And She Brought Croissants, Too

Dorito was up on Saturday. She'd had her car in for an oil change and figured, while she was up this way, she might as well drop over and see her favourite person. In the whole wide world. She saw me, too.

Paul had taken the boys to the dentist (mental note: no more sugar...ever) and Ri had stayed in town after school Friday to stay over at a friend's house. So, when Dorito got here, we just farted around for a bit, dogs got lots of scratches and then we headed out the door. 

Our first stop when we arrived in Peterborough was the Farmers Market. No. Wait. The first stop was the bank. I owed her cash for lumping in Paul's Christmas gift with her Lee Valley order. Then we headed over to the Market.

Dorito takes nice pictures

We parked and crowed and then went inside. First on my list was to restock the pantry with maple syrup. As we made our way to their table, I noticed that Allin's still had a booth so I greedily grabbed one of the last baskets of apples. No more applesauce, though; these are for fresh eating. We each picked up a big bottle of syrup and one of us, who shall remain nameless, bought a little bag of maple sugar candy. Oh. Mmmm. Or, at least, that's what Dorito said. Ahem.

We went and grabbed a very late breakfast (it was lunchtime) and then wandered over to Chapters. Dorito is a computer geek. She volunteers her time and maintains the website for Canadians' Abreast (she's a nice geek) and was after a programming book. While she searched, my buddy who works in the store came by. He saw that I had a Countryside magazine in my grubby little hands and asked me if I'd ever seen Backwoodsman magazine. I confessed I had not and he went on to tell me a little about it. After our chat, I found it and added it to my purchase. This edition has info on making a simple water heater and fire from the sun - interesting little tidbits of information for the six- and nine-year old boys who want to make a fire with a magnifying glass to the survivalist. And everyone in between. Dorito came away empty-handed. I'll share my water heater with her.

Once home, we finally exchanged Christmas gifts (I love Happy Bunny!) and I think she liked the alpaca socks that my coworker made. They raise the Peruvian beasts. She gave Paul a book on Nascar. You know; some guy who turns left for a living. Takes all kinds, really.

I'm Dreaming of a White New Year

It's been one mild fall in these parts, let me tell you. Mother Nature has provided a couple little snowfalls - enough to turn the ground white but not enough for excited kids to run a toboggan down a hill. Until Tuesday. 

We did wake up to a barely white Christmas and then the snow melted through the day. Tuesday made up for it all. The snow started around lunchtime and continued through the day and night. By Wednesday we were looking at about half a foot of the white stuff.

Paul pulled the sleds down from the rafters in the garage yesterday and the kids finally got to have their fun. Down the hill they'd slide then up the hill they'd climb. Over and over as dogs ran excitedly about them.

Come on; throw the frisbee, throw the frisbee...

We've had an extra dog in our midst lately. Genny, a German short-haired pointer, is with us for a few weeks while her people bask in the warmth of the Sunshine State and hang out with a mouse called Mickey. Not a bad way to spend Christmas. 'Though, I still think I'll take the snow over the sand this time of year.

With all those missing teeth, the wind tends to whistle through the gaps.

I'm happy to report that we had a very local side of beef delivered this morning. Usually we get the year's supply around August and were beginning to worry that they had reduced the size of the herd and we may not make the cut, so to speak. Turns out some people wanted to give beef as gifts for Christmas so they went into the butcher in December. We're well stocked once again. Amazing what you can find in the bottom of the freezer when you're forced to go through it. "Hey! I remember that sale!"

Right now bread is baking and I think I see an Apple Betty in our future. Brother Enos is coming over today along with Dad and Elizabeth. Wouldn't want to disappoint Enos.

Bugs Bunny Would Be Proud

A couple months ago, I was surfing the net, looking for new canning recipes. I found a really yummy-looking one - Carrot Cake Jam (tell me that doesn't sound the best!) - and have kept it in the back of my mind since. Today I tried it out.

After a bunch of running around earlier, I settled down to the job at hand. I pulled a handful of carrots from the garden. Almost everything died back awhile ago when we were hit with hard frost but the carrots just keep getting better.

Last crop in the garden

I had picked up a basket of pears at the Market last week and they've been sitting, staring at me relentlessly, ever since. Oh, the pressure. Turns out, I only needed two pears for this batch. What do I know. I see an apple-pear sauce, or something, in my none-too-distant future. May even share a couple with the chickens. What the heck, they give us food every day.

The fruit and veggie were peeled, grated and/or chopped, thrown into my beautiful maslin pan with a can of very not-local pineapple, spices added and everything brought to a boil. I'm not usually one to use pectin, but had found some Pomona pectin at the health food store and wanted to give it a try. Instead of using the...are you sitting down...6-1/2 cups of sugar that's called for, I used about 2 cups. As it cooked down, I had a wee sample and it tasted mighty fine, if I do say so myself. Ended up with 4 - 250ml jars. The final judgment will take place in the next few days, with a slice or two of toast and a hot cup of coffee.

Carrot Cake Jam. Oh. Mmmm.

An Apple Or Two A Day...

The apple trees are bursting with fruit this year. Whether it was spring's late appearance or the hot, dry summer, the absence of tent caterpillars or some combination of these things, I don't know but it sure has made for a fabulous crop. We have several wild apple trees in the yard, most of which produce downright nasty apples. This year, however, we've discovered three winners. Two out the back are dripping with beautifully red, sour apples - definitely the kids' favourite. And up towards the road, is a small crop of sweet green fruit. They rate higher in Paul's book.

This morning as I packed up school lunches, I realized we were missing something. So, I put on my shoes, called Rosie and wandered out to the back trees to gather up snacks. Cameron especially, loves these little apples. Morning, noon and night, they're his food of choice. Can't go wrong with that.

They're not grocery-store perfect and that's just fine by me.

Putting Up Peaches

I spent most of the weekend at it and I'm happy to report that we have enough peaches put away to see us through another year. Yay! Pretty near killed my back doing it but it's worth it. Or, at least it will be. One day. When a bit more time passes and naked peaches stop chasing me in my dreams.

Saturday, after I came home from the Market, I peeled, pitted and sliced up two of the flats and ended up with 14 litres of canned peaches. I used the same recipe as last year (you can find it here, if you're interested). Only change I make is to use a lighter syrup than they call for - about 9 cups of water and 2 cups of sugar. The kids love it.

Sunday I peeled, pitted...this is starting to sound repetitive isn't it...and sliced up about two-thirds of the last flat. Looking for any reason I could find to stop peeling the damn things, I came up with the brilliant idea of putting some away for kids lunches. You know - in the fresh, round, unpeeled form. Surely, my back would thank me later.

This batch was mixed with pears that Paul had picked up earlier in the week at our favourite orchard, some mint from the garden and canned in a honey syrup.

Sliced peaches and pears sitting in the maslin pan

I had used this recipe last year but didn't care to add the store-bought maraschinos this year and I didn't have any grapes. Still looks good and we ended up with seven 500ml jars.

And, last but not least, I ripped carefully removed the peel and pits, hacked away at gently sliced the last of this beautiful fruit, hunted for a recipe and made peach muffins. When Nolan saw them he asked what they were. I told him peach muffins, he made a face and said he didn't like them. Then he tried one. Fifteen minutes later he had another. The fly swatter came out to prevent removal of a third.

All set for another year

Now, what to do next? Judging by the forecast, I'm thinking tomatoes will be involved. We'll be seeing frost in our not-too-distant future, I suspect. And so it goes.

I Choose Local

One flat of beautiful, Canadian-grown*, 100-mile* peaches left. Time to get to work.

* It matters.

I Think I Can

I was out the door early (for me) this morning, dropped the boys off at a friend's and then drove to the Saturday Farmers' Market. What a zoo! First things first, I made my way to the Niagara peaches.

"Ask about our canning special," the sign said.

I did and thirty five seconds later I was the proud owner of three flats of peaches. They held them for me while I walked around, picking up some maple syrup and wild blueberries, throwing a toonie in the guitar case of one of the buskers, and petting a few dogs. I can't resist a cute dog. Once finished, the guy at the stand helped me carry the peaches out to the car. Turns out peaches are heavy. Now I just have to decide whether I'm going to stick to the usual sliced peaches or hold some back and try something new. I'll be sure to let you know.

Alright. Here we go...

Pickles - Check!

I took a bit of an early lunch yesterday so I could zip over to the Farmers' Market that's held downtown every Wednesday through the summer. I wandered around, stopping as I always do for perogies (oh, mmmm) all the while searching for pickling cucumbers. The kids and I are home for a few days to take in the last of the summer days before back-to-school on Tuesday. It's as good a time as any to make pickles, I figure. As I approached the last stall, I thought my luck was running out when I spotted a small basket of the sought-after treasure. And then the stars aligned and the man behind the table appeared with a 1/2 bushel basket of cukes.

"That's what I'm after," I exclaimed whilst pointing at the basket.

"We love you!" came the reply.

I'd like to think the response was due to my shining personality. Then again, the market was closing in another hour and it may be that they didn't want to return to the farm with all those cucumbers. Nah. Let's go with the first option.

After work, I stopped at the General Store and picked up a few bags of ice and dumped it into a cooler with the cucumbers. They sat overnight, nice and cool.

Cucumbers on ice

I decided to make two kinds of pickles today - the ever popular bread and butter and last year's awesome discovery, sweet dill. (Cheryl wrote about them here last year - and I'm very glad she did.) My beautiful maslin pan came out for the first time this year too. Have I mentioned that I love my maslin pan? I do. I love it.

Despite the sticky, humid day (aren't they always when you've got the stove going for hours?), I managed to put up 11 - 500ml jars of sweet dills and 13 bread and butter. There's still a few cukes left. Haven't decided whether to make relish or try drying them into some kind of a dilly cucumber chip. I'll have to think on it.

2011 bread and butter pickles - check!

I See Blueberry Buckle In The Not-Too-Distant Future

Yesterday was a beautiful cooler day - the perfect day for a trip down to the blueberry orchard.

With a little searching, bushes full of blueberries waiting to be picked

And after a couple hours of picking, two big buckets of perfect blueberries. The fly-swatter - you know, the one that stands at the ready when strawberries are coming out of the dehydrator - sits patiently nearby.

Sheepdogs and Strawberries

The boys and I took a trip into town this morning to pick up a flat of local strawberries at the Market. As we wandered around under an overcast sky, the Niagara peaches jumped out, blocking our path and forced us to buy them. Forced us, I tell you. Plums too. And cherries. The growing season may be short up here but, man oh man, when the crops come in, they sure are good.

Tonight, I sliced up most of the berries - you've got to save some for fresh eating - and layered them in the dehydrator. We're trying a few plums and cherries this go round, too. If they turn out nice, I'll pick up some more and the kids can add dried cherries and plums to the strawberry chips that they snack on at school throughout the year. Options are a good thing.

While I was cutting up the fruit, the Sheepdogs came on the all-request show on the Wolf. That got me thinking about the day to come. Tomorrow, Dorito, brother Enos and I are making our annual trek to Kingston for the sheep dog trials. (As this is the 3rd year in a row that we're going, I reckon it qualifies as 'annual'.) There's a chance of thunderstorms tomorrow and the forecast is for about 38C with the humidity. Lordy. May have to wander down to the lake for a little dip.

As for the musical Sheepdogs, have a listen. I heard them for the first time last week...as I was slicing strawberries. It's a toe-tapper... 

 

Raspberry Season

Paul and I sat down to watch the news this past Tuesday evening to catch up on the day's events and find out the forecast for the week ahead. We're on holidays right now and the weather has been absolutely glorious...beautiful sunny days with no end in sight. Wednesday looked like it would cool down a bit with a break in the humidity and no chance of rain 'til Monday, so I decided that would be the day to go up to Buckhorn to pick raspberries. Riley had even agreed to come along. Without much prodding. Not sure what was up there 'cause her forehead wasn't even warm. Must have been something internal.

Wednesday morning dawned bright and beautiful. The humidity had broken and it was the perfect day to do a little work outside (like berry picking is work). We took the scenic route 'cause, well, there is no other route and arrived mid-morning. Ri took one basket, I grabbed another and we combed the bushes for bright red berries. Oh. It was wonderful. The birds were chirping, Ri and I chatted and laughed, joked and picked. Even the ominous dark cloud to the north didn't feel threatening. After all, there was no rain in the forecast until Monday.

Ooooh. Berry scary.  heh-heh-heh

We had about two-and-a-half baskets filled when the wind picked up. Looking skyward, we noticed that the ominous dark cloud was right above us and then, the cloud opened up and the downpour began. We ran to a row of trees and joined the other folks who had probably watched the same weather forecast that we had - you know, that one that said there was no chance of rain 'til Monday. Ten minutes later (maybe it was only five; it seemed like fifteen), the ominous dark cloud passed and we emerged from our pathetic little shelter completely soaked to the skin. Talk about drowned rats. I thought it was hilarious; Ri, on the other hand, had straightened her hair to come picking ( *rolls eyes* ) and was therefore unimpressed. We walked back to our raspberries, which at this point were looking ever so clean and water-logged, and topped up the third basket. Since I had no plans to make jam this year - Cameron has kicked his daily raspberry-jam-sandwich-habit and won't go near them now - we called it a day and went back to the weigh-in station. The woman at the till was kind enough to deduct some of the weight due to the water (on the berries, not us), she added in the flat of pre-picked strawberries (pick-your-own season ended a week ago), I paid up and Ri and I hauled our treasure to the van. We drove home with the heat on.

The dehydrated treasure

The next two nights, the dehydrator hummed and we put away six jars of dried raspberries and two strawberries. Then I hid them from the three 'mice' who can't be trusted near them.

There's been no rain since.

  

A Little Seedy

I came home from work today and found, hidden amongst the mail on the kitchen counter, a large manilla envelope. My name was on the label affixed to the front and, stamped in red, here and there, were pictures of plants. My seeds had arrived!

I'd like to say that I ripped into it then and there, but I had kids to feed and things to do so the envelope stayed put awhile longer. But, once dinner, dishes and Riley's homework was complete (I am so good at word problems involving metric conversions! Go ahead; ask me anything.), I tore open the package.

Holy. I ordered a lot of stuff. I'm gonna have to watch that next time. Anyhoo, it's exciting! Now I just have to build a seven foot high fence around the garden to keep the damn deer out and we're rockin'.

After much research, I went with the one with the best name.

So, here's the rundown on the seeds...

Bean - Cherokee Trail of Tears
Cabbage - Mammoth Red Rock
Carrot - Chantenay Red Cored, Scarlet Nantes
Lettuce - Drunken Woman Frizzy Headed
Onion - Rossa di Milano
Pea - Golden Sweet Edible Pod
Radish - Black Spanish, Watermelon
Tomato - Box Car Willie (it's the name again), Isis Candy, Rideau & Principe Borghese
Ground Cherry - Aunt Molly's
Zucchini - Cocozelle 
Melon - Amish
Pumpkin - Connecticut Field, Small Sugar
Watermelon - Small Shining Light

I can't wait 'til May!
 

A Windfall of Apples!

Our neighbours down the road have a kind of applefest each year, inviting family, friends, and neighbours to their backyard orchard...which is actually in front of their house by the horse pasture. They gave us a call yesterday and this morning, working around the rain, we went over.

I had seen the tip of the orchard before as I'd driven down their driveway but was astounded, as we walked through, at the number of trees they have. There has to be fifty or sixty trees pumping out gazillions of apples - delicious, macintosh and others. Why, if I was an applesauce maker, then...*gasp*...but wait! I am! It was applesauce heaven.

So, while the boys played with their three apple-retrieving dogs (great fun) and Ri hung out with their daughter, Paul and I filled our baskets. Careful not to confuse the road apples with the macintosh apples, we came away with over a half bushel of firm red fruit in no time flat.  Guess what next weekend's job will be.

Once finished, our host walked us around the farm, visiting the horse and donkeys, the hens and their rooster and showed us the new tree fort. The boys ditched the tour there and headed up the ladder. Next, we checked out their cider press and went inside for a taste. Mmm-mm-mm. Next on their list, is learning to make hard cider. May have to rename our road Copperhead.

Ooh, can't wait to get into the sauce.

No More Pickles, Thank You

Two-thirds of the kids started back to school today - you know, the two-thirds from the knees up. Ya, that was a lame attempt at humour, but give me a break here. This blogging gig ain't easy. Ri and Cammy caught the bus this morning for the ride in. We weren't sure who our bus driver was going to be, so when we saw it was Christopher, who we've had for the last couple years, three cheers went up and there were high fives all 'round. He lets the kids chew gum on Fridays. You can't beat that with a stick. Nolan heads back to school tomorrow for his first year of French Immersion. We've taught him a handful of phrases - Bonjour. Comment ça va? Je m'appelle Nolan. And in preparation of hockey season - Le but! (The brown-eyed one is quite adept at using this one.)

After we waved adieu, Nolan and I walked back up the driveway and went inside. I still had cucumbers sitting, nay, staring and waiting to be made into something more than a plain green vegetable. So, I pulled out my trusty collection of pickling recipes and made Nolan's and my favourite, bread and butter pickles. These, along with the dills and sweet dills that were made during the past week, will give us a nice variety over the next year. Happily, the vinegar can now go away.

B&B Pickles in my precious maslin pan

Vinegar and Honey

A couple weeks ago, I was visiting Cheryl (figuratively-speaking) at Good Nuf Ranch and she was posting about pickles. (She's in Deadwood Alberta - how's that for a great town name?!) Anyhoo, I'd kept it in the back of my head - the pickles I mean - for later. A few nights ago, as I was going through my Bernardin book, I came across the recipe for the same pickles. Yesterday was Farmers' Market day, so I picked up everything I needed and today they're all put up and sitting on the counter. I didn't bother taking pictures as Cheryl's got that covered. (Besides, I was busy refereeing my offspring dear, sweet monsters loving brats children while slicing cukes.) Go take a look.

There's also a yummy-looking fruit cocktail concoction in the book, made with peaches, pears, grapes and maraschino cherries (don't let the picture on the link fool you). With the exception of the cherries, the fruit is from Niagara, the honey's from the Kawarthas and the mint is from my backyard! Yea!! (At least something grew this year.) Oh, and the water's from our well. Wa-hoo! Local water!

Sweet Sliced Dills and Summer Fruit Cocktail

Your Pickles Are Ready

*ring*

*ring*

"Hello."

"Hi Dad. It's your favourite daughter."

*silence*

"In Ontario."

"Oh hi! Are you out fishing?"

"No. I got your pickles made today."

"Oh, that's great."

"Ya! There's fifteen jars for you."

"Oh, super. Do you know what's green and sour and lives in an aquarium?"

"Uh, no."

"A tro-pickle fish."  *laughs heartily*

*favourite daughter in Ontario rolls eyes*

"So, when do you want to get them."

"How 'bout tomorrow."

"Okay. What time?"

"About ten to..."  *chuckles*

"Uh-huh. See you tomorrow."

"Alright, hunny bunch. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

*click*

~~~~~
This is a pretty good example of a typical chat with my Dad. Usually a bit longer, but you get the gist. If you ever need a bad joke...a really bad joke...he's the guy to go to. (It explains a lot, doesn't it?)

Fresh From Niagara

One of Riley's best friends from school spends some of her time in Oshawa. On Friday, we invited her up for a couple days. And, guess what - the Oshawa Farmers' Market is held on Fridays. I know! What a coincidence.

After I did some running around here, Ri and I drove down to the 'Shwa and hit the market. We wandered around until we came upon a sign that read, "ask about our canning special." So, I asked about their canning special. Well, turns out, if one was to buy a flat of peaches - that's four baskets instead of one - one would get a bit of a deal. I bought two flats. Then we picked up Ri's friend and returned home.

Today, was a sunny, warm, humid one - perfect conditions for having the stove on all afternoon. After enjoying a morning coffee out on the front porch, it was time to get to work. So, I hung some sheets out on the line, poured myself another coffee, and enjoyed it out on the front porch; thus successfully delaying the chore that lay ahead. I love the results of preserving - I'm not so great on the getting-going part.

After dawdling awhile longer, I took all the canning equipment out, got the canner going, made some more coffee, started sterilizing jars and lids and put Ri to work peeling peaches. She was awesome and hardly complained after the first five minutes or so. Such a trooper. Fast forward to the end of the day, and we have thirty-two jars of Niagara-grown peaches cooling on the counter. Time for a shower.

See, Mum? I'm helpful.

Can't Beat These Chips

The boys and I hit the Farmers' Market yesterday and picked up another flat of strawberries for drying. After putting them in the van, we returned and wandered around. Eventually we stopped at the Allin's Orchard table for some apples. I suggested the boys take a look at the apples and pick one. Apparently I should have been slightly more specific in my instructions - they both picked a candy apple. The guy behind the table laughed and told them that the pickers get really sticky when they take them off the trees. By the look on the boys' faces, they weren't too sure whether to believe him or not.

Once we finished at the market, we stopped at a friend's house to drop off the manual for our tent trailer that they're borrowing for the week. As I spoke with my friend, the boys bounced on their trampoline. We wished them a good trip and then over to Kawartha Dairy to pick up a week's worth of milk and a little ice cream treat.

Yesterday was Dorito's birthday, so, later in the day, the kids and I loaded into the van and went down to the Shwa. We sang a rousing yet slightly out-of-tune rendition of Happy Birthday (the 'live in a zoo' version), visited for a bit and then popped over to Dad's. Dad has decided to join Facebook - no small feat for a computer newbie. He had signed up and then couldn't get into his account. Riley, the resident expert, was there to assist. In no time, she was through to his page, had sent out a couple of friend requests and had a profile picture - of his lovely begonias - all set up. High-fives for the eleven-year-old. Then home.

Today was strawberry day. I spent the afternoon slicing up berries and arranging them on the trays. Dorito was kind enough to give us a basket of plums from Cookies' over-producing trees, so they were sliced up and are drying in the dehydrator alongside the berries. We tried drying plums a couple weeks ago and Cammy and Nolan love them. They can't wait to get their paws on them when they get up in the morning.

Fresh local produce ready to become strawberry and plum chips.

(Thank you Cookie and Dorito for sharing the goodies!)

And The Weather's Fine

Holidays. Sweet holidays. We decided it was high time we took full advantage of our time off so we shipped the kids off to daycare. Alright, alright, they all asked to go. Come to think of it, they begged. Cammy's friend Snacky was there. Nolan's friend Markie Mark was there. And Riley's friend Jade was there. Who could say no, really. 

So, while Paul worked on building out and trimming our new functioning windows (the functioning part still brings a tear to my eye), I dropped the kids off at Julie's and went down to Orono to pick more blueberries. It was a lovely day - blue sky, sunny and the blasted humidity is gone. Ahhh. I sailed along, glancing at the scenery while the radio played one great tune after another. As I neared the turnoff, I found myself behind a slowpoke (who was neither wearing a fedora nor driving a Buick - and it wasn't Sunday). Finally, I followed him, slowly, off the highway and westward along the 3rd Concession. As I passed Allin's Orchard, I noticed a guy ahead on a bike. He held both hands out as if to balance but it didn't seem to be working for him. He seemed kind of wobbly. He sat very straight in his seat and had a little Canadian flag sticking out of the back of his hat. I slowed (even more) as I approached him and gave him wide berth as I passed. The guy was on a unicycle! Outside of the circus, I can't say as I've seen that before!

Another half a minute down the road, I made my way in to Wilmot's, parked and spent about 2 hours picking. By the end, I was getting rather parched as I'd forgotten to bring water, but I was happy with my haul. I came home with a couple of nearly full 4-litre buckets and a 3-litre basket for Julie. I see now that I'll have to work fast as the buckets don't seem as full as earlier in the day. Evaporation, perhaps. I'll leave you with the best song on the radio today. Hadn't heard it in years so it deserved to be fully cranked. The video quality's not great, but...they rocked.

Pickin' and a Grinnin' - First of Seven

The gauntlet has been dropped. Well, alright, it's not quite that serious. Philip, one of my backward buddies, has written a series of posts about seven things that are guaranteed to make him smile. Now he has passed the torch on to seven others. And lucky for you, I'm one of them. Oh-ho, you can sense your day getting better, can't you. I know. Here goes.

The boys and I headed down to Orono this morning and met up with Dorito at Wilmot Orchards. The blueberries have been ready for picking for a good week now so it's time to stock up for winter. We checked in and were sent out to row 23. After wandering about half way down, we set our stuff in the grass and got to work. Nolan's a pretty good co-picker - he tends to dive right in there and get the berries closer to the ground, saving his ole ma's back in the process. Cammy picked and ate. He may have even set a record for shortest time lapse before whining. We kept picking.

Mmmm, blueberries

The weather's been quite nice lately - mid-20s with lower humidity - but you could feel it climbing out there today. By noon, Dorito had a bucket full, and, with help from Dorito and Nolan, I had just shy of two full buckets of dark blue, perfectly rounded blueberries. Judging by Cameron's blueberry intake, they were awfully tasty. Dorito assured me they were very sweet. I can't really say 'cause, quite honestly, I can't stand blueberries. I sure do love picking them, though. Can't really say why, either. For years now, I've made my way to the pick-your-owns and loaded up on strawberries and raspberries, blueberries and apples - sometimes turning the fresh fruit into jars of summer goodness or, like the blueberries, freezing them so we have the local tastes of the season all winter long. I know I do it partly because I want to eat locally and support our neighbours but there's more to it than that. I think it's the love of all things pioneer (except for outhouses) and growing up watching Laura Ingalls and wanting to be like her - living in a simpler time, doing for ourselves and, I'll go out on a limb here, being happier. Picking does that for me. 

Cammy next to his hockey hero, Mike Cammalleri's, number 13

After we had our fill of blueberries, we paid and dropped our bounty in the cars. Then we headed back to the café and cooled down with a Muskoka Dry ginger ale. Dorito took some goofy pictures - 'cause that's what she does - we said our goodbyes and off we went towards home. Tonight, there's two trays of blueberries sitting in the freezer and a bucket in the fridge. This winter, when the kids are diving into the frozen blueberries, I'll think back on today with a grin. And I'll dream about next summer, walking through a berry field with a basket in each hand.      

Cheers