Sustainability is a buzzword these days, not only in agriculture, but in all types of industry and business. The implications of how the word is tossed about makes me uncomfortable. Does any business, farm, or home intentionally set out to operate in a way that is wasteful or not with an eye on the future?
Nothing says sustainable to me as much as preserving the bounty of a summer garden, a tradition that has been passed from generation to generation, and a skill that is gaining traction with another generation interested in improving home and family health and sustainability. The prospect of transforming abundance into opportunity manifests in rows of jars lining the pantry shelf. There is satisfaction in self-sufficiency.
Canning and food preservation begins with an appreciation for seasonality and capturing each season as it happens. First come strawberries, rhubarb, asparagus and peas. A short break and we are into cherries, beans and pickles. Peaches, corn and tomatoes hit hard in August, and the stove can barely keep up if we are seriously preserving as much as possible to use throughout the year. The filled jars reflect the rhythm of seasons that have echoed through kitchens for generations.
There is satisfaction in pulling out recipes used by previous generations and a connection to those who laid the foundation for the urge to preserve. It revives the instinct to use what you have, waste nothing, and make the most of each harvest. Resourcefulness protects against scarcity, and with every trip to the grocery store, my waste not want not instinct increases in proportion to the ever-growing number at the bottom of my grocery receipt. Every jar is a nod to prepared-ness, sustenance, and peace of mind.
There is a learning curve to canning and food preservation. I certainly recall being intimidated by the steam of the canner, the daunting pile of produce, and the juggling act of cleaning product, jars, lids and the nagging questions about if I am doing this right, will I poison everyone with botulism, and if these jars are going to seal after all this work and time. There were many phone calls to Mom in the early stages of learning for a little coaching, problem solving, and most important of all—encouragement. But knowledge gained is an empowering skill that can be relied upon year after year.
Even if you are purchasing the produce you preserve instead of growing it, the tradition connects us to land and the seasons as we pass through them. Whether it's a farmhouse or city apartment, preserving food is a celebration of abundance, creativity, and the pleasure of creating something by the work of our hands.
As you listen to the pop of lids through the heat of the summer, you can look forward to popping the lids again and savoring the contents of each jar through the fall, winter and beyond. And if you are a seasoned canner, you are in the position of mentoring a beginner---a bridge from past to future. That is a real and working definition of sustainability!
Bev Berens is a freelance writer and empty nester from Vestaburg, Mich. She can be contacted at uphillfarm494@yahoo.com.