Growing up we knew it was the end of summer when we were sent out to the garden to pick peaches. We had five peach trees, and they were amazingly bountiful every year. This would start the canning season. Peaches, pears, tomatoes and such. I miss being in that kitchen and helping, it was a family tradition. Last year my mom came out for a weekend and brought peaches and pears for me to can. I tried to learn how to do it, but mostly just
watched helped her here and there. This year I ordered an entire box of pears, knowing my mom wasn't coming. I called her several times for information that should be embedded in my brain.
It took me a while to get the kitchen all set up. I knew the basic work stations I needed and got out all the bowls and tools I thought I needed. The kids had McDonalds for lunch and a redbox rental to hopefully occupy them while I was busy. As I started blanching the first batch I knew I was past the point of no return. It reminded me of sewing. My mom is an amazing seamstress, I would ask her to make me clothes and tell her I would help. Help meant watching her sew for hours on end. I didn't sew a lot growing up, but I learned a lot from watching and talking to my mom. Now I love to sew, and attribute that to my mother. So, when I started canning all by myself it was like I already knew what to do.
After filling four jars someone knocked at my door. My little girl who loves to answer the door ran to get it. It was my MIL. She came to say hi, the kids were excited, and I was glad to have someone to talk to. She offered to help and I didn't say no. She helped me can most of the box. Thank You!
All the pears are in jars now, thirty-two to be exact. Only three pairs didn't make it in, two were eaten and one was just too bad. As I sit here typing the last batch is boiling away. It was fun to be domestic today, and to be just like my mom.