Reflections on the Fifth Week of Fall

  A few years ago, I was curious so tasted a cranberry right off the highbush. I spit the sour taste continuously on the dash to the kitchen sink to rinse my mouth. I left the berries for birds and insects. But, they didn't eat the cranberries either. When multiple berries hung on the highbush this year, enough time had elapsed for me to try again. I researched on line for when to pick and how to cook. The “never eat a cranberry before cooking it with sugar” reassured me. I followed that web site's advice to pick the berries right before or right after the first frost. Unfortunately, our first frost was a hard freeze. I hustled outside to pick the berries before the sun rose and defrosted them. To keep the berries mostly frozen, I processed the little ice balls on the porch: rolling them on a terry cloth towel to clean; removing stems; and keeping the firm, smooth berries. Frozen berries, however, were hard, and thawed ones were soft. Unless a cranberry mushed between my fingers, I ignored the firm/soft guideline and judged by smooth or wrinkled skins. Falling leaves and melting ice drops pattered in the woods. Hawks called from the sky. Turkeys clucked in the valley. I took warming breaks when my fingers ached with cold. As I put a tray full of cranberries into the freezer, I imagined the flavor of a sauce made of cranberries, sugar, water, vinegar, cinnamon, gloves, and allspice–“The Taste of Christmas in a Jar.”