Clouds
Clouds have moved in right behind the half inch of rain that we received over night. The thunder was ongoing.
Today I was reminded from a text that took me right back to Esther Schafer, Carrie and Kevin’s grandmother. Esther and Art lived in a huge old home on a huge corner lot. Not only was Esther the main cook at the public school, she also cleaned Dr. Anderson’s medical clinic. Esther could crochet in her sleep with the fine threads. Art was the tractor mechanic for the Farmall tractors.
There was a huge portion of their lot that was home to a huge ever-bearing raspberry patch on the entire north portion of the lot. The raspberry season was when school lunches were not needed in the summer. Esther canned raspberry sauce and made raspberry jam to last for an entire calendar year. It was also known that Esther sold raspberries by the pint and by the quart. Her customers were on her timeline year after year. The canes were just as tall as Esther and Esther was a tall grandma. In the heat of summer, she would put on one of Art’s old thin long sleeve shirts and a fabric cap that was pulled down over her ears held by the elastic she had strung in the hem to keep the biting bugs away. As the season wore down and the berries were no longer the huge succulent ones, Esther froze them mashed in plastic bags to use in the winter over cake or ice cream.
It was not unusual that Art and Esther didn’t venture far from home when the berries were ripening. It was an every day task. What might not be ripe to pick today would be ready tomorrow. Esther knew the rotation of that patch like no one’s business. No one interfered. Talk about small town business.
Raspberry season was not for the faint of heart.
Esther taught me how to eat raspberries with whole cream and a scant amount of sugar over them.
Memories of Art and Esther would fill volumnes.
With that I will take my leave. ♥