I’m baking. Well, trying to bake. The first batch of flour had mites. Apparently, that’s a common problem for dry goods in warm, humid places, especially deep in the back of my pantry. The second package of flour appeared mite-free. At least, baking them, if there are any, will kill the little buggahs. All it took was some flour, salt, yeast, and water. And six or eight hours of patience while the dough rises.
The sun is even brighter today than yesterday.
According to a quick internet search, bay leaves (fresh or dried) dropped inside a container of flour (or littered around the pantry) will keep flour mites, as well as cockroaches, moths, rats, weevils, and other pests at bay. (See what I did there.) I wish there were something like bay leaves for viruses.
Lulu is sun-baking on the lanai. Soon, she’ll retreat to the inside of the house and find a cool spot on the floor. She’ll do this all day, go from warm to cool, the way some people go from a sauna to an ice-cold plunge at a spa. Every day is a day at a spa for Lulu. There are lessons to be learned from her.
Now, it’s evening. The bread dough has risen, and it’s about to go in the oven. If this experiment works, I can probably make a couple more loaves of bread with the remaining flour I have on hand, keeping Eric from running off to the grocery store.
Lulu isn’t the only one teaching me lessons these days. There are other animals helping. Like these Laysan albatross. Lucky for me, the colony I monitor is located on a remote part of Kauai. So, there’s not a single other human around. We’re in the midst of courtship season in the world of Laysan albatross, and from them, I’m reminded there is still joy in this world. Just look at the exuberance emanating off these two.
The bread just went into the oven. Even if it doesn’t turn out to be any good, at least, my house will smell like baking bread. And that’s something good.