Mason Jars Every summer for as long as I can remember, my mother had a vegetable garden. A space just for her in the yard to till and work the earth. I have to say, I never really took much interest in it myself. It was kind of like an area 56. If a ball or something got in there, well you had better plan some major covert operation to get it out without her seeing you. It was a restricted area to kids. She always took such pride in her garden and always made a point of telling you, “these are fresh from the garden.” I remember her canning all these vegetables as well. It was a big production. Washing all the jars and rinsing all the jars with a little vinegar in the water so they are squeaky clean. My job was always drying them, and drying them… There was also a lot of boiling of water going on. Now the kitchen was a restricted area as well. We enjoyed all the “vegetables” of her labor all winter long. I knew she was planning something special for dinner if she asked me to go to the basement and bring her up something she canned. “Fresh from the Garden” “A mother’s heart is a child’s classroom.” Henry Ward Beecher
