A Flowered Apron

A flowered old apron. Reaching for grandma's apron....especially to do a task she once did....is one of those particular joys that makes my heart profoundly happy. I feel closer to her, wearing it. And when I'm finished, arms sticky with peach jam, those jars glistening like jewels in the sun, I take the apron off, bury my nose in its soft folds, breathe deep...and hang it up till next canning season. PS: Asher is just about licking the pot of peach jam. It's his faaaaaavorite. ;)