See The Lost Skills

However, leaving the old folks looking out at the morning, I sped through the cool wind on my bike. I arrived excited, at the kindergarten. The staff member (Julie, I think it was), happy to help me cut away the branches holding the elegant spider’s nest. The nest itself, was still intact. I peered eagerly at its surface and noticed minute dark shapes moving about inside. The time was very close. Very soon the hundreds of young spiders would soon be disgorged to roam out into the world. Or, in this case, the inside of the glass jar I had brought with me. It was one of those very large glass preserving jars with a metal ring screw lid. Many people may recall them. The traditional glass preserving jar. The only way we used to be able to enjoy out of season fruit, vegetables and especially the beetroot (of which there always seemed to be a jar or two left after the next season started). Some young people have never seen them. Sadly, yet another skill lost to time.

I once possessed a wonderful book (which I must replace having lent it to someone when asked. It has never been returned. If you’re reading this blog now.. and you know I’m talking about you… hint hint) The book was, ‘The Forgotten Arts©’ (maybe they have forgotten the art of returning property?) It is a wonderful book if you can still get a copy. It covers so many of the basic skills of self survival, by presenting the lost skills that used to form the basis of all society. All remarkably, practical skills. How to fix a wagon wheel, how to build a corricle (okay, maybe those two right now are not too important, but it’s not to say that one day you may be stuck on an island, or edge of a river and need to get across a small distance, that you can’t swim… then knowing how to make a corricle, may be considered priceless). Then there are other essential skills. Barrel making, plastering. Dozens of wonderful concepts re-explained to forgotten generations.

While I had the jar, I had not really asked my mother before taking it. Something that I probably should have done, since she wouldn’t be seeing the jar for some time. Unless, as I wished, the nest hatched during my talk. Then I would have the jar back in the cupboard before it would be missed by the next preserving season. The jar was one of the old screw top ring types used to hold real preserved fruits, beetroots pickles or whatever was easily available when a season occurred. And depending on how much or how little time our mother had to fit in making some preserves. Or Jams. I remember we used to have gooseberry bushes and they made great jam. And the rhubarb. That was certainly a favourite (never enough jars for the winter season. Instead of the metal insert in the lid used to seal in the fruit, I had put a piece of cardboard I had poked many small holes. Even little spiders needed to breathe.

(Continued tomorrow)