The food you eat can be either the safest and most powerful form of medicine, or the slowest form of poison. -Ann Wigmore
I have been hesitating to write this post for some time now. I certainly didn’t want to publish it before Halloween lest I rain on somebody’s parade. Don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween. Especially now that I have children, it’s even more special. My only issue lies with the candy part of it. I know, it’s candy, it’s not meant to be healthy. But have you looked at exactly what the candy of today is made with? It’s beyond my comprehension that this is what we give our children … as a treat … and in copious amounts to boot. What message are we sending out?
This year, as in the past, I bartered most of what was collected for homemade candy and cookies.
Over a decade ago, I lost my first pregnancy, my first baby, and with it, everything else it seemed. Death is so final, and I guess that is what makes it so hard. However, I think any other sort, I could have learned to accept. But to have to mourn for a child was and still is beyond my capability to handle, to reason, to understand. I cried, I yelled, I died. And I still cry. But such is life, not every flower blooms, not every blossom becomes a fruit and not every child is born. There are no reasons, no explanations. It just is. 
I love summer mornings when I can wake up with the sunrise and the world (it seems), as well as my loves, are still asleep and quiet. And I have time to sort out my thoughts. I do this best in my kitchen while measuring and weighing, mixing ingredients and watching something great come together.
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