Quiet time. A time of gathering thoughts and introspection. And yet, as I type these words, I’m suddenly aware of
the soft drone
of the refrigerator,
of heat passing
through air ducts,
Our homes possess characteristics that make them seem alive. They are a reflection of our inner selves. Maybe I’m a candidate for adding a rubber room, but I’ve walked into my home after a long day at work and said, “Hello, nice clean home!” We become attune to the needs of our homes as poet Susan Nelson Myers accurately captures in this senryu:
empty winter nest -
discovering a new drip
in an old faucet
Prune Juice; Issue 6, Summer 2011
Stop and listen to your home. What do you hear? What does your home tell you? Walk through each room. Do you see a reflection of your personality, your creativity in your home?
We can live in many locations throughout our lives, but how many places can we truly call home? When I arrived at Poet’s Cottage, I texted a friend and said simply, “I’m home.” Today, I feel that I, too, have slipped into the rhythmic hum of the place that shelters me from the elements and keeps me warm.
One of the coolest gifts I received in recent months is a bread machine. The manual/recipe book had been lost but, thanks to the Internet, I found a free manual after a bit of googling. Having a fresh loaf of bread really is as easy as tossing a few ingredients into the machine and setting a timer for two or three hours. I’ve saved a few dollars by baking loaves of wheat, country white, carrot and cinnamon bread. Here are a few pictures of my bread machine and a loaf of homemade fresh bread.
|Ingredients tossed into the bread machine|
|Front view of the bread machine|
|Timer set for 2 hours and 30 minutes|
|Fresh cinnamon bread from the bread machine|
“Your home smells like fresh bread,” commented a friend, who stopped by for a visit. For those of us gifted with sensitive olfactories, the benefits of a bread machine exceed the taste of fresh baked bread and dollars saved.