My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...
Happy Thanksgiving Dorothy.
ReplyDeleteThank you. It is my favorite holiday.
DeleteBest camp skit gone wrong ever. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.
ReplyDeleteI love it! Hope your day is filled with good things, Alana.
DeleteHappy Thanksgiving, Dorothy, for you and your family!
ReplyDeleteAnd to you, Carmen!
DeleteGosh I had forgotten about that skit. Sooooo funny!
ReplyDeleteForgot to say, I hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving :-)
ReplyDeleteWe did. Thank you, Jayne.
DeleteI salute you for keeping the blog going over the holidays!
ReplyDeleteIt's all about scheduling the posts ahead of time. Then Blogger takes care of it for me!
Delete