When glacial bogs blush with berries
it’ll be a hard winter, folks say.
He is cutting down the dead pine near the cabin,
beetle-killed by drought last summer.
His chainsaw knows the hearth’s width
without measuring.
I went to the orchard on Route 5,
bought peaches for canning.
The kitchen smells of sweetness —
furry skins sloughed off with blanching,
floor juice-sticky.
He comes in for lunch,
fills the room with flannel and sawdust.
“A lot of work,” he says.
“Yes,” I answer.
We eat warmed over stew.
He cleans his plate with bread crust and pushes back his chair.
“Back at it,” he mutters and opens the door.
A cold wind makes gooseflesh on my arms
as I set the pint jars of preserves
in steaming water to make them sterile.
– Sarah Russell
First published in The Houseboat
Reprinted in WAVES: A Confluence of Women’s Voices
Sarah Russell Poetry 
Wow, this is superb Sarah, the stunning image the beautiful words, I love the lines; “His chainsaw knows the hearth’s width without measuring.” A great write. Thanks for sharing it with us.
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Thanks a lot, John.
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Wonderful. John Buchanan beat me to it. That line is wonderful
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Thanks, Steve.
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A painting to stand back and absorb; every word essential. (and, brrrr!) 🙂
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Yup. Facing winter. Thanks, Jilly.
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Like stealing a page from someone’s diary… peering into their little every day private moments… sublime.
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Thanks, Rajani.
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What a wonderful scene, laying in wood and canned fruit for winter…..and the hearty stew for lunch. Sigh. Such comfort!
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Thanks, Sherry. Have to head over and see what all of you have penned as well. Some work to catch up on first, but I won’t be too long.
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love how the two labourers come together over a meal and then return to their work against the backdrop of harvest and death
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Thank you, Laura.
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Such rich imagery in this one, Sarah!
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Thanks, Sanaa.
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I love this so much. It’s personal and universal, at the same time. It’s what poetry should be.
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Thank you, Charlotte. High praise!
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I love the scene, where you have made work a poetry… the way you both work on different sides and then join for lunch is absolutely perfect… love the way you includes scents
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Thanks, Bjorn. I can almost always enter the scene when I write, so scent is part of it. (And when I don’t enter the scene, the poem doesn’t work…and smells bad too.)
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Flawless, Sarah. I’ve been there… as I read it.
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Thanks a lot, Charley!
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I grew up with a grandma who canned peaches. You nailed it!
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Thanks, Charley. One of my favorite things to do when I lived in Colorado. Palisade peaches are wonderful. We’d make the 50 miles trek to the orchard, and then spend all the next day canning. Great memories!
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It stuck with you. (Pun intended. 🙂 )
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A lovely poem.
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Thank you, Annell.
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I think I went to a dark place with your last stanza. Wondered it the narrator is referring to a sterile chill in the relationship. I suspect that was not your intention, but I’m tired today. That makes me a little negative. Regardless, I enjoyed your poem, the scene is foreign to me but you made it real.
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Ah, Myrna, a close read. Thank you. Yes, that was the underlying secret of the poem.
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your words paint such a place of comfort and security on so many levels.
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Thanks a lot, Beth!
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Absolutely beautiful Sarah, bringing back my childhood memories, your imagery had me smelling mum’s cooking and visualizing dad working outside…..
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Thanks, Ivor. Glad it brought you great memories.
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Sarah this is truly amazing….it is a story being told and brought to life. A masterpiece.
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Thank you so much, Donna!
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So good, the parallel work and his gruff silence- foreshadowed in your opening line – the hard winter coming – and echoed in the chill of your last stanza. A complete world in so few lines. Bravo.
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Thank you so much for the close read, Peter.
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Love how work goes on outside home and inside & the details & also like the interesting busy couple in the poem.
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Thanks very much, Sumana.
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What a brilliant poem!
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Thank you, Rosemary!
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Cold weather and work to warm one—who could ask for more?
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Thanks so much. They say when you chop your own wood, you get warm twice. 🙂
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It’s that simple. This is a wonderful poem of the season, getting ready for winter. The canning of peaches really come alive for me.
By the way, you’re comment on my blog leads me to a Chinese pill site.
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Thanks, Colleen. And thanks for the tip. I didn’t put in my new website, and the old url does take you to the pill site. Try SarahRussellPoetry.net. I’ll try to get into Google and change it. Wish me luck…
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Almost feels like an autumn still-life, even as nothing is ever really still. Love the poetic dual labors of love here.
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Thanks so much, Barry.
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