Some people boil apricots in honey wine or pickle pumpkin for the winter, but I make preserves of a different sort. I have it all: the timid spring sunlight, gentle and cool; the hot summer sunshine, smelling of wildflowers and joy; and the last rays of the autumn sun, bittersweet and mellow. I run my fingers over the dozens and dozens of jars in the cellar.
It’s that time again.
The sun won’t rise for a month.
That’s when my demons come out, screaming and scratching for attention.
I hope I can last until the summer sun scorches them away.
Author’s Note: The winters in Finland are long and bleak. Can you imagine not seeing the sun for a couple of months?
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