Progress.

Behold. This is the cupboard where I've been returning canning jars after we've eaten their contents. It gives me almost as much pleasure to see them all emptied out as this picture did, months ago, when they were all full. All the work would've been in vain if we weren't eating the stuff, right? Well, thankfully, we are.

It's a weird state to be in: we have so much food in our house, canned and frozen, that I almost view it as an accomplishment when a bag or a jar gets emptied out. Like, progress. I guess it's just the utilitarianist in me, delighted to have fulfilled the canned tomatoes' higher purpose by eating them in February. This has given me a different, almost religious relationship with my food. I go down to the cellar to find The Chosen One, the can that's going to become tonight's dinner. Fitting the empty jars into our dishwasher, and, later, putting them away, gives me great satisfaction.

Satisfaction, and yearning to fill them all up again. Just as soon as happy green things start to grow out of this half-frozen, puckery ground.

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