I am grateful for hummingbird cake

I have a new book bound in grey tweed called The Five Minute Journal. Every morning it asks, what would make today great? Then, what am I grateful for? Every evening it asks, what did I learn today? The answers are meant to be short; the lines for replies are miniscule. I like that. 

But before I got to any of those questions, I had to write down what my biggest challenge to writing in the book everyday would be, followed by an identity statement that would remedy that challenge. I wasn’t into it. I looked at the examples and admittedly, I rolled my eyes. Then, I picked up my pen and wrote, in order to write in this little book everyday I need to find a quiet place in the house to write everyday. I am worthy of that, so is my work. 

Well. I thought I did value my work. Wasn’t there value in sitting on a stool at the kitchen island clicking away on my laptop between household distractions? 

The next day, when prompted with what would make today great? I wrote: walk upstairs to the small desk in the small guest room, close the door and get to work. The clarity of my journaling brain was impressive. I love an emphatic voice¹, so I picked up my laptop and walked upstairs. 

And here I am, writing at a little desk that once belonged to my husband’s great Aunt Amy. She lived in a small house on a tiny street in a small seaside town in the South of England. Amy collected doll houses² and decorated each one with furniture, bedding, and drapes specific to the period of the home. There are tiny copper pots, oil paintings, serving dishes and cutlery. Babies in cradles, chamber pots, pianos and china cabinets. Amy also collected porcelain dolls. Just a moment ago, when I was looking for distraction, I pulled open one of the tiny desk drawers and found four crocheted doll-sized bonnets and a tray with a needle, thread, and a collection of tiny thimbles. I picture Amy sitting here, her white hair twisted and pinned at the back of her head, mending a tiny dress or a pair of tiny curtains. I shut the drawer and began writing.

It was a tiny effort - just one line in a little book - that led me here, to this place of productivity. And now I am thinking about the tiny cake I made last week, one named after the tiniest, most hard working avian, the hummingbird. 

The swallow-tail hummingbird is the national bird of Jamaica, which explains why this sweet cake, filled with banana and pineapple, is said to come from there. The swallow-tail, with its long beak and iridescent turquoise plumage would definitely hover over this cake, darting and hawking, looking for a way to harvest its sweetness. 

Hummingbird cake is new to me. My friend said it was her favourite, and her late- mother’s favourite too. It was the beautiful blend of carrot cake and banana bread studded with pecans that she loved so much. So when she graduated with a masters degree, after a gruelling year of commuting and juggling and writing papers after midnight, I made it for her.

Two weeks later I made it again, but this time, a tiny version for a friend celebrating a birthday. We were meeting for toast and a latte after a dog walk, like we often do. I knew a little cake would make that day great, so we worked it in as the second course. 

A six-inch hummingbird cake³ isn’t exactly tiny. But it’s small and manageable, and I’ve learned it feels right with morning coffee.

1. Find more of my appreciation for emphatic voices, and a great pizza dough recipe, here.

2. For a peek inside Aunt Amy’s dollhouses, click here.

3. As a newcomer to hummingbird cakes, I followed this recipe initially. It was a huge hit with the graduate, but I found the icing too soft - perhaps cut back on the cream. For round two I tried this six inch recipe. It was just right.