“When are you going to start making pies again?”
With-a-Why asked last week. Local apples are ripe, and temperatures are cool
enough to use the oven. More importantly, my older kids have been living in
their apartment near campus, and homemade pie will give them an incentive to
stop home.
So Wednesday I bought apples on my way home from work, and
then I rolled out crusts while I talked to With-a-Why. He was supposed to be
cleaning the living room, but instead, he began playing the piano, which is how
he avoids his chores. He plays so beautifully that I can never ask him to stop
for something as mundane as cleaning. I’d rather hear classical music than the
vacuum cleaner, no matter how messy the living room is.
“Hey, send everyone a text to tell them I’m making pies,” I called
out. My fingers were sticky with flour and shortening.
“Already did,” he said without even looking up from the
piano.
By the time I pulled the pies from the oven, the house
smelled like cinnamon and apple. I put the pies on the kitchen table and
flipped a laundry basket over them to protect them from the cats as they
cooled.
My husband arrived first; he’d been at the gym, working out.
My daughter was next, her hair pulled in a ponytail in the manner of a grad
student who has too much work to do. Then came Boy-in-Black, looking like he
hadn’t had much sleep. “I spent all day grading physics exams,” he said. Shaggy
Hair Boy and Smiley Girl were chatting happily with each other as they came in.
Those two never seem to run out of things to talk about.
“I know we’ve got vanilla ice cream,” With-a-Why said as he
rooted through the freezer. It’s crowded with quart-size bags of frozen
tomatoes.
It’s a busy time of year for all of us. But we sat around
the table, drinking hot tea and eating warm pie, talking as if we had all the
time in the world. “Almost as good as Grandma’s pie,” Shaggy Hair Boy said to
me, teasingly, and he moved to the piano, where he began playing jazz, the
music weaving in and out of our conversation.
13 comments:
I live too far away to drop in for pie.
I revel in posts that speak to what (I hope) is in my future. I hope my three girls will continue to be a beat in our rhythm from time to time.
Alas, I am a lousy baker.
Lovely, jo(e).
The classical apple pie, the sinuous, layered jazz of your family--just beautiful. And beautifully written. I want to go to there!
Your descriptions of your home and family remind me of how people can be good together. Thank you.
Homemade apple pie, family gathered, and music: life is good.
your son would text me if i lived nearby, right? 'cause i'd be right over...
"More importantly, my older kids have been living in their apartment near campus, and homemade pie will give them an incentive to stop home."
You are so cool. I'm tempted to come up there just for the pie.
BB: Come visit during apple season, and I'll definitely make you a pie.
Oh God, I wish I were there. SOunds fab!
Scott just came to visit! NOW YOU COME!!!
Somehow, when I make apple pies, the soundtrack in my home is never quite so blissful as you just described. Lovely.
Oh man, do I pray that my kids are close enough to do this someday. I will bake pie all day long if it leads to something as lovely as this. (OK, I'll make pie all day long anyway. But you get my point.)
LOVE IT! Miranda is coming home this weekend for the 1st time since she left in Sept. Canadian Thanksgiving. I think I will go to the local orchard and make some pies.
This post made me smile.
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