The Good Old Days

If there is such a thing as re-incarnation,

and I am not saying if there is or isn't,

then I KNOW for sure

that I was once a farm wife.

Each harvest I revisit the idea.

I cannot look at a farmer on a combine

without pausing and thinking

that somehow this used to me my husband,

my life.

My favorite color is the color of ripe wheat.

And here in Saskatchewan

that color is everywhere

this time of year.

Every fall when I process the garden produce,

that which I have grown

but more often

that which I have had delivered

by our Hutterite friends,

my thoughts turn to simpler times.

Almost as if I have lived them.

And of course the "ping" of the jars sealing...

well those of you who do canning

know exactly what I mean.

It is soul satisfying stuff.

And seeing those jars all lined up,

cooling on a towel,

knowing you are putting food by

for your family...

nothing like it.



And snapping off the ends of beans

as you sit on the deck

overlooking your "homestead"

makes you think of all of

the women who came before you

who did exactly the same thing.

And as the freezer fills

with summery goodness

a sense of accomplishment

overtakes you.

Vine ripened tomatoes.

No other words necessary.

And this rustic pot rack

(thank you Paul and Pinterest)

while not too pretty

but oh so functional,

I just love it.

I love seeing my collection

of cast iron pans hanging there.

My first one was from my Grandmother.

It is seasoned to perfection.

Its the one on the top right if

you must know.

And this rhubarb jam

from rhubarb Athena and I

found tossed over a fence in an alley

was all but free. Free!



Yes, if there is re-incarnation

I must have been a farm wife.

I love every single second

of the process of

preserving the summer harvest.

And I suspect I always will