Saturday, December 5, 2015


Yesterday, Leigh Ann Eck, one of my fellow December haiku-ers commented, "Your last three poems all have baking as the subject. This must tell me something about the writer!"Her comment made me laugh, because actually I am probably pretty close to the world's WORST cook/baker. My boys think homemade cookies are the break and bake dough you buy in the refrigerator department at the grocery store. Every year I think about baking Spritz and frosted sugar cookies, but I never quite get around to doing it.

The poems are coming, I think, from the time I spent with my mom's mom, my Grandma Grace. Grandma Grace was a librarian in the Chicago Public Libraries and lived over one thousand miles away. Every year, she would arrive a week or  so before Christmas and bake and bake and bake. I spent many, many hours watching her in the kitchen. When I think about Christmas, those are the times I remember.

“In Grandma’s Kitchen”

Mincemeat tartlets not
my favorite but I love those
tiny fluted pans

© Carol Wilcox, 2015

OR maybe…

“In Grandma’s Kitchen”

Fluted tart pans
Hearts and diamonds, much better
Than mincemeat inside
© Carol Wilcox, 2015

Still messing around an hour later…

"Christmas Toys"

I'll pass on mincement
but those tiny fluted pans
are captivating.
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2015


Mary Lee said...

Thank you for sharing your drafts! I think process is one of the most powerful things we can share.

Leigh Anne Eck said...

I love being called a haiku-er! I just wish I was better at it! That is funny that you are not a baker...I never would have guessed! Baking memories are some of my fondest. My grandma used to make potato chip cookies and put them in Pringles cans. She would always send us off to college with one.