Saturday, July 7, 2012


I attended a funeral this morning. This is the second time I have attended the funeral of a friend's mother  since my own mother's funeral on May third. As I sat listening, I was thinking about the family's grief, wanting to be there for them knowing first hand how comforting it is when others are sharing this time with you.  But there were definite, personal things going on within my own heart too, I felt a strong squeezing. The stillness of the moment, the words and the songs provided a stage of familiarity.

As soon as I walked in the back door, I kicked off my black pumps, slipped an apron over my head,  promptly tied it in the back and began to cook. For several uninterrupted hours straight I mixed, chopped, stirred, baked, and sauteed with deftness and abandon.

Then I sat down and sighed. The curative powers of cooking, good therapy.


melissa said...

Thanks so much for visiting my blog and commenting. I'm enjoying browsing yours as well. :)

Enjoy your are a cozy sort!

Pieces of Sunshine said...

Very productive and comforting therapy too, pouring love into those around us.

Karen said...

That's very similar to what I do. I bake bread. Something soothing about working the dough with your hands.
Also love that you kicked off those shoes and tied on an apron.

wayside wanderer said...

Oh, I am sorry for your loss. I like your picture, and I wish cooking held such powers for me. Sigh. I like your pink toes, too. :)

reading and knitting with "small things"

I was pleased to discover Ginny had brought back her knitting and reading yarn along, because frankly I do find myself enjoying  the ...