Loganberry Jam.

IMG_20141023_183457_009

Logan 8/97 on the lid
In my mother’s distinctive hand.
I hesitate –
It’s the last one.

On my pantry shelf for fifteen years
Because every time I picked it up, I put it back:
It’s the very last one.

My childhood
My memories
My mother –
Preserved.

Today, Logan 8/97 is ripe for picking.

With a little pop,
The lid comes off,
Revealing brownberry jam:
The essence of a summer so long past.

Here’s to you, Momma:
Here’s to the countless berries
Picked,
Washed,
Mashed,
Sugared,
Thickened,
Jarred,
Sealed,
And shared.
Here’s to berry-stained fingers
And wooden spoons
And paraffin in a little pan.

Here’s to sweet, sweet memories airtight in half-pint jars.

Here’s to Logan 8/97
The very last one.

 

RLP 10/2014

Published by

StuckonZero

StuckonZero

Aging like a fine wine. ;-)

8 thoughts on “Loganberry Jam.”

  1. Lucky you! My very last one was mostly sugar when we opened it. But the very center was good and so we enjoyed it.

  2. This is a wonderful poem. We know that all the very firsts without our loved ones are hard – first Christmas, first mothers/fathers day, first anniversary of their death.
    But we forget that the very lasts are just as hard.

    I have a hankering for some rosy peach-banana right about now!

    -Vern

    1. Thanks, Vern!
      You are so right — lasts can be just as tough. I’m so glad that the jamming tradition continues — I have some of your mom’s RPB. It’s beauty in a jar. xoxoB

  3. What a beautiful tribute to your mom. I hope some of you are passing on the old canning traditions. I miss my grandmas and Aunt Judy’s canned fruits and sauces, and of course, pickles! I wish i knew how to do it. I was a little too young when i watched them and i don’t remember much. I also don’t spend much time at home, either, but that’s another story.

    1. Thank you, Esther. Love can be expressed in so many ways, and I have always believed that Mother sealed so much of hers in jars.
      I know Rob has kept canning alive in her family, recruiting her daughters, D-I-L and granddaughter in the tradition. She also assumed the fruitcake mantle and does a damned fine job of that, as well. Mr. Stuck and I have jammed and pickled, but we haven’t canned any fruit yet.
      It’s a lot of work, but it sure is nice to enjoy your very own handiwork when it’s done.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *