From within the jar forest

Yep, that's my dining room table. And, yep again, that's about forty quart jars lined up across it, patiently waiting, not unlike disciplined soldiers, to be filled.

Last Friday, it was the cherries. This Friday, it was the raspberries, and later this week, it'll be blueberries. More often than not this season, my hands (and face, sometimes) are streaked with one vivid-colored juice or another. After hand-pitting sixteen pounds of cherries, my cuticles were brown for days.

Through it all, I know this is just the previews, the warm-up act for the abundance to come. Having the time to meditate on filling a cherry pail will seem like a heady luxury come September, when I'll find myself canning like a mad woman, racing against first frost.

But, for now, there is the sweet anticipation of each sun-warmed berry, the plunks in the pail, the slow progress as the summer builds.