'Twas that time of the year--last week. The strawberries were ripe and ready for pickin'. It was especially sweet this year, because so many of our Ohio berries were wiped out last year due to a late frost. As a result, most of my plants died--but a few came back.So with a delicious bowl of my own homegrown berries and a few additional quarts, I had enough to tackle one of my favorite tasks: making homemade jam. This age-old task brings so many rewards, I don't think I could even list them all. Yes, it can be a hassle and require a solid block of time. And yes, it is easier to buy jam 
at the store, but oh ... what satisfaction it brings!
at the store, but oh ... what satisfaction it brings! For a few hours, I get to tap my inner farmgirl. I dust off my canning tools (used only once or twice a year), admiring their bright red color. I consider the engineering behind them. (Who came up with the idea of the magnet on a stick to fish out the lids from the hot water? Brilliant!)
Then I soak, clean and chop those red beauties--certainly one of God's most wonderful 
achievements. Then I measure, cook and stir. Boil. Then stir some more. Not only does the smell make you swoon, but it fills the house with a to-die-for fragrance.
achievements. Then I measure, cook and stir. Boil. Then stir some more. Not only does the smell make you swoon, but it fills the house with a to-die-for fragrance. Then comes the magic moment when you dump all that sugar into the cloudy berry mixture. Boil again, stirring continually. Then magic happens: the mixture turns to a vivid red--the color of rich rubies. A little more stirring and its time to ladle the sauce into the hot jars. Lids on; boil in a hot bath.
I pull the jars out with my other cool jar-picker-upper tool and set on a pretty dishtowel. (
A personal tradition.) I admire the deep red color of the jam. The jars cool slowly. I head to bed for the night--the ping of the jar lids (signifying a successful batch and seal) like music to my ears. Voila ... security for the winter ahead.
There is a huge amount of satisfaction that comes from a task as simple as making jam. It involves a little math, a little logic, reading, analysis, using all five senses--and then taking pleasure in the accomplishment. Plus, it's great therapy. You can't buy that at the grocery store.
I pull the jars out with my other cool jar-picker-upper tool and set on a pretty dishtowel. (
A personal tradition.) I admire the deep red color of the jam. The jars cool slowly. I head to bed for the night--the ping of the jar lids (signifying a successful batch and seal) like music to my ears. Voila ... security for the winter ahead.There is a huge amount of satisfaction that comes from a task as simple as making jam. It involves a little math, a little logic, reading, analysis, using all five senses--and then taking pleasure in the accomplishment. Plus, it's great therapy. You can't buy that at the grocery store.
