Muddy thick and dredged through goodness in the morning time. There's something sacred to that. When slowdown serves as the very catalyst spring boarding stories shared and curiosities peaked. "Mom, what did you eat when you were a little girl?"

My boys are growing with such a rapidness I can't quite explain. Their faces already leave my heart vacant as what was once a little boy is all too quickly taking shape to that much akin to a young man. Permanent teeth are like buoys. Floating there in their waters of manhood. Bobbing up and down as the preliminary forevers that keep constance as their very currents begin to change.

So when there is time and perhaps even when there is not, I hold precious to making with them. The process. It's this holy place where our lives can rest together. Focused on a task & full of delightful anticipation for the end result, our hands join the choir of our hearts and we talk and tell as I teach and we touch. Together we sing delicious even just if its just for a time. And I'll take it.

I learned to repurpose from my Dad. He was the first to show me the beautiful way foods can begin again. His backyard compost pile was always thriving much like his heart. He is a giver. A believer in best uses and practical solutions just the same. His story inside mine is why a baguette bread can serve my family once for dinner and equally as kind as french toast the following morning. Food celebrated. Claimed. And used in fullest potential. That's worth celebrating and passing on, too.