Bread intuition

Anyone who knows me well would NOT call me a great cook. Adequate maybe. No one would associate me with words like "foodie" or "chef" or "gourmand."
Growing up, my dad was a picky eater, and my mom (who loved all kinds of foods) tended to cook to his fussy tastes: lots of meat and potatoes, bread and butter, fried eggs and home fries and greasy bacon. Vegetables? Um, well carrots were plentiful, and usually bought fresh. But green beans came from a can for all I knew. I don't think I ate a tomato until I tried one in college. The same goes for tuna, broccoli and about a half dozen other foods. I just wasn't very tuned in to what I ate.
Now I most certainly am. And I try very hard to not only eat better, tastier, fresher foods, I also try to cook more things myself, rather than buy things prepared. And I have discovered something—I'm pretty good at it. Now, I won't pretend I'm a great cook, but people I feed seem to go away smiling. But I could almost dare to say I am a great baker. I make terrific cookies, cakes, and muffins. And lately I'm all about the bread. When I'm in the process of making it , I can get completely lost. I love everything about it: reading recipes, shopping for ingredients, pulling everything together on the counter before I start. I love making messes and wearing flour on my apron, and having my family walk in and say oh wow what smells so good in here?
I love the dicey moment when I have to put the warm water in with the yeast-- there's a moment of hesitation when I hope it's not too hot— and then there's the decisive feeling I get, knowing I'm committed to it now. The kneading, too, makes me feel strong, as I work the dough just enough to do its magic. It all seems vaguely familiar---like I've always known how to make bread, though I only just learned last winter.