Mama preserved the flavors
of the mountains with work-worn hands.
Standing over the wood stove,
she made blackberry jelly,
sweat ran down her face.
Gathering corn from the field,
serving roasting ears
with fresh churned butter.
A mess of poke salad
fried with scrambled eggs
gave her kids springtime energy,
ramps were served on the side.
Her handiwork filled the pantry,
white runner beans, sour kraut,
and sweet, juicy peaches sparkled
like gold in canning jars.
When Jack Frost sketched
lace on the windowpanes,
and snowflakes played tag,
Mama opened a jar of love.
--Brenda Kay Ledford
This poem appeared in the June/July/August 2021 issue
West End Poets Newsletter
7 comments:
This is such a wonderful post!! In spite of all the work it took to preserve the fruits and vegetables, I'm sure your mother did it all with love. What a blessing!
Lovely. I too, have memories of Mom spending endless hours, picking,canning or freezing the produce, so we could enjoy it in winter.
Hello Brenda,
I think we may have a common ancestor from Ivy Log in the mid 1800's. My Stewart ancestors lived close to Many Forks Baptist church and some are buried there.
It was a pleasure to read your story about the church and I enjoyed the one about your mother too. Please keep writing, there are many memories to be remembered.
Kathi Bobb
bobbkat1@aol.com
That's a lovely poem and the picture that accompanied it is wonderfully colourful!!
Hello,
Love the poem, brings back happy memories of my grandmother and Mom.
Take care, enjoy your day!
I love the poem and can picture Blanche canning and preserving all those fruits and vegetables. My mother did that, too.
How precious. This reminds me so of summers spent with my grandma.
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