Canning season

 My yard is full of weeds and they bite. When I harvest the free fruit and fill my kitchen with a steamy perfume I always feel connected to my grandma, even though there were no blackberries where I grew up in Wyoming. Her yard was also full of weeds and the magic of turning them into food for the year was her gift. Grandma had wild horseradish and gooseberries and asparagus in the irrigation ditches. She made jelly from dandelions. Of course she made my brother and I fill the brown paper grocery bag with only the yellow fluff from the dandelions, but she boiled and ladled the dandelion jelly. She made rhubarb custard pie and salad from dandelion leaves. I miss her most days but at fall harvest. She’s always there.