My Mother's Hands
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My Mother's Hands
Tell your favorite kitchen story
Early mornings come with life on a farm. Mother began our days slipping into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for our family of 10. Her soft movements would awaken me from a light sleep and lure me in
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Forums  »  Baking Memories  »  Other  »  My Mother's Hands

My Mother's Hands

posted at 4/29/2010 6:10 AM EDT
Posts: 1
First: 4/29/2010
Last: 4/29/2010
Early mornings come with life on a farm. Mother began our days slipping into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for our family of 10. Her soft movements would awaken me from a light sleep and lure me into the warm kitchen. Sitting on the high kitchen stool I quietly watched her prepare biscuits from scratch. Her smooth movements honed from years of repetition would mesmerize my sleepy eyes. I felt warm and relaxed in our rare quiet time together. I watched her measure the ingredients by sight, knead the dough, and "pinch" off each biscuit for the waiting baking sheets. Each biscuit seemed to magically appear out of her strong, beautiful hands. Each one was exactly the same size and shape except the baby one she sometimes made especially for me.
Now some fifty years later warm feelings of comfort and love sustain me as I remember my Mother's Hands.

Re: My Mother's Hands

posted at 8/22/2011 7:27 AM EDT
Posts: 959
First: 1/30/2010
Last: 1/22/2013
That is a fantastic memory! 

Re: My Mother's Hands

posted at 8/22/2011 9:39 AM EDT
Posts: 2519
First: 6/4/2010
Last: 4/19/2014
This was some old memorys.

Re: My Mother's Hands

posted at 2/6/2013 10:39 PM EST
Posts: 3720
First: 9/13/2011
Last: 4/18/2014
GRANA here;
Hi  BECKY S,;
 Such a lovely story, reminding me ofwatching my Grandma bakestrudeI Danish pastry &cook stuffedcabbage
; Allw/o a written recipe& alcame oout perfectly; again from  years ofrepitition
I was always amazed@ how she knew just how to doeach step, even taking things out oftheoven atjusttheright time no oven timerneedexd.Years later I knowhwshe did it; Foods smella certain wayasthey are finished cooking or baking.These daysIcan tell when mybaked custard is done by nose awarenessCoolWink

n Response to My Mother's Hands:
Early mornings come with life on a farm. Mother began our days slipping into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for our family of 10. Her soft movements would awaken me from a light sleep and lure me into the warm kitchen. Sitting on the high kitchen stool I quietly watched her prepare biscuits from scratch. Her smooth movements honed from years of repetition would mesmerize my sleepy eyes. I felt warm and relaxed in our rare quiet time together. I watched her measure the ingredients by sight, knead the dough, and "pinch" off each biscuit for the waiting baking sheets. Each biscuit seemed to magically appear out of her strong, beautiful hands. Each one was exactly the same size and shape except the baby one she sometimes made especially for me. Now some fifty years later warm feelings of comfort and love sustain me as I remember my Mother's Hands.
Posted by Becky S

Re: My Mother's Hands

posted at 2/6/2013 11:09 PM EST
Posts: 7300
First: 6/23/2010
Last: 4/19/2014
Becky wrote this single message in April, 2010 and has not posted again since then..

Re: My Mother's Hands

posted at 3/18/2013 2:19 PM EDT
Posts: 24
First: 2/14/2013
Last: 1/9/2014
Wonderful story.  Thanks for sharing a beautiful memory.

Re: My Mother's Hands

posted at 6/26/2013 9:12 PM EDT
Posts: 336
First: 11/28/2008
Last: 3/1/2014
You are blessed!

Re: My Mother's Hands

posted at 8/1/2013 4:42 PM EDT
Posts: 24
First: 2/14/2013
Last: 1/9/2014
In Response to My Mother's Hands:
Early mornings come with life on a farm. Mother began our days slipping into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for our family of 10. Her soft movements would awaken me from a light sleep and lure me into the warm kitchen. Sitting on the high kitchen stool I quietly watched her prepare biscuits from scratch. Her smooth movements honed from years of repetition would mesmerize my sleepy eyes. I felt warm and relaxed in our rare quiet time together. I watched her measure the ingredients by sight, knead the dough, and "pinch" off each biscuit for the waiting baking sheets. Each biscuit seemed to magically appear out of her strong, beautiful hands. Each one was exactly the same size and shape except the baby one she sometimes made especially for me. Now some fifty years later warm feelings of comfort and love sustain me as I remember my Mother's Hands.
Posted by Becky S


Seems I can almost smell them.  Beautiful story

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