Entertaining

Last night I showed off the contents of my freezer to exuberant exclaims. I'd picked my audience well. "Frozen blueberries," my blue eyed friend shouted. "Strawberries!" she repeated after me. "OMG, peaches, applesauce, blackberries." I was having fun. "Pesto," was spoken in a savory hushed tone as was, "tomatillas." And then she told me her childhood fruit in the freezer story.

"We didn't know what we had. There were raspberry bushes gone wild down each side of the yard." She waved her arms wide. "We couldn't eat them fast enough. The freezer would be full and they would go bad in the fridge. And then my Mom would make us - Make Us," she repeated. My Mom would make us pick tiny wild blueberries alongside the road. We hated it but then we would have blueberry pies at Christmas."

She stopped there and smiled. We were quiet. I was sure she was remembering the taste of those holiday pies. I was remembering buying the now frozen blueberries at the Fairfax market on a Wednesday night with another blue eyed friend and how heavy they had been; how we'd eaten hand fulls of them winding through quiet side streets, an easy friendship.

I don't know what it was that brought us back to the open door of the freezer but she said, "I'd can with you." I hadn't said a word about canning. We both looked startled; her as she realized what she was saying and me as she wasn't the first person that day to offer.

"I'm not sure I'm ready though," I repeated at the same time thinking of MFK Fisher and how pretty those canned tomatoes would be on my pantry shelf.

"Let me know," she said. "I'd love to."

Today I started thinking about making room on those pantry shelves. After all, the freezer is nearly full.