No one had ever baked a loaf of bread for me before. Laci loves to cook. He was baking bread and had enough dough for two loaves. He made his loaf first, all neat and straight and orderly. Then he came to mine, and made mine in many sections, all wild and crazy. When he presented it to me, all hot and brown and crusty and smelling wonderful I wanted to do something more than eat it. Commemorate it!

I bound it with twine and shellacked it all over several times. On the top of each curved section I wrote the verses from a poem by Thoreau. Those words run just as sinuously through our days and all our creating together in the last few years.