0258 While The Enamel Holds Comments

My mother used to make cakes. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

Those sounds of Mother stirring in an enamel bowl, you have triggered my brain to remember them too Michael, and 'things' made then tasted so good somehow, the aroma too was delightful. Thanks for reminding me. Love Ernestine

Great poem! As a fellow bread-maker it makes me ashamed that I use a large plastic bowl, ca.1997, though I do still use my grandmother's recipe.

I knew it's not just a bowl of cherries! A excellent and reflective piece Michael. Thank you.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this poem, Michael. So many memories all tied up within a mixing bowl. How very astute to write about them. Hugs to you, CJ