Jam and Bread

The greenest, coolest warm days of June seem the strangest of times to develop a cold.  What started with a lump in the throat and a persistent, dry cough within a few hours turned into a full fledged middle-of-winter sickness.  The kind of sickness that requires soup, orange juice, sleep and kindling to keep the coals burning in the soul.  As a child, that kindling was always one of my favorite movies.  There was something about the Austrian Alps, the pomp and circumstance of a glamorous ball, a waltz, and the story of a woman who found herself and in finding herself, found her happiness.  The Sound of Music was a stay-at-home-sick tradition for me. 

I found myself soaking in a warm bath yesterday, humming the tune that accompanies the lyrics, "My heart wants to beat like the wings of the bird that flies..." from the musical's title song.  Something about being sick afforded me an excuse I didn't even know I needed to take time I didn't know I had to lay in a full bathtub, warm and sudsy, alleviating some of the ache in my legs, and sing softly to myself.  This was after I had spent the morning doing the things I always do on Saturdays, my often too routinized routine.  It was the last weekend for strawberry picking, and I hadn't put up any jam or frozen any tender berries to delight us in mid-winter when apples have become nauseatingly familiar.  After a dose of the medicine a lovely, kind Italian doctor prescribed to me for a sinus infection, I carried a chair out to my breezy, shade draped front porch.  With a giant bowl of berries, and an old paring knife, I got to work. 

I genuinely miss that time, now that the circumstances of my life have gotten rather overwhelming.  My mind can't wander at work, it can't wander when I'm spending time with loved ones, and it can't wander when I'm doing diligent tasks, strapped with anxiety about getting the house clean or the dinner made.  On the front porch yesterday, I had some time.  For an hour I hulled strawberries, sang to myself, and enjoyed an experience about which we often fantasize but never allow ourselves to fully indulge.  I have found that often, we love documenting our lives (like I'm doing right now).  We love taking photos, we love photos of beautiful porches, of picturesque patios, of Mason jars full of iced tea.  We love reading about the fictional lives of characters we long to be, characters who drink sweet tea on the deck, who recklessly fall in and out of love, who develop far beyond what many of us will ever allow ourselves.  If we had that perfect deck, draped in ivy, would we take the time to sit and enjoy it? 

That's what I got to do yesterday.  I had one of those moments, or several of them pieced together through the process of hulling six quarts of freshly washed, hand picked strawberries.  It was the twenty minutes I spent in the bathtub, without the television or radio, without another person to entertain me.  I think those are the times when we most heal ourselves, and we probably don't take them often enough. 

Today, I have been humming The Sound of Music to myself as I stirred up a batch of Strawberry-Rhubarb Jam, and tried out a bread maker for the first time.  According to the song, I am only missing tea from this equation, and having been under the weather, I've had my fair share in the last 2 days.  I can't wait to have a slice of the whole-grain, seeded bread that is brewing inside the confines of the hard working, little bread maker on my kitchen floor, smeared with tangy strawberry rhubarb jam, accompanied by a mug of piping hot green tea, preferably enjoyed on my deck, or porch, and in the company of my most beloved--Tiffany, the kitties, and our pup. 

As strawberry season putters out here in Southeast Ohio, and we've certainly had our fill in my house, here are a few photos of the joy strawberries have brought to our house in the last month.  Perhaps this will inspire you to craft a pie of your own, or jam, or something else that will give you time to hum as you hull, and take a few moments to just, simply, be.  Remember, buy local, and eat well. 

Above:

Strawberry-Rhubarb pie

Below:

Nutella French Toast, with whole-wheat bread, smeared with Nutella, fresh strawberries, bananas, cinnamon, powdered sugar and homemade honey sweetend Snowville whipped cream.

Fresh Strawberry pie, topped with honey sweetend Snowville whipped cream.

Dinner salad with fresh local greens, strawberries, almonds, carrots, celery and honey poppyseed dressing.