Yesterday Husband and I cried together. We stood in the kitchen and tears streamed down our faces, my mascara left black streams down my cheeks. We sniffled, blinked, blubbered, sighed.
We were a mess.
We were slicing onions.
Because Pops had delivered thirty-seven pounds of garden tomatoes to our house and they needed to be dealt with.
And it was raining, so I had no excuse.
So I Googled “blanching” and took out every mixing bowl, pot, knife, seasoning, herb and vegetable I owned and there was no turning back. We were making salsa.
Last weekend it was the plums. All five gallons of them.
There was no crying, but there was seventy-five steps, a foot stomp or two and a mishap with the order of things that resulted in a a good batch of runny syrup.
I blame myself.
Zucchini was coming out of her ears she said.
I had to take it, she said.
I will never understand zucchini I said.
Tis the season.
Coming Home: Canning season just means more questions
By Jessie Veeder
Fargo Forum/Dickinson Press
This is what I’m saying.
But the salsa turned out great. And the jelly is sweet.
I’m not so sure about the runny syrup, but I’m gonna eat it, because that was a lot of damn work and to hell if I’m wasting it.
Happy canning and stuff.
Oh, and good luck with that zucchini.