Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Remember when I waxed poetic about our super lovely vegetable garden?
As they say, the chickens have come home to roost, dear friends. And if our garden's plants were chickens, we would be eating all eggs, all the time. You know, because we would have more eggs than two people and two dogs could possibly eat on their own. A gal can only eat so many omelettes before she feels like she might vom.
Except, I'm not talking about eggs. I'm talking about tomatoes. And they are ballin' out of control.
Which means my husband has been bringing up my least favorite rural topic: canning. It's a lot of work, y'all. However, the lure of fresh delicious salsa whenever I please is quite strong. And pasta sauce. Also: pizza sauce.
Life is so simple for a girl who never really cooks anything, ever. Unless she's married to a man who cooks everything, all the time. Then, things get complicated. And delicious. It's quite the juxtaposition. So, as he slaved away last night in an attempt to transform our abundance of cucumbers into pickles, I took pictures. Also, I freaked out about the gigantic mess he was making in the kitchen, a place I prefer to be securely fastened in the "clean" category. Also, I don't like pickles, but I can appreciate how wonderful it might be to eat delicious pickles and know I grew them myself. Isn't nature delicious?
Speaking of nature, I'd like to point out another obvious nature-related tidbit. Check out this guy:
He spends his days doing a few things: obsessing over food and obsessing over cows. However, when he's not doing that, he is staring out the back window with a laser-like focus. At nothing. Nothing at all. Even photography was unable to break his focus.
It's actually kind of cute. That is, until he sees the wind blow and starts growling. Then, all bets are off.