|Such lovely peaches, don't you think?|
This morning, along with a friend and my eighteen month grand niece, I picked a half bushel of peaches, a half bushel of yellow plums, and a half bushel of apples. All of which grew in my aforementioned friend's yard.
It was a glorious morning, blue sky, scattered clouds and just enough heat to make one feel like summer is golden.
Once the fruit was washed and quartered, it was put in a large pan and cooked till it was soft enough to go through a sieve and begin the real work; becoming apple-butter and plum jam.
The peaches were not quite ready for prime time, maybe tomorrow.
|Plums cooking away.|
Through a series of events, the sweet, hot, rosy liquids become, what I like to say, nectar for the gods. Or maybe just everyday regular people that enjoy jam on their toast. Or eating it with a spoon out of the jar. One never knows what way one will eat this delightful taste of summer in winter.
Working side by side with a friend, eating the fruit of the earth, with the added bonus of watching a small child's enchantment of being able to pick food off a tree, is a pretty wonderful thing.
All in all it was a lovely day's work.
Albeit, (perhaps), a little sticky.