We all need to hibernate at times to renew. My friend’s moment had come. She gathered all her hibernating needs; fuzzy socks, a comfy sweatshirt, her doggy nearby. There was a quiet day ahead and she was drawn to “making.”
Support had come in all shapes and symbols. One was a recipe making crusty bread which connected to her nourishing need and began gathering supplies from cupboards, bins, and drawers. She mindfully washed her hands massaging bubbly soap between her fingers letting the warm water refresh. The moment stretched into hours as her kitchen grew lively with flour dust, utensils tinging metal bowls, hand towels smudged, and subtle music playing in the background. It was finally time for the dough to rise; a built in pause.
My friend cuddled with a blanket, a book, and a large dog on her couch and created her own story as they both gently drifted off to sleep. The autumn light dimmed the afternoon as the hibernating hearts beat softly sleeping on in sync.
The doggy’s collar jingled, her body tugging down the covers leaping off the couch. My goodness gravity has such a pull after delicious sleeps. The oven grows warm, bread goes in. Another pause to do a bit more making. My friend pulls fresh greens out from her fridge and pours equal mixtures of acid and oil on to nature’s bounty right there on a plate; a moment of grace.
The browning loaves filled the room with the aroma of comfort and warmth while they did their magic under fire.
All done. Butter snuggling down into the crevices, melting; steam rising. Nurture food.
The need to take a pause from life is a good thing.
But it didn’t stop there. Extra loaves were tucked into organic bags and sent around to loved ones.