Article Title

Apricot jam


Kate Llewellyn


It is December 194l and there are six of us in the kitchen. The new baby, Peter, is in his pram being rocked by our father while our mother stirs apricot jam on the top of the wood fire. The apricots have been sent to her by her mother who lives in Angaston in the Barossa Valley where they are abundant at this time of the year. Edna, my mother’s red-haired sister, brought them when she came to visit. Edna has caught the bus for her long trip home, and we are left alone with the apricots and the heat.



To view the content in your browser, please download Adobe Reader or, alternately,
you may Download the file to your hard drive.

NOTE: The latest versions of Adobe Reader do not support viewing PDF files within Firefox on Mac OS and if you are using a modern (Intel) Mac, there is no official plugin for viewing PDF files within the browser window.