Only for my spouse. Making jam never claimed my attention. Maybe I have a less sugary early history than his in Brighton Beach, the 20th century one so different from today's changing Brooklyn. But, he says, Becky only made a simple compote from summer fruits. He claims it's my influence. Curious. This photo from last month cannot truly represent the extent of his enthusiasm for peaches, apricots, blueberries as their seasons arrive. Our supply is only limited by a very small freezer drawer. Always room for more, however, as he gives a jar away to friends and neighbors.
My favorite this year is peach-apricot jam. Just a little sugar. He went to a free how-to evening at one of Portland's vintage co-operatives, People's Co-op (sorry the link only gives first paragraphs to Oregon Historical magazine article). Afterwards he tried the suggestion to add a little lemon juice. Not pleased with result...back to his way.
Cooking jam takes the place of some winter knitting of button hats. And there is always the opportunity to give one of these away in warm as well as cold weather. Here's a neighbor in one he selected at the April arts & crafts event at our retirement community. As we left to travel north to Vancouver, B.C. and surroundings, Ron selected more hats to take along for women and men we will meet along the way.
Myself, the non-driver, will be knitting a blue cotton sweater for youngest grandchild, Eliana, almost four, who has reached a behavioral milestone (no details, please). We are very lucky feminists, spouse and I. Beneficiaries of a lost mid-20th century time, we craft, we politick to bring a saner 21st century to the lives of those we will leave behind.