Memory jam

I'm cranky and miserable BUT at least One Good Thing happened today.  I was able to check four things off today's to-do list. Usually when I'm in a mood, I'm lucky to get one done.

Yesterday, I climbed the ladder and picked mulberries from the tree on the front lawn. While up there, I thought of my uncle's fruit farm. I think we were actually third cousins but we called him Uncle Winston.  He was an older man and quite a character. I drive past the farm all the time. It's been sold out of the family, but the good memories remain ours.  He grew cherries and peaches and a few vegetables - enough to supply the local cannery as well as employee a significant portion of the family.  Hollyhocks grew beside the porch. I cannot see them without thinking of his lovely wife, Aunt Mary.

Today, for the first time in a couple of decades, I made jam.  It is delicious. I may have been walking around Canadian Tire regretting the big purge a few years ago in which the canning pot left us, but I didn't succumb to that big purchase (I had to replace an element on the stove). I made do with a pot we had downstairs. I suspect I will give in at some point, buy some jars and other accessories. It will depend how well the garden grows this year.

Standing over the pot, stirring the fruit with the sugar, took me back to my first year of college. I was staying in my grandparents' cottage while they were in Florida for the winter. Mom and I harvested the grapes and plums in the back yard. We filled my pantry with jams from both.  My place was popular with my classmates as I'd also received an enormous tub of peanut butter as a Christmas present. All anyone had to buy was bread.  PB&J from my place was delicious, nutritious and full of family nurturing.

Who knew jam was so full of good memories?