What a sight to behold:
At the end of every summer, my mother and I can tomatoes. Come winter it's comforting to see row after row of jewel-like jars of bright red tomatoes in my pantry, knowing that I can open one up and transport myself back in time.
I also really enjoy spending the quality time with my mother. We talk as we work, painstakingly peeling each tomato and removing all the seeds. We catch up on one another's lives and talk about the future when we hope to teach my children how to can. We form an efficient assembly line to sterilize the jars and fill them up, then we listen expectantly for the distinct popping sound that lets us know a jar has sealed and squeal with delight when they all do.
And at the end of the day we marvel at the bright red beauties sitting on the counter, happy in the knowledge that we've captured and bottled the last essence of summer.