Whoa - You Can Stop Right There

These apples had fallen off the tree onto my neighbors roof, and they got wedged between her house and the garage, which are a whisper apart.

Beth is my neighbor across the street. She lives alone in a big yellow house, and every fall she has to cut back her 'forest' - climbing Cecil Brunner roses, that threaten to blanket her house.

On Sunday I heard her with her power- edgers and the pruning sheers, getting an early morning start before it got too hot. But at 3:00 she was still lost in the forest, deciding what to do with everything. She was swamped. There was just too much to get done in one long weekend.

Beth asked me if I wanted some of the apples, and I thought 'applesauce' for cake, so she got an old rake, and scooted the apples down into a big bucket.

You can tell from her backyard that she's got a green thumb. Not only does she have a greenhouse, but seedlings were sprouting this late in the summer, like carrot seeds in a round old pot. I'd never seen that done before, and I thought that would be very refreshing in winter, for a windowsill. I told her I'd try it.

I told Beth that I'd spent Saturday canning some of my plums. I've got five and a half quarts of syrup - this goes great on buttermilk pancakes. No need for jam or jelly. I've still got peach, blackberry, crabapple, and marmalade left over from last year. We've been giving our plums away, and I've still got half a tree-full of fruit remaining.

This is the gizmo that I use to strain out the pulp and skin from berries and fruits. It leaves only the rich syrup, and the pulp is thrown away. After the plums are cooked, I put them in the top (white) part, and then grind them through. The pulp goes into one small container, like a measuring cup, and the juice drips out the front hole down into the pan. My dad bought me this about 20 years ago, when he saw me mashing the cooked fruit in a strainer, and he knew there was a simpler way.

These are Beth's apples...

My other neighbor, Paula, gave me these pears this morning. They need ripening, as they fell from the tree a little early. Paula is 92, and has canned these pears for about 50 years. Now, she is too old for processing them, and she lets them fall to the ground. Between Paula, Beth and I we have a lot of unused fruit. It may not look as perfect as store-bought, but it tastes great. I'll be taking most of it to Brighton Creek Baha'i Conference Center, where George is playing music for an arts festival. There will be a salmon bake, and many of our friends will be there....