Sort of Like Grandma!

   Following my paternal grandmother's lead, I do a lot of home canning of fruits and vegetables...a LOT of home canning.  Grandma's was out of necessity as she had Grandpa, six strapping sons and a lovely daughter to feed and "running" to a grocery store was out of the question back in those days.  Mom, on the other hand, had no idea how to do these things when she and Pop got married.  She was never taught since she had not grown up as a "farm girl".  That soon became a problem as just a mere week after their marriage, Pop brought several bushels of green beans from the fields and then proudly presented her with a brand new pressure canner!  She sat down and wept because she knew the task had to be done but had no idea how to begin.  Pop tried to explain and but to no avail.  Thankfully, his sister came to the rescue and taught Mom the fine art of home canning that summer.  Mom passed that along to me as a teenager and I have been doing it since. 

  The Saturday before Mother's Day, Mark and I came up with a plan to bring four of our elderly lady friends some fresh vegetables as gifts.  Even though these ladies are in their late 80s, they still appreciate good foods and still do their own cooking.  Mark went to a local farm and stocked up on a variety of veggies and berries, we made lovely boxes and then he headed out to visit each of the ladies.  They were thrilled.  I stayed behind and started prepping the remaining fruit and vegetables to be canned.  He had scored a great deal on a bushel of green beans and half bushels each of strawberries and blueberries.  My work was cut out for me! For the next few days, we canned the green beans and made jams and jellies from the berries.

  The only troubling part of this whole venture is the quality of mason jars that are sold today.  I refuse to put any jar with even a tiny, hairline crack in my canner and some of the new jars have plenty of those.  Plus, several of the lids were messed up coming straight from a new box!  Then!  Then, imagine my surprise when one of the canning rings from a new jar had a lovely cut in the metal.  Wow!  Workmanship has gone down the tubes, it seems.  That should have never, ever left the factory!  Who inspects these things?  Anyone?  Doubtful.  I am so thankful that Mark did not cut his hand as he was removing the rings from the new jars.

  That aside, I now need to find shelf space for the nigh on eighty more jars of goodies.  This brings the total back to over nine hundred jars on the pantry shelves...which, by the way, are my dining room shelves that span the entirety of one wall.  Grandma would be proud, I think!

Time to Disconnect to Reconnect

  It was a "stay inside and make jam" sort of day.  While rain poured outside, I chopped plums. The plums that were picked a few days ago to prevent the raccoons from stealing them had ripened to the perfect point for this undertaking.  They were red enough to give the jam a beautiful color but not too ripe as to not add pectin.  Son came into the kitchen and immediately picked up a knife to help.  (This fellow can make jam with the best of them!  As matter of fact, all three of my grown kids know the fine art of home canning!) I was fully appreciative as there were two large baskets of plums that, when chopped, amounted to over a gallon!  As we chopped, we talked.  He made mention of the fact that some of the best conversations are held in the kitchen whether at the table during mealtime or while preparing food for canning.  It was then that he reminisced of times spent with "Grandma" (my mom).  "We did things.  It was not that she babysat.  Grandma taught us stuff...useful stuff...but we did not realize that we were learning.  The same with Papa (my Pop)...he taught us stuff but we thought we were having fun."  I had to agree with him.  Time spent with them was well spent.  Later, when he was stirring the jam, he started talking again about Papa and Grandma.  "I learned a lot of patience from them.  It is like they had time to really listen." he said.  Again, I had to agree.  Yep.  Both were patient and kind.  They took the time to teach and encourage their grandkids not scold and berate them.   They did have time.  Why?  Because they were not distracted by technology and "time-saving" devices.  Truth be told, folks back in the day accomplished far more each day than any of us nowadays does.  

   

  During the jam making session, Son and I covered a lot of territory that lay hidden in the backs of our minds.  We talked.  That in itself is something rare these days.  With all of the interruptions via technology, there is very little actual communicating happening.  Perhaps Son is right.  The best place to have a conversation is at the kitchen table.  It made me long for the days before cell phones and laptops...before technology came to possess our very minds...before we became addicted to social media.  It is time to disconnect, folks.  It is time to get back to actually communicating.  Perhaps, it is time for folks to get back to making homemade jam, snapping green beans and just spending time with each other instead of being glued to a screen.  It is time to disconnect to reconnect.

Fat Knots....

    I do not know whether to be fully astonished at the entrepreneurship of some folks or befuddled at the ignorance of others. (Notice that I used the word ignorance and not stupidity.  There is a vast difference.  Look it up before you get your shorts in a wad.)  Granted, maybe folks do not have access to the things that the Bayou and land provides but it seems to me that there are those who cannot fend for themselves.  Being a bit under the weather with this flu bug, I have plenty of time to browse the Internet for useless items or items that cost a fortune but can be had for free.  The latter is what the aforementioned remark is pointed.  

  What used to be almost a necessity back in our grandparents' and even my parents' days, now has become somewhat of a luxury....obviously.  At least, if I had to dole out the hard cash for something this expensive, I would deem it a luxury!  On several websites "Fat Wood Starter" is going for whopping prices.  Who would ever expect something that can be found with every walk in the woods would demand such an exorbitant bit of cash!  Granted someone has done the splitting and packaging for you but, hey, free beats $20 for 8 lbs of sticks.  I guess city folks just don't want to dirty their hands or maybe do not have the time to wander about hunting the old fat knots.  Maybe there are just no places to go scrounging for these things.  I do not know but I find it dumbfounding that a stick is worth that much.  Maybe I should start a new business!

  Back growing up on the farm, it was almost a ritual to pick up any fat knots when we were out in the woods.  The heart of felled pine trees or downed limbs provided us with a winter's worth of fat wood.  Once home, a hatchet and a bit of elbow grease saw the knots shaved into the tiny slivers that assured a quick light.  I remember Pop telling of how Grandma would start her old wood burning stove with a few slivers then pop in a large knot.  This made a fast and very hot fire to get her pots to boiling.  Once the fire was going real good, some seasoned oak, hickory or pecan chunks provided a steady heat to continue her meal-cooking chores.  Her old stove had a side oven that kept a temperature steady enough to bake the finest of cakes.  The fat pine knots would cause a major soot build up in the chimney.  Pop and his brothers were forever having to clean the chimney to prevent a fire from starting where it was not supposed to be!

  Yesterday, before the rains started, the old dog and made a nice hike into the woods behind the house.  Escaping the confines of the sick house was pleasurable.  I picked up several fat knots to throw on the wood pile to be split once I get to feeling better.  While these are not seen as a necessity they once were, I still prefer to have the split pieces on hand.   The aroma that the sap-soaked heart pieces has evokes a lot of memories of days past.  Just chunking a couple of slivers into the fire bin of the old wood stove makes things right with the world.   Seeing the bright flames shoot up with such enthusiasm gives hope.  But...then I remember the folks who are paying an arm and a leg for a few "special" fat pieces and the bewilderment returns. Ha!  One company even labels their fat wood as organic!  Duh....I stand in awe!  Maybe I will go into business!  There is a wealth on the ground behind the house just waiting to be found!