More of a personal essay for this Wednesday write-in. Childhood memories.
porcelain :: flex :: shadow :: strawberry jam :: frozen
We all have different perception of pride and achievements. At this very point of my life, right at this moment, while my mandarin orange marmalade is boiling down, I know that my grandma will be proud of me. I remember quite well those days when I was three or four years old, roaming through the yard of my grandmas summer-house, picking those beautifully red strawberries and having a tummy feast. Every single day. That’s me by the way on the photo.
Freshly picked cucumbers and tomatoes, baskets of apples, aromatic herbs and bunches and bunches of bees that would fly around while she would make her famous strawberry jam. Home made, of course. Those childhood memories can not be substituted with anything else. I remember how I used to cut my fingers with knifes every single time my grandma would trust me cutting strawberries for the jam. She would say: “Here you go, you can try it, but only till the first cut!”. First cut would always come surprisingly fast and after the bandage was applied I would sit there in the summer kitchen and listen to my grandmas stories. She would always say: “When time comes you will know how to do everything I do, knowledge comes with practice.”
Time came and I was too busy running around, studying and working. My grandmas talks now seemed nothing more than just a memory frozen in time. I was too busy achieving and perceiving that I completely forgot that there are much simpler things that can make someone happy. I forgot that there is a very special bond between me and those precious highlights of my life. I forgot how much my grandma matters to me… And I don’t care about those shadows of judgement, I don’t care that it is a lot more convenient to go to the store and by a jar of jam. My orange marmalade sits on the stove and for this particular moment I am fulfilled. My Grandma will be proud and that is all that matters!
By the way, here is the recipe – http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/annas-orange-marmalade-recipe.html
Go ask Alisa - DIY capsule wardrobe one stitch at a time! 
I thought this was very sweet. I have precious memories of my grandma too, and I treasure them. And what a lovely picture of you as a tiny girl! *aaw* 🙂
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Lovely story. Great to have good memories and to relish them despite the hustle & bustle of today.
(Should plural of knife be knives? I’m never sure.)
We made marmalade for the first time this year. Different recipe, but will take a good look at yours for next time.
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Actually, I just posted a picture of the final look of the marmalade. Came out to be beautifully golden orange! Yum! This recipe is a good one, so save it up 🙂
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I like the phrase ‘shadows of judgement’. I wonder who is judging, though. You, yourself? I love the picture, and I also love the beautiful setting of the summerhouse. You bring it alive. Your gran would be very proud.
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I feel the sense of judgement from the society, people think that I am acting like a 18th century house wife. Truth is: I am a busy person, working, but I just simply enjoy cooking, baking and all things DIY…
I hope you get the idea of what I am trying to say here. Thank you for visiting! 🙂
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I just realized I hadn’t commented on your marmalade story yesterday – it was a lovely nostalgic piece. The photo is very cute, where was it taken?
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Thank you! 🙂 It was taken in Russia, by the river Volga, that’s where my grandma had her summer house! I was about 3 years old, but I remember every bit 🙂
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