Who knew I’d love the sourdough baking adventure so much? Not me! But here I am doing the thing, and this excitement in me has even surprised me!

In two weeks, I have three active and thriving sourdough starters. Named for my great-grandmother, Millie Rose Hackett Snare, my maternal grandmother, Lillian Louise Wingett Snare, and my paternal grandmother, Thelma Maxine Bonnell Hinkle.

Why are these three ladies honored in my kitchen? Well, my friend Sierra, told me I must name my starter (at the time I only had one). She said it must be an old-fashioned name, and that was an easy one for me. Millie Rose has been a part of family lore for me always. My mother spoke of her often – her picture hung on a wall in our home, and I’ve always enjoyed looking into her eyes through that photo, looking at the woman my mother so desperately wanted to know.

Millie Rose was my grandfather Lester Snare’s mother. When he was 8 years old, in 1908, my great-grandfather, John Snare, put her in an asylum. Years of living in a cabin in the harsh Minnesota woods in the late 1800s, often alone with two small sons and surrounded by howling wolves, apparently took its toll on her. She died there in 1918; my grandfather was 18. My Momma always believed that she and her grandmother, Millie Rose, would have been kindred spirits. I believe so, too. Millie Rose has always existed for me in my mother’s stories told to her by her daddy – she had been an extroverted young woman, excited to marry a preacher and be the lively hostess, but found herself, once married, abandoned in the woods because he took on the role of traveling fire and brimstone preacher – gone for lengthy periods of time. My grandfather’s stories and sweet memories of his mother during his early years touched my Momma deeply, and she often spoke of her to me.

When I teach “The Yellow Wallpaper” in classes at school, we have a conversation about Charlotte Perkins Gilman and the reason she wrote “The Yellow Wallpaper,” which is a commentary on post-partum depression when it didn’t have a name. In the early years of psychology, women were often seen as ‘hysterical’ and placed on the ‘rest cure,’ and if it didn’t work, they were separated from society and placed in asylums. Charlotte wrote “The Yellow Wallpaper” to rail against the rest cure, going so far as to put her actual doctor’s name in the story! Her entire purpose was to scare people enough to save women’s lives from the whacked-out practices of the day. Read “Why I Wrote The Yellow Wallpaper,” and you’ll see for yourself the pure and impassioned intent of the author! And the story did save lives in those days … just not Millie Rose’s. I share her picture with my students, and tell them her story, and remind them that “The Yellow Wallpaper” and gross mistreatments of women’s disorders are not that far removed in the past. Millie Rose was my, is my, great-grandmother. She died in an asylum in 1918, but now she thrives in my kitchen!

Lillian Louise Wingett Snare, born in 1900, was my grandmother, my sweet Momma’s mother. She chose to marry a poor man, Lester Perry Snare, against her wealthy family’s wishes. She married for love, and they lived in Kansas, raising chickens and goats, and they had 7 children! Dorothy, Doris, Mary, Lesta, Perry, Wilma, and their last baby, a surprise baby, Marjorie Ruth, was born in 1943, when they were both 43 years old. My Momma. ❤️. They moved to a drier climate when my grandfather’s health declined, and my Momma grew up in Albuquerque, NM. She met my daddy in NM – they were young teachers and lived next door to each other in a small apartment complex. Daddy ‘borrowed sugar’ from time to time because he thought the neighbor girl was cute. Sweet story, but back to my grandmother … I knew my grandmother, Lillian Louise, when I was a small girl. My grandfather died the year before I was born, but I have a few memories of my grandmother, whom my Momma loved so deeply – mostly I remember a time not long before she passed. We had traveled to Andrews, Texas, to see her, and in her bedroom, which smelled, to my memory, like Avon perfume and talcum powder, she had a ceramic turtle doorstop and a powder puff that fascinated me. A sweet lady – who I’ve seen over the years in photos holding baby me – always with a smile on her face. She passed in 1978; I was only 6. Not long before my Momma passed in November 2022, she wrote a manuscript about her mother, Lillian Louise; it is lovely, and I hurriedly edited and published it for my Momma, so she could hold her precious words in a published book format – full of photos, her words of love, all about my grandmother, in her hands. Momma wrote many things throughout her life, but her words about her mother, Lillian Louise, were the only ones to see publication. I’m beyond proud to have done that for her before she left us for Heaven on November 12, 2022. She is with her beloved parents and Millie Rose now, and I look forward to joining them in God’s appointed timing.

My third starter is named for my paternal grandmother, Thelma Maxine Bonnell Hinkle! She was not a conventional grandmother. She didn’t crochet or knit. She was outspoken and loved to go to the beauty salon. She had deep friendships and loved her husband deeply. They raised four rambunctious boys, each three years apart. Grandpa was a preacher, larger than life to this granddaughter who adored him, and she, my grandmother, the preacher’s wife, the hostess, the maker of the most delicious chocolate sheet cake on the planet (which I still make from the index card she, in cursive, wrote the recipe down for me on; it is laminated and hangs on my kitchen wall) had a big laugh and knew everyone’s business. She was a question-asker, and I can remember my grandfather saying, “Thelma,” as a bit of a scold. They loved each other deeply, as I said already. He went to heaven in 1982 at the young age of 68. I was 9. It was devastating; I’ll never forget the night my parents told me, and we all walked around in a nightmare for a while. Grandma Thelma never remarried. She wore her wedding rings proudly, and his ring hung around her neck on a chain until she joined him in 2012. I wear her engagement ring now, and it is a symbol of enduring love every day of my life. Grandpa gave it to her in 1938; it was hand-made, and a jeweler told my dad and me that he’d have to take it apart to appraise it, and he said he didn’t want to do that. We agreed. Its true value is in the love it represents. And now, my dear Grandma Thelma is with me every day. The week before she passed, she sang “Oh that will be glory for me” on the phone to me as I sat in my van in a Dairy Queen parking lot, tears flowing down my face because I knew it was likely the last time I’d speak with her. She was 96, and she was oh so tired, and she wanted to be with Jesus and Grandpa. The most precious memory – her singing to me! From what I understand, she called all 13 of her grandchildren and sang to each one of us – a different song. And this one was mine. “O that will be glory for me, glory for me, glory for me! When by His grace I shall look on His face, that will be glory, be glory for me!” She’s now represented in my heart and life in my kitchen – the third and most active starter. She’s exploded her container twice in two days; she’s active and bubbly! Love that lady! ❤️

I now have a loaf of bread from each of these precious ladies and their respective starters. It is my honor to keep them thriving in my kitchen, and it is fun to talk about the starters with their beloved monikers. Millie Rose, Lillian Louise, and Thelma Maxine – my beloved grandmothers. I’m so grateful to be here because of these women and their stories.

Currently, Thelma Maxine’s first loaf is cooling on my stove, and in the refrigerator, I have pancakes provided by Lillian Louise and Millie Rose, which I cooked in coconut oil yesterday. Holy moly, those were good! This sourdough adventure is awesome! Why I didn’t start doing this when my six children were small, I have no idea, other than ignorance! I didn’t know about it, but now I do, so okay … bet! Here we go!

To date, in two weeks, I’ve made crackers, chips, pancakes, and three loaves of bread. So much more adventure to be had, too! I have a Dutch oven in my Amazon cart, but I’m going to wait on that until next month. For now, I’m learning my “grandmother’s” behaviors, studying their bubbly personalities, and enjoying the discard jars because their possibilities are endless! So many recipes out there – and so many variants. Healthier eating, too. Natural ingredients, and for that, I am ecstatic! We are only cooking with EVOO, coconut oil, and animal fat, and broth I collect when cooking meats. I’m a heart warrior – and in this house, we must eat heart healthier. I’m on that journey – and it is not only a challenge, but FUN.

Sourdough and grandmothers for the win!

If I get a wild hair to start yet another ‘starter,’ Marjorie Ruth will make her presence known, but for now, she’s waiting. Just like my sweet Momma, to wait and watch, enjoying eating the bread, and thoroughly enjoying my joy. She was like that, my precious Momma.