I was just a little girl,
my grandma I would watch
getting out the canner
for putting up a batch.
She would wash and scrub and rinse
the veggies and the fruit.
Get them all together,
go on a canning toot.
The berries for the jelly,
the fruit for making jam,
all went in the stock pot
without a diagram.
The veggies from the garden,
which she then washed and cut,
would feed a hungry fam'ly
and round out every gut.
And when it all was over,
my eyes would gleam with joy.
Knowing that through winter
there'd be lots to enjoy.
Now that I am all grown up,
my greatest pleasure still
is going in my kitchen
and canning with a will!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem