Making apricot jam, and a lesson about life
Monday morning cup of thoughts
The thought occurs to me that the most important things in life are not objects I can pack in a suitcase.
After two visits to the Dixon area, I bring home a lug of apricots. We spend Saturday and Sunday preparing jam, one batch of plain apricot, and the other strawberry apricot.
Making apricot jam brings me immense joy. Memories comfort me— days spent with my dear friend Julie, preparing this sweet dream of a jam, stirring the fruit for hours until the pulp gives way, and spending another few hours jarring. The treat at the end of the job is sitting at the table with freshly-toasted bread covered in butter and jam.
Julie’s beautiful copper jam pot hangs on my kitchen wall, except when it’s time to make jam. These days, Rick stands in as my wingman, and we delight in the process, just as Julie and I did so many years ago.
Saturday, as we prepare the first batch toward the end of canning, a fire breaks out far too close for comfort. It grows from one acre to fifteen within an hour, and we receive the evacuation warning. (The Warning is one step before the actual order.)
Our delicious treats sit on the kitchen counter as I move from room to room, collecting essential belongings to bring if we must leave. The thought occurs to me that the most important things in life are not objects I can pack in a suitcase. They are memories of days like this, time spent with loved ones pursuing simple pleasures. They are with me at all times, supporting me through thick and thin.
Our amazing firefighters and first responders stop the forward movement of the fire in record time and the warning is lifted. With packed bags strewn about in every room, we settle back at the kitchen table to savor fresh toast smothered in butter and jam.
Oh, and the jars of jam? They would have been coming with us had we evacuated!!!
Love your jam!!
Mmmmm jam. ♥️♥️♥️