life of ‘pie’

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A beautiful example of embracing the sweet memories after a goodbye that came much too early. Thank you for sharing your family’s story Brianna!

briannafrommontana

When I was about 15 years old my dad started baking pies.  Not just any pies.  Masterful, mouthwatering pies.  Apple raspberry, blueberry lemon meringue, caramel peach, and my personal favorite, strawberry rhubarb (with both strawberries and rhubarb freshly harvested from a summer garden). I never got around to asking why my dad took up making pie.  Maybe it was the clay-like feel of the pie dough, or the artistic sculpting of a beautiful lattice top pie crust.  Or maybe it was just that he would take a slice of pie over a piece of cake any day.  Whether motivated on by artistic expression or a sweet tooth, his pies were both beautiful and delicious.

You could tell a lot about my dad from his pies.  Besides love for his family, he believed in the value of integrity and hard work above all else.  No pre-made crust would ever be used…

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