Canning

We are down to the cucumbers today.

There appear to be few, but I can assure you that there are many jars collecting these specially cut pickles, with their split cloves of garlic, and there freshly grown heads of dill leaves just waiting for final placement.

Each jar has been used for years; they have been washed and scrubbed and cleaned to perfection. New lids and closures have been boiled in the cast iron skillet, while slicing and packing the jars goes on.

Just like my Mother did it, in the fifties, and sixties.

Very much like Grandma and Aint Sis, would have made them in thirties, and forties, on top of that gas burnered stove.

Like Great Grandma Taylor or Great Grandma Pritchard had to have made them, on those wood-fired, four burner behemoth cast iron stoves, where it made it so hot, they wore t-towels wrapped around their heads and necks, kept cool with well-water brought inside, back one hundred and twenty years ago.

Stacks of jars with all varieties; beets, dill pickles, sweet pickles, fish if available, peppers, tomatoes, jellies and jams, on and on they went. Stacked up on little shelves inside the house, or outside in the little well house, away from the sun, kept cool in the shade, and warm enough in the winter.

Amazing tasks, that can last through the summer and into the fall, and keeping food until the next season broke and fresh food would grow again. Preserving food was important to those of us who needed it, and made dandy little gifts to those who needed a present, of time and will power. And still do.

Ralph Peck

Photograph by Ralph Peck

Claremore Oklahoma

“At the canning table”