Preserving A Fruit and a Heritage

Many of my days are filled with experiences that require a strong sense of humor. I mean, strong. And then, some days are just bad. I don't need a sense of humor as much as I need a emergency response team and a licensed therapist. But Saturday, there was something else. A new kind of day where mother and daughter joined forces and participated in a ritual that people on this earth have been performing since they first had to start feeding their families. The process of preserving the harvest. Preparing for winter by drying, canning, and freezing anything edible. Freshman and I bought peaches to supplement the meager fruit on our own tiny peach tree, and began to peel, pit and slice! We laughed and talked and watched The Sound of Music. When it was over, many hours later, we had 7 pints of jelly (those were our own home-grown) and 46 quarts of sliced peaches. And even better, there was a sense of comraderie and accomplishment between us. She was tired, but smiling. I was secretly pleased that I had passed on this knowledge and spent time with a girl who has vastly different interests than my own. And we were both satisfied that we had made such a substantial, yet economical contribution to our families health and welfare.