always so nervous to take the first leap into the world of sourdough, this isolation begged for the trial to begin. honestly, who hasn’t heard of someone who has heard of someone who has gone down this path since staying indoors for the safety of all?
day 2
she’s alive and well. i think i need to name her. i send her photograph to a few friends as if she was a newborn baby.
day 3/4
business as usual. i change up the rhythm in which i’m weighing and measuring out ingrediants in order to make the feeding quick and seamless.
day 5
i forget what day it is and wonder if it’s only day 4. thankfully i put a timer on my phone, aptly named “feed the mother, maybe both” as to not forget. a moment of reflection for myself – how much did i eat today? did i actively sit down and savour a meal or did i graze as i went?
day 6
hastily trying to complete the task in order to sit down to a movie, i forget to measure out the water correctly and add too much. i wonder if the previous days efforts are all for nothing and send good thoughts her way.
day 7
gently and carefully, measuring everything, twice – i attempt to save her. i think i did okay. i send her more good thoughts and head to bed.
day 8
she looks good! i debate putting her to use but favour the idea of feeding her again and making crackers with her discard.
day 9
crackers made. she’s ready for her first loaf. tomorrow i think.
day 10
i’m tired. so very tired. i decide to put her into hibernation for a week and go from there. another batch of crackers are made with her discard before heading to the fridge. her name – Iron Mother.
