The tradition my mother and I started 44 years ago is still alive and well. Though I have carried the torch alone for the past five years, I know she is present as the late summer endeavor begins. Anticipation is high as daylight hours wane just a few minutes each day after the summer solstice. Barely noticeable, the subtle change triggers the ripening hormones of fruit trees as the heavy-laden branches sag from the weight of the succulent fruit that will be rendered into the most wonderful preserves one could ever hope for.
Mom and I both knew when the pears would be perfect for the picking and the ruckus in the kitchen would begin. We were a fine-tuned machine when it came to peeling, slicing, and cooking our pears that would adorn the shelves of the pantry throughout fall and winter. There was more to the experience than just producing the final product. The laughter, the tasting, and the “tweaking” of the recipe, created a bond between a mother and her son that is everlasting. Even today, as I add sugar to the sliced pears, or not, for just the right sweetness, I can feel a faint whisper of guidance as she is still so much a part of the process. It was almost comical as we found just the right balance of sweetness and simmering before tightening the lids and patiently waited for the first “pop” indicating a sealed jar. Such good times those were.
As much as we both looked forward to our annual tradition, it also indicated that summer was fading and the crisp air from the arctic would be invading our southern landscape in the coming months. I allowed myself to begin thinking of the skeins of geese that would be riding the winds aloft as Mother Nature triggered the fall migration. I would daydream of crisp autumn days with a stiff north wind that would stir me to reach for the weathered jacket that had been resting in the closet all summer. I would think of setters and pointers that would back one another when the first covey of quail of fall was pointed at the old homeplace, or the forgotten cemetery along an old logging road. I could almost detect the aroma of fresh split red oak that would become the centerpiece of the den when glowing fires would warm our hearts and home.
Yes, canning pear preserves could be considered the precursor to fall and in the last 15 years or so, it also indicates that it’s time for another season for “Outdoors in the Sun.” I’m not quite sure how many years I have been afforded the luxury of writing our outdoor column for you, but maybe Wyatt, Jimmye, and I could back track and know for sure. This should be simple to do.
I have an agenda this season and I will do my best not to waver. I know, fully well, that all of us have been impacted by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic with some being affected more than others. Our lives, our economy, and our supply chains, have all been disrupted. Political differences vary greatly regarding vaccines, government, and a multitude of other issues. Everyday life can be very stressful during these difficult times. So, back to my agenda. I am going to do my very best not to mention any of these topics again. My intent and the purpose of this column is to offer my writings as a “place” of solitude for you to leave the world behind for a few minutes each week and take a deep breath and relax. Allow yourself the opportunity to delve into the topic at hand each week and hopefully your stress level will decrease just a bit and your heart rate will slow down enough that you may enjoy the day for what it brings. There’s no better time than now to begin this process. So, what’s on the menu for this fall and winter? Here’s a sneak preview.
I will bring to your dens and firesides, each week, topics that will hopefully not be just entertaining and informative, but also will allow you the opportunity to think back on experiences that you may have forgotten or left behind due to “life.” Maybe you’ll revisit your kitchens with your mom as you watched her make gumbos, pies, turkey and dressing, and Christmas candy. There will be articles about dads, grandfathers, and sons, sharing stories around campfires and tales from the swamps so many years ago. We’ll talk about why the colors change on the foliage and what it really means. We may visit the beaver pond and the life that inhabits this ecosystem. There will be discussions on what we as a people can do to enhance our flora and fauna and be givers and not just takers. These are just a few examples of what to look forward to in the coming weeks and months.
I know we are still a few weeks away from what I consider to be the most wonderful time of the year, but I’m ready for it to arrive this year more than I can ever recall. Is it because I am so desperately looking for something positive in our lives? Is it because I realize there are only so many sunrises and sunsets on this Earth that we will experience, and none are to be taken for granted? Did the almost pungent, sweetness of the simmering pears stir my inner soul to embrace what is just around the corner with the approaching cold fronts and steaming cups of coffee in the duck blind?
As birthdays come and go with seemingly increased frequencies, do I now appreciate what is offered to us through nature with a different point of view? Regardless of why, perhaps, I am like a child awaiting Christmas morning, I do know the sound of wind-rustled cornstalks and the sting of a brisk north wind can’t get here soon enough. Everything that I long for, is ahead of us. As I have encouraged you in the past, don’t miss it! Embrace the first change of color on the first sycamore tree. If you want a hint, look to the west of Highway 49 around the Big Black River bridge in the next week or two. If you know what you’re looking for, you’ll notice what I’m referring to.
As previously mentioned, the pear preserves are on the shelves. Mr. Frank Carter, of Canton, has graciously offered an invitation to me to raid his pear tree for many years. His call is always the same. It goes something like this… “Jeff, if you want some of these pears, you better come on. The squirrels are carrying them off as fast as they get ready.” We’ll then share a few tips on what we do to make our preserves. We always have a big laugh when he tells the story of how much sugar his mother, Mrs. Merle Carter, used in her recipe. When asked how much she added, her answer was always the same… “oh, a right smart amount.” I’m sure you get the point. Thank you again, Mr. Frank.
As the tradition of my mom and our cooking continues, so does “Outdoors in the Sun.” Welcome back. Let me know if you have specific topics of interest and I will do my best to accommodate. Let Wyatt and Jimmye know how you like our column and what I can do to make your reading experience more enjoyable. It’s going to be a wonderful writing season and I can’t wait to share it with you. Thank you for the opportunity and I’ll see you soon.
Until next time, enjoy our woods and waters and remember, let’s leave it better than we found it.
