It's an Apple Pie Day

Karen and I have a tradition. Whenever we feel the absolute shift from summer to fall we run down to the grocery store and grab a “Mrs. Smith’s Apple Pie.” I add a few pads of butter on top with a generous shaking of cinnamon that covers the crust completely. Then it’s into the oven.

While it bakes and fills the house with the aroma of autumn, memories of a simpler less complicated time return. Especially fall recollections. Memories of my grandmother’s cooking in Arkansas at Thanksgiving, quail hunting on cold crisp Kansas mornings behind the German Short-hair Pointers, attending the country maple festivals in Western Virginia during grad school where we stood in long lines for fresh hot maple donuts and homemade pressed apple juice. I recall the many pumpkin patches that we discovered with our daughters, and the changing of the Aspens during our years in Colorado. I long to see the sky filled with the v shaped migration of ducks and geese and hear their singing the anthem of change.

Well today is the day. My rye grass has burst upon the scene and the lazy rain has set it. It’s time for pie.

I know you have a lot going on and so do we. I know there is an unsettled spirit in the land. It’s going to be ok… yes it’s going to be ok. Take heart. I believe a piece of apple pie just may give you a little joy this day. Till next time…

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