I remember my mother taking on an hour long trip in a bus to get some strawberry from this one guy who grew them in the edges of Baghdad (They weren't commonly available like they are now), looking at your story and remembering that I understand why that trip was necessary as opposite to just getting any type of strawberry or even a syrup can for it, especially since we lived very close to a market. There's a need to do things right, and we're talking about home made jam here.
The whole story kinda gave me that feeling of working hard to what seems almost unimportant on the outside, but people who do it and participate in it know to be really worth it. I may be wrong in reading it but that's just the main feeling I left with.
That's actually just right. Just right. People like your mother and mine and the elders I grew up understand the importance of these things ... glad you picked all that up!