New greenhouse on an August morning
Other than the fact that the front and back seats of my car are filled with ripening peaches as I type this, I think I have a handle on food preservation for the year. It’s not much of a juggle, I do swear to you. Nope; it’s more like cooking an extra course with each dinner, with the occasional five-course dinner thrown in every week or two. Seriously. It’s not that hard if you’re used to cooking your own food.
Granted, I am well acquainted with my canner and my carving knife, my fingers are nimble at harvesting, and I have a certain knack for vegetable gardening, but putting your own food away for the year is not an overwhelming challenge. Every night or so, I probably put away four dinners’ worth of food. It could simply be something like four dinners’ worth of green beans for the freezer, but the next day or two will see tomato sauce for four pasta dishes. The potatoes are plumping, doing their thing; the winter squash likewise are just out there absorbing the sun, no help from me at all, both are instameals, plucked from storage on a snowy day. And six three-hour days will see all those chickens magically become frozen chicken dinners of the future: three long hours at six birds apiece: six birds for the three of us is a LOT of dinners, lunches, soups and gravy; 36 birds is a year’s worth.
The reason I mention any of this is I met yet another person recently who thought I simply must not have a day job. This happens to me fairly frequently, frankly. “Oh, I thought you just farmed,” comes the comment, with its half-sister “Oh, I didn’t think you worked full time.” Huh! Wow, well, those 40-50 hours I spend at my job would put a LOT more food in the freezer, I think to myself, and again I demur that it’s not that much work. Because it isn’t, but then again, this is what I wish to do with my free time.
It beats tv.