Steam rises from under the lid, adding to the sweltering heat of the kitchen. The battered aluminum pot sits on the stove. It is scrubbed shiny but I can see the dent near the bottom. The small wooden knob on the lid has broken in half.
I have a newer pressure canner I could use for this. Stainless steel, thick where this one is thin. A lid that locks down tight, where the older canner’s lid is bent and doesn’t quite fit anymore. Maybe the newer one is made better. I doubt there are many left like the one on my stove, but this one still works. I don’t know how old it is, but it was already here when I was a child.
My grandmother has been gone for 30 years. She doesn’t spend every fall canning the vegetables from my grandfather’s garden anymore. The canner doesn’t line basement shelves with jars of her work anymore. How many loads of pepper relish has it turned out over the years?
Today it makes jars of produce from my garden that fill my pantry shelves. I don’t remember how it came to me but for 30 years it has been filling my larder. My son grew strong on the contents of its work. I still use some of her old recipes: chili sauce, pepper relish, bread and butter pickles. Most of the recipes are new: salsa, spaghetti sauce, dill pickles. The canner doesn’t care. It boils them all.
The other day my niece mentioned she would like to learn how to can. I looked at the pile of cucumbers on the counter and said, “Let’s make some pickles”.
Barn Owl Exploration 