I’ve been thinking about canning lately. Yes, canning – think grandmas with winged aprons and a beautiful pantry filled with rows and rows of goodness. Somehow the idea of lining my shelves with summer’s bounty and sweet, red-checked jars sounds appealing.
This week at the grocery store, I discovered Canning Magazine – has it always been there? Usually I’m studying fashion magazine covers, diet features and celebrity gossip. And now, canning.
I can’t quite put my finger on the canning whim. Is it the fact that I’m getting older? Maybe it’s a longing for simple things. Right now the world feels pretty go-go, zoomy to me. School’s starting, the economy is crazy and the politicians even more so. Everyone needs something from me – parent meetings, broken faucets, socks with holes in them. I’m overwhelmed by it all.
Now would be a good time to visit grandma’s house and sit on the porch swing with her. After a nice talk, she says “why don’t you take home a jar of jam to go with the bread I made you?” I smile and nod and head to the pantry where I find treasure that grandma has lovingly stowed away from the summer garden. That sounds nice.
Too bad I don’t have that grandma. But the idea stays with me. There is a certain grounding in caring for your family that grandma’s generation knew well. Spending an afternoon making jam could be exactly what is needed. I think when the world spins crazy, I like to focus on home. I can’t control any of the chaos outside of it, but I can care for my nest.
