"Gonna make a pie from heaven above, gonna be filled with strawberry love . . ."
Since dawn there have been wonderful smells floating in the air, all warm and lovely and creating a wave of extra heat radiating from the kitchen.
Miz Deliverance has been baking. Pies take time, of course. There isn't enough to feed the entire Mansion.
Yet.
From the looks of things, she's determined to try.
In any case, a few lucky people may find that a pie -- cherry, maybe, or butterscotch apple crumble, or lemon meringue or beautiful rich chocolate, all with the freshest fruit and the sweetest sweets and the creamiest cream and crispest crust -- has been stealthily left on their windowsill to cool, with a note that says only "Enjoy!" More can be found on tables and kitchen counters. There's nothing wrong with them, no trickery, no mischief, but they're different. Every bite contains a late summer breeze through kitchen-window gingham curtains, a warm honey southern drawl, a touch of love and joy and beauty. It could be magic, or it could be a grandmother's hands and the recipe book in her head, and who knows if there's any difference between the two?
The placements are mostly random, but a few have been made specially for certain people. For Ghost there is an orange creamsicle pie with a pitcher of iced tea left beside it. Steve Finn will find a peach pie with a rummed oat crust-- and no doubt he'll notice his room looks suspiciously neater than it was yesterday, although nothing important has been disturbed. In the gazebo she has left a cranberry mince pie for Mabon, lighting a stick of cedar-smelling incense beside it and speaking his name very softly before leaving it for him to find.
When that is done she returns to the kitchen and sits down with a glass of lemonade while she waits for the next to be done.
Typist: If any of the specific recipients aren't around currently/anymore and I didn't realize, sorry. XD Feel free to ignore. For everyone else . . . well, the Mansion could use some benign magic once in a while. :D Anyone who has a piece of pie should find their mood significantly lifted for the remainder of the day.
Miz Deliverance has been baking. Pies take time, of course. There isn't enough to feed the entire Mansion.
Yet.
From the looks of things, she's determined to try.
In any case, a few lucky people may find that a pie -- cherry, maybe, or butterscotch apple crumble, or lemon meringue or beautiful rich chocolate, all with the freshest fruit and the sweetest sweets and the creamiest cream and crispest crust -- has been stealthily left on their windowsill to cool, with a note that says only "Enjoy!" More can be found on tables and kitchen counters. There's nothing wrong with them, no trickery, no mischief, but they're different. Every bite contains a late summer breeze through kitchen-window gingham curtains, a warm honey southern drawl, a touch of love and joy and beauty. It could be magic, or it could be a grandmother's hands and the recipe book in her head, and who knows if there's any difference between the two?
The placements are mostly random, but a few have been made specially for certain people. For Ghost there is an orange creamsicle pie with a pitcher of iced tea left beside it. Steve Finn will find a peach pie with a rummed oat crust-- and no doubt he'll notice his room looks suspiciously neater than it was yesterday, although nothing important has been disturbed. In the gazebo she has left a cranberry mince pie for Mabon, lighting a stick of cedar-smelling incense beside it and speaking his name very softly before leaving it for him to find.
When that is done she returns to the kitchen and sits down with a glass of lemonade while she waits for the next to be done.
Typist: If any of the specific recipients aren't around currently/anymore and I didn't realize, sorry. XD Feel free to ignore. For everyone else . . . well, the Mansion could use some benign magic once in a while. :D Anyone who has a piece of pie should find their mood significantly lifted for the remainder of the day.