Zen and the Art of Pie

Making pie makes me happy. That's probably obvious. But really, it gives me that all-is-well, everything-in-its-time, you're-okay feeling. I suppose it's about the zen-like focus a pie takes and the basic pleasure of creation. Or, the fact that I associate pie with the best of my childhood: big family, big forest, small town. Speaking of which, I'm off to WA on Monday for more summer fruit pie glory. Blackberry (two kinds), strawberry-rhubarb, cherry, and maybe, if I'm persistent with my pickin' fingers, huckleberry. They snap in your mouth like tangy little firecrackers and damn, they make great pie. As a kid, I wasn't often rolling out flaky crust - I was more about adventuring into "sticker bushes" to collect berries than pie construction. But still, getting flour all over my hands, the smell of fresh cut fruit, brings me back. It's such a simple, summery indulgence. Lately, I've made a peach raspberry and an apple crumble pie. Both luscious, homey concoctions for summer, both messy adventures in the making. I'll post pix and recipes soon.

It's all just to say, I love summer. I may be broke, oh so broke, but I have so much time, glorious time. For once I'm remembering to slow down and enjoy myself. Thank you, pie. And thank you, decision to go to impractical arts-related grad school. All I need now is a good excuse to keep baking, since I don't have a big family handy. Sunday afternoon pie tasting at my place?

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