Contemplation – Woodsmoke and Cardamom

Phlox and Asters

It’s November now. The phlox and asters have long since ended their blooming season, and the time is fast approaching when the house will once again be filled with the heady scent of cardamom as Christmas bread rises and bakes. How the seasons swirl by, with one set of pleasure-to-the-senses melding into the next! One of my nieces asked me recently if I would be baking Christmas bread this year. “IF”?!?! It could hardly be Christmas if not!!! So, yes – of course!! And I can hardly wait to get started!

If you are among the fortunate souls who take great pleasure in the baking of homemade bread, you need no explanation for the joy it brings. If not, I will try to describe it as best I can.

It often begins with merely the delightful anticipation of the process itself! The gathering of the tools and ingredients, greasing of pans, seasoned to black from many years of use. Though my lovely black bread-tins are used only for our toast and sandwich bread, they are a precious treasure to me, handed down with love from my mama after her many years of baking for our family.

My bread-board, too, is a treasure I have used for many years, built by my dad, well-used by my mom.

My “canister” for flour is immense: 11″ tall, 9+” in diameter, holds the 10lbs of flour I buy at a time throughout the year. 25lbs at Christmas time won’t fit all at once, but it doesn’t take long to get through it!! And my lovely bread bowl that only comes out for Christmas bread (I use my bread-mixer the rest of the year)

flour “canister,” bread bowl and wooden spoon

I have always loved the scent of yeast, that conjures memories of my childhood home and Mama, baking bread in our cozy kitchen. From the moment the yeast hits the lukewarm water, I am transported to that kitchen and all the wonderful memories of the best childhood, filled with love and laughter.

Here is a link to the recipe for Christmas Bread, aka Swedish Coffee Bread:

https://wp.me/p2i29U-1D

And to circle back to the title of this post: another simple joy of my childhood, and the beginning of my lifelong love of these wildflowers, was the tiny not-quite-meadow of tall grasses, phlox and asters that grew between our yard and the next-door neighbor’s.

Words

by Lucy M. Edmunds

Hares are rabbits
And rabbits have hair;
Hair isn't a rabbit
A rabbit is a hare.

I get so mixed up
I wonder why words
Have to be so confusing.
The bees and the birds

Don't have to worry.
They just sing a song
And everyone knows 
That nothing is wrong.

Soft Rain

by Lucy M. Edmunds

Soft rain is so queer and wonderful
It washes the sky all clean;
The big warm drops come tumbling down
And make the brown lawns look green.

The street is a shiny black ribbon
That somebody dropped and forgot;
The trees are like leaky umbrellas
That the rain has torn and cut.

It makes such beautiful puddles
It's too bad I can't go out;
I'd like to put my boots on
And run and splash about

And play with the soft warm raindrops,
And hear what they have to say
Perhaps they would tell me about their homes
And why they came away.

Winter Sun

by Lucy M. Edmunds

In winter the sun is a sleepyhead
He stays in bed so late, and then
I hardly get back home from school
Before he's back in bed again!

He hurries through the day so fast
He doesn't even warm my nose.
I wish he'd stop a little while
And try to warm my cold, red toes.

But then, I s'pose he must go on
So other boys and girls can play.
I shouldn't call him sleepyhead,
'Cause where he is it's always day.

I Wish I Were a Little Bird

by Lucy M. Edmunds

I wish I were a little bird
With strong wings I could fly
Away up there above the clouds
And pick a hole in the sky

Wouldn't that be wonderful?
Cause then I could see God.
I'll ask the birds about it
They wouldn't think it odd.

They prob'ly see Him every day
I'm very sure they do
'Cause they are always so happy
They make me happy, too.

A New Game

by Lucy M. Edmunds

(This poem, and the 5 that follow, were written by Lucy as a child)

When I am tired of hide and seek
And baseball and tag and such
I have another game I play
Which I like very much.

I lie on my stomach out in the field
Where the grass is tall and deep
And close my eyes just halfway up 
So I won't go to sleep.

Then I lie still and quick as a wink
The grass is a forest tall
And in and out and round about
Come animals large & small.

A measureworm measures carefully
The distance from here to there
While a great big bee goes bumbling around
For honey to take to his lair.

The ants are busy collecting food
To pile in their winter store
While the grasshopper sings with never a thought
For winter wind's bite and roar.

I feel like a king in this tiny world
When I close my eyes and pretend
But when I stand up and look at the sky
I am just a child again.

Melodrama

by Lucy M. Young

If only I could run away somewhere
And be myself for just a little while
I wonder what I would be like.
Would I be gay and charming,
Or quiet and reserved?
Would I be kind and gentle, lovable and loving,
Or bitter, hard, unscrupulous and wicked?

I think I know.
I'd be just what I want to be, and nothing more nor less -
A woman.
I'd laugh a lot, and cry enough to keep a tender heart,
Love without restraint.
I would be good, but not too good,
And neither would I be too bad.
I'd be a bit mischievous, too,
But always quick with sympathy, a helping hand.
I would be gentle, understanding, kind.
Your heart would be my home.

Grim circumstance has forced an act upon me
Where I must lie, pretend, deceive - and smile.
By doing this I'm making someone happy,
But what of me?
I hate dishonesty.
I am the star in this - the melodrama of my life.
Where is it leading me?

Needs

by Lucy M. Young

My wants and needs are few, dear Lord -
A little rain, a little sunshine,
Snow for Christmas,
Money enough to pay my bills and feed my pets and me,
Clothing to keep me warm in winter cool in summer,
Shelter from the cold and storms,
Health and happiness for my friends and family.

Dear Lord, I need the love of friends and family,
And love to share with those who need to know that someone cares;
But most of all I need Your love
To lift me up when I am down,
To blunt the sting of unkind words,
To strengthen me and keep me going through another day.

Freedom

by Lucy M. Young

My body may be handicapped
But my mind and heart are free,
And my spirit leads me outward
Where my heart most longs to be.

I soar with the astronauts
In weightless carefree joy,
The stars my sparkling neighbors,
The moon a bright new toy.

I roam through fields of clover
And drink from mountain streams;
Reality's so dull beside
The splendor of my dreams.

They lead me through the velvet night
Where moonglow lights my way,
From the vivid glow of sunset
To the rosy dawn of day.

With the wind and rain for playmates
My gypsy heart roams free,
From stately stands of virgin pine
To the wind caves by the sea.

O'er the burning sands of the desert
And the Northland's ice and snow,
In the rushing roar of the ocean,
Great peace and joy I know.

But I must needs return to earth,
To my crutches and my pain;
'Til my spirit leads me outward
To freedom once again.

Your Plan for Me

by Lucy M. Young

Dear Lord, what do You have in mind for me to do? What menial task, What act of love or sacrifice is in Your plan for me? I’m tired of the daily round of meaningless activities. I need a reason for existence, a goal to strive for. Give me, Lord, a dream, And strength to work toward its completion. It needn’t be a great earth-shattering project – Just help me feel my life is not in vain. If nothing else, Lord, let me be a good example of usefulness in spite of handicap, And cheerfulness despite whatever pain may fill my waking hours; Then when at night my body cries for rest, I pray that You may feel I’ve done my best Your purpose to fulfill; And then, Lord, grant me peaceful sleep And quiet happy dreams throughout the night.