Summer is fully upon us now, here in the Valley. While across the road, giant technology companies launch ever-more-raveling social products, our backyard garden offers ever-more-tempting earthbound delights. What follows is a summary of my summery day.
My apricot tree is dropping fruit faster than I can keep up. Unlike last year, though, this year I’ve managed to pick enough apricots to turn a basket like this:
Into jars like this:
My planter boxes are bulging with green plants. We’ve eaten most of the green lettuce, but I had not done more than pick at the green onions shooting skyward.
All unbeknownst to me, my cucumber vines were hiding behemoths beneath their leaves, some grown so large their allotted green could not spread to cover them entirely.
I finally took pity on the herbs growing in the shade of my giant kale trees: I cut the kale down and turned much of it into kale chips. Likewise with my last red leaf lettuce tower, grown so tall since the last time I had need of lettuce that I could not decide if it should be picked, or have ornaments hung from it. In the end I picked it, and reserved the leaves for some future saladic use.
By mid-afternoon, all I lacked was a giant horn to set on my table.
And, as should always be the case, while I harvested the fruits of summer, the kids simply enjoyed them.
Not bad for a Monday.
I have plum muffins and plum cake in the oven as I type! Our plum tree didn't have a ton of fruit this year, but what it has is delicious.
I'm so jealous! I busted my rear end at my friends' house planting a garden for all of us, and it didn't get watered enough, and it's been so brutally hot. And well….yeah…. I'm sad.
I have three times the amount of green onion and some yellow onion that I still have to harvest because I have no clue what to do with so much onion. I need to look up some recipes using plums and Meyer lemons because I have them coming out of my ears. Apparently BD and I are bad judges of how much fruit and vegetables we can use when everything is ready to harvest at the same freakin' time.
I think I need to be a super awesome grown up like BPD and learn how to can this stuff.
Canning is a self-defense mechanism. It was either learn to can, or cut down
my apricot and peach trees.
Canning is a self-defense mechanism. It was either learn to can, or cut down
my apricot and peach trees.
Wow! I tried canning for the first time a few days ago, and failed miserably. I'm going to keep trying, though. It's the only way to justify my farmer's market addiction.
A man who is capable of canning (~that originally said "can can" but it was driving me nuts. So fancier words for you, sir, courtesy of my neuroses) and create a food stockpile is hot. Ask the husband. I married him for the likelihood that we'll survive in a post-apocalypse world, thanks to his tendency to preserve food and hoard dry goods.
I'm really impressed that you're canning. I freeze garden goodies, but no way would I can.
What gets me though is, why do they call it canning? There's no can involved, and the container you use to do it in needs to be glass. So why is it called canning? A mystery of the universe, I guess.
I'm going to be inspired by this post, I just know it. It all looks so delicious and I was, admittedly, swooning the other day when you mentioned canning. This can only lead to bad things like when I think I can be a farmer but really I just go out in the yard and cross the street to the cornfield. Then, I get hot and sweaty and go, "Screw that. I'm going to the grocery store."
Thanks for saving me from all that.