Knit 5 Together

better than rubies

     I love embracing the seasonal!  This year is our fourth year making strawberry jam, and the boys were anxiously awaiting for the day our local farmers would announce that the fields were ready.  I think I heard "Is it today, Mama?" a dozen times.

     But the day finally came!  The kids piled in the van, and after a long ride we reached our favorite pick-your-own farm.  Plastic-lined baskets clutched in their hands they jumped from the van and darted down the strawberry rows towards the man with the flag who would give us a row to work in.  Eve clutched a little bucket of her own, unsure of what all the fuss was about.

     And then she saw her brothers reaching into the greenery and pulling out the brightest, ruby-red-ist treasures and putting them in their baskets.  Treasure!  She picked and picked, paused to watch the families in the field, clung close to Mama when they came too near, and picked some more. 

     The boys worked for about an hour and then finally gave out.  They sat on an irrigation pipeline and watched the people and their sister, and chatted with their Mama as I tried to buy myself just a bit more picking time.  (This limited, give-it-your-all, focused time is the reason I just can't stop and take pictures when we're picking.)

     We spent the rest of the day with friends that live near the farm, and then I put my exhausted children in the van to head home.  I hadn't gotten my seatbelt on when Micah wanted to know, "We're going to make the jam as soon as we get home, right?"

     Ha.  Ha.  No, baby.  We are going to chill.

     So we chilled.  And the next morning we made half of the jam.  We wash the berries and then the boys entertain Eve while I hull them.  And then the smashing!  I used to have to explain and monitor carefully.  Last year I had to supervise.  This year I handed the boys a timer, a bowl of berries, and our pastry cutter (we use it for mashing and it works great). 

     That's it.  They took turns, smashed berries to ruby liquid, and occassionally called for me to bring more berries.  And then I did the boiling parts.  Levi sighs happily and annouces that he feels "just like a farmer."

     The work is good.  It is simple.  It is together.  We enjoy the fruit of it all year.  The next morning the boys go out with their Papa, and I have friends come over, eager to learn about this canning stuff that our family gets so much joy from.  Babies around our ankles, pulling on my apron strings, laughter and sugar everywhere, Eve and I pass on a tradition that is worth preserving.

 

     Thanks Gramma for showing me how! 

And thanks Nanny.  I remember those wild grape vines, the boiling, boiling, boiling, and your old-fashioned sheets of parafin - I still miss you and Henry. 

We even have a little extra to sell to friends ($4 a half-pint anyone?).

mud again

     Thought I'd show you a bit of history education...  remember our clay harvesting?  And cleaning?  So, well, even though this looks like art, we were really learning about how the early American made their pots and dishes.  See?  History. :)

paint branch trail

     Since Micah joined the pedal-pushing ranks we have been riding once a week.  I love it.  He's on a bike, Levi's on a Kent Super Scooter, and Eve's with me.  The trick is finding places for them to cruise where they can focus on their riding skills (as opposed to traffic and driveways and not getting squished).  And it's kind-of hilly where we live.  Micah, being the youngest rider, has not reached that point where it's a thrill to rush down-hill with the wind in his face, so we are keeping our eyes out for fairly level paths.

     This week we tried the Paint Branch Trail.  The trail follows a pretty large stream, and goes under the nearest big road, so no car issues.  We parked in the middle and tried going south first, but there was a massive incline.  Micah made it to the top of the first one, pushing his little bike with help from his brother (who actually ditched his scooter halfway up to run back and help).  When I saw that it kept going up after that, I turned the boys around. 

     We went north, and under the bridge which had them shouting with excitement.  That direction was far more level and Micah left his fears behind and really started pedalling. 

     When we made it back to the van we played for a while and then came home to crash.  Paint Branch was great - enough people to make you feel safe, but not so many that it was crowded, the stream was peaceful, there was lots of nature to stop and check out, a playground (not on the map though - weird), and no cars.  I think I'll figure out a way to tie our picnic blanket on the bike, so we can stay longer...

squishy is good for you!

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