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South | North

The Harvest

Bread

The silver rain, the shining sun,
The fields where scarlet poppies run,
And all the ripples of the wheat
Are in the bread that I do eat.
So when I sit for every meal
And say a grace, I always feel
That I am eating rain and sun,
And fields where scarlet poppies run.


~Alice C. Henderson

Leaves :

Comments

( 4 trees — Plant a Forest )
Amy Vh
Feb. 2nd, 2015 01:35 am (UTC)
I just love this photo (your bread pans!!!) and the poem! :)

I have a hard time commenting here. Am I doing something wrong? :)

Amy

http://theycallmemommywithapileofbooks.blogspot.com/
impossibleway
Feb. 2nd, 2015 11:05 am (UTC)
I really like the poem. I found the pans at Goodwill. :-)

I used to get lots of Russian spam, so I set comments to moderated. I haven't had any in awhile. I think I'll test the waters and switch it back.
elizabethhas7
Feb. 10th, 2015 09:06 pm (UTC)
dearest...one day you will have to share your bread recipe with me. i seem to turn out with more of a dense oval than a loaf of light bread...sigh
impossibleway
Feb. 11th, 2015 12:17 pm (UTC)
I love to make bread, just love it. I'll have to do a recipe roundup for you. :-)
( 4 trees — Plant a Forest )

A Blessed Wilderness

It was just like being in heaven, being in there. In those days there was no road. The park was all a blessed wilderness. I have often thought what a wonderful people we would have been if we had wanted to keep it that way.

~Adolph Murie, biologist, on Denali


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© impossibleway

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