Dear Friends,
Happy September to you!
The long, hot days of summer are beginning to wane at last (although this week we are seeing temperatures near 90!). The slant of the sun has changed, making us squint when we go out at mid-day.
We have been harvesting and drying as many herbs and greens as we can, to last through the winter. Our "temperate tulsi" from Strictly Medicinal Seeds has grown into a sea of leaves and flowers that taste clove-like and sweet. I am very pleased with this plant, and highly recommend the seeds.
I also ordered a Japanese Potted Vine (Immortality Plant) from Strictly Medicinal Seeds, and it is finally starting to take off onto its tomato cage trellis. This one is not cold hardy, so we will have to bring it inside soon.
There are always a few surprises in the gardens (evidence of the existence of fairies?). This year we have a lovely melon plant growing in the middle of the herb garden!
And our pullets surprised us by starting to lay eggs at five months of age, instead of the usual six.
We've been canning tomatoes and peaches, and drying and freezing pears the neighbors gave us, and plums from the local Mennonite bulk store. Our small Bartlett pear tree had its fruit stripped by some creature in the night (probably raccoons), while this pear is still loaded with fruit, which we will be canning soon. We think it is a Comice pear, since it has a grainy texture and thick skin. If we can get all the fruit, there would be enough for around 100 quarts or so of sauce and preserves. Time to buy more jars!
Love,
Marqueta
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Canning Time by Edgar A. Guest
There’s a wondrous smell of spices
In the kitchen,
Most bewitchin’;
There are fruits cut into slices
That just set the palate itchin’;
There’s the sound of spoon on platter
And the rattle and the clatter;
And a bunch of kids are hastin’
To the splendid joy of tastin’;
It’s the fragrant time of year
When fruit-cannin’ days are here.
There’s a good wife gayly smilin’
And perspirin’
Some, and tirin’;
And while jars on jar she’s pilin’
And the necks o’ them she’s wirin’
I’m a-sittin’ here an’ dreamin’
Of the kettles that are steamin’,
And the cares that have been troublin’
All have vanished in the bubblin’.
I am happy that I’m here
At the cannin’ time of year.
Lord, I’m sorry for the feller
That is missin’
All the hissin’
Of the juices, red and yeller,
And can never sit and listen
To the rattle and the clutter
Of the sound of spoon on platter.
I am sorry for the single,
For they miss the thrill and tingle
Of the splendid time of year
When the cannin’ days are here.
