The weather is just fantastic.  You just don’t get cool days in August here in Maryland, so I took advantage of that cool weather/abundance of food at the farmers market combo and did some canning this weekend.  I felt like I was working my butt off, but since I only ended up with about 24 jars of stuff, I think I am a pretty huge wimp.  It’s a few jars each of many things, which is what slowed down my production.  That and having to run to the store because I ran out of lids!  I need lemon juice!  Crap! Garlic!  I doubt my granny had to do that.  Which is good, because dashing to Safeway involved crossing creekbeds and packing a lunch.

My mom used to can great piles of food.  Not without complaint, mind you, and she finally pointed out to my dad that she was perfectly happy to purchase food from one-a them newfangled supermarkets and if he wanted to continue planting 10 acres of garden he could damned well can it himself.  But for quite a while there, she slaved over that August stove.  Tomatoes, green beans, cantalope…I can still feel the sticky fingers from cutting corn off the cob into that huge metal basin.  I’m quite certain I vowed I would NEVER choose to do this.  Eh, throw it on the pile of other vows (never grow a garden, have a child, drive a car when horses are perfectly fine).

I strapped on Granny’s apron.  I’m not sure which Granny, honestly, but since I could get it around me, I’m guessing Caldwell, not Whitaker.  It looks like Granny Whitaker, though.  Really, if you can’t make good pickles wearing your granny’s apron, you should just give up.  Sadly, I won’t know if they’re any good until October or so.  Let’s just assume they’re amazing, right?  I canned both sweet and dill pickles, pickled roasted jalapenos, salsa, and tomatoes.  If the long nuclear winter lasts more than a few days, we’re toast, but we’re set for a good 72 hours.

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