I wanted to share something special this week in honor of the holiday.
I asked my poet friend, Gina Kimmel, to share her words with us. You can find her here on Substack.
A Winter’s Morning
The recipe forms in my mind.
Used, repeated often
to fill the body,
and warm the soul
on a cold winter’s morning.
Two cups of flour: one whole wheat, the other white.
Each ingredient imprinted on my memory,
as I glide from one step
to the next, with ease.
Two eggs,
cracked and dropped into the bowl.
This breakfast, full of comfort,
simplicity, and familiarity.
It draws me near and cradles me like
the flour cradles the eggs.
One and three fourths cup of milk,
a half a cup of oil.
All the elements I’ve used from the
time I could bake alongside of my mom,
sitting on her stool, fingers caked and clothes
dusted with flour.
Four teaspoons of baking powder,
a sprinkle of salt.
I open and close the pantry,
the fridge, the cupboards,
knowing I could create this recipe in my sleep,
the simple act of making breakfast
a perfectly executed dance.
A dash of cinnamon for flavor
and scent of home.
I grab the whisk and mix,
plug in the waffle iron, then
pour the batter.
Closing the lid, I wait
until this modest offering is done to perfection.
Soon we gather around the table,
as the soft light of dawn filters in.
We begin our day,
this ritual of togetherness,
as the snow gently falls
all around us.
I've only just read this, what a beautiful late Christmas gift
How perfect for the two of you to be together -- what a wonderful gift -- thank you to you both. xo