Our Mother worked and so we ate store-bought bread, but the majority of our Mormon neighbor ladies baked their own. In the summer, we used to hang around Bartley Hansen’s house on baking day so we could watch his mother slide pans of fresh bread out of the oven. The smell was heavenly! She would cut up a hot loaf, smear it with butter and use it to chase the kids outside. I envied him at school as he bit into his homemade sandwiches while I “suffered” through a purchased “hot lunch”.
I’m hoping that all these beautiful memories of gardens and people and community (though my own memories and not yours) will entice you into wanting to be a part of something similar with Central Library’s Bookworm Garden project.