Something about eating oatmeal is so comforting. It reminds me of my Grandpa Baker because he loved it so much and I always watched him eat it in delight as a kid.
I love that oatmeal changes with the seasons. In the winter it is enjoyed by a warm woodstove and filled with dried fruit we harvested the summer before, always topped with sweet raw honey. And soon it gets covered in local spring butter, deep yellow, from our neighbor’s farm. Then juicy strawberries…. then blueberries… then….
Okay, I’m making myself hungry
Who feels like some oatmeal?