Today, on this beautiful Sunday afternoon, there is a rooster crowing through the windows of my bedroom. That’s not what woke me from my nap (that would be Brynne). Gregor does not enjoy rooster, but I rather like him. He makes me feel all country. And the rooster seems to set the scene for my newest domestic experience: Canning peaches.
I loooove canned peaches but have never attempted to can them myself because that’s a wee bit scary and way over my head domestically. My friend, Kate, cans peaches and if I’m extra nice she gives me a few jars a year and my life is filled with song.
She kept telling me that it wasn’t hard. Kate is the one that taught me how to can applesauce. It is now something I must do every single October. But I remained doubtful regarding peaches as Kate is the domestic goddess. What is easy for her is a chicken enchilada disaster for me. I could be very successful, I’m sure, if I only followed her around and took pictures of the things she can create in her kitchen.
I can be barefoot and I can be pregnant, even at the same time, but canning peaches…mmmm…too much work. And I heard it was sticky. Like all over your kitchen sticky. Instantly unappealing. I have enough trouble keeping the kitchen clean.
Well, the other day Kate gave me a call. I wanted peaches, right? Help was on the way! A 48lb box for $20, was delivered to my doorstep and the rarely accessed domestic goddess button began buzzing away in my brain. The manuscript was set aside. Oh my…have you ever smelled a giant box of peaches? The aroma alone can spin you right into an apron with your hair in a messy bun, and water boiling on the stove.
Canning Peaches was Googled immediately and Kate was put on call, standing by, if an emergency arose.