You're welcome, Peter. My grandma and mom were great fans of J.W. Riley. One of my very favourites was/is The Raggedy Man, also Little Orphant(sic) Annie (which Alice posted over on the Campfire thread). As kids, we wore out the book of his poems. I've a fine collection of them now.

Greg Brown's song about his grandma's preserves, I think it is Peaches on the Shelf, also reminds me of this time of year. Growing up in Western Colorado, we always canned peaches in mid-to-late September. Mom's kitchen would become a whirlwind of carefully correographed steps, with each of us assigned certain duties in helping out. Since I was the youngest and least experienced, my job was always to boil the lids and rings, then scoop them out with tongs when a jar was ready for capping. The air was filled with a tangy sweetness; it was hard not to eat up all the soft, fuzzy fruit before mom could get to them for peeling and slicing. Nothing like a sunshine heated, almost overripe Colorado peach!

kat