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| Pickles & applesauce |
With the
blessing of his cardiologist, ten days ago Tim stopped taking an extremely toxic medication
meant to control his afibrillation: now, for the first time in over a year,
he feels, well, well. As a result assuming responsibility of his own health
(nobody knows a body like its owner), Fitzgeralds Gardening put in its first
full work-week since July.
We labored for 15 hours over 5 days pruning, weeding, bagging debris, dumping debris,
edging beds and mulching one of our regulars’ property. Doesn’t sound
particularly taxing, but I suggest most of you probably could not achieve the
same manicured results in as little time. For two geezers straddling 60 it was
a triumphant (if exhausting) re-entry to the world of gardening-for-hire.
In
addition to the regular job, I’ve contracted to weed a friend's
overgrown spread for two hours every Saturday morning with the aim of
independently financing my various money-pit hobbies—weaving (lessons, yarns,
looms, books), knitting (needles, lots and lots and lots of yarns, books),
canning (canning pots, jars, lids, specialized utensils, all the local produce
I can find, books), and reading (more books). Most of the writing I do—blog, newsletter
columns, the poetry collection I’m whipping into shape—only eats up time,
which, as the 1% knows full well, is
money. Except in my case, apparently.
With the
advent of our return to gainful activity, however, my above-mentioned hobbies
threaten to overwhelm me. I cancelled my weaving lesson last week because I
hadn’t done my homework. (“Did the dog eat it?” teased Kathleen, my teacher.) I
have three little projects in the works on two looms at the moment, one
incomplete, two not even started.
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| Work not in progress |
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| Work in progress |
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| Almost there! |
Meanwhile, on the knitting
front, my first-ever raglan-sleeve sweater project lacks only two-thirds of a
sleeve, neckline detailing, and blocking. The nearness of the finish line is a
goad to my flesh. Plus, on our most recent visit to the yarn shop, I got wool
for a new sweater for Tim because I love to start new projects and I’m an idiot.
Out in the garden, I pulled out
most of the remaining looper-and-pickleworm-devastated melons (will try again
next spring) and sowed lettuces, onions, rutabagas and turnips in the
Grow-Bags. What’s hilarious about that is almost every bag has at least one potato
sprout that I carefully hilled and planted around. The rest of the yard I
continue to ignore.
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| Hope springs... |
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| The former melon patch |
On our
way to work Monday, Tim and I stopped by Oak Island’s farmers market, where we
cleaned out two stalls’ remaining pickling cucumbers and apples, and picked up
some persimmons and three cool-looking yellow zucchini for good measure.
Tuesday morning, Tim had his actinic keratoses drug-trial check-up in Wilmington,
so we took advantage of proximity to Whole Foods and Carolina Farmin’ stores to
buy even more cukes and apples. Arriving home at 2 o’clock, we set about making
pickles and applesauce.
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Eleven pints of
bread-&-butter pickles |
Working
together on projects reveals new and fascinating things about your partner.
Tim, for example, is a champion apple-peeler, a fact that had heretofore escaped
my notice. He skinned 14 pounds of apples faster than I could core and
quarter them. Absolutely amazing. And he’s also a whiz at packing jars with cucumber
slices and strips. (“I watched a Mister Rogers once where he visited
a pickle factory, and the ladies there really crammed them in,” he explained as
I gazed at him with wonder and watery eyes over a saucepan of gently boiling vinegar and
spices.)
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Eight pints of applesauce,
minus the quart jar
we already opened |
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| Two pints pickled yellow zucchini |
Later, the dishes air-drying in the drainer, Alex Trebek running the Jeopardy! board with his usual aplomb, knitting in hand, I remembered I hadn’t turned out a blog post for this week. So here it is now. As with all things, I get around to it. Eventually.
Thanks for dropping by.
Kathy
