Harvest Time: In Dog Beers, I've only had One

It's been a blur of activity. I go to bed every night exhausted.

Yup. It's harvest time. 

For the most important event of the year, I hate it. It's so much work, and Greg rarely helps except to compliment me on the garden. 

Because it's not really about the harvest. Picking vegetables and fruit is the easy part. It's prepping them for storage that goes down a rabbit hole of minutia. 

For example, tomatoes. This year, I'm making marinara sauce for the freeze dryer. Tomatoes have to be picked, examined for ripeness, waiting until you have enough to make sauce, blanched in boiling water to remove the skins, cooked down for at least 45 minutes, then ladled onto sheet pans for freezing before I can freeze dry. There's another 1-2 days in the freeze dryer then I have to bottle and label them.

That's for tomatoes alone. Okra, beans, eggplant, etc., all have their own rituals for processing.

My kitchen is a mess all throughout the summer. I still haven't made the apple pie I've been promising because that too, takes a couple of hours. Meanwhile, I get out every morning at first light to weed the garden, water, or repot plants, minus the time Greg needs help in the shop. 

In the meantime, pork shoulder went on sale, and now I have to divvy that up and make food for dogs.

I much prefer the spring. Less heat and less weeds. 

The garden itself is doing well, but my blackberries and strawberries were a big fail. I didn't get the row covers on them in time, and the insects and birds went to town on the berries. I barely got a third of the blackberries I got last year. No jelly this year. 

I need to do something with the grapes. Some are ripening, others aren't ready. I'll probably start picking the ripe ones and freezing them until I have enough.

To be successful in food gardening you need the discipline of a drill sergeant because every food group is on its own timetable. And there's no fudging on timing. If you don't pick them just right, you might as well throw it in the compost pile because it becomes worthless.

My admiration for early pioneers is boundless. I can see why so many died. If you can't manage your crops and store them adequately, you just starved your family. And let's not forget Mother Nature. Sometimes she throws in her two cents too. 

It's a wonder humanity survived during those early years. If my crops fail, all I have to do is go to the grocery store and pick up tasteless tomatoes.

Note about my title picture: As a rule, I don't drink, but this sign (pictured above) always makes me smile. "In Dog Beers, I've Only Had One."

 

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