I must have Pie!
Because…with my eye…
Because with my eye…I spy…
Because with my eye…I spy…the calendar!
It’s Autumn, silly!
Time for Pie!
It’s in the brain. A trigger. Like a certain smell flips the switch and…Bam!…a memory. Like the sometimes briny breath of the scale pit (remember, I work at a steel mill) brings back thoughts of Long Island Sound. Or the sight and smell of honeysuckle might well resurrect a remembrance of grandma’s house, which had quite a bit. In this case, however, it’s the calendar. Sure, the high hovers around 80 degrees. Sure, leaves are still green and grass still needs to be cut. But…the calendar says…Autumn! And Autumn means…Pie!
So, naturally, after the tangent is taken…I text. “Pie, Pie, I must have pie!” And, it just so happens, that my understanding wife, mere minutes from the message, has a pie sizzling in the oven. And why? Because one lonely Dutch Apple “fund raiser” pie was languishing in our deep freeze. Awaiting the time…for pie.