I love canning. This week I had the opportunity to can some 54 jars of scrum-didilly-umptious peaches. Home canned fruit is far and away better than the store bought variety. A good friend taught me how to can when she and her husband were living here for medical school. That was seven years ago, and with the exception of one off-year due to moving and pregnancy, I have canned every year since. (Ironically, the friend that taught me how to can had just moved across the country and she was just as pregnant as I was in the off-year previously mentioned. However, I am just not as turbo as she is. Plus, at the time she was like 22 and I was 30 in the off year. BIG difference.) On behalf of my family and my pocketbook, I thank you Kim for teaching me such a useful skill. I think of you and Grandma Blackham every time I can peaches. Or pears. Or anything else I am canning. Except for when I am canning apple butter. Then I think of my mom.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Canning
I love canning. This week I had the opportunity to can some 54 jars of scrum-didilly-umptious peaches. Home canned fruit is far and away better than the store bought variety. A good friend taught me how to can when she and her husband were living here for medical school. That was seven years ago, and with the exception of one off-year due to moving and pregnancy, I have canned every year since. (Ironically, the friend that taught me how to can had just moved across the country and she was just as pregnant as I was in the off-year previously mentioned. However, I am just not as turbo as she is. Plus, at the time she was like 22 and I was 30 in the off year. BIG difference.) On behalf of my family and my pocketbook, I thank you Kim for teaching me such a useful skill. I think of you and Grandma Blackham every time I can peaches. Or pears. Or anything else I am canning. Except for when I am canning apple butter. Then I think of my mom.
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1 comment:
Oh . . . I miss you.
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