It's October—the middle of October. I realized yesterday that this most beautiful, peaceful, cozy time is what I have waited for all year. I dream of these days during the hot sun of July, and now, they are here. I hope I am making the most of them because, like the colorful leaves on the old tree outside, they will disappear all too soon.
(Google for the October images. )
Hello and Happy Friday! I'm sharing a few spaces in our home that are cozy, spooky, and ready for Halloween. Many of these things I have had for over thirty years. So, while it is tempting to buy all the cute new things I see every year, I find comfort in the familiarity of those I set out year after year. When the kids were little, we had a special day for Halloween decorating. I got them each a pair of Halloween jammies; we waited until dusk, put on our favorite CD, which we still have, and lugged the orange tote with the jack-o-lantern on it up the basement steps.
Years and years ago, I bought two small Yankee candles, one Witches Brew and the other Candy Corn. When I was packing up Halloween one year, I put them inside the box, and the next year, when we opened it, everything inside smelled like the candles! The fragrance is like patchouli, and we love it. Why am I telling you this? Would you believe that I still have those candles? Everything still smells like that. The kids say that smell will always be Halloween to them.
One of my favorite childhood memories is watching my mom make apple pie in her bright yellow daffodil kitchen. I remember the smell of sliced apples covered in cinnamon and sugar, and even more vividly, I remember my mom taking the scraps of her homemade crust, dipping them in cinnamon sugar, rolling them up, and baking them for me and my sisters. Years later, when I was in college, my mom made me that same apple pie to take back to school after weekends at home. I remember the delicious smell comforting me for the whole three hours of the drive after leaving my house with my family and Steve standing in the driveway, waving goodbye.
Years later, I made apple pie for my family and used Mom's recipe, but by then, I had discovered the ease of a Pillsbury Pie Crust. My whole family loves that apple pie, except Rhett, who "doesn't eat cooked fruit." I lost track of how many times I made that apple pie, and before I knew it, I was teaching Peyton how to make her Grandma's Famous Apple Pie. Peyton has perfected it and sometimes uses a delicious crumble for the top crust.
On Monday, Flynn decided she wanted to make a fall dessert. Peyton and she had listed several options, and Madison offered to help. They went over different options, many in the pumpkin category and a few in the apple category. I happened to mention that I had a Pillsbury Pie Crust in the fridge, and the decision was made! Suddenly, I was peeling farm-fresh apples, and then they got to work. I sat in the kitchen and watched as my oldest and my youngest, with texting support from Peyton, made their first apple pie. I realized at that moment how a simple but meaningful piece of life would continue as a link in the chain of our lives.
One day long ago, my Grandma Mil made an apple pie. My mom watched, learned, and showed me. I made that delicious apple pie for years. Now, my girls are keepers of the piece of our lives and will hopefully continue to share it with those who come after them. Yesterday, I sat at the kitchen table with Madison and Flynn, enjoyed a piece of apple pie, and visited, just as I had when I sat at my mom's kitchen table and did the same thing with her and my Gram. Who knew all those years ago that one thought, one recipe, one pie would span generations and bring comfort to so many? Thank you, Gram. And Mom. And Peyton, Madison, and Flynn, for this delicious, familiar piece of life.
