Sauced!

The other week I was part of a major project involving ten bushels of apples.
I helped to get them thoroughly sauced!

A very generous soul (a friend of mine) donated the apples from his orchard of apple trees. He gave them to the church (of which his mother is a member) to be made into applesauce, and given to another local church that serves free community meals to the hungry.   I'm also a member of this church, so I decided to join in on this endeavor of turning the apples into applesauce.

We were told that the project would likely start as early as seven-thirty in the morning (aargh!).  I'll confess to you, Reader Dear, that I had to rush just to get there by nine-thirty. Though I contemplated stopping for a box of doughnuts en route to the church (thinking perhaps a dozen doughnuts would do) I decided I shouldn't add to my degree of lateness.

When I pulled into the church parking lot, I was amazed at the number of cars!  (A dozen doughnuts would most definitely not have sufficed!)  On my way into the building, I passed Steve, setting up a gas burner to handle one more pot full of apples.  Happily, the large cooking pot I had brought along was needed, and it was my pot that was set atop that burner.

Meanwhile, the kitchen of the church and all the rooms surrounding it were a beehive of activity! I joined right in with the cutting up of the apples.  Also happening was the washing of apples, the cooking of apples (involved much stirring of pots), the processing of apples by various methods (cranking, grinding) and the filling of jars and buckets.

 It was a thoroughly enjoyable endeavor, thoroughly saucing those apples!  There were many varieties, and I sampled one or two.  The one pictured here, I believe, is Molly's Darling.  (Viewer Dear, I could be quite wrong.  It may be Molly's Honey, or perhaps Molly's Sweetness or Molly's Sugarplum.  It may not be Molly's apple at all; few folks at this saucing were able to introduce me to the apples in a proper manner.)



The main group of saucers spent six hours working at this project.  The outcome:
One hundred and seventy quarts!

Each person volunteering was offered a quart of applesauce to carry home.

Plus, I carried away two large tubs of the leavings.

"Looking at it from an equine perspective," I suggested, "this rubbish will be a marvelous treat!"

The Yard Man's horses are not accustomed to getting dessert with their meals; they were a bit tentative at first, he reported, but then they expressed their pleasure by eating enthusiastically. They got one tray the first evening and another the next evening.  By the third evening, they were getting accustomed to having dessert with every meal.  The questioning looks on their faces nearly broke his heart, the Yard Man reported.*

*I'm veering into fiction**

**And, no, I am not sauced, Reader Dear,
just horsing around with this tale of apples, sauced!

***************************************



 

Here Piggy, Piggy

My friend of pig roast fame issued me and the Yard Man an invitatation once again to attend his marvelous porcine event.   Gerry's 37th Annual Pig Roast.

When the bell rang, signifying that that piggy was at the ready,  Gerry's friends flocked to the tables.  Beyond the piggy-filled roaster were all the side dishes carried in by us guests.

There was a steady rain falling as the food lines formed,
and most other years Gerry's pig roasts happened to fall on sunny days (which made eating the plates of food a whole lot easier [because the picnic tables were dry]). However,  I'm sure everyone else, like me, read the slogan on that cake and laughed, then dropped the first word and the last.

Thanks, Gerry!  Pig Roast Great!

******************

Considering the Fact

that it was Labor Day we were celebrating, you might have been surprised, Reader Dear, at all the playing that went on in the yard of the Yard Man and me.  There was a minimum of labor.



The ferociously hot day made the slip-and-slide a terrific hit with the small actors.



And then, too, there was the toss-the-bean-bag-into-the-hole game that the Yard Man had newly procured and set up in the yard.

Of course, what's a holiday without food?!  We did some eating.



Happily, the eating included a birthday cake, which the small actors helped to decorate and deliver (a bit precariously) to the picnic table, to set before that Yard Man.
























Here's where the photos end, Viewer Dear,
due to the malfunctioning of various pieces
of my technological equipment.

Also, due to the malfunctioning of the person
handling the equipment at the time (evidenced by the following,
which that unnamed  person has decided must now be shown. As an example, you must understand, Viewer Dear.  And to enhance the following Public Service Announcement:
All photographers using a phone in camera mode, be aware of the SLO-MO setting* and the ease with which it can be utilized without intent!

**All speaking is translated into long, slow, unintelligible growls;  the warping of the sounds of happy singing is a travesty! (SIGH)
********************************

However, out of Labor Day we made a glorious Play Day!

You May Not Give a Fig,

Dear Reader, but my fortune has recently taken an unexpected upturn in the form of figs--fabulous, fresh figs!!  They were plucked from the fig bushes this very morning by the person gifting me with them, and delivered from Virginia to my Pennsylvania door this very afternoon.

It was Elder Brother of Mine who stopped by late this afternoon, en route from delivering a niece of mine to college.  I knew that he was coming, and I knew that he would be spending the night.  The figs, however, were a grand surprise!

Elder Brother grows these figs, and he brought six varieties.  Most, he said, were at their peak of ripeness.











I swooned!

Reader Dear, I fell upon those figs like a greedy child with candy, and I ate them with a passion.


I do like fresh* figs!


*If you've never eaten one, this should be on your bucket list: Find a fig straight off the bush.  Handle it gently, feeling its lovely tumescent body.  Bite into it.  Admire its beautiful interior.  Savor the succulent sweetness.  Consume it.**
**You'll dance with glee!

****************