I’m a gatherer – not a gatherer of butterflies, porcelain dolls or sepia photographs; rather a gatherer of ideas, thoughts, of simple ways of life’s living, doing, and being. Once gathered – it all gets archived – serving as remnants, glimmers of the inside stories of a life happened, of lives happening – leaving a footprint, a track I might follow.
One of such archived gatherings, a storehouse rather, has to do with the baking of bread. The above picture shows a remnant of a recipe written – whilst eagerly watching Ouma Moedie baking and sharing her love. Previous posts tell about some experiences in the midst of baking sourdough bread. However, this gathering glimmers. I will continue on this track in the hope of leaving a footprint.
Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.
Bread making, becoming bread, nourishment for others and ourselves desire a humbleness –
realizing how much our lives are dependent on others, and how much each day is based on receiving.
Albeit, I’m only a gatherer, not a connoisseur.
And you, dear reader – are you a gatherer?