In years past I've tried to can my own produce and stock my pantry shelves just like my mother did when I was a child. I have since learned that canning is very bitter sweet. There is something incredible about accomplishing something that now seems so old fashioned. And just like slaving in the yard and then scrubbing the dirt off your elbows at the end of the day, there's something extremely gratifying and fulfilling about standing in the kitchen for hours peeling fruit, blanching it, cutting it, canning it, and then processing it. I'm always a smelly, sticky, sweaty mess by the end of each canning day. But then I get to shower and lay in bed that night and listen to the lids "pop" as they announce that they are successfully sealed and ready to be stored. It's magical!
So far I've been slow and hesitant to can this year. Last year I threw in the towel before the canning season even started and blamed it on my job and newborn baby. This year I was determined to at least put up some peaches and pears. Unfortunately, I came home on a Friday night after a busy week of soccer and football to find that my peaches were ripe and needed attention immediately. So at 8:30 PM I started canning. My 3 oldest kids wanted to help like they usually do, so I taught them how to blanch the peaches and peel them and then leave for me to put in the jars. "Bleaching" the peaches quickly became the coveted job and I soon put a rotating schedule into action to resolve the bickering. Soon I noticed that the entire kitchen floor was not only wet but extremely sticky. I turned to see one of my daughters peeling and cutting the peaches on the counter top and warm peach juice splashing on the floor. I covered the floor with a table cloth and tried to pretend that this mess would magically be cleaned up when I awoke in the morning. (deep breaths....deep breaths....it's just juice...) Handsome came out periodically to see how things were going. His wide-eyed expression said everything as he shook his head and walked away.
About 2 hours into canning our peaches I noticed that the peaches were mushy and falling apart in my hands. Cutting them was impossible! As I watched the little factory we had created in our teeny kitchen I noticed that Ranger was on "bleaching" duty. He would place some peaches in the hot water on the stove, then transfer them to the sink, attempt to peel them, and if peeling was not up to his high standards, he would return the peaches to the blanching pot and repeat it over and over and over. My peaches were mushy because they were cooked! I salvaged what I could and threw the rest in the trash without the kids seeing. They continued to ask if I enjoyed their help. I half lied and told them that I did. And so we puttered along until about 11 PM when I turned off the stove and the Camp Chef and sent the kids to bed.
The following morning we ran to early morning soccer games and returned home for a lunch break. To my frustration my box of pears had ripened overnight and were fading fast. I lit the Camp Chef and started peeling pears. Ranger bounded into the kitchen and with excitement asked if he could help. He took particular interest in peeling the pears when he found out that we would not be blanching them. As he peeled and peeled he said, "Mom, I wouldn't tell my friends this, but I really like canning!"
Oh, you sweet boy! How can I not appreciate my mushy peaches and my bruised pears when you stand here for hours with your mom helping me can rather than play outside with your friends? I know that my jars on my pantry shelf are not near as "pretty" as the ones Grandma puts up, which was always a priority. But thanks to my cute kids I got both my peaches and pears done which is more than I would've accomplished on my own. And every time I look at those peaches and pears it makes me smile. I am so grateful for those simple reminders of how incredibly blessed I am to be a mother.
1 comment:
sweet story and sweet memories!
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