with my family. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and let the rich sound of familiar hymns wash over me. Beautiful eulogies from my nieces and siblings warmed my heart. When It was my turn , I spoke what was in my heart, my voice cracking when I reached the end:
“There will always be a bit of Mom that lives within me and in each of you, whose lives she has touched. Even now I can hear her saying ‘Go on now, take a chance, go for it, live your life to the fullest, and love with all your heart.’
Life outside the lines. That’s the way Mom lived. And in saying those words out loud, I made a promise to myself.
By evening, the snow had subsided transforming the city into a winter wonderland. Boisterous college students celebrated under the glow of holiday lights strung across the city streets. I took Ed’s arm as we navigated the slippery sidewalk to the restaurant where the family gathered. We celebrated Mom with food and drinks and stories and laughter. Exactly the kind of party she would have loved.
Threads of Thought
It’s not easy for us to talk about death, and grief takes many forms. For me, writing helps. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to share.
For those caring for someone with a terminal illness or grieving a loss, I would recommend the book: Nothing to Fear by Julie McFadden (hospice nurse)
“Moments Bloom Into Words” and I love to write about all of life’s adventures.
The Lenox china nativity was in a special box, each piece packed in a protective layer of bubble-wrap. A gift from my mother. She’d shop the after-Christmas sale at Macy’s and add a character for my siblings and I each year, four complete sets in all.
I didn’t appreciate the gift then; it was too extravagant, too fragile. I prefered my rustic manger and resin figurines; something that my children could handle. Besides, as a young family living on one income at the time, there were practical things we could have used. What was I going to do with a bone-china Balthazar? The set remained packed away as we moved from home to home.
I found the box as I was setting up the decorations this year and set it on the floor in the living room. Gingerly, I unwrapped each piece: the Holy Family, an angel, a shepherd and lamb, a donkey, the little drummer boy, and the three wise men bearing gifts.
Blinking back tears, I see it now as a treasure, my mother’s way of gifting her children a keepsake, something she never would have had in her home growing up. I arranged the pieces carefully on the table. This will be my first Christmas without her.
Threads of Thought
Hold your loved ones close, and keep those you’ve lost in your hearts during this joyous season and always.
Thank you so much for being a part of my Seams Like a Story Family. I can’t wait to share with you in the new year!
“The best investment is in the tools of one’s own trade.” -Benjamin Franklin
An Affair with Cookware
A few years ago, I published a humorous story about my husband’s infatuation with top-of-the-line cookware. Ed ,the household chef, spent months browsing online sites and gourmet shops in search for the perfect saute pan. In the end, he found what he was looking for.
My story ends with these words: “She’s a beauty–a sleek exterior with a professional ceramic nonstick, diamond sear coating and a glass lid. The newest addition to our cookware collection now has a place of honor on its designated shelf in the cupboard and I’ll have to say, despite being high maintenance, she outperforms the other cookware in our kitchen. She and my husband make an impressive pair, creating lovely dishes for company or everyday dinners for us.”
New Girl in the Sewing Studio
My husband is right, the correct tools make all the difference. I recently had an opportunity to acquire a new tool for my sewing studio. A friend of a friend wasn’t using her serger ( a specialized machine that finishes the seam edges as you sew), so I offered to give it a new home.
I’d been wanting a serger, the price was right, and it will add a professional touch to my hand-made clothing and craft projects. There will be a learning curve. She has four spools, two needles and and extensive instruction manual, but welcome Vivian! ( Yes, I name all my sewing machines 🙂
For the Love of Writing
So now for my other passion: writing. What are the tools needed for that endeavor? Of course there are the physical tools : pens, pencils, notebooks, journals, computer or typewriter. Each writer will have her or his own preferences here. But there are less tangible tools to include as well.
Stephen King (On Writing) say that every writer’s toolbox should have: vocabulary (voice), a fundamental knowledge of grammar, personal style, and commitment to the work.
Digging deeper Elizabeth Gilbert (Big Magic) says writers need COURAGE (“living a life that is driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear”) ENCHANTMENT (being ready and open when new ideas strike) PERMISSION (define yourself as a writer) PERSISTENCE (hold yourself together through all the phases of your writing journey) TRUST(trust yourself, your process, your work)
So there you have it! Here’s wishing you a gloriously abundant toolbox for your creative life!
Threads of Thought
What is your creative outlet? What tool (or tools) help you achieve your best work?
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