Good morning from the mountain…
My day has started and at the moment it looms above me like
a dark rain cloud. In the retrieval of a
jar of honey I discovered a huge mess, which will take me a good part of the
morning to clean up. I quite apparently
and without good knowledge over filled the honey jars in the fall, so when it
was cold they crystalized and with no shortage of warm days they have become liquid
again. Perhaps they fermented a bit as
well, all part of the process of storing honey. The new jars that will be retrieved from the
hive in a few days will be filled leaving a good two inches of space. I love honey, but the mess this has made is
unbearable. I can attest that waking up
to a sticky cupboard is less than pleasant; it puts an awful shine on that first
cup of morning tea. Life being what it is;
I shall overcome and go forward on my day.
My children under good judgment have advised me that are
fruit stores are low, and even though our blackberries are now becoming ripe
upon the vine, I must do the un-thinkable and go to the grocer. A place I dread more than any other on the
planet, save prison of course. I shall
be tempted and beguiled by all the food like items, which are cheap and in good
abundance. I will walk through the many
rows of food like items, much like a grand treasure hunt for the real food, my
prize beyond value. All because I am out
of bananas, and pectin; for it is now the joyous time of year when we start to
can our food for the winter.
It is hard to believe
that this time is upon me once again, which leads to all new cleaning adventures,
not that I have yet completed those of regular days. These adventures start simple by sorting the
food of past seasons. It must all be
gone through; products that have changed into biological weapons of sure death
must be found and destroyed, jar and all.
Items must again be sorted, and jars cleaned and shelves cleaned. Moving forward one comes to the joyful task washing
of the empty jars, an un-daunting duty taking many days and, alas never truly
finished. I have often thought in a quite
delusional way that there is an imp hiding just a few jars from my site. That once the sink is emptied, and my heart
is light feeling an overwhelming sense of joy at being done, that this cruel
creature of unknown reason feels the need to play upon me the cruelest of deeds. For this imp being quite the cleaver being will
than as if by magic cause to appear just a few more jars.
Still much to do in the gardens and in my mind I heard the
clock clicking down the count till winter rejoins us, the work of one living on
a farm is never done, and it is a full time job to say the least.
Be Blessed
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