Medora, circa 1913

On September 19, 1913 my grandmother wrote to her oldest daughter, Medora, who had just left home in Oysterville to begin her sophomore year at Portland Academy. The letter began:  There is nothing new…

I feel I could begin a letter with the same four words on this morning 101 years later. Some days seem that way.

My grandmother goes on to say: I put up more pears yesterday; also, a box of peaches pickling the latter as I do the pears.

Well, I must say that I am not nearly so ambitious. Our pears (same pear tree) are probably ripe – or as ‘ripe’ as they ever get. They are always hard as rocks and are only good for making pickled pears (a family favorite) or for canning. Even the birds don’t give them more than a peck. And for years, we’ve had to wait for the first real windstorm of the season to ‘pick’ them –off the ground that is. The tree is probably forty feet high – maybe even sixty – now, and the pears are way, way out of reach.

Our Pear Tree

The tree is  totally entwined with honeysuckle (which is still blooming way up near the top.) There are also holly and salmonberry and ivy entwined on the ‘lower story’ and all manner of birds (and probably other critters) take refuge in its midst. Every year I expect it to blow down but I’m beginning to think it will outlast me.

And, for the record, here is my grandmother’s pickled pear recipe:

Peel and core 3# pears
Boil 1½ Q water; put pears in water. Cook until tender.
Add bouquet garni of 6 cinnamon sticks, 2 T cloves, 2 t whole ginger.
Add 2 C sugar.
Cook 5 min
Add 1 C white vinegar. Simmer 3 min.
Discard bouquet garni
Pack in jars; cover with syrup and seal.