Perfect cinnamon buns

So the sticky buns got made. Eleven beautiful roll-ups of sweet yeast dough, butter and cinnamon sugar got laid on the maple goodness, which readers will remember was about five gallons worth of syrup rescued after over boiling, and were baked to golden doneness. In flipping them onto the oval platter, given to me by my dear father, a bit of syrup rolled off onto my thumb. The searing heat burned deep into my consciousness. I thought of it as the final kiss.

But the buns were delicious and I took them to the Fellowship on Sunday, not wanting to invite further wrath of any god who might, or might not, be watching for any sign of hoarding.

It was a good thing to do.

The reaction was one of gratitude. Many had read of my adventures and were in anticipation of the buns' wholesome goodness. Pronounced by some as the best ever, and encouraged by others that if I was experimenting I should bring the next batch, I was pleased to have company on my ridiculous adventure.

I had sent out a notice to some of my friends informing them that I was, once again, continuing my blog. In the subject line was the words, “Misery loves company?”

Amy wrote back, “I like to think it is not just misery that loves company but humanness that needs affirmation/companionship (not to mention a sense of humor) along the way.

I have to agree.

I was so happy, in the end, to have company with my trials with the syrup. Unfortunately, the sap is flowing much slower now with the cool weather, and it’s not nearly as clear. I don’t know if I’ll get any maple syrup and the burning all of my sap could have been, in one sense, a fatal mistake. But sharing the mishap with others brought it to a different dimension.

I guess what I learn from that is precisely what Amy writes: it’s not so much our accomplishments or even our ability to make our own way, or produce our own syrup as the case may be. Rather, our lives are made meaningful by that which we share, and perhaps, unfortunately, our human foibles are the most lovable of all.

Go figure.

The buns really were perfect.