She weighed the strawberries.

Measured the sugar.

The wisdom of tradition whispered to her.

This is state of mind.

This is a way of being.


Her thoughts weighed heavy on her wrists.

She filled the jars

With the warmth of the sun.

The perfume of the crushed berries.

The  blue she had grabbed from the sky.

The music the wind across the fields.


This alchemy of jam.

This seeing things without distortion.

She placed a flower on Buddha.

This she thought is the zen of strawberry jam.


  1. She wore a red panama straw hat. They sang ..”’let me take you down cause it’s strawberry fields forever”. Then they filled their kitchen with the hot sweet smell of strawberry jam…………yes, the Good Buddha joined in the celebration with strawberry flower in lap as the temple bells chimed……all was perfect………she and her love created harmony once again, amidst the storm. You are perfection ……..you and the Good Husband…..absolute perfection.

    • The jars of strawberry jam are still sitting on that trolly in our kitchen. We are reluctant to put them away in the French Butler’s pantry – we love them so Mr. Tinny.

    • It is interesting Jo Nell – how the simplest things bring us such great joy. I could take the easy way and buy jam from the store, but the experience of making jam and then see it sitting on the pantry shelf – that’s the best.

    • I do love my Buddha. Although he didn’t receive a jar of strawberry jam – just the strawberry flower. I adore jam making – one really gets into the zen moment.

  2. Virginia, yet more inspiration to learn how to jar goodies! We’re now in rural Bulgaria and have been the lucky recipients of two jars of preserves – first pear, then apricot. They’re so delightful with our Bulgarian (similar to Greek) yogurt and fresh walnuts from the countryside.

    • You describe a food lovers paradise Tricia. It is with much pleasure I follow the travels of you and your husband. We are having a beautiful summer with buckets of sunshine instead of rain. The gardens are glorious.

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