Two loaves, one sour rye for us, one plain French, to give
Mixed: 9:45 pm
Molded: 1:15 pm next day
Baked: 3:35 pm
Gave to: Karen–neighbor down the way with the beautiful fig tree
Spring is all around. Our plum tree is in full bloom, the pomegranate has the sweetest little leaves covering its open branches, and the nasturtiums are beginning to take over the back fence. And Easter–our beloved Pascha–is just around the bend. There is so much to celebrate–and Spring is giving in abundance.
Today, we were hoping to celebrate our bread giving by sending a large loaf to the triplets down the road. It has been two weeks now since I promised them something, but have continually been sidelined by conflicting schedules. Yet again, we knocked on their rustic green door, warm bread in hand, but no one was home.
‘Okay. Where to now?” I asked my four-year old apprentice.
“There!” He pointed across the street to an empty-looking house. No lights. No cars around…
“Hmmm,” I mumbled. “Don’t think there’s anyone home to enjoy this warm loaf of bread.”
“How about there!”
A car was just pulling into the driveway of the house on the far corner, which has the fig tree out front that we always admire. We have never met this neighbor. She lives outside our nine-house radius… “Run and say hi,” I urged John Ronan. “Say hi before she gets in the door!”
And he ran.
“Hi!” He said while sprinting with those little Tom Sawyer legs of his. He sped straight across the street. Straight up her driveway. Straight up her steps and caught her as she was just opening the back door.”Hi!” he said again.
“Hi,” she said, smiling, looking around for Part Two of the story.
I caught up to explain about the bread. “Just an extra loaf, since I baked today. We love your fig tree.”
We chatted for a bit while John Ronan hopped across cracks in her driveway. She has lived in the neighborhood for more than ten years–like us–I learned. It was nice to finally meet the owner of that beautiful tree. I always knew she’d be nice. Anyone who grows a fruit tree so close to the street must be nice. She offered for us to take figs whenever we liked.
As we left, the munchkin kept up his crack jumping and said as we walked the block home, “Okay. Let’s go home and bake another loaf of bread so we can give it to the next people.”
“Did you like that?” I asked. “Did you like giving away the bread?”
“Of course!” he said, as if I was crazy for asking.
And I was crazy for asking. It’s spring, and the spirit of giving is in the sights and the scents all around. Nature is setting the right kind of example at every turn.
And who wouldn’t want to cruise the neighborhood and make friends and give away bread? Four-year olds are so smart.
“All right,” I said to my small companion…”Shall we race back to the kitchen?”
And we did.
The Woman and the Wheat 