You’re on your own for figuring out what the post title *should* have been. I’m too tired and, franky, too lazy to do it for you this time.

It’s Saturday. I haven’t posted in AGES. Life kind of jumped up and got right the hell in the way. But it’s not as though I haven’t been busy. Busy little beaver, that’s me.

I’ll get around to some actual knitting content at some point, maybe even this weekend, but first, a nostalgic and thoughtful interlude.

Last weekend I spent the ENTIRE weekend in the kitchen. Barefoot if you must know. Our apple tree is on its “OMG! Must feed the entire world!” year again, and that means a million apples (ok, maybe only 3,000, but still, that’s a metric fuckton of apples for one little “family”). And then we found out that our neighbors in the rental house have a peach tree out front, which was laden down with fruit, and the neighbors? They HATE peaches. Wacky, I know. So there were several pounds of peaches. And my fabulous office-mate’s plum tree is apparently on the same cycle as our apple tree, so there were many pounds of plums to deal with too.

So I cooked, and I canned. I made apple sauce (24 jars), and apple pies to freeze (uh… lots), and 4 peach cobblers to freeze, and 12 jars of apple butter, and 16 jars of plum-lemon jam. And while I was doing all this, and thoroughly enjoying it, mind you, I kept thinking about my grandma Borghild. She was the one did all the canning. I spent my summers with her when I was a kid, with all my cousins running around. I was the token City Kid. And I was mocked heartily for that. (And once or twice shot with a bb gun and at least once with an arrow. Those country kids are a HOOT to play with, I tellya).

Ahh, but this is where it gets amusing. I don’t see much of my cousins. I’ll be seeing several of them next month at my cousin Tristan’s wedding (! how can he POSSIBLY be old enough to not only get married but to PILOT COMMERCIAL PLANES???). As soon as they were all old enough, they RAN for the city and never looked back. I don’t think a one of them could show you how to can something. Or spin. Or knit. Or any of the other farmwifey stuff I do now. I’m the one does the crafty stuff, the one with the chickens (granted, they’re city chickens, but they are live, egg-laying, noisy little monsters nonetheless), and the one who spends summers laying food away for winter. In beautiful glass Ball jars. Just like my grandma did. She and I may never have really made peace with each other, but it’s times like these that I actually feel close to her.

I love it when the world comes full circle. Don’t you?

In: General | | #