Baker's Granny

Memories of her soft, white apron.
The faint, remaining smell of bacon.
Perhaps also, there was some maple?
That, in her house, was a staple.
Try to remember the recipe now;
She'd only say, "I'll show you how":

"You should only mix by hand.
The flour should only be this brand.
Add the milk, but not too wet.
Have you softened butter yet?
Now stir until it looks just right,
then knead it hard, with all your might.

A pinch of this and a dash of that,
then let it sit until it's fat.
Then, punch it down and grease it up.
Remember to reserve a cup.
You'll need it last, to make it pretty.
Don't hurry, it will make it gritty.

Roll it flat. Use your fingers.
Sprinkle lightly, taste that lingers.
Roll it up and tuck the ends,
and put it in the pan with bends.
Braid the bit you kept aside.
Dress the top but not too wide.

Make sure the oven's not too hot.
Set the timer on the dot.
It will have to go a while.
Sit with me and make me smile."
In the yard, under the shade,
We wait with pride for what we made.

Aroma wafts it's way to me
while we sit and sip our tea.
An hour of stories from her time,
and a favorite childhood rhyme.
Then, there's my Granny's sweet, warm treat.
Finally! It's time to eat!