There is something magical about kneading dough early in the morning.
You stand at the table in silence, flour, milk, eggs in your hands — and your head becomes empty. In a good way.

You feel how your hands become warmer, how the dough obeys you, how the smell of vanilla begins to fill the kitchen... And that's it. No thoughts. No worries. Just you, and the moment, and the anticipation of something delicious.

Apple pie, cinnamon buns or simple cookies — it doesn't matter.
What matters is that at this moment you seem to return to yourself.
And when you then take the ruddy miracle out of the oven — you smile. For no reason. Just because it's warm.

If only everything in life were like this pie: first a little patience - and then a lot of sweet happiness.