Roses Take Practice Book

I went to the kitchen, took off my coat. You'll find vat you need in the freezer, said the voice. Seven loaf cakes waited for me. I took them out to thaw. I covered a board with foil and prepared to mix an industrial sized batch of icing. Don't you be using shortening in that!

Shaping the cakes, gluing them together, listening to the voice in my head as I mixed colors I never knew existed and would never be able to recreate. I lost track of time. The butter cream, usually next to impossible to work with, held its shape better than any shortening. I lost myself in the cake, the last cake Sofie and I would make together.

Digging is an apt metaphor for Connie Biewald's writing, which probes and sifts the buried storage vaults of family relationships with an archaeologist's precision.