Canned Peaches and Raising Children

I am sorry for the length of this blog-- I had to vent tonight. Sorry for usurping Mom's blog before mine-- be sure to read that.



Canning Peaches Reminiscent of Raising Children...

You see, I have come to the conclusion that every challenge can be applied to many different areas in our lives– we can learn lessons from one experience and apply these lessons to something that would seem to, at first, have no connection. (To most of you that would seem obvious, but I am a little slow.) I have found this connection so with canning and raising children. You can draw your own parallels as I tell my story.

Most everyone I know loves peaches. Peaches are so sweet, so yummy, and so desirable. There comes a time when everyone goes to the Fruit Way and purchases their peaches. Some buy a bag, some one bushel. Then there are those, like myself, that think they can handle more than just one measly bushel. Those peaches are just so darn good– so good. To anyone who can relate to that– here is what happens.

You buy those peaches because in their fresh and natural state, they smell so sweet– they look so yummy. You can just imagine the possibilities: peach pie, peach jam, and of course canned peaches. You bring them home and they sit in that box on your counter for about a day. Two more days pass by and you realize you better do something with those peaches– you can’t just let them go bad! The world has enough bad peaches out there and no one seems to care to do anything with them. You know that canning them is the best bet for preserving them well, and so you begin on your quest to put them into a state that you desire the most– canned peaches. Canned peaches can become most anything. You can eat them out of the jar or make cobbler. You can drink the juice and put them in fresh ice cream. Canned peaches are great.

Taking all precautions, you purchase all of the necessary equipment to make great canned peaches. After your purchases, you realize that peaches are expensive– but you know that they are worth it because of the learning process you go though to get those peaches the way you want them to be. After setting up the assembly line of pots, boiling water, boiling syrup, heated lids, hot jars, and of course the peaches, you get ready to put your heart into the process. After peeling about 10 peaches, you think it is not so bad. You get into the groove and you know you can handle this. After about 30 peaches, you start to decline. Your hands are sticky, you are boiling hotter than the pot, and you are sticking to the floor with every step. The phone rings, the house is a mess, and your husband says with trepidation, “why don’t you take a break while I peel the rest of these peaches...” No! You can do it– just a few more.

You get the peaches into the now semi-warm jars, spilling half the syrup on the counter, and finally putting them into their water bath. You start on the next batch of peaches– thinking that the first wasn’t so bad and as they cook, you can get the next ones ready. Going through the whole process again is a little better. When your first batch is done and your second one is in the bath– you realize that none of them sealed like they were supposed to. You did everything you were told, you even called your mother and your grandmother for help. They encouraged you and gave you some tips– you took their advice. “What am I doing wrong?” you think. “I am trying everything I know how!?!” The unsealed peaches sit there on the counter while you lament your lot. “How did the pioneers do it?” you think, “and they didn’t have all the modern conveniences we do today?!?” Then you realize that they really didn’t do it– they just died in the middle of canning their peaches...

“How many bottles did Bathsheeba can?”

“Oh about 200, the poor thing just up and died in the middle of her last batch...”

“God rest her soul, no wonder she died. That is a lot of peaches. She’ll be blessed for it.”

Then you think– Sister Smith in your ward always has perfect peaches. You can see her standing in her pantry glowing with pride as she looks at her perfectly sealed, perfectly cut, perfectly shining jars of peaches. You know in your heart that some peaches are just better than others– that your peaches just happened to be more challenging. Sometimes no matter what you do, they just turn out bad.

Your second batch is done, and lo and behold– they are not sealing like the first. You grab an innocent ladle that is nearby and throw it hard into the sink. It shatters. You take a good swift kick at a cardboard box on the floor. The box hits the knob on a drawer in the kitchen– shattering the knob and shooting it into oblivion. Your anger and frustration is bubbling over. You want soooo much to just take a peach jar and hurl it across the room screaming at the top of your lungs. What would the neighbors think? You couldn’t get away with it. Instead, you take the broom, whacking it so hard on the tile floor that the plastic broom head actually shatters into thousands of tiny pieces all over the room. You explain to your husband, “I never was a swearing woman until I canned peaches, DAMMIT! Don’t you tell me what to do!! You don’t understand!! All day long– peaches, and they don’t do what you want them to do... To HELL with peaches!! I can’t take it anymore! All this work for nothing– NOTHING!”

You stare at the next innocent box of fresh peaches sitting on your dryer in the laundry room. Then it dawns on you– who says I have to CAN all these peaches? Maybe they want to be dried, or frozen. Did it ever occur to you to try something unexpected? Maybe you can just plant them all in the backyard tomorrow and they can grow up to be beautiful peach trees with peaches of their own.

Tomorrow I work on the beets.