As soon as the first cold evenings appear, I immediately have a thought: it's time to bake a pumpkin pie. It's like a password to the new season. Without it, I don't feel autumn until the end.

As a child, I didn't like pumpkin, it seemed too simple. But one day I tried a pie at my grandmother's, and since then everything has changed. It was so aromatic: cinnamon, vanilla, light sweetness. It seemed that autumn itself was hiding in this piece.

Since then, every year I repeat this ritual. I choose a bright orange pumpkin, carefully peel it, turn it into a soft puree. Then I add spices: cinnamon, ginger, sometimes a little nutmeg. And every time it's like alchemy - simple products become something special.

When the pie is cooking, the whole house is filled with a smell that cannot be confused with anything else. It is the smell of coziness, warm evenings and long conversations.

I like to eat it with tea, sitting by the window. Sometimes I invite someone over, and the pie becomes the center of the evening. But even if I eat it alone, the feeling of autumn becomes complete.

For me, this pie is a symbol of the fact that small joys can create big memories.