Preserving Joy, One Jar at a Time

There’s a deep kind of joy I feel when I step into my garden. The tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and herbs aren’t just plants—they’re a reminder of how abundant life can be when we take the time to nurture and tend. Each season, I find myself looking forward to the rhythm of planting, harvesting, and then…preserving.

Canning salsa and relish, freezing sweet Michigan corn after frying it just right, simmering down fresh tomato basil soup to tuck away for colder days—it’s all part of a ritual that feels like both meditation and celebration. There’s something grounding about a full day in the kitchen, hands busy, heart full. The chopping, stirring, ladling, and labeling become a quiet kind of prayer: gratitude for the season’s abundance and love for the family who will gather around the table to enjoy it.

This year, I’ve had the unexpected blessing of tending to my neighbor’s garden as well. Life carried her away suddenly, and I’ve been entrusted with her patch of green. It feels sacred, really—to water her plants, to harvest what she sowed, and to imagine the smile on her face when I get to share jars of her own garden’s goodness back with her. It’s a reminder that food is never just food. It’s community. It’s care. It’s love made visible.

When winter comes, and the snow piles high, we’ll pull out those jars of salsa or heat bowls of tomato soup. The flavors will carry us back to these warm, sunlit days in the garden and kitchen. But more than that, they’ll carry the story: of planting with intention, of preserving with gratitude, of sharing with joy.

For me, putting up food for the winter isn’t just about having homemade items in the pantry—it’s about the pride of providing for my family in a way that feels deeply personal. It’s about knowing that in every jar, there’s a little piece of summer’s sunshine, a little bit of my heart, and a whole lot of love.

That’s WildHER Wisdom: tending to what nourishes us, savoring the season, and carrying joy forward—one jar at a time.