Aromas of Fall

            I had the privilege of walking through a William Sonoma store today. Once inside my senses were immediately assaulted by the aroma of a pumpkin spice cake that had just come out of the oven. It was intoxicating. I picked up the package of pumpkin spice cake mix from the overloaded table. For $11.95 I could bring that very smell to my own kitchen. I put the package back. I would use my mother’s recipe and bake my bread from scratch.

            Mom was famous within our family for many of her baked goods. Her pumpkin bread was one of those. It always made an appearance this time of year. She would save coffee cans and other tin cans and bake the bread “in the round.” She made so many loaves and gave all but a few of them away. She loved to share her gifts from her kitchen.

            In her later years I became the recipient of Mom’s baked goods as fewer people were around. She gave me so much bread, and cookies, and cake. I was slightly annoyed that she didn’t understand that my smaller family could not possibly eat so many baked goods, but I took them anyway. I should have known that one day the baked goods would abruptly stop. 

One day she decided she was done with baking. It didn’t matter how many times I asked, she could not give me a good answer why she stopped. I knew why, but I wanted her to confide in me. I wanted her to tell me what was going on (or not going on) in her mind. I had always thought we were close, but we never reached the point where she could tell me her fears about her disease. Or maybe she just didn’t believe it could be happening. I sure didn’t.