Canning and other Memories

It's been fun having a garden this year.  As the season comes to a close, the corn is done and dry.  The frost got my cucumbers a few days ago and I'm thinking my tomatoes have met their demise.  We enjoyed one supper of Kezia's potatoes and the carrots will be picked this week.

I don't have many memories of working in the garden as a kid.  I remember when I was still with my biological mom, we would go and visit my grandma Rieder in Saskatchewan.  Her garden was huge and I always loved picking the green onions and eating them and then getting yelled at for taking them.  Gardens were for producing food to last the winter, not to eat during the summer.  And we would go and visit Mrs. B and she had a raspberry farm.  We would pick and pick and pick and pick for jam (that's partly why I can hardly get excited about picking any berries) and then would be rewarded with a tiny bowl  of berries with a bit of cream.  Never ice cream.  Never seconds.

When I was living with my forever family, my Mom and I would sit in the dirt and weed the garden.  Or whenever I was playing piano for a wedding, coming home between the ceremony and the reception to sit on the deck and and shell buckets of peas with her.  I remember eating the food from the garden in the summer, especially the new potatoes in cream sauce.

I don't ever remember seeing anyone can produce as a child. Even though I've done a bit with friends as an adult, I'm no expert.  The idea of putting boiling hot liquids into hot glass jars and then closing them and putting them into boiling water scares me to death.  I can see the headlines now,

Woman decapitated by mason jar shrapnel

No blood on the scene as wound was cauterized by scalding salsa  

As the cucumbers were coming in full force and there were too many tomatoes to eat in sandwiches, I realized I would probably either have to can them or give them away.  And can is what I did.  I didn't have any jars explode or break.  I didn't get burned and even though I lacked some of the necessary tools, I was proud of how I improvised and still got the job done.  I did some pickles, made some salsa and even beet jelly.  Yes, it's kind of strange but I had enough beets to feed an army.  Why did we plant that other row Carl?  Sheesh.  

The kids really had a good time with the garden.  They learned where food comes from, that thistles can have 18 inches of root, and what the best way to get beet juice off your clothes.  It was good to have a garden, good to make positive memories, and I'll definitely plant again next year.