You know, words just don't taste very good when you have to eat them. Especially words you threw at your parents as a child. Let me explain. My parents always had a garden, and I even remember for a while, we had 2. And a strawberry patch. And I'm not talking about a little 10 foot by 10 foot garden, I'm talking G-A-R-D-E-N. (Although I do realize everything seems bigger when you're young....anyway...) I, being the oldest of 5, was called on some to help with the garden, particularly snapping beans and podding peas. I can't tell you how many hours I spent in those two endeavors in my younger years. (Although probably not as many as I think I remember.) I repeatedly told my parents I was NEVER going to have a garden. And I meant it.
...fast forward to today...yes, literally today...
Well, I just finished canning my second canner-load of green beans tonight, and have a big picking again tomorrow, so will be canning again. And as I was sitting there watching my gauge register 11 pounds of pressure for 25 minutes, I was actually thinking how thankful I am that I know how to garden, AND know how to pressure can. (This is my 17th year gardening and canning...on my own!) I have two friends who are learning to can this year, and one who has planted her first garden. I applaud them for their effort. And I realized tonight that their struggle to learn is something I have taken for granted.
Yep, words aren't very tasty...but home-grown green beans fresh from a jar in the middle of winter are pretty sweet!
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