"Do you want me to can tomatoes for you?" my grandmother asked me over the phone. The year was 1977 and my grandmother was 85 years old. I thought Grandma was too old to be canning for anyone including herself. The fact that she did it on her wood stove was amazing to me.
"Please don't bother Grandma."
"I have lots of tomatoes," she said.
I knew she did because her garden was huge. She grew vegetables as if she still had a family of six children to feed. After her children were all grown with children of their own, she gave most of her produce to them even though they had gardens of their own and sold her dill to a local grocery store. Bringing in the harvest was a monumental task. My mother continued the tradition of canning everything she could for winter eating.
In our basement, when I was growing up, we had a little room with a dirt floor that we called the fruit cellar. There, my mother put the colorful jars of fruits, vegetables and meat on the wooden shelves. It took her weeks of work to can everything she did.
I remember juice from grapes being strained through cheese cloth so my mother could make grape jelly. My favorite though was her grape juice that she put in two quart jars. We would open one on a Sunday night when we often had popcorn.
Canning continues in my generation but not as much as my ancestors. I can tomatoes, tomato juice, beans and peaches. My husband makes jam and freezes apple sauce. This year he made a new kind of jam from our crab apples.
The farm markets are full of ripe vegetable and fruits. Hay is baled in the fields and wood piles are growing. Picking black berries that grow wild around the edges of our meadows is part of our harvest. Many bags go into the freezer and fresh ones go into a pie. It is a yearly tradition. We also have blueberries that we harvest off a few good producing bushes. There is a contentment for me in seeing the glass jars lined up on my shelves and the freezer filled with Michigan fruit.
In Europe we have watched the hand harvesting of hay on mountain slopes and wood packed so tightly in intricate patterns that is seems impossible to pull a piece out. We have seen vineyards with ripe grapes and tasted the new wine. We have watched cows being herded down from the mountain pastures in Switzerland, Austria and Germany and taken part in the celebration that follows. Cathedrals in Europe often have items from the harvest at their altars.
There is still something innate in our character that makes us want to preserve and put away for a winter season. It isn't really necessary for the common man as grocery stores are everywhere, yet there is a need in some of us to do what generations before us did out of necessity. The satisfaction is overwhelming.
"Please don't bother Grandma."
"I have lots of tomatoes," she said.
I knew she did because her garden was huge. She grew vegetables as if she still had a family of six children to feed. After her children were all grown with children of their own, she gave most of her produce to them even though they had gardens of their own and sold her dill to a local grocery store. Bringing in the harvest was a monumental task. My mother continued the tradition of canning everything she could for winter eating.
In our basement, when I was growing up, we had a little room with a dirt floor that we called the fruit cellar. There, my mother put the colorful jars of fruits, vegetables and meat on the wooden shelves. It took her weeks of work to can everything she did.
I remember juice from grapes being strained through cheese cloth so my mother could make grape jelly. My favorite though was her grape juice that she put in two quart jars. We would open one on a Sunday night when we often had popcorn.
Canning continues in my generation but not as much as my ancestors. I can tomatoes, tomato juice, beans and peaches. My husband makes jam and freezes apple sauce. This year he made a new kind of jam from our crab apples.
The farm markets are full of ripe vegetable and fruits. Hay is baled in the fields and wood piles are growing. Picking black berries that grow wild around the edges of our meadows is part of our harvest. Many bags go into the freezer and fresh ones go into a pie. It is a yearly tradition. We also have blueberries that we harvest off a few good producing bushes. There is a contentment for me in seeing the glass jars lined up on my shelves and the freezer filled with Michigan fruit.
In Europe we have watched the hand harvesting of hay on mountain slopes and wood packed so tightly in intricate patterns that is seems impossible to pull a piece out. We have seen vineyards with ripe grapes and tasted the new wine. We have watched cows being herded down from the mountain pastures in Switzerland, Austria and Germany and taken part in the celebration that follows. Cathedrals in Europe often have items from the harvest at their altars.
There is still something innate in our character that makes us want to preserve and put away for a winter season. It isn't really necessary for the common man as grocery stores are everywhere, yet there is a need in some of us to do what generations before us did out of necessity. The satisfaction is overwhelming.
Our harvest.....tomatoes, peaches, jelly
Local farm market......
The harvest in Europe.....
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