Times of nostalgia are a funny thing.
This spring and summer we have been in overdrive with remodeling our house, planting and managing our garden, installing a fire pit, caring for and enjoying our three grandchildren, and spending time with friends and family. I knew my time here would be limited until fall when our time outdoors would be restricted by the weather. But today I felt the overwhelming desire to sit here and reminisce a little.
It all started with a co-working bringing me a jar of jam that was made over a weekend of family time with his wife and parents. You could see the pride of his labors in that little jar he felt he wanted to share with me. Canning, something I used to share with my grandmother every years as the food came into season and as we prepared for the winter to come. We would look at the rows of jars at the end of the season with pride in our labors. Food we would enjoy months down the road.
But Grandma past away 16 years ago, I had given up on gardening, focused on finishing raising my children, deeper levels of volunteering at the church, and advancing my my career. I've been through an assortment of health issued, changed my eating habits, the types of food I eat and changed how I prepared my food. Canning was not something I thought about when I was planning meals.
After moving into our current home 11 years ago, I began to find time to rekindle my love for what I endearingly call my dirt therapy. It started with working over flower beds, moving plants around in the yard and beginning to find my style of landscaping, but the last few years I've really gotten back into having a vegetable garden. It was a small patch of ground initially, zucchini (you can hardly kill that stuff) and few tomatoes. I started putting in raised beds and messing round in square foot gardening which didn't seem to do the job for me. I tried raising asparagus (too much bother for the yield or I just didn't do that right) but found success with arden berries which are a seedless hybrid of blackberry and boysenberries, and we have figured out the best use for a tree full of figs (we have a granddaughter who can't get enough of them).
Two years ago we have the opportunity to buy an old John Deere tractor with a tiller attachment so last year I moved one of the raised beds and embarked on a patch 8 feet wide and 3o feet long. We grew very successful crops of zucchini, tomatoes, lemon cucumbers, regular cucumber, green beans and sunflower plants. With our successful garden we had the privilege to share bags full of produce to our neighbors, friends and family. I prepared a fare amount of grated zucchini and roasted tomatoes that have proven to be staple in my kitchen. (I shared the beginnings of my adventures in tomatoes a few years back, http://coralsgrocerybag.blogspot.com/2013/09/roasted-tomatoes.html) for the freezer. Yet with all that produce, I didn't feel a need to pull out my equipment and begin the process of canning. With just my husband and I in the house, what was the point.
This last spring we enjoyed an early spring (I shared with you previously getting my garden in early), adding new beds and more flowers for the humming birds which has proven to be a very successful choice. We have been enjoying corn, radishes, kale, green onions, lemon cucumbers, peppers, celery and of course berries and figs. I spent some time helping my son and daughter-in-law get their garden planted as well.
Last week I had the opportunity to help my daughter-in-law can 30 pounds of peaches. Peaches, one of the many items canned by my grandmother and myself. Hours and hours spent at the sink and stove blanching, peeling, slicing and jarring the sweet juicy fruit. As I stood in my son's kitchen repeating those movements I was overwhelmed with memories of doing that same task with my grandmother, forcing back the desire to well up with tears at the realization of a time gone by and a woman I loved dearly and missed.
As well as having that moment of nostalgia, I had the realization that now I am the mother/grandmother. I am the teacher instead of the one following instructions. In all those years standing in the kitchen with grandma, I never thought about the fact that one day, I would be asked to be the teacher, the one guiding the process of raising and preserving food for the coming winter. I am very thankful for all the loving care taken with me, that would prepare for this time in my life, to be able to instill traditions of being self-sufficient, traditions of coming together as family to share in the burden of the work load and caring for our families.
I didn't spend time canning with my father's mother, but there was plenty of time in the garden with her and my grandfather, as well as eating food from the jars proudly displayed on shelves in their garage. I remember being sent to the garage to bring in jars of green beans and other treasures that I would scan over when the opportunity arose.
I'm warmed by looking at my past, the rich knowledge shared with me by my grandparents, gardening with my dad. The importance of knowing how to grow my own food and preserve it for later and not always need to depend on food grown by others. Now my job is to share that part of me with my adult children and grand children.
Yesterday and today I canned 11 pints of stewed tomatoes with garlic that will be used in sauces and soups in the months to come. Just like spending time in my dirt therapy in the garden, canning also is therapy to me, I find standing in my own kitchen, peeling, dicing and jarring a large batch of tomatoes from my garden, I felt that same peace as I moved though the steps. I sensed my grandmother there at my side, her reminding to get all the skins off, keeping the dice uniform so it will cook evenly, letting the jars cool before removing the rings to clean the jars. Returning to my roots, a place that is familiar can bring a joy that is worth hanging on to. That woman was such a blessing and encouragement to me. She always let me know I can be anything I wanted to be, she never put a cap on my enthusiasm to try new things, and she was alway willing to be by my side through it all. I pray that I can be that woman to my children and grandchildren.
This spring and summer we have been in overdrive with remodeling our house, planting and managing our garden, installing a fire pit, caring for and enjoying our three grandchildren, and spending time with friends and family. I knew my time here would be limited until fall when our time outdoors would be restricted by the weather. But today I felt the overwhelming desire to sit here and reminisce a little.
It all started with a co-working bringing me a jar of jam that was made over a weekend of family time with his wife and parents. You could see the pride of his labors in that little jar he felt he wanted to share with me. Canning, something I used to share with my grandmother every years as the food came into season and as we prepared for the winter to come. We would look at the rows of jars at the end of the season with pride in our labors. Food we would enjoy months down the road.
But Grandma past away 16 years ago, I had given up on gardening, focused on finishing raising my children, deeper levels of volunteering at the church, and advancing my my career. I've been through an assortment of health issued, changed my eating habits, the types of food I eat and changed how I prepared my food. Canning was not something I thought about when I was planning meals.
After moving into our current home 11 years ago, I began to find time to rekindle my love for what I endearingly call my dirt therapy. It started with working over flower beds, moving plants around in the yard and beginning to find my style of landscaping, but the last few years I've really gotten back into having a vegetable garden. It was a small patch of ground initially, zucchini (you can hardly kill that stuff) and few tomatoes. I started putting in raised beds and messing round in square foot gardening which didn't seem to do the job for me. I tried raising asparagus (too much bother for the yield or I just didn't do that right) but found success with arden berries which are a seedless hybrid of blackberry and boysenberries, and we have figured out the best use for a tree full of figs (we have a granddaughter who can't get enough of them).
Two years ago we have the opportunity to buy an old John Deere tractor with a tiller attachment so last year I moved one of the raised beds and embarked on a patch 8 feet wide and 3o feet long. We grew very successful crops of zucchini, tomatoes, lemon cucumbers, regular cucumber, green beans and sunflower plants. With our successful garden we had the privilege to share bags full of produce to our neighbors, friends and family. I prepared a fare amount of grated zucchini and roasted tomatoes that have proven to be staple in my kitchen. (I shared the beginnings of my adventures in tomatoes a few years back, http://coralsgrocerybag.blogspot.com/2013/09/roasted-tomatoes.html) for the freezer. Yet with all that produce, I didn't feel a need to pull out my equipment and begin the process of canning. With just my husband and I in the house, what was the point.
This last spring we enjoyed an early spring (I shared with you previously getting my garden in early), adding new beds and more flowers for the humming birds which has proven to be a very successful choice. We have been enjoying corn, radishes, kale, green onions, lemon cucumbers, peppers, celery and of course berries and figs. I spent some time helping my son and daughter-in-law get their garden planted as well.
Last week I had the opportunity to help my daughter-in-law can 30 pounds of peaches. Peaches, one of the many items canned by my grandmother and myself. Hours and hours spent at the sink and stove blanching, peeling, slicing and jarring the sweet juicy fruit. As I stood in my son's kitchen repeating those movements I was overwhelmed with memories of doing that same task with my grandmother, forcing back the desire to well up with tears at the realization of a time gone by and a woman I loved dearly and missed.
As well as having that moment of nostalgia, I had the realization that now I am the mother/grandmother. I am the teacher instead of the one following instructions. In all those years standing in the kitchen with grandma, I never thought about the fact that one day, I would be asked to be the teacher, the one guiding the process of raising and preserving food for the coming winter. I am very thankful for all the loving care taken with me, that would prepare for this time in my life, to be able to instill traditions of being self-sufficient, traditions of coming together as family to share in the burden of the work load and caring for our families.
I didn't spend time canning with my father's mother, but there was plenty of time in the garden with her and my grandfather, as well as eating food from the jars proudly displayed on shelves in their garage. I remember being sent to the garage to bring in jars of green beans and other treasures that I would scan over when the opportunity arose.
I'm warmed by looking at my past, the rich knowledge shared with me by my grandparents, gardening with my dad. The importance of knowing how to grow my own food and preserve it for later and not always need to depend on food grown by others. Now my job is to share that part of me with my adult children and grand children.
Yesterday and today I canned 11 pints of stewed tomatoes with garlic that will be used in sauces and soups in the months to come. Just like spending time in my dirt therapy in the garden, canning also is therapy to me, I find standing in my own kitchen, peeling, dicing and jarring a large batch of tomatoes from my garden, I felt that same peace as I moved though the steps. I sensed my grandmother there at my side, her reminding to get all the skins off, keeping the dice uniform so it will cook evenly, letting the jars cool before removing the rings to clean the jars. Returning to my roots, a place that is familiar can bring a joy that is worth hanging on to. That woman was such a blessing and encouragement to me. She always let me know I can be anything I wanted to be, she never put a cap on my enthusiasm to try new things, and she was alway willing to be by my side through it all. I pray that I can be that woman to my children and grandchildren.
