This morning I began the ritual of ‘putting up’. Putting up was a term I remember hearing from my childhood. Women dressed in aprons stood sentry in hot, humid kitchens to can or freeze summer’s fruits and vegetables. They were ‘putting up’ the gifts of warm weather for the colder weather that was inevitable. My southern Ohio childhood did bring a winter of sorts but nothing like the Minnesota cold I have come to know as a transplant. The joy that a jar of strawberry jam or cling peaches can bring in the bleakness of January is not to be under estimated.
This particular day was all about strawberries. Early this morning,my husband and I joined people of all ages as we picked some of the final strawberries of the season. The red, juicy berries are now cleaned and bagged and have found a home in our freezer until the right moment when I will pull them out to bring color and sweetness to a cold winter day. These gifts of June will create an experience of time travel in which, not only will the berries be enjoyed, but the also a retelling of the story the other pickers. The Hmong women covered head to toe in a variety of prints to protect them from the sun. The lone man in the yellow muscle shirt who looked like he should be riding a Harley instead of picking strawberries. The older gentleman,none too pleased with what he thought were slim pickin’ for berries, who shared his story of being a retired church organist who once made his home in Stockholm, Wisconsin. Will it be possible to eat the berries in January without remembering those with whom we began our ‘putting up’?
As I think about it these last few days for me have all been about putting up. I have spent the last several days at the family cabin in northern Wisconsin to celebrate the 4th of July. It has been a tradition for more than 20 years and the days have, over the years, been made up of many configurations of people.Some of us have remained constant. Our children have brought different friends over the years and this year are old enough to not need that extra playmate to keep them happy. A book, a boat, the lake itself seems to suffice. The children of the lake neighbors have now grown, married and have children of their own. Each year is a little different but still very much the same. The joy of arrival. The simplicity of cabin life. Boat rides. Late night dinners. The July 4th flea market where there is never anything new. (But, truth be told, we wouldn’t have it any other way.) The small town parade with the fire engines, local camp floats, and the same clown as every year.
In a sense, when many of us gather together every summer in whatever we have created as traditions, we mentally ‘put up’ morsels of memory for the coming winter times in our lives, those times which can seem cold and unkind. Along with the harvest of our gardens, summer is also about storing up stories and images to reflect on and warm us in the winters that will surely come. In the scriptures Jesus actually warns against storing up things on earth where ‘moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal’. Instead he encourages us to ‘store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.’
As I read that scripture, I believe the putting up of the gifts of Creation to be a heavenly treasure, one that fills us with awe and connection to the Creator who breathed us into being and promised to feed us from the Earth. With each jar of brilliant red berries and each long, lovely green bean we once again renew our covenant to be caretakers of the Earth. With each experience of a sun kissed morning or the sound of children’s laughter wafting over the lake, we are reminded of the awesome blessing that is summer Sabbath. As the loon calls hauntingly and the eagle dips into clear, shining waters, we can recommit to glimpsing heaven on earth which is, after all, a part of our life’s work. The configuration of the people may change but much will always stay the same. It is the way of life.
I am thankful for all that has been ‘put up’ over the last few days. These gifts of summer will go a long way on a frigid, February night. And so they should.
What are the gifts of summer you will be putting up?
Blessed be.