Just when the peaches come in from Palisade, on the western slope of Colorado, I start to think about making jam. The pluots are also in...along with the apriums, plums and figs. It is clearly jam time. In the mountains, there really is no harvest...just the golden glow of the aspen leaves and cooler days...a shift in the air that says fall is coming. It happens every year, right around Labor Day, the switch from summer into fall. There is a sense that this is your last chance to eat this amazing fruit...to taste it...to capture and save it in jam.
In other places fall means harvest and things notch up into high gear as the fruit is brought in. But, in the mountains things get quieter, there is a lull before the winter's bounty. I have time to make jam. It is also time for me to dream about the upcoming winter...the peaks covered in snow...the town blanketed in white...the rush I get when I put my ski boots on for the first time each new season...ride the lift...look around...make my first energetic turns down the mountain. It is the beginning of six months of winter happiness for me. It is why I live here...to come alive in the winter. It is my peaceful kingdom. There are days when I feel like a warrior on the mountain...days when no one is up there...the mountain is fresh with snow...the wind is howling, the snow is pelleting your face and you are rewarded with gliding, amazing turns that only you know you have made. Those, for sure, are some of my favorite days. I slice the beautiful colorful fruit, measure and pour in the sugar, squeeze the lemon, strain and add the juice, stir... and ponder my upcoming sessions in the snow.
In other places fall means harvest and things notch up into high gear as the fruit is brought in. But, in the mountains things get quieter, there is a lull before the winter's bounty. I have time to make jam. It is also time for me to dream about the upcoming winter...the peaks covered in snow...the town blanketed in white...the rush I get when I put my ski boots on for the first time each new season...ride the lift...look around...make my first energetic turns down the mountain. It is the beginning of six months of winter happiness for me. It is why I live here...to come alive in the winter. It is my peaceful kingdom. There are days when I feel like a warrior on the mountain...days when no one is up there...the mountain is fresh with snow...the wind is howling, the snow is pelleting your face and you are rewarded with gliding, amazing turns that only you know you have made. Those, for sure, are some of my favorite days. I slice the beautiful colorful fruit, measure and pour in the sugar, squeeze the lemon, strain and add the juice, stir... and ponder my upcoming sessions in the snow.
