As I was stirring the filling for Pumpkin Pie this morning, I noted how many of the things I was using had been gifts from loved ones. For instance, the spoon I always use for this task was a wedding gift some thirty-odd years ago from a dear friend, who is still a dear friend to us.
Each time I bake this kind of pie I think of our friend with fondness as I dig in my utensil drawer for this homely wooden utensil with the hole in the center and burn mark on the handle that still does the best job of combining the viscous filling ingredients of this pie filling.
The spoon is showing its age, as we are, but still gets the job done, as we try to do. Over the years of use, its edges have softened so it fits better and better into the curve of the bowl to quickly find each remnant of un-amalgamated pumpkin and gently incorporate it without whipping in bubbles, anathema to Pumpkin Pie filling.
There’s a marriage metaphor in there, somewhere, but mostly gratitude for the many beautiful and useful gifts we’ve been given over the years and the dear people who gave them.