The woman who preserves – a jar quadrille for D’verse

She has weighed
And stirred,
And strained –
And now the summer
Stands preserved
In neatly labelled
Jars, placed
In orderly lines
To gather dust
And fade, discretely.

But I wish,
Just once,
She would gorge
Herself, and turn
With juice stained


Bjorn is tending bar at D’verse, and has asked us to write a quadrille containing the word “jar”. So I have. And you can, too. 

25 thoughts on “The woman who preserves – a jar quadrille for D’verse

  1. Like the maker of jams who hasn’t tasted how delicious her jams are? 🙂 Or an artist who doesn’t appreciate the beauty of his own work by criticizing himself too much? Beautiful thoughts. Leaves me contemplating the possibility.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh, I love this. I can see her in the kitchen with her jars. When I lived in Germany, my foster mother pickled and preserved at the end of every summer and had rows of jars on shelves in the cellar. I love the sentiment in the final stanza – old-fashioned housewives letting go…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. OH!!! HUGE SIGH OF OH just escaped from me. This is WONDERFUL! The idea of preserving the summer (my old Iowa days I canned stewed tomatoes, ketchup, green beans, applesauce, jams, beets)…..standing them in a row on the shelf…..oh the memories. And then BAM – that last stanza and that wonderful juicy gorgeous image. LOVE this! 🙂


  4. This had me thinking about some of my dusty jars…forgotten, unused.
    Absolutely adore the metaphors of life in this one. I could feel the longing for her to just let go, enjoy and savour her own creations.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I love this. I use all my preserved items during the winter or spring or give as gifts. I can’t imagine not using! And then, that last bit of blackberry juice strained, and poured into a wine glass and drunk down slowly and with love. Such richness.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. The second verse! It turned the poem into something else. Immediately, I thought of some persons I know who scrimp and save everything they can for the rainy day, does not touch any of the savings for fun and such. Day in and day out, the family scrimps and scrimps – “we have no money” was the convenient answer for every little thing the children might ask. It was a refrain that echoes throughout the house, through the years. There was no fun and not too many good memories to live by.


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