We picked Rainier cherries this morning, alot of them, so now I have to can cherries. I think I'll make pints, and this time, use a cherry pitter. I've hand-pitted cherries, but it was labor-intensive and I'm not. These are not my favorite cherries, but they are Kurt's, so a-canning I will go. I prefer bings. mmmmmmmmmmm. The sun is out, Saturday market busy with shoppers. We found a few good yard sales and then went out to lunch at a terrible hamburger place called "Five Guys Burgers." It was just what it sounded like, a greast nasty mess, except for the hand-cut-double-fried-fries. Those were tasty. But I don't like burgers, so no surprise. I fed mine to the dogs. Poor dogs.
Latersameday: The cherries are pitted and canned. One dozen pint jars of floating yellow orbs of deliciousness. You will get one for Christmas. Or maybe a jar of the real strawberry jam I canned last weekend. When I lay my head on my down pillow tonight, I may utter something like "Goodnight, Maryellen. Goodnight, Johnboy." That's how domestic I feel right about now. I could go for a barn raising. I may be Amish.
Naw.
3 comments:
Yah. Yah. Be Amish. I don't have any Amish friends. At least during canning season, you could be Amish.
I envy you those jars of pink and gold. It sounds like you had a profitable weekend. This is my first visit here, but I'll definitely be back. Have a great day. Blessings...Mary
I see a new Five Guys Burgers in my town--thanks for the warning. I am not Amish. Probably the opposite of Amish, I think.
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