And the next day...

We have jam. End of Summer, Farmer's Market Straight Up Peach Jam. I am going to need some big labels because jam this good deserves an important name. When all is said and done, each one of these jars took one pound of sliced fresh peaches. No wonder it's hue is a deep golden, it is, in fact, Summer's gold, bottled. I am hoping on a bleak winter's morn opening one of these jars will flood our senses, boost our spirits and bring back some of our best summer memories.

Mine will be of sharing the kitchen with my daughter-in-law, taking turns watching the jam bubble and spooning off the foam. Of discussing the differences between the Italian jam jars and the French ones, and how amazing it was to fill every available jar and have a good scoop left for toast in the morning. Croissants!! We decide, this jam is worthy of fresh croissants. Life should be so perfect, but in reality neither one of us want to go in search of croissants after "jamm'in".
Well, it certainly will dress up what ever we have for bread around here, yep, we agree it sure will.

I will remember the molten jam being ladeled into the jars. Me, the ladeler, daughter-in -law the lidder. How we laughed at how tricky it was to line the funnel up just perfectly and how darn hot this stuff is. Volcano hot. I will remember her glorious blond hair tied back, her resolution as she donned her apron and most of all her companionship. Not for a minute do I forget my fortune of having this time. Time with someone 35 years my junior, the young Mrs. Kramer.