3 Wild and Wonderful Things for November
in praise of bread, the gentle art of spring cleaning, small acts of kindness
In praise of bread
It begins in the morning. Sleeves rolled up, hands slick with oil. We kneel on a yellow lino floor and knead dough in a plastic bowl, our smiles rise gently as the dough falls beneath our hands. We do not speak. Her scarf is wrapped in the traditional way, covering her hair and neck. My scarf is looped in a casual way, exposing strands of my auburn hair and one earring.
We are two women, kneading bread, in a house in Al-Rubaya, on the outskirts of Damascus, Syria.
Later, in a courtyard lined with olive trees, we sit on cinnamon earth and roll dough into rounds. In one corner, lies a small archway to a communal Tabun oven. A group of boys chop wood, their grandmother laughs when my husband rolls a perfect round, and a shepherd passes by with his sheep.
The women delight in showing me how to stretch the dough by spinning it in the air with my fingertips, and then how to cook it by slapping it onto the wall of the clay oven. It is ready in an instant though I am not fast enough to pull the puffed round out before it cracks and burns. I’ll do better the next time.
We bake enough flat bread to feed the family for a week, and a few extra for neighbours and visitors, like us.
Afterwards, we sit cross legged around circular platters of bread, meatballs, parsley, olives and goats cheese, and share lunch. The men eat first, as is custom here. The women pour coffee into glass cups. The bread is for everyone.
*
Bread is a vital element of human existence. A loaf of bread is a symbol of nourishment.
We have been making it for thousands of years. First as a mixture of crushed grain and water spread on stones in the sun. Later as leavened bread, called sourdough, where wild yeasts grow in dough left to rest, producing tiny bubbles of carbon dioxide, making the dough rise. And in recent times, dough made with commerical yeast, creating a faster and more predictable result.
Its no wonder bread has inspired religious texts and writers around the world.
Author
writes —[bread] carries a sort of magic: it can rise or fall and nourish many with just a few basic ingredients. Every culture has its own approach to bread. It’s wildly versatile […]. It also has the power to make us ecstatically happy—truly, is there anything more delicious than a beautiful, crusty baguette buttered across its warm surface?
Tasmanian writer Richard Flanagan pens in his essay, Bread —
A new aroma of delight and fresh memories rise with every slice, and all things — stories, friends and family, food and love and lives — are for a short time as they ought to be: one.
*
In our house, it’s my husband, who makes the dough, often before he leaves for work in the morning or at night before bed. He follows a recipe from his mother’s favourite cookbook. It never fails. Except when he forgets to put the yeast in.
From this list of humble ingredients we make a loaf of bread for dinner, or rolls for school lunches, or pizza bases. Our children love to shape their piece of dough into an animal or boat or letter in their name. Something I used to do with my mother when I was little. Mini pizzas with tomato paste and cheese are a hit on our house, and super easy to bake in the morning for lunch boxes.
Here’s an easy recipe to try —
500g plain flour
300g tepid water (neither hot or cold)
One teaspoon instant dried yeast
Half teaspoon of salt
Slurp of olive oil
Mix and knead for 10 minutes (by hand or in a mixer). Leave in a warm place to rise. We leave ours all day or overnight. When it has doubled in size, punch down the dough and shape as desired. Leave for half an hour in a warm place to rise a second time (this will give the dough more elasticity and flavour). It is ready to bake when the dough bounces back after pressing it lightly with a finger.
Pre-heat the oven to the hottest setting with a baking tray. Slide dough onto heated tray. Bake for 20-25 minutes. Reduce to 220 degrees C after five minutes. Test by banging the bottom of the loaf with your finger. It should sound hollow. Allow to cool for at least 20 mintues before cutting.
Break, share, eat.
*
Last week friends came for morning tea with a homemade loaf of sourdough. We ate it with butter and apricot jam. It was wonderful — soft and tangy. The next day they delivered a glass jar of bubbling starter. A wonderful gift. I’ve been feeding it flour and water. Mixing it with love. I can’t wait to start baking sourdough bread again. Its wild and unpredictable. Just the way I like things.
*
Who makes the bread in your house?
I’d love to hear your favourite recipe?
A poem to ponder while your dough rises —
Prove
by
I let a thought prove in my head overnight.
In the morning I check to see what’s risen.
I try to expect nothing, which is exactly
what I deserve. What kind of woman
demands her head deliver? But sometimes
I wake to a thought doubled, tripled in size
and as good sour as anything grown in the dark.
The gentle art of spring cleaning
I’ve been spring cleaning. I’m not sure what set me in motion. Perhaps, I felt our large house was becoming too small. Perhaps I felt overwhelmed and found solace in putting the house in order.
If you have caring responsibilities you will know how folding the washing or doing whatever is right in front of you can bring comfort.
Most days I have been taking bags of donations to charity or the local tip shop. I feel light and clear of thought when I return. When I sit in my study upstairs, words rush onto the page. I think the house can feel it too. The walls stand straighter, no longer burdened by the weight of the things we keep.
For inspiration, I read an article about spring cleaning by Jodi Wilson from
Here are her tips —Use a washing basket for everything that’s going to the op-shop (and then take it to the op-shop quick smart)
Embrace the 20-minute clean to tackle cluttered kitchen drawers, the bathroom vanity and bedside tables
Sort winter wardrobes; one storage basket for hand-me-downs, the op shop basket on-hand for decluttering
Use bi-carb and vinegar to clean with a damp cloth + eucalyptus oil to spruce, and lemon and rosemary in a simmering pot of water as an air freshener
Don’t expect to get it in done in a day. Think of it as a slow and steady clearing; a little bit each day in the pockets of time you already have.
children’s rooms are a bigger job and require a good few hours. You may find yourself wondering: where on earth did this come from? and proceed to find things in corners and crevices that you’ve never seen before. You will need patience and grit here.
don’t forget that your children’s artwork makes really great wrapping paper
I’ve also been reading Marie Kondo. You’ve probably heard of her method of tidying, it’s a Japanese art. Her advice —
throw away anything that doesn’t spark joy.
I started. Then stopped. Something didn’t feel right.
I wondered about the environmental impacts of throwing away things.
Instead of asking ‘does this bring joy?’ Perhaps, we should ask how can I reuse or repurpose it so that it brings joy?
The gentle act of spring cleaning — wiping away the dust, sorting our possessions, sifting through the clutter — uncovers the waste in our lives. And the unsustainable choices we make about the things we consume. Last week my husband and I took two car loads to our local tip. It’s a fascinating place. Next time you visit your local tip ask the operators what happens to the things you drop off.
Is it possible to live waste-free?
One Tasmanian family does and they have written a book on it — A Family Guide to Waste Free Living by Lauren and Oberon Carter.
Waste free living means bringing nothing into our home that we can’t consume, compost, or repurpose.
It means thinking. Lots of thinking. And refusing stuff that we can’t put to good use.
It’s sitting on my bed side table. I can’t wait to read more.
*
I’ve also been wondering about the layers of joy that our things hold, the memories passed down from one generation to another —
my great-grandfather’s camera, the small fossil I found in my daughter’s pocket, our collection of bird feathers in a vase.
What happens when we throw things away. Do we forget their stories? Does the past fade from our lives?
When you tidy your home what questions will you ask?
Little acts of kindness
It’s a challenging time to write about wild and wonderful things. What can you do?
You can focus on kindness and love.
That’s all you can do in the face of these things. Love the life you have and the people around you.
Bring in a neighbour’s rubbish bin, listen to a stranger tell you their story, send a postcard to a friend.
What will you do today?
Here’s a poem shared by
that celebrates small acts of kindness.Small Kindnesses by Danusha Laméris I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other. We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass. We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”
I’ll end this newsletter with a song I have been enjoying.
I listen because sometimes I just need a moment to myself —
to move my body
just like this
and feel
free.
Kate x
Freedom is the ultimate cleaning song. I’ll have to try it when I chase cobwebs🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️