Mother Nature is setting a contrary atmosphere to my thoughts. As I ponder the awareness awakened in life by slow pace, She pushes gale winds across the earth. The western woods jostle like ocean kelp beds at storm’s height; each tree’s core strength and flexibility demonstrates decades of give and take spent growing with the elements.

I’m thinking about our official first Pennsylvania walk, of last weekend. Twenty feet in Michael and I saw a peculiar looking walnut. “That’s a pear!” he shouted. Our necks snapped in anticipatory glee as we scanned the shrubbery above us. Indeed, emerging above the snarled oriental bittersweet and wild rose thorns, the tip of an old pear tree splayed plush fruits 15 feet above our heads. Having passed this plant cluster thirty times, clipping along between tall grasses, dogs running pell-mell, my eyes remained forward. Perhaps in anticipation of falling in the uneven field; more likely focusing on moving myself and the dogs away from a somewhat nearby road as quickly as possible.

This walking stuff is enlightening. Scrounging for decent pears, an odd breeze passed overhead bringing my eyes skyward once again. Small gusts rustled the treetops, but a dipping cluster of small black birds created the quick whoosh I heard. Later in the afternoon, a walnut come into close view. While looking hard at an odd berry bush, an orb flashed before my eyes, thudding decidedly onto the ground. Thanks to those minutae of time and space, my head continued un-pummelled and delightfully coherent for the remainder of the day.

This Wednesday morning glides routinely; having mixed together a sourdough starter two days ago, I continue the process. Other bread-stuffs are on the docket, as well as those pears. This morning is one of my versions of efficiency; baking bread for the week ahead, as well as gifts for those who dine with us this evening. If this weekend walk created intimate introductions with flora, fauna and geography, heightening my sense of place, these mornings of bread and assorted culinary extras awakens me to the pleasures found in cooking for oneself and loved ones. The process reminds of me of walking; in following the hours of the dough’s development, awareness to detail grows, just as walking provided more detail than months worth of running in the same location.

There will always be a need for quick cooking, for meals gathered on the spot, and there will always be a need for speed while moving amid the hustle and bustle of life. But for this morning, I’ll relish the dough flow. I’ll let puppy Calhoun climb on my lap, terrified of the wind. And I’ll most certainly enjoy the pleasure of sharing the baked outcomes with friends.