By Anna Von Reitz
I
realized today that for the third year in a row, I haven't even had time to make
a batch of homemade jam for my family. It's such a simple thing. Indeed, I
always took it for granted. Of course, you "put by" tomatoes in season and
picked your strawberries for syrup and jam and red raspberries, too... apple
butter and plum butter and pickles, too. The familiar smells and tastes and the
jars lined up on the pantry shelves in the fall. My pantry shelves are bare,
folks. It's been this way for three years.
I've
had no life of my own at all. It's all been given to you and for you, to dig
this country and its people out of the morass of ignorance and gullibility and
apathy into which so many have fallen----and which poses such a clear and
present danger now.
My husband and I don't regret it. We'd do it all again. But sometimes I just sit down and cry and rage.
