A few winters ago my husband and I had grand plans to only eat bread we’d baked ourselves, so one Saturday in January a friend of mine came over to show me how it’s done. Of course being photographically inclined, instead of taking notes, I took pictures.

She showed me how to make a well out of flour, how to slowly blend in the fine powder so that the liquid didn’t escape and make a mess.

She showed me how to fold the dough until it was a springy ball, ready to rise. We had a little helper too, who happily lent a hand when she felt we needed one. Soon our beautiful ball of dough was ready to rise.

We added goat cheese into the herby blend, and once again my friend showed me how to work it into the mixture and then prepare the bread into a braided loaf.

As the light dwindled, I raised my ISO and widened my aperture, adjusting my own in-camera mixture, so that I wouldn’t miss a thing.

After the second rise, She prepped the loaf coating it with an egg mixture before sprinkling over sesame seeds, and moments later it was ready to bake.

While we waited for the finished product, we shared wine and conversation – along with a few cartoons in honor of our small guest. My kitchen was cozy despite the chill outside, and my camera cards were full with photos I might – or might not – touch.

There was a time when the moment my friend and her daughter had left, I would have rushed upstairs to upload my photos and work on them right away. But not this time. The light had dwindled to nothing, and I knew I would have to wait until the next day to finish telling the story.

Although I waited for better light to photograph the final loaf the next day(sans one eaten end), I waited three years to share this story with you. Even though I’ve found that the need to capture a moment is so strong I must record it, sometimes I don’t look at work on those photos for years.

Yet it saddens me that I waited so long, and that I have years and years of images waiting to be uncovered. But just as breaking bread is best amongst friends, photos – and the stories they tell – are best when shared too. Some are happy. Some sad. Some are simple. Some complex. But life is richer when experienced together. I’m hoping to devote time this year to uncovering forgotten work, printing photos, maybe creating albums from the countless trips I’ve taken since prints became pixels. Because buried under the weight of thousands of images, this procrastinator gave up trying to deal with them. I’m expecting this will be a challenge, but the rewards will be strong.

And the bread? In the end, it was the only loaf I made that year! Shortly after, emboldened by my new baking skills, I tried my hand at making pizza dough. We loved homemade pizza so much, that we went back to a healthier store-bought bread, and started making our own pizzas instead!

Until next time,
Holly ~ Soupatraveler