This is what happens when a zucchini plant gets ambitious and I decide the only reasonable response is to bake every single loaf my pans will hold. That whole counter — every pink tin, every last one — is going out the door. Family, friends, and honestly, whoever walks within shouting distance of me this week.
I don't really know how to explain it to people who aren't wired this way, but making something and handing it to someone has always been how I say the things that are harder to just say out loud. There's an old song lyric about how when people greet each other — shake hands, ask how you're doing — what they're really saying underneath all of it is something much simpler. That's exactly it for me, except my version comes wrapped in parchment paper instead of a handshake.
A loaf of bread isn't really about the bread. It's "I was thinking about you." It's "I know this has been a hard week." It's "I had more than I needed, and you came to mind." I could say all of that out loud, I suppose, but I'd rather just hand you something warm and let you figure it out.
So if a mini loaf of zucchini bread shows up on your porch sometime soon, that's what it means. Consider yourself loved.
