Fruit therapy
No, it’s not a haggis trapped inside one of Nora Batty’s stockings. It’s crab apple pulp. And it’s being strained to create the juice I’ll heat up into a jelly.
We’ve got crab apples coming out of our ears. A wet summer produced some plump fruit – and lots of it. Last year I was foraging all over the backyard for bits of crab apple that I could turn into jelly. I was literally scraping the corners of the garden. Now it’s different. The little blighters even fall onto my head, as I pick those already on the ground.
JELLY QUEST
So why do it? Some may ask that question. Why on earth does a writer bother with crab apples? It does sound daft. Apart from the idea of making food from stuff in your own backyard, this jelly quest has been – and still is – a kind of occupational therapy.
A rapid and relentless series of bereavements last year sent my head spinning. At times I wasn’t able to focus on much at all. Then I noticed the crab apples. Mother-in-law used to make the jelly, and gave us the recipe. I thought I’d give it a try. It might take my mind off the losses.
It worked.
Gathering the fruit gave me a gentle connection to the land. I found myself praying little prayers of thankfulness. Then actually turning it into jelly gave me a sense of satisfaction. Gratitude is a rich tonic for a parched soul.
SLOW PATCHES
It’s not rocket science. It’s a healthy distraction. And I’ve tried to carry it on. Even though it’s 18 months or so since my dad passed away, I still hit those slow, solemn patches of wading through the thick, deep mud of grief. Also, it’s helpful to have a different task to free up the creative juices. So maybe I’ll stick to making crab apple jelly a while longer.
I don’t fully understand it. But it helps. And if my life has been squeezed to a pulp recently, the hope is that something fresh and wholesome will emerge.
