My Grandma Rose made the best raspberry jam. The smell of raspberry jam cooking would waft into my early morning dreams whenever I spent the night at grandma’s house. My little brother and I would race downstairs to the kitchen where Grandma Rose had been up for hours picking raspberries and making jam. That beautifully jeweled, sweet topping slathered on toast made the day start off right. I had lost all of my grandparents by the time I turned twelve so I can only recall fleeting bits and pieces of time spent with them. But the sense of smell is one of the strongest to invoke memory and the smell of bubbling raspberry jam is a powerful memory invoker for me.

Needless to say, raspberry jam is my favorite jam. Anyone else is welcome to enjoy strawberry, grape, or peach jam but raspberry jam is queen for me. When we bought our home thirty years ago, a robust patch of raspberry canes was growing in the yard. I was ecstatic! For the first time, I was able to harvest my own raspberries and make my own jam. I loved watching my kids pick berries, their mouths red with juice as more berries were eaten than picked. It’s almost a rite of passage to eat berries straight from the vine and it was a joy to watch. Besides making jam, we had berries over ice cream or simply a bowl of freshly washed ruby gems.

One of the most basic things that fill me with pleasure is having fruit and herbs grown in my yard. Chicken dinner? Can you cut a sprig of rosemary for that? Mint for tea, apples for sauce and pies, cherries and tomatoes. I would love to grow more (or rather my husband would as he has the magnetic green thumb) but our magic garden does have its limitations. I feel fortunate to have friends who have grown beautiful vegetable and fruit gardens and share their bounty. I am happy to make jam from their berries and gift them a jar.

I remember the garden my parents cultivated in our yard when I was a child. I was very young but I have memories of running through neat rows of vegetables and eating fresh food directly from the source. Sadly, in today’s world, there are a large number of young people who have no idea where their fruit and vegetables come from. Their sole experience is the produce in the grocery store and some who live in “food deserts” may not even have that. Food insecurity is more prevalent than ever. This disconnect from the land that feeds us is a shame in such a wealthy country. I love seeing community gardens sprout up in some communities but it is not the norm. With so many homes and other living areas built over as much land as possible, we are losing our connection to the magnificent gifts of the earth.

Regrettably, our raspberry canes did not last. After several years of incredible bounty, the canes slowly died off and we never replaced them. These days I need to depend on the beautiful harvest of friends’ gardens for fresh raspberries and I am grateful to have them. My grandmother passed long before she could share her jam-making secrets with me. But I’d like to think Grandma Rose would be proud.