My trip to the farm has come & gone.
Out of one world, into another, and back again. Just like that.
Now I’m fighting a nasty cough, likely brought on by chats, the dry climate and a wind that never stops. Yep, “like trying to stuff 12 pounds of potatoes into a two-pound sack” we absolutely did just that.
So now I am here again, bridging my two worlds, and thinking of an epiphany experienced in my childhood home: this was the first of all of my trips back “home” that “home” wasn’t there to be found … turns out, home is here, where I’m at now.
It was odd … sleeping in my old room, using the same coffee cup I’d favored as a teen, sitting in Dad’s chair .. and not feeling that familiar sense of home anymore. It took me a while to see the obvious: I’ve grown up and moved on and I don’t really fit in there anymore.
I’ve lived more years away than I did there.
Once I got past that, I could lean into the visit. And lean into it we did. We spent most of our time just being together. Within touching distance.
Hugs good-night and good morning hellos.
Passing the jam.
Washing my hair in the kitchen sink, like I’d done as a girl.
Fixing the coffee and instinctively finding the grounds where they’d been forever (beside the fridge, on the floor, in a large tin can).
We finished stories and told new ones.
We stayed up late.
We asked “whatever happened to so & so?” and we were there for the answers.
We settled into a routine and I became part of the landscape where Mom’s lived and loved for 62+ years. The home I hope she can stay in for many more.
It’s not my home anymore and that’s O.K.
But it did take time to be able to see it.
It took even more to be able to admit it.
And oh, before I forget, I made a pie!
It was a bright sunny morning, the country radio station was blaring and I took over her kitchen to whip up a pie … and, the funny thing is, I enjoyed the making as much as I did the tasting … look at all that meringue – yum!
That experience of standing at her counter tops – listening to familiar radio chatter once more – using Mom’s “harvest gold” measuring cups and battered mixing bowls – all of it … made me smile. The trip down memory lane happened across the span of three cupboards.
Flapper pie; an Emjayandthem (C) photo
It also took this trip back to my roots for me to finally understand why I’ve never been a fan of surprises or surprise parties.
You see, part of the fun for me is the anticipation. Don’t deny me that, please.
Trips are like that, too.
Trips and pie.
Sometimes the process can be as enjoyable as the end result.
The Flapper pie was soon gone.
# # #
When was the last time you had an epiphany?
What did you learn?
# # #
My sister-in-law’s Mom’s Flapper pie recipe:
(while talking about baking pie, my SIL Colleen quietly mentioned her Mom had been quite a good baker in her day and had a great Flapper Pie recipe and might I like to have it? Of course I would! So here it is. Thanks Colleen!)
- 1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
- 1/2 cup sugar
- 1/4 cup margarine
- Melt margarine, pour into crumbs and stir in sugar. Press into large pie pan and up including sides.
- 2 1/2 cups milk
- 3 egg yolks
- 1/2 tsp vanilla
- 1/4 cup cornstarch
- 1/2 cup sugar
- Stir in microwave-safe pourable bowl; Microwave on high until thick. About 2 min, then stir, then another 1-2 min, depending on strength of microwave. Watch closely, must be thick but pourable. Pour into shell.
- 3 egg whites
- 1/4 cup sugar
- Whip with an electric hand mixer or whisk until frothy & forms peaks (to test, turn off mixer and lift beaters away from mixture. If a peak remains, you’re set. If not, keep going. It took me about 5 min with the hand mixer set to high to get the peaks formed).
- Spread over filling and bake in 375 F oven until golden brown, about 8-10 min.
Allow to cool at room temperature then cover with plastic wrap and keep in fridge – best served cold with some strong “Farmer’s Coffee!”