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calliope_gw

Journal of an Early August Day

calliope
14 years ago

It was good to see Rob's entry. The tension of her school days behind her now, her house renovation winding down, and some relaxation on the horizon.

August is a gearing-up month for me. The garden ripened and popped like a big zit. Cabbages are literally starting to burst apart from the recent rains on a growth spurt like a fourteen year old adolescent, and I've been pulling onions for a week as the tops die and topple over to dry for braiding. The potatoes bloomed and started to die back too, so they got harvested today and I'm making my last plantings of cabbage and more beans to bring in before frost in the newly emptied spaces.

One of our freezers died two days ago, and thankfully it's the one in which I keep my mostly my non-perishables like flours and chocolate (lol) and breads and the like. It was just a twist of fate that half a hog hadn't been in it. I almost picked up the meat last weekend.

The apples are scarcer this year. Last year they bore so heavily that I canned as much as I could and my husband had to push the rest into piles for the deer, to keep the yellow jackets from moving in. Bambi and her friends ate well. But the ones coming on are starting to blush and teasing me. The canner and pressure canner take up a permanent residence on the kitchen counter for the duration.

The dishwasher is swishing now with two loads of jelly jars in it to be hot when I make another two batches of blackberry jelly yet tonight. I am picking every two days as the wild bushes ripen, and haven't even gone back into the deer trails to pick this year. Last evening as I was knee deep in brambles and poison ivy I heard cracks of twigs and waited for a buck to snort, and it didn't. So I stomped around a bit, hoping any skunks or snakes would get the hint and back off. I nearly dropped my bucket of berries, when I came face to face with a very young doe. She had frozen in the foliage, hidden right before my eyes, and finally panicked enough to bolt.

Our new doggie, Tubby, is fifteen pounds of muscle as he howls and strains at his halter at the rabbits, chipmunks, groundhogs and birds. He is a sooner, as my Daddy would say if you'd have asked what breed the dog is. IOW sooner eat than go hungry. We think a Jack Russell and a bit Italian greyhound. If you know anything about those two breeds, you know we have a handful. He thinks he is a pointer. We cannot train him to voice because of his hunting instincts, and that's a shame. I would sorely love to let him loose in the veggie patch, especially with the corn starting to tassle. I've lost at least two bushels of beautiful tomatoes so far to beasties. So, war was declared, and I borrowed my DD's electric fence charger and we all set about to welcome anymore low slung critters with a zap on the nose. I have walked a few miles of cattle fencing in my life, but never thought I'd be stringing it for racoons and groundhogs.

The grapes aren't turning yet, but they're sure plump and I've been layering vines to the ground to start a few more. The DH has already extending the trellis for the vines.

And last but not least, the county fair is about to start. Can you tell I'm in my glory?

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