A White Little Christmas, and I made jam with grandchildren!
After an amazingly mild few weeks, the ‘tide’ turned’ last week with rain first, then snow, ice and plummeting temperatures.
In fairness, the Met Office are now top dogs at their job and their modern satellite technology and weather mapping has brought forecasting to a new science. What we have had in the last few days was indeed well-flagged and the colour-coded warning system works very well.
The power of the elements in terms of weather events and climate in general is awe-some, and indeed awe-full.
Some people - a mixture of experts and sceptics - still say that changing weather patterns cannot be properly measured in a five, 10, 20, or 30-year period. These spans seem lengthy but observers tell us we had Ice Ages millions of years ago and mini Ice Ages many, many times since.
All I can say in my unscientific way is that 50 and 60 years ago, the winter weather that we’ve had this week was absolutely normal from late October until well into February. That’s not me looking back through rose-tinted glasses, it’s just the way things were and we accepted it ’cause there was nothing we could do about it.
Back then, of course, there were fewer cars on the roads, fewer animals on farms, and life was lived more aisy and seasonally. By that I mean, on farms at least, we followed the pattern of the four seasons and at that time one knew when spring, summer, autumn and winter came.
Spring was preparation time as the land threw off its perishing winter ‘clothes’ and got ready to waken up and welcome growth once more. Spring brought new-born animals - I always loved (and still do) the arrival of calves and lambs.
The Bible tells us they were the ‘three wise kings’, yet Melchior, Caspar and Balthazar are really short-changed this time every year! They came with their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh on the 12th day of Christmas - the Epiphany.
I’m not sure what Mary and Joseph thought of those extravagant gifts - yes, truly fit for a king, but not very practical for a family who were about to flee into Egypt!
The narrative of the Christmas story has the three Kings arrive on January 6. When we put up the crib on the sideboard in mid-December, the figures of the exotic trio are left outside - just looking into the stable as if from a distance.
Before Mass on the morning of January 6, they take their place with the Holy Family, the shepherds and animals in the stable.
A day later, when all the tinsel, holly and decorations come down, the crib is put away once more. Ah yes, those three wise kings only play a small part in the Greatest Story on Earth, yet they are so central.
Despite flu, asthma and chest infections, we had a beautiful Christmastide this year. The company of friends and family is at the heart of this special season, and as time goes by, I value these even more.
I know, I know, making jam in December - and at Christmas - you’ll be muttering ‘he’s really lost the plot this time’!
Well, what happened was in late August and early September, there was a most bountiful crop of fruit on the hedgerows - blackberries, crab apples, rose hips and sloes. With the best of intentions - and with the help of willing grandchildren - we picked copious amounts ’til our hands were pure purple.
There was a GAA meeting on the very night and a match the next night so I put all the fruit in the deep freezer. “We’ll make the jam next week,” I promised - but the best-laid plans of mice and men can go oh so awry.
September was a busy month and October and November even crazier. No, I didn’t forget about the task in hands, but lack of time just caused multiple postponements.
Never let it be said that I fell down on the job, so on the last Sunday night of December, I boiled up about 17 pounds of fruit – I had added frozen blackcurrants also in the mix.
After midnight, the steaming, boiling, beautiful-smelling mixture was carefully slid into an empty pillow-case and tied onto the sweeping brush resting on two kitchen chairs. We placed a big earthenware bowl - at least 30 years old - underneath and left the juice drain and drip out overnight. By next morning, we had in excess of ten pints of juice.
The junior jam/jelly makers arrived early the next day to oversee operations. Boiling hot liquid and saucepans - but they all kept their distance and observed exactly what was happening.
On the eve of New Year’s Eve, we added the sugar and then brought the juice to a ‘steady rolling boil’ for 20 minutes. My helpers had not seen this process before and were intrigued. We next cleaned, scrubbed and washed the jam jars in preparation for the official pouring ceremony, which I did carefully.
That was in the era of my grandchildren’s great, great grandparents - the tradition goes on!
It was slow in setting, so an extra addition of some natural pectin was needed.
I know, you might say, if one allowed for the price of the sugar and the pectin and the electricity for two ‘boilings’; that ’twould nearly be as cheap to go to a shop and buy the 23 jars of jam - but in reality it’s never about money.
Too many people know the price of everything and the value of everything! It’s like rearing the pig ‘for the house’ - some things are priceless, and more things, well, money cannot buy.
We are well into the New Year of Our Lord 2025, so may it be a wonderful time which brings peace where it’s needed, joy and health to those who value such gifts.
When ye call, the jam will be brought out!
App?
