As we were driving home and he was starting to drift to sleep in his car seat, the sun was reflecting off the crusty snow. The edges of huge round hay bales were glowing. The snow was sparkling. I wanted to drive faster and faster, to accelerate until my car took off into the sky. I wanted to disintegrate into the air.
That's the thing about having a toddler in the back seat, though. Your car never really turns into a plane. At least not a real one.
I'm home now. MiniMan is sleeping. I should be cleaning the kitchen and bringing in wood, but instead I'm preheating the oven and waiting to slide in a second attempt at the perfect sunflower raisin bread.
The first one came out okay. It was crusty on the outside and moist on the inside. I was out of sunflower seeds so I used walnuts. They stained the inside dough a kind of brownish purple. This time I've added more whole wheat flour in hopes for a denser loaf, sunflower seeds instead of walnuts, and sultanas (golden raisins) instead of the more familiar deeply brown raisins. We'll see how it goes. There's something very transformative about bread...to take a slurry of ingredients that are so simple: flour, water, salt -- and turn them into fragrant, cracked golden mass.