Saturday, September 8, 2012

the art of canning peaches...

 at least in one's mind.

Every August my mother and father would roll into the graveled driveway of our then farm home, ladened with two bushels of vine-ripened peaches. They had stopped by the peach orchards on the way to my house while I was at home making preparations by pulling out the pressure canner, the quart-sized jars and the new lids.

So is this why I have had a strong desire to can peaches this season?  It has been at least a decade since my mother and I would spend the last of our summer days canning peaches. We anticipated the joy of canning peaches together every year. I still hear in my mind's memory the dancing metallic sound of the weight as it jiggled atop of the pressure canner and the sight of the many quart jars of peaches stored on my pantry's shelves.

Even before I opened my eyes to the haze of the morning's light spreading into my bedroom this morning, the very first glimpses that stirred in my consciousness were of my mother's face, she was wearing pink and she was smiling. And I thought of those late summer days we would spend canning peaches once again.

 But now September has arrived and the peach season is past.

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