#FF: No pie like it

FridayFictioneers (#FF)

© Roger Bultot

This week’s 100-word story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

“The first and best apple pie I ever ate was in this diner.”
“Really? I thought Grandma’s was your favorite.”
“It was.”
I scowled in confusion.
“My dear, Lily got her first job here when she was only sixteen. I came every day. She made the apple pies herself from her mother’s recipe.”
“You married her for her pie,” I laughed.
I pretended not to see his eyes mist up.
Grandpa had us, but I knew he was lonely these days. He still comes to the diner every day.
Memories, I suppose.
But now he orders only coconut cream pie.



Fruits of labor

The hum of the bees
Buzzing through the blossoms
Flitting here and flirting there
From the anther to the stigma
Oblivious to the science
Just doing a job
Only they can do
Little farmers
Starting apples

The hum of the pickers
Dashing through the trees
Choosing from here and taking from there
Filling containers
From the basket to the barrel
Oblivious to the toil
Just doing a job
Only they can do
Harvesting the crop

The scrape of a knife
Carving through apples
Coring the fruit and rolling the crust
Filling the pie
From the oven to the table
Oblivious to the work
Just doing the craft
Only they can do
Baking with love.

Smell the cinnamon
And pastry crust
A dash of nutmeg to top it off
A labor of love
In the valley of the apple.