Strawberry Jam
“What smells so good?” asked Poor Mountain Mother.
“I am making strawberry jam,” said Poor Mountain Mother.
“It smells heavenly in here,” said Poor Mountain Father.
Poor Mountain Mother took a piece of bread and spread a generous helping of homemade strawberry jam on it. She handed it to Poor Mountain Father.
“This looks so good,” said Poor Mountain Father.
“Taste it,” said Poor Mountain Mother, anxiously.
Poor Mountain Father took a huge bite and all the senses in his mouth came alive.
“This is the best strawberry jam I have ever tasted,” said Poor Mountain Father.
“You really think so?” asked Poor Mountain Mother.
“Yes,” said Poor Mountain Father. “It is the best.”
“And you aren’t just saying that,” said Poor Mountain Mother.
“No,” said Poor Mountain Father.” I am not just saying it.”
“Oh good,” said Poor Mountain Mother, showing Poor Mountain Father the cases of strawberry jam she had made. “I kind of made too much. We are going to have lots of strawberry jam to eat this winter.”
“Good,” said Poor Mountain Father, taking a few slices of bread and spreading generous amounts of strawberry jam on it. “I don’t think I need any dinner tonight.”
“Me either,” said Poor Mountain Mother, taking some bread and spreading strawberry jam on it.
Poor Mountain Mother’s strawberry jam was so good that she soon had to make another batch of it.
“Let’s make this batch last,” said Poor Mountain Mother.
“Maybe,” said Poor Mountain Father, reaching for the loaf of bread.
“I guess I can make more,” said Poor Mountain Mother, taking a few slices of bread for herself.
Moral of this Story:
|
