To hoard a gourd

Rachel leapt through the pumpkin patch, gourds under each arm, nervously looking over her shoulder. The freezing air hit the back of her throat with every gasp. She had almost made it to County Road A when she tripped on a vine.

The gourds stumbled to the ground and cracked open into a splattering of guts. Rachel burst into tears. Now what would she present at the Gourd Spectacular County Faire?

She remembered her favorite aunty’s advice: when life hands you lemons, make pumpkin pie. And so she picked up the gourds, cleaned them in the sink and prepared her favorite recipe.

Rachel lined up all her ingredients, as she did before cooking anything, and got to work. The most unusual thing she put in that pie was her great grandmother’s fall spice medley. It contained fire embers, lizard skin, and crushed foliage.

The recipe had been in her family for generations, and Rachel had every intention of keeping it alive. Just as she was reaching for her secret ingredients, a thought occurred to her.

Why make this pie for what was sure to be an ungrateful crowd? She eyed the container of hand picked Tahitian vanilla pods in the back of the cabinet. She knew what to do. She made the pie, put it in her best pie dish and like many generations before, ate the whole dang thing.