baking is my soulmate

So I wouldn't go so far to say that baking is truly my soulmate. But oh boy, it sure does make me happy and brings a lot of satisfaction. Good ol' Bessie pulled through for me Friday and I whipped up 4 loaves of bread. I'm still working on the shaping of the loaves, but it was such a joy to have them raise and then to have the familiar smell slowly waft through my house as they baked. I have so many happy memories of homemade bread. The strongest two are of two lovely ladies. One, of my dear Grandma. I can still just smell it as strong as though I was at her house, it's morning and I'm coming down her stairs---greeted by happy faces and the smell of her homemade bread that made the very best toast to accompany apricot juice. The second one is of my own wonderful mother. I remember one January, in high school, I was out of school for the day and I came walking up the sidewalk to our home. Just as I turned the corner toward the house I could smell the baking bread permeating the air. It was warm and cozy inside and my dear mom was in the kitchen with six fresh loaves of bread. We weren't to eat the pretty ones (in case she wanted to give them to a neighbor or ward member. Bless her.). But she cut us all a slice of thick, hot bread and we spread butter on the steaming slice and of course indulged in homemade stawberry jam to top it off. We stood there in the kitchen talking about the day ("A-hour....1st hour...") and sharing stories and laughter. For those two vivid memories, I will always love homemade bread.