Muses

Who will help me eat the pie?

Pecans.

It’s been raining pecans here thanks to all the recent windy weather.

Since I am the best pecan pie baker in the world (or at least am privy to the best recipe), I always make a few for Thanksgiving. And I always buy the star of the show.

That’s nuts.

All over the ground just waiting to be picked up.

I made a proposal to my youngest. “Come out and help me pick up pecans and I’ll pay you.”

He picked up a large empty Lego box from his birthday last weekend and said, “If I fill this, will you pay me $2?”

“Sure,” I replied. A little too quickly.

Suddenly he begins arguing for $5.

Getting a bit irritated, I said no way and headed out to do the job myself.

All the while castigating myself this is how I have failed as a mother. My children never help out unless bribed or threatened — and honestly, I’ve not much energy for either anymore.

So little Mr. who couldn’t help pick up the pecans grabs my camera lying on ground.

And begins taking photos of my rear end.

I noticed few things with my rear in the air and my face toward the ground.

One, our yard was a mess with leaves. Curses.

And like a child unable to stop eating their candy from last night, I couldn’t stop eating the cracked pecans littering our yard like discarded wrappers.

Too tempting.

They are so delicious this year.