First Batch

Well, after twenty years of marriage, I finally got up the courage to make my first batch of jam.  I’ve been putting it off all these years because I was afraid that somehow, I would manage to poison my family with homemade jam, despite having watched my mother make jam for years.

And I have to confess that it wasn’t so much that I suddenly worked up the courage necessary to make the jam.  The truth is, this morning, as I tucked fourteen quarts of blueberries into the downstairs freezer, I discovered several quarts of last year’s strawberries. 

I had to get rid of last year’s fruit to make room for this year’s.

And throwing it out was not an option.

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Liebster Blog

Spent the afternoon freezing several quarts of local vegetables for the winter: broccoli, cauliflower, the last of this year's corn.  Made a couple of loaves of banana bread and several quarts of my sister's potato-leek soup, using local potatoes and the chicken stock I made last weekend.

There's something about tucking things away for the winter, knowing that, as the snow begins to blanket the ground and the roads get icy, delicious food is just a few steps away.  So far, I've frozen over twenty quarts each of strawberries, peaches and blueberries; several quarts of raspberries; too many peach pies; chicken stock; soup; and vegetables of all sorts--greens, onions, celery for soup, carrots, soybeans, corn.  My only disappointment this year was the failure of the blackberry crop, which prevented me from getting the thumb-sized berries that grow at an orchard just down the street.  In a week or so, I'll make my applesauce and apple pies; and if I get my courage up, I may just try my hand at grape jelly as well--That same orchard sells concord grapes.

It's been a good season.

And it's a good time to thank Elizabeth at The Garden Gate for awarding me a Liebster.  Originating in Germany, a Liebster (meaning beloved) attempts to attract new readers to blogs with fewer than 200 followers.

To some, less than two hundred followers may seem an embarrassment.  But I consider myself lucky, even blessed, to have each of you.  Because, eight months ago, before I mustered the courage to share my writing here, I had no one following; I had no one reading. 

One of my characters, Lilly Jean Jacobs, recently said, "half a man is better than no man at all."  And while I'm not so sure I agree with that sentiment, I do firmly believe that 60-some readers is better than no readers at all.

Writing is a lonely occupation--in my case it could hardly be called an occupation--and I often wonder if anyone cares what I have to say.  Seeing my list of followers tells me that you do.  And so I thank Elizabeth for this lovely award.  And I thank you, beloved readers, for choosing to spend some of your precious time here.  I appreciate your readership. 

And I pass on this award to the following blogs:

1. Two Kinds of People - From Susan's blog: "There are two kinds of people in the world: those who garage sale and those who don't. And, of course, the subset of those who do—buyers and sellers."
2. What I Saw - I'm actually not clear how many followers Melissa has, but she deserves every one of them.  Inspiration for writing.  Gorgeous photography and nature.
3. Coming East - Another Susan! Lovely essays and memories here.
4. Lit Endeavors - All things reading and writing.
5. Meandering Homeschool - Hampchick writes of her adventures in homeschooling.

Picking

 

Well, after looking at too many colleges, Filibuster has finally whittled her list down to about six schools.  But this afternoon, oh, around three o’clock, once the mailman pulls to the curb, that list’ll be shot to hell.  Because as soon as she hears the mail truck pulling up to the curb, her ears will perk up.  And as soon as the mailbox is shut with a little clink, she’ll be out the door. 

Oh those college brochures.  Those colorful brochures that promise success and internships and glory to their graduates.  Those brochures that make kids—parents too—feel so important and special.  They mention famous people with pretty smiles who’ve made Much of their lives.  Honors colleges and double majors and study abroad programs so exciting.

And all of this, of course, goes back to the strawberry patch where I am most at home.

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Preserving Memories

I drive to the school and pick up my daughters after their final exams.  Over lunch, I tell them I want to pick strawberries.  They sigh.  Summer has just started for them.  They want to relax. 

Just an hour, I tell them. 

They tell me they hate summer.  All this picking, picking, picking. 

I tell them it’s a short season—Strawberries don’t last. 

The room grows heavy with silence and resentments.  We eat our sandwiches without speaking.  The jubilation marking the end of the school year has passed.  No words are exchanged on the drive to the patch.  No radio plays to cover up the tension.  I find myself wondering why I bother.  Is it worth all this?

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