AMISH CANNING POEM Tis canning time far and wide across this whole vast countryside. Their carrying empties from below or toting full jars down to stow. Mom has a feeling its alright to bottle everything in sight. Our meals are lean and hurried up while Mom fills up her measuring cup. With beans or peas or carrots gold she knows next winter will be cold, for these past months about everywhere, theres not a single inch to spare. Theres jars of beets and jars of corn a gathering there since early morn. Theres relish pickles ketchup and jam in fact as much as mom could ram in jars of every shape and size that she could really utilize. Mom says it isnt right to waste what God provides so she makes hast from summer time till late in fall. The vegetables are in our own lot and everything the neighbors got. Our porch and kitchen overflow and keep us running to and fro with baskets full of everything that has been grown since early spring. Theres running to the country store for rubber rings and lids and more, for spices sugar salt and wax and wont let me and dad relax. Theres pickles fat and pickles lean and every kind of long string bean. Theres peas and white and yellow corn that Dad and I have meekly born from garden patch and berry row and everywhere that we did hoe. Oh well our cellars nearly full and I mean really bountiful and moms as happy as can be that she went on the scanning spree and I must own I really love the smell of cinnamon and clove of vinegar and spicy pear and all the juices mom prepares theres charm to canning time each year with canning special atmosphere but we know Mom we know her mind for she is merciful and kind our shelves are loaded down today but mom will give about half away
Posted on: Mon, 28 Jul 2014 00:43:03 +0000
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