Pear Raspberry Jam

May warmup. The trout lilies along the path. Worked at the construction company in Lexington this week. The body holds. Most days.

Connie at the vet clinic, four shifts this week. Her back is tired. She does not say so. I see it. Mama is 86. She is the toughest person I have ever known. She still cooks every day in the company house in Evarts.

Fried green tomatoes. The garden's green ones. Cornmeal coated. Cast iron.

Travis called Tuesday. The landscaping company is busy. He sounds tired in a good way. Amber called from Louisville. Hospital is busy. Floor nurse to charge nurse to nurse manager — she is the most successful Hensley alive.

Connie made biscuits. The biscuits were biscuits. Some things stay.

Drove the truck to the dump Saturday afternoon. Saw three deer crossing the road on the way back. The mountains have been giving back this year.

Sunday service at Harlan First Baptist when we go. Pastor preached about Ruth and Boaz. The choir sang. Connie wore her gray dress.

Amber sent the kids' school photos this week. Nadia is taller every year. Marcus has Amber's serious face. Little Betty has Mama's eyes.

Connie cut my hair on the porch Tuesday afternoon. She has been cutting my hair for forty years. The barber in Pineville cannot do what Connie does, which is also love.

The dog — old Beau, fifteen years old — slept by the wood stove all afternoon Tuesday. He used to be a hunting dog. Now he is a heating pad with opinions.

The creek was running clear Sunday afternoon. I watched a kingfisher work the riffle. Did not move for an hour. Some Sundays the watching is the worship.

Connie read aloud from a novel Tuesday evening while I worked on the bench. Some Appalachian writer she had picked up at the library in Whitesburg. The voice was the voice of where we live. We listened together.

I went up to Earl's grave at the Evarts cemetery Saturday. Brought a beer. Drank half. Poured the rest on the dirt. Some traditions are mine alone.

I checked the truck oil Saturday. The mileage on this truck is criminal.

I sat on the porch with bourbon at sundown Friday. The fog rolled into the hollow the way it has every fog of every year. The porch was the porch. The bourbon was the bourbon.

Connie made jam Saturday afternoon. Wild blackberries from the patch up the hollow. Twelve jars. The pantry is filling for winter.

I sat at the kitchen table Tuesday night working on the recipe project. Mama's soup beans. I cannot get the words right yet.

Travis sent a photo of Earl Thomas riding on the mower with him at a job site. The boy is wearing a Hensley Landscaping T-shirt that's too big. Three generations on a mower. I saved the photo.

Worked on a basement remodel job in Lexington. The work was good. The pay was good. The body is tired.

Drove to Pineville for parts Wednesday. The hardware store man knew me. We talked about the weather and the price of feed. Forty minutes for a five-minute errand. That is rural Kentucky.

Read the paper at breakfast Tuesday. The county news is not great. The mines have not come back and they will not come back. The young people leave. The hollows empty. We stay.

The neighbor up the road — Old Roy, eighty-seven, lives alone — had a small heart scare. We took him soup beans Tuesday. Cornbread too. He cried a little when he ate. We all cry over soup beans eventually.

Watching Connie ladle those wild blackberry jars onto the shelf, twelve of them lined up like quiet little victories against the cold months coming, I kept thinking about the preserving tradition that runs through every woman in these mountains — and a few of the men too. This pear raspberry jam is the recipe I keep coming back to when the blackberries are gone and the pears are heavy on the branch, because it carries the same instinct: take what the hollow gives you, put it up, and let the pantry fill. It is not complicated. That is the point.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6 half-pint jars

Ingredients

4 cups peeled, cored, and finely chopped ripe pears (about 4 medium pears)
1 cup fresh or frozen raspberries
3 cups granulated sugar
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1/2 teaspoon unsalted butter (to reduce foam)
1 packet (1.75 oz) powdered fruit pectin

Instructions

Prepare jars. Sterilize 6 half-pint canning jars and lids in boiling water for at least 10 minutes. Keep warm until ready to fill.
Combine fruit. In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the chopped pears, raspberries, lemon juice, and lemon zest. Stir to mix well.
Add pectin. Stir in the powdered pectin and the butter. Bring the mixture to a full rolling boil over medium-high heat, stirring constantly.
Add sugar. Add all the sugar at once and return to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Boil hard for exactly 1 minute, then remove from heat.
Skim foam. Use a spoon to skim any foam from the surface. Let the jam rest for 2 minutes, then stir gently to distribute the fruit.
Fill jars. Ladle the hot jam into the prepared sterilized jars, leaving 1/4 inch headspace. Wipe jar rims clean with a damp cloth and apply lids finger-tight.
Process. Process filled jars in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes. Remove and let cool on a folded towel undisturbed for 12–24 hours. Check seals before storing.

Nutrition (per serving, approximately 2 tablespoons)

Pear Raspberry Jam — Putting Up Something Sweet Before Winter Comes