And I haven't put up a new post in ever so long, right?
It is winter here. Bam, smash, crash, we hit November 1st and Old Man Winter moved in. Very cold weather (down around 18°-ish at night) and not climbing out of the 20s during the day. Top that with very little sunshine, and it feels more like December or January than the first part of November.
We even have a bit over an inch of snow on the ground. Our pond looks to be frozen solid, but I didn't take my dear husband up on his suggestion yesterday that I go test it out.
This all wouldn't be bad if we had our "Must Do Before Winter" list completed. But, sigh, we don't. Yesterday Papa Pea had some digging to do and had to use a pickaxe. At least I think he did. That was what I suggested to make his life easier.
Yes, I am (or am supposed to be) elbow-deep into applesauce making. I use my super-sized stock pot (it's so big I can't lift it when it's full of meat, bones and stock) which I fill to within a couple of inches of the top with pared and cut up apples. I can't wash the pot in my kitchen sink, but rather have to take it out to the utility sink in the garage. So when I've finished with my batch of sauce for each day, I've been covering the pot and putting it out on our unheated back porch for the night. I bring it in next morning, and I'm ready to go. (Please don't alert the Kitchen Police of this semi-unsanitary practice.)
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I'm back. Did you even miss me? Another great diversion from making applesauce came into my life.
My daughter, with the sleeping babes she nannies in the back of the van, called saying she was going past our place on the way to the farm to pick up milk for the kiddies' family and did I want to go along. I had just noticed this morning that I needed to restock our supply of cow juice so gladly donned my duds and said I'd love to go along.
As we were coming out of the milk house after doing our business at the farm, a beautiful black pony came trotting up to us. Turns out he was an escapee from a horse trailer that had just pulled on to the property. But before we could figure out what was happening, he dashed off around a barn and across a field. Had we not had the cargo we did, we would have offered to stay and try to corral the wayward equine.
Back here at home, almost as soon as I got the milk put away, a truck arrived with an order of a gazillion bags of chicken feed. No, I didn't have to unload them myself; that's what I have a husband for. (Haha!) I did, however, make him (my husband, not the truck driver) a good lunch of scrambled eggs, ham, Brussels sprouts . . . and, of course, applesauce left over from yesterday's batch.
It's only 2:30 p.m. now so I could get my day's quota of apples processed yet, but I have a mountain of dishes to tackle and a couple of other tasks that truly do rank higher than the applesauce. So I think I'll take the big, ol' pot out to the garage and give it a good cleaning in the utility sink. Couldn't hurt.