My husband took this photograph at the Feast of the Hunter’s Moon. Many of the handmade crafts and homemade cooking at the gathering made me think of my childhood, but none of them touched my heart as much as this bread dough. I remember my mother making homemade rolls. Sometimes she let me brush sweetened milk on top of the hot bread when she took it out of the oven. I also remember my grandmother rolling out pie dough, then helping me make “rolly doughs” with the leftover dough scraps that she trimmed from her hand fluted pie shells.
Most of my time at the feast was thought provoking in a nostalgic sort of way. Even the smell of rabbit stew and cobs of corn grilled over open fires made me daydream of years long gone. It was encouraging to be reminded of simpler more difficult times. Of course, in those childhood memories I was NOT the one doing the work.
I enjoyed the day. It was also nice to come home to modern conveniences. Unlike the women of the past that had no easier way to make bread, I can take a trip down memory lane and then put my feet up while the dough boy does the work.