The Accurate Account

They say the first to go is the memory. Or is it smell? Perhaps it is eyesight. Well, whatever it is, I'm sure the first to go are the "days." All the days you wish to fill with your heart's desire. Days, they come and go so quickly, and before you know it, three years will pass in a blink of an eye. As times passes quickly, do you recall the days? The smell? The sights? The seasons? Unbelievable how years have gone by since we last met. It's time to reintroduce myself, I suppose, since I've changed a bit. I'm sure you have, too. Perhaps three years ago, you had no interest in what I have to say, this crazy little blog thing, or enough time in your life to surf the web mindlessly enough to stumble upon me. Change is good. Not long after my last post, I took a hiatus from life. That's how I will define it and I'm sure you will speculate what I mean by that. It doesn't matter, really. It was a break. In many ways, in all forms, and in every c...

Long before I kne w how to do anything,  I knew how to bake an apple pie. From the moment I was tall enough to see over the kitchen table, my Nana had me in her kitchen and at her side. Before that, I was under the table playing with her Tupper-ware and wooden spoons.  Everyone in my family could tell you stories of their favorite Nana recipe. They could each remember how they tasted, how they smelled, and how they felt when they ate it. After my baking partner passed, I threw in my baking towel. Over the years since, I have attempted to bake a few pies here and there, but they never seemed to match up to the pies Nana and I would make together; they tasted like they were missing something. Tonight, and long overdue, I took out my baking towel; actually, it was my Nana's. I fired up the oven and sunk my fingers into the mixing bowl once again. I am not sure how my pies will taste, as they are sitting on the cooling racks just waiting to be enjoyed, but I was sure to add t...