The farm house

The farm house

Saturday, August 15, 2015

'Tis The Season To Be Pickin'

August, as I have mentioned before is the turning point for me. The sky is a different shade of blue, plants are dying off and changing color. It's the last of the high, heat and humidity months but it brings out the harvest! Lots of produce is ready to be picked and fine eats one can enjoy. But, why oh, why does it have to happen all at once??

With great and good intentions this Spring, I started plants inside. The weather, along with me working full-time did not permit me to plant what I wanted. I did plant some garlic last Fall...

So, now I have harvested my garlic and I am quite pleased with the results, I plan on planting more in October. Everything else we can forget for now. However, some good friends at the Farmers' market that I attend have LOTS of different things. I chose some pickling cucumbers last Sunday and some dill .(I did plant some but the weeds have overtaken it and it is short) I then made some pickles during an evening.

As you may know, when one works, most tasks are relegated to the weekend. These chores that I put off are usually time consuming and not very much fun. For instance, all my barn needs to be cleaned, chicken coop too. Fleeces need to be skirted and washed, shrubs need trimming... so much work not to mention trying to keep the house from looking like a tornado had been through.

So, last night my husband went to a co-workers house to pick some apples. A bit early but when they come, they come!! Sure, I enjoy apples and can make a few deserts with some. I am terrible at pie crust making, so maybe buying some would be alright...

Now, not to sound unappreciative but given the list of tasks I just mentioned, can you see where a slight problem might arise ? Specifically, what the he-- he was thinking when he picked that many apples and who did he think was going to "work" with them?

He is at the store now picking up supplies for "his" baking fest as the temperatures soar and the humidity is so high you feel like you are actually melting.

How believable would this message to my employer sound? "Yes, I;m sorry to say, but Karen won't be back as she has drowned in a pool of sweat and applesauce." My weekend date with a pitchfork and wheel barrow is looking better by the minute!!