Pears

There aren't too many things that bring back childhood memories like bottling fruit. You sisters know what I'm talking about. Sticky juice running down your elbows, a steamy kitchen, John Denver music playing, and an assembly line of girls with their mom putting up countless quarts of fruit. Mom said it best:

Lucky Lady

Lucky is the lady who has a kitchen full of girls

They're pickers and peelers and tons of fun - they're as valuable as pearls.

Each with a paring knife and a bowl of ripe and ready fruit

With smiles and sweat and stickiness, preserving all the loot.

We bottle up a happy harvest and get a double pay;

Fruit-filled happiness sealed and ready for a hungry memory day.

Well, I only got just over a dozen pints done today. And no assembly line - just me. I didn't have "Rocky Mountain High" playing but instead I watched Scarlett and Rhett. But still, as I look at my finished product, I get a good feeling. I'm proud of my not-so-perfectly-cut pears that are probably over cooked. Good grief, I even took a picture of them and posted it on my blog! In fact, I'm gonna leave them on my counter for a few more hours instead of bringing them to the cold storage, just so I can look at them. These little pint jars contain more than pears. They contain good memories. Maybe that's why mom had us do it.