Bread

“Honor to Véválíäh, Hearthtender, Provider, Lady of Earthly Blessings…”

A little water for cleansing the hands, emptied into the gutter.

“…who keeps us, warms us, and blesses us with this miracle.”

Uncovering the bowl, inhaling the clean-sour-beer scent of the élirvével.

“Honor to you, child of Véválíäh…”

Passing the water over the warming brazier, once, twice, thrice.

“…born of grain and water, by the Lady’s favor…”

Mixing in the water and the flour.

“…maker of bread, ender of hunger.”

Scooping up one half, and placing it in my bag.

“Our thanks and praise, little flame…”

Covering the bowl again, and topping up the brazier’s oil.

“…on this day and those to come.”

And now, the baking. Until tomorrow.