But right now, it is strawberry jam. I love strawberries so much. They have such a unique and wonderful flavor,
and they are only here for a few weeks. Then
they are gone for another year. So quickly
and crazily, I gather the strawberries and make jams and syrups and dehydrated
fruit rolls. It is hard work, but it is
worth it in the many months to come. In
January when the ice is encroaching and the snow is deep and cold, I will open
what I call “sunshine in a jar”—strawberry jam.
 |
| Ruby red life. |
I got to thinking about all of this while I was in the
hot sun yesterday picking and picking strawberries. The sun was hot. The insects were buzzing and
threatening. I was sweating, and my
hands were all sticky and red. But I kept
on picking. Faster and faster I
picked. My back was hurting, and when I could
not lean over anymore, I got on my knees and crawled through the patch. Then my knees started to hurt. But I kept on picking.
Because I have a secret.
It is a lesson I learned long ago, and it has never failed me. You gather what you can, while you can. You work hard and you save for a rainy
day. You seize abundance as soon as it
is offered, and you never delay. And when you do this, you will always have
plenty—and not just “a lot,” but the best
there is to have. Courtesy of yourself
(and Mother Nature, of course).
There is hidden wealth in a jar of strawberry jam, in a
quart of strawberry syrup. There is
stored sunshine, captured energy waiting to change form yet again as it
endlessly winds itself throughout the Universe.
The deep red color strikes a primitive cord in us. It whispers, “I am alive.” I consume the jam. The Spirit is found.
Some will say it is too much work. There are other things to do, better
things. Why bother? The modern age brings us strawberries all
year long in the supermarket. I am not
sure what those hard reddish/yellowish things in the supermarket are, but they
are not strawberries. And there is no
Spirit in them either. The life force
has long since left, if it was ever there in the first place.
You see, I make the strawberry jam not only because the
flavor and sustenance is outstanding, but because I want to work for it,
because then I am connected to it from start to finish. It is not a substance that just magically
appeared before me. It started as a
seed, then a small plant, then flowers, and finally berries. Then there was hot work in the sun and hot
work in the kitchen. (Note that a
circuit has been completed. Ears, hear.)
And all of this fills me with so much appreciation and gratitude
for what the Earth offers us, if we are smart enough to take it, strong enough
to capture it, and brave enough to believe in it. There are so many lessons out in the fields
and in our own kitchens. Every day we
are given the opportunity to participate in the real journey. Every day brings us a chance to come home
again.
