So Nick, Emily and I went berry picking on Thursday. We picked flat of strawberries at Cuff Farms, took them home and did nothing with them.
Friday we picked up Anna from camp. 6 hours of total driving. And, we did nothing with the strawberries. Except I thought I was pretty ingenious and fit the entire flat into the fridge. I had to move a bunch of stuff, put it the long way and take out a shelf on the door.
Fast travel to Saturday. Nicholas stayed at a friend's house, and comes bopping in about 1pm. "Oh they gave me a pint of strawberries, so I'm trading them a jam from the freezer".
Have I told you how possessive I am about this jam? How I covet it? I don't even give any to family members. My mother in law just LOVES it, and told me when I go strawberry picking I should bring her some because I know how she loves it.
Did I tell you that I told her she should go berry-picking when she's in Virginia this week with evil Sister-in-law and have HER make some jam?
So I literally saw strawberry red when my son handed out my jam. Because I don't need a strawberry to jam trade. I have strawberries. That are just sitting in my fridge waiting for me to do something with them.
We made freezer jam last year, before I got a water bath canner. So I decided I wanted to do "real" canning and can jam this year in my water canner.
Did I tell you we probably just had today to do it so the berries were still good?
Oh and I'm sure I failed to mention that it's 86 degrees with 90% humidity. And our air conditioner went out the beginning of the week (we think it's the thermostat, but the guy isn't coming to look at it until next week)?
Yeah, I probably forgot to tell you all that.
Anyway, I canned. And roasted. The good news is I probably sweat about 10 lbs off. It was like a sauna. And I have 18 little jars of my labor of love.
And no. You can't have any.