About me

Hello, dear reader. I’m Jenny Watson, and I want to tell you a story—not just any story, but one filled with small lights, captured moments, and the gentle sound of jars clicking shut, like tiny heartbeats. This is the tale of how Jarfulmemories.com was born, how Mason jars, sunshine, and deeply personal memories helped me find my voice—and maybe, just maybe, can touch your heart, too.

A Spark in the Kitchen

I grew up in a small town, with a grandmother who collected jars. She called them her “sun catchers.” Old jam jars, pickle jars, mayonnaise jars—it didn’t matter what they were, as long as they caught the light. She filled them with little treasures: a beach shell, a dried flower from a summer picnic, a lock of my hair when I was a child. When the sun hit those jars in the afternoon, they shimmered in a thousand shifting colors—golden, rose, amber.

That memory has lived inside me my whole life.

Years later, when I found myself working from home in quiet solitude, I started to feel like I was slowly disappearing. One evening, I came across one of my grandmother’s jars in a box tucked away in the closet. I blew off the dust and held it up to the fading sunlight. Just for a moment, I felt something stir—a part of me I’d forgotten.

I gently placed a few keepsakes inside—a dried rose from my wedding bouquet, a note I once wrote to encourage myself, a tiny shell from a trip to California. I set it on my windowsill, and in the morning light, it glowed. And so did I.

One Jar at a Time

That small act lit a spark.

I began creating more jars, each with its own meaning. A simple object, a quiet memory, a soft reminder that life is made of small moments. Over time, the jars became a ritual—my way of reconnecting with who I am and where I’ve been.

Eventually, I felt called to give this feeling a home. Jarfulmemories.com became that place. A name born from the idea that we all carry jars of memory, jars of love, of loss, of laughter, of longing. This space is where I pour mine.

The Ritual of Remembering

Mason jars are simple. You can find them anywhere. Yet somehow, when light filters through them, they become something more. They transform. They hold space—not just for pickles or preserves, but for stories.

Each jar on my windowsill represents a moment I want to hold onto. A birthday candle stub. A concert ticket. A small stone from the creek near where we scattered Grandma’s ashes. A wildflower seed packet. Even a baby tooth.

They are small, quiet things. But together, they speak volumes.

Every evening, I hold a jar and think:

“I’m still here.”
“That moment mattered.”

From Silence to Story

I used to be afraid to share my feelings. I kept them inside, locked away like secrets. But the jars encouraged me to speak—not loudly, but honestly.

One of my most personal jars contains a small lock of my grandmother’s hair, a rose petal, a movie ticket, and a torn note that simply says, “I can’t do this.” I wrote it in a hospital bathroom, during one of the hardest moments of my life.

But the jar reminds me I did do it. I’m still here. Still growing. Still remembering.

That’s the quiet power of this project. It’s not about perfection. It’s about presence.

What I’ve Learned

Through these simple rituals, I’ve discovered:

• Small things hold deep meaning. A petal, a ticket, a photo can tell entire stories.
• Light changes everything. Sunlight turns glass into gold. It changes how we see.
• Sharing, even silently, is healing. What we hold inside can be beautiful when it’s gently brought to light.
• It’s never too late to begin. I began at 47, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Welcome to Jarfulmemories.com

This is still the beginning of the journey. But the jars, the memories, and this space all have one thing in common: they hold love. I created this website to gently share what’s been helping me heal, grow, and remember. And maybe, just maybe, it will do the same for you.

If you’re here, I hope you find a piece of your own story reflected in mine. And if not yet, then maybe someday, when you hold a jar up to the sun, and the light dances through it like a rainbow, you’ll remember this:

Your story is worth a jar.
Your memories are worth light.
Your heart is worth sharing.

With love,
Jenny Watson
Founder of Jarfulmemories.com