I stood in my steamy kitchen surrounded by glass jars, newly clean and hot from the dishwasher, a huge cauldron-sized pot of boiling water on the stove, and next to it a large saucepan of homemade jam ready for canning. It was about 104º outside on a late July day and it boiled hotter than that inside my non-air-conditioned kitchen, like a sauna, the sweat sticking to my skin. But somehow I didn’t mind at all as the aroma of hot sugary berries bloomed throughout the entire kitchen.
It was the first time I’d ever canned or preserved anything and I was both slightly nervous and absolutely excited, like a child catching fireflies for the first time. The warm mixture of strawberries, raspberries and tayberries was sweet and thick, the steamy aroma, intoxicating.
Greg, three-year-old Lily and I slathered the warm gooey jam over homemade scones just out of the oven. At fifteen months, Jasper ate it right from the jar with a spoon. Our eyes were glazed over like someone was feeding us nirvana. It tasted like heaven. This is Jam? I thought to myself. No jelly, jam or preserves I’d ever eaten before prepared me for this homemade delicacy. It was as if it captured all the sweetness of summer in one perfect bite. Warm jam is divine….