Joy is available every day of the year to all of us

For three summers I sold for Great Harvest Bread Company at farmers’ markets in the Minneapolis metro area. Later in the season — some market schedules ran through October — if it was an early set up it would still be dark when I arrived at the bakery to load up the bread. There was just something about driving up to the little shop all lit up, with music blaring out the open door, and the scent of fresh baked bread hanging in the air.

When customers sauntered by my stand looking at the baked items I always tried to be elemental — commenting on the texture or flavor or appearance of the bread. The pulla with its light magical cardamom taste. Look at the beautiful twist it has. The scruffins filled with marionberries. These are a scone muffin combo loaded with juicy berries from Oregon. The soft pumpkin cookies. They will melt in your mouth. The spinach mushroom feta that smelled and tasted like pizza. Even non-mushroom eaters will like it! Here try just a bite. The cinnamon swirl loaf. Look at all the tasty goo in that. It makes wonderful French toast.

I sold a lot of bread the “elemental” way because we are sensory people. We respond to color and taste and sound and touch and smell. Autumn — the real thing now — is a season of richness for the senses. Those orange and yellow and red leaves shouting at us. The crackle of wood in the stove. Thick spicy soups bubbling on the burner. The tangy wet forest. A football soaring before a roaring crowd.

Living elementally is usually not “efficient” — if that means eyes on the task, don’t look up, no interruptions, no distractions. Too much of that and the senses dry up. The ability to seek enjoyment from our world turns to dust.

The great thing about our senses is they are readily revivable. They respond to even the slightest encouragement. Any pause to savor sight and sound and scent and texture is like pouring from a watering can.

In this way we discover joy is not seasonal. It is year around.