The Best Intentions

Snapping beans, the summer pastime
Filling Mason jars
With cornfield or half runners
Filling a crock with layers
Of beans and corn, canning salt
For pickled beans and corn
That would make my mouth water

Peeling ripe red tomatoes
That I called maters
Cutting them in wedges
Placing them in Mason jars
Adding a touch of salt
Sealing the lids and cooking
In a liquid water bath 
For enough time to be sure
Those maters were preserved
For the winter weather
Chili, soup or spaghetti

Dicing cucumbers
Mixing them with vinegar
And all the spices, garlic
Everything that makes the best
Pickles ever tasted
They seem such a blessing
When the snowflakes hover
Near the windows, dusting
The entire mountain
With reflections of the season

As the harvest hands over its treasures
Beans, corn, maters and so much more
The wise worker from the fields
Leaves the front porch each day
With scrapes of bean strings, peelings
And excess husks so the pigs
Will be as blessed as the rest of us

Granny showed me how to can
She gave me her instructions
With a hug and a grin
Hoping to remind me to always
Blend a bit of love
Into everything I preserved
From garden to porch
From porch to jar
From jar to dish
Where the love is mixed in
So that everyone who samples
A dish from my kitchen
Knows that I have given
My very best intentions!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Brown Avatar
January 30, 2022 at 3:39 PM
Regina, This reminds me of visiting my grandmother, who had a large garden in North Carolina. I remember they used to can on an old wooden stone . In the middle of summer, it would be over a hundred degrees in the house. Somehow, that TLC they threw in was the wood stove, as everything tasted better. I loved the poem. Oh! Yes, they called it "maters" as well. Lol Hugs ~ Debra
Mcintosh Avatar
January 31, 2022 at 6:11 AM
My granny used a wood cookstove for, not only canning, but every meal :)
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace