THE LONDON FREE PRESS, Monday, September 5, 1977â€"19 By BELVA KALBFLEISCH raisins. There was nothing to compare with a _ the stewing. They didn‘t. So every morning I f â€"_ for The Free Press 4. dish of tangy thubarb and a slice of hot, crusâ€" _ picked the berries out and put the pink jelly on I just finished my yearly canning. I rejoice _ ty bread, swimming with golden, jersey butâ€" my toast. because I completed the process in one 24â€"hour _ ter. To spark a jaded appetite, mother would My motherâ€"inâ€"law picked wild strawberries period. I have always detested the entire busiâ€" _ add a tall glass of her black currant juice (unâ€" _ that grew along the railway tracks, walking ness â€" the messy peeling, cutting and grindâ€" _ fermented, of course). , several miles along the hot cinders, picking as ing of fruits and vegetables. I disliked it mainâ€" _ Sugar was never more than $5 per hunâ€" _ many as six quarts at a time. She stemmed y because it kept me from things I would _ dredweight. Most households stocked up with _ theâ€"tiny berries as she picked them. Saturâ€" rather be doing â€" reading a book, writing a _ several 100â€"pound bags in the spring, when stoâ€" _ day‘s picking was later piled on top of a huge story or batting out flies to the kids. rekeepers had their reduced specials. I am _ shortcake biscuit, which she baked in a large Why do I feel I am a traitor to my sex if I do sure it was as difficult to wangle the $5 from _ round pan originally used to set milk for skimâ€" not preserve food? No doubt it is a holdover the cream cheque then as it would be to pay _ ming. The reward of her labor of love came from the Depression days of my youth. A the $20 a hundredweight would cost now. _ from watching her three grown sons devour smidgin of the pride which compelled my _ There were many uses for the cotton bag after _ every morsel of the sweet rich dessert at Sunâ€" forbears to put down enough fruit, vegetables the sugar was used,.and the bags were prized, _ day dinner. and pickles to last until the garden produced _ despite the amount of elbow grease needed to She also picked wild raspberries in Wolstenâ€" again must have rubbed off on me. rub out the lettering. What could one do with a _ croft‘s bush, walking the three miles there and Mother stretched "boughten‘" fruit with thuâ€" bunch of paper bags now? back. She went armed with two 10â€"pound syâ€" barbh from the long wide row in the garden. A I was extremely fond of gooseberry jam. rup pails for the berries, a sandwich for lunch couple of boxes of strawherries flavored a _ Against mother‘s advice, I once picked a basâ€" _ and a bottle of cintronnella for the mosquitoes. huge kettle of rhubarb. My favorite was thuâ€" _ ket of wild gooseberries, which are covered The summer I became a member of her bark and bananas. Once, when fruit was with spiny thorns. I tried cutting the thorns off _ family she insisted on taking me with her. The scarce, she. egrned se@veral jars of rhubarb, with scissors, but tiring of that tedious chore, I heat tired me, the citronnella nauseated me adding a few pandfuls of large, juicy, seedless convinced myself the thorns would soften with . and I would have turned tail and run but for 9 t two things: I didn‘t know the way out of the es. On the way home I stopped at my daughtâ€" looked at the pint jars of golden peaches and dense woods and she kept dropping berries inâ€" _ er‘s to beg a handful of dill from her garden. I deep red ‘beets, the three jars of dill pickles to my pail to encourage me. All the weary way _ also invited my two grandchildren for a visit, and the many small jars â€" compliments of _ home, I dreaded the thought of kindling a fire knowing they would insist on manning the Mr. Gerber and my youngest granddaughter in my temperamental iron stove to cook supâ€" grinder. _ â€" filled with hot dog relish. per and preserve those miserable buggy berâ€" By midnight I had a bouquet of colors on my I have not betrayed my heredity. Now I can ries. That winter, however, I was thankful for counterâ€"top. (The grandchildren had put themâ€" _ go back to my typewriter without feeling guilâ€" the jars of rich red fruit, and proud of my berâ€" selves to bed.) I felt a surge of pride as I ty. * ry pies. Now that our household consists of only two regu}ars, I usually take thg easy way of storâ€" 2. ing food for winter use, by putting fruit in o f h those strong little bags that our milk comes in, P | C k O P U n C and dropping them in the freezer. Guests may bnnpprdhrgrrnnrnnndrmenondonennnnnme en qgnamm m pas i. on on mgcnnatant sugar theirs. We eat ours as is. y & Still that urge to can will not let me rest unâ€" gey i .a til I have removed papers, black with last winâ€" L "Coq s â€"*Fay eï¬ aa ter‘s coal dust, from the fruit jar shelves, and & wPt 5.',6 23 lined up a few containers of variousâ€"colored | 2s d @ 4X} fruits on cleanâ€"papered shelves. 3 PR Cura Recently I was given a basket of beets and N rog s tE two baskets of cucumbers. While at the store 2iA ;i.',;‘-,,,'-» ~ f getting vinegar, sugar spices and new jar rubâ€" TV (sie / Fe. bers, I picked up a basket of red haven peachâ€" ‘4 4 3 ,/ 13 â€"â€"wi c :': & WA yBA % /.Af C ~Â¥ tXA V § F95 / \\ P t ks L €3 ‘t § 100 SZ ‘Ill"// A * . )/N 6 > [ frimt\ I" /////lm\\ [ | i 7 PUNCH frroJ T Copyright 1775.105 ANGEIES Timt$ ; \"Se this year I said, ‘To hell wuth' lel|69°“c'f"',' ® _ I‘m dressing for,comfort. j