Thursday, August 20, 2009
August. I'm a slave to the bounty of nature. Translation: I spent all day yesterday picking and processing food. I had so many green beans that I canned seven pints (all the wide mouth pint jars I had) and still had beans left over. These are spicy dilly beans, my favorite.
Then I picked blackberries. It is officially blackberry season; my legs and arms are so scratched up I look like I was dipped in a barrel of cats. Either I used to be more delicate, graceful, and careful when I was a kid, or I had a higher pain threshold, or perhaps I'm just remembering wrong, but I don't remember experiencing quite so much pain and blood and screeching while picking berries as a teenager. I picked enough for a pie, but I didn't bake the pie because I was too damn tired. Then the kids ate all the blackberries I bled for. Little leeches.
The last hot job I did yesterday is make cajeta. That involves boiling a kettle of milk for about three hours, stirring nearly constantly. I hope cajeta and dilly beans in winter are worth the heatstroke I am suffering from now.