Yesterday I wanted to make enough warm bread to go with stew for my family and to bring to friends. The breadmaker would not do, so I went to my Mom's recipe box for her whole wheat bread recipe that yields 4 loaves. It was a wonderful thing to read my Mom's handwriting and revisit old memories of coming home from school to smell and taste fresh bread, still warm, slathered with butter and honey or cinnamon sugar. Strange how pieces of a person live on after they are gone. But comforting too.