TAKING HOLD OF TREASURE IN EARLY SUMMERA wave of "June-uary" weather has been persisting the past week, maybe a bit longer. The somber tones of grey blue matched the grief widespread and deeply felt grief . It's been collective grief for three months, hasn't it? Speaking with a friend a while back we both agreed it felt like everyone is ebbing in and out of fight or flight. I can certainly attest to this for myself. This isn't all bad. We're collectively shaken out of apathy in this season of turmoil, though I know for myself there is the continuous temptation to numb. But this past Saturday my daughter and I went on an adventure and found ourselves living in the vibrant present. South of Vancouver in an area called Ladner, more specifically Port Guichon, within the George C. Riefel Migratory Bird Conservatory, there is a special farm called Emma Lea Farms where we Vancouverites go to get our fill of u-pick strawberries. This is a tradition for our own family my husband and I began when we were dating. The following years found us out in the field each June, even when I was in the last month of pregnancy before our daughter was born, and once more when she was nearly one, strapped to my back in the baby carrier. We have missed the past two years for various reasons, but have still managed to purchase local strawberries to make jam, another tradition that began that same fist year my husband and I picked berries. In all the years of picking berries we have never arrived at the field on the opening day of the season. We got out of the car to a quickly crowding parking lot under a mercifully overcast sky. The most uncomfortable circumstances of strawberry picking can be the overhead heat. Hats are a wise choice. We encountered berries of a size unseen before now. While the small and tender berries, our usual fare, are wonderful, these palm-filling "rubies" were breath taking. "Oh my, look at this one" were the repeated words out of our daughter's mouth. I echoed them each time we turned around to encounter an unending offering of them in view. We filled two 5 litre buckets and called it good. And it was actually even better. Back home the aroma of drying strawberries in the kitchen permeated and filled each room of the house with sweetness and joy. I don't exaggerate. Whenever we entered the kitchen my husband and I visibly lifted our noses to capture the smell, and I paused more than once to just gaze at them placed on towels to air dry in the afternoon light. Back when we first went on the strawberry picking date as a new couple, my grandpa picked up a good housekeeping canning magazine for me. He knew I'd discovered the canning supplies left in the garage by my grandma, who had passed on a few years prior. He saw a passion beginning and encouraged me with this little gift, which he insisted upon at the checkout with my mom. I still use the same recipe I found in that magazine. I only failed at making it the first time... but since then my jam has turned out exquisitely year after year. I don't say this to be an outright brag. The truth is of the dozen or so jars I put up each year, most of them go to others. I like jam, but an occasional dressing up of the toast slices or even a spoonful just for the bursting taste of summer satisfies. I will also say it makes an excellent companion alongside peanut butter, just on the spoon. No bread necessary. These jars of jam, this cherished recipe, they are all part of the treasure gathered each early summer when we do this. The labour involved makes the jam sweeter, I think. I had that familiar high after hard physical activity when we left the farm, the car's caked mud flaps making noise as we drove down the country rode. My body didn't ache yet, but I knew it would and I was glad. Strawberry picking is a testament to quadriceps strength. I savoured even this part of the day. Our relaxation in the afternoon felt earned. We live aware of turmoil on a daily basis. These small victories matter, and I name them as treasure and take hold of them. Putting them into jars, giving them away, eating them by the spoonful when the skies are filled with winter again. I'll do the same with peaches in a month or so, and with seeds from the garden as flowers wither. Summer isn't my favourite season, but I see how it's full of gathering unlike other seasons. Yes, practically speaking this is the time when food is the most plentiful, and we would, in another time, be gathering what we grow to truly survive. But in the world we occupy now, where food may not be, for most, the enduring challenge, I am seeing how we gather more than just physical things in the summertime. It's the light, the stillness and near slow motion of dusk. The birdsong that begins before the sun arrives at its place in the first light blue moments of the dawn. These things don't take away the pain of where we are in our world. But I lay claim to them, gather them and hold them in my heart as precious. And for a moment, as I look over them, I am at peace.
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NinaNoot- Christina (Nina) Wonglong time illustrator of whimsical things and a woman with a green thumb. Compassion and a desire to do something helpful compels me to write and share about gardening in hopes it may bring healing and delight to the souls of others as it has to mine. Check in every week on Tuesday for the unfolding story of my own garden alongside small growing project ideas, my successes and failures, and a sincere dose of hope in this moment of covid-19. Archives
August 2020
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