Ten Pounds of Green Beans

I started keeping a canning journal a few years ago, which has been very helpful. I can look back and see how much of what I canned and when. I knew, for instance, that 10 pounds of fresh green beans would give me about 17 pints processed. I have not been able to get beans in the ground for the past two years, so I ordered some through one of my friend Anna’s suppliers:

That’s done and off the list. I have 10 pounds of carrots to do, but they can wait a week or so. I also need to do a big batch of Grandma Milly’s BBQ sauce. And we’re getting low on canned dry beans.

I think I might turn the zucchini into some curried zucchini soup and freeze that for this winter. The garden is really starting to look like a jungle. I ate the first ripe tomatoes off the vine yesterday. The husband asked if they were in last night’s salad and I said they never made it to the house. Eating the first ripe tomato is the prerogative of the gardener, one that I embrace readily. That explosion of flavor in my mouth always reminds me of the fall that I was having chemo. My MIL busted me out of the Cleveland Clinic for a few weeks between chemo treatments and we flew back to Montana. I was not supposed to have salads or fresh vegetables while immunocompromised because of the risk of infection. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, I got out of the car, went into the backyard, and popped a fresh tomato into my mouth.

[“Patient is noncompliant” is written in big letters all over my medical records, but I’m still here. Doctors have been wrong about a whole list of things when it comes to my medical care, actually.]

I weeded the lettuce and collards yesterday morning and pruned out some of the raspberry canes and branches on the currant bushes. I find it’s easier to do as soon as they are done bearing, as it opens things up and lets air circulate through there. The gooseberries are just about ripe, too.

And it’s hot. We got a little bit of rain yesterday evening, but the atmosphere is so dry that most of it evaporates before it reaches the ground.

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The new website for the Mountain Brook Homestead Foundation is just about ready to launch. A few of us had a meeting Tuesday night to get the PayPal stuff straightened out. I am hoping that I can make the website live early next week. We’ll be able to utilize it for so many things—some of which could generate additional revenue—although I noted during the board meeting Monday night that we’re going to add new features slowly and one at a time so as not overwhelm the webmistress.

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I’ve been so frustrated by my trips to town lately. I think I’ll run in and get everything done in an hour or two and I end up spending half the day there. The traffic is ridiculous—our infrastructure was not built to handle this influx of people—and when I do get to each destination, even making a simple purchase takes forever. A lot of places are using the “labor shortage” as an excuse, and I know it’s an excuse because there are plenty of staff milling about trying their best to not do any actual work. I was in one store the other day where I watched an employee stand on the floor for 20 minutes (I had to wait in a long line) visiting with a friend of hers about their kids. I watched another couple of employees at the farm store chat with each other in the loading area, and when I finally got their attention, the young lady said to me, “Oh, sorry, we’re shorthanded today.” Not shorthanded enough that you can’t ignore customers in favor of visiting with your coworker, apparently.

I know I’ve reached the age of “Get off my lawn!” but part of me wishes that I had a copy of that list of employee guidelines that my grandparents kept posted above the time clock at their ice cream parlor. I would hand one out every time I see instances of lousy employee behavior, and it starts with acknowledging that people are in your store to give you money in exchange for a product. Don’t make it difficult for them.