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Winnie Parsons stood at the granite-topped island in her kitchen and pressed her palms into a soft round lump of dough. She had awakened in the mood for bread. Not just for the taste of it, but mostly for the smell of a yeasty loaf baking in the oven, warming the whole house.
A cold February morning like today made her want to stay inside, bake, eat, sit by the fire with a mug of coffee or hot chocolate, and read. Her yellow Labrador, Clover, had different ideas of what was fun, and so Winnie had walked her on the nearby University of Arizona campus first to let the dog frolic on the frost-covered grass.
But now Clover was curled up on her dog bed beside the crackling fire, and Winnie could fulfill her urge to bake. There were a few steps between here and a hot, finished loaf, but Win
