When we got here the bakery had been abandoned for a generation, it's homely aromas long diluted into a shrink-wrapped world.
The bakery took the golden ears of summer fields and let them speak of those sun-fed days in great and hearty bloomers.
The golden wheat of the fields blossomed as golden crust in the village bakery, sending out its fragrance, a promise to be so heavenly in all good nurturing ways.
The bakery was a converted cow barn, rustic on the outside and perfection on the inside. The breads were all local grain and the variation was amazing. There were plaits and cobs, buns and cakes, soda breads and flat breads... so much. We would ride our bikes there on a Saturday, early in the day as the sun was rising, and spend the rest of it at the river with a bounty of baked goods and the fruits of the season.