THIS is a jar of my Paw's delicious pear preserves, canned around this time last year when he was still with us. Ask anyone in our family, and they'll tell you that these jars are precious, as there are only a few left. I've often thought about making some. It's a lovely thought, isn't it? Carrying on the tradition. But sadly, there are a few problems:
1. I THINK I know where the recipe is, but I'm not certain that it's the right one. I wish I'd asked him.
2. Paw's pears didn't come in this year. They must've somehow known that he wasn't going to be here to take care of them.
3. Peanut would go peaNUTS if I were to attempt to make them, and I'm afraid The Great Kitchen Debate would commence all over again.
4. I'm not Paw. And no matter how good (or bad) mine turn out, I know they'd never be better than his. Simply because he made them.
As I smeared some on my toast this morning at breakfast, I thought about how many years he made preserves (he made fig, too). Slowly and steadily churning them out, giving them to his loved ones, never asking for anything in return--as was his way in everything. I don't think I ever told him how much I loved to see all of the golden jars of them boxed up, how yummy I thought they were, how much I appreciated the hours and days and YEARS he spent on them. Yes, YEARS. He planted the trees himself and watched them grow. And then every Fall when the fruit was perfectly ripe, he harvested, washed, peeled, cooked, and canned. He loved it. And He loved the process, not just the product. Paw was a tortoise, not a hare. And the older I get, the more I want to be just that way, too. Slow and steady wins the race. Heck, slow and steady actually remembers and maybe even enjoys the race!
If I could, I'd give a jar of Paw's preserves to each of you, friends. But I can't. Because there'd be no way to send them, yes. And because there aren't enough to go around and I want to make them last as long as I can. But keep this sentiment: take this post and picture as a virtual jar of Paw's preserves from me to you. Go outside and enjoy the glorious Fall weather! And try to be more of a tortoise and less of a hare today--I will, too.
I'll leave you with this:
Last night, as Peanut sat at the dinner table sipping her chocolate shake from Chik-Fil-A (she did get a tooth pulled, so I had to oblige her junk food craving), she said:
"Katy, my teeth are missing that back molar already. They feel kinda shaky. Like something should be there that's not. Just like me without Paw."
No comments:
Post a Comment