Friday, September 4, 2009

Canning Moments

Collect jars and pots, large and small;
Slice, pitch, slice, pitch;
De-top, slice, slice, pitch;
Wash jars, squeeze lemon juice,
Consult with Carla Emery.

Wonder if women
Did this work together,
Or if they did it solo, in their own kitchens
As I
Slice, pitch, slice, pitch, slice, pitch.
Wonder how many jars this will fill.
Wonder how many jars my garden will fill.
Think of lasagna in January,
Of white bean and sausage
With canned tomatoes.
Wonder about the sanity of
Homesteading. What does this mean
For us still living between modern and not?
When I run out of tomato jars,
Because I didn't grow enough,
I run to the store,
Filling up on tin cans.
Slice, pitch, slice, pitch, slice, pitch.

Realize that every pizza I've ever eaten
Has contained tomatoes that someone canned
Even if it was a giant machine;
A tomato that grew in the sun somewhere,
And was bottled up, and shipped to the Italian restaurant.

But now I eat my own.
Slice, pitch, slice, pitch.
Stir, squish.
Boil, scoop, cap, ring.
Sputtering pressure canner, steamy house.
Clattering stainless bowls and knives.

Silence in the pantry.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love this! Didn't know you are a poet! (JLL)