If I Were A Pioneer I Would Be . . .

Dead. Seriously, my gardening and food processing skills are atrocious. Take away my grocery store and refrigerator and I would starve. Many of my friends have been blogging about their wonderful back yard harvests lately. The tomatos, the lettuce, the peas and beans and the squash -- the endless, endless squash that has been produced by a perfect mix of sun, rain and their loving labour. In my last three years of gardening I have utterly failed to have one sunflower bloom. Last year my six zucchini plants conspired against me to only create two zucchinis. This year the rhubarb I planted in June is still only six inches high. I simply lack the discipline or mysterious skills required to keep up a garden.

Aside from this, there is my apple tree. Due to Dave's passion for pruning, we have a huge crop of beautiful apples every August. Which I utterly fail to use. I pick large buckets of apples and leave them on my deck to "deal with later". This is code for "to toss in the compost a month from now when I realize they are too yukky to do anything with". Despite my admirable intentions this time around, I managed to make 6 jars of apple sauce, which were instantly devoured by my son, and 6 jars of apple butter. Oh, and I made 6 jars of peach "jam" from some organic peaches I bought at the store. So my ability to can / preserve / freeze for the winter is virtually non-existent.

If I were living in pioneer times, my family would die of scurvy by November. They would be warm from all the quilts I would make them. Very warm. But still very dead.