Slow

As I slowly turn the spoon in the pot, I let out a long sigh. Finally, the breakneck pace of last-minute school events and end-of-year projects has ended. The berries in the pot took no notice of our hectic high-mileage days in May, instead slowly setting fruit and turning the berries an irresistible red that I feel compelled to capture.

As I sweat from the steam in my sultry kitchen, I revel in that fact that the days have finally turned long and sunny, soaking the berries with warmth and sweetness. It is time to slow down, to indulge in nibbly-type suppers in the cool of the back garden, to sip icy drinks to counteract the steamy heat.

As the jam bubbles, I think about when we will eat it; in the winter, on crunchy toast or English muffins or waffles. Perhaps a jar will find its way into a Christmas gift. The mornings will be chilly and the light pale, and we will bundle up and see our breath. But we will venture out into the chill with summer in our tummies.

As each jar sounds its happy plonk! I relax into summer. It is time, finally, for hammocks, for ice cream, for books and beaches, for sunburns and mosquito bites. Time to capture the warmth in our bones, in our hearts, and in jars.