With a Little Help... (More Emergency Prep)

The Joe Cocker version of "With a Little Help from My Friends" is playing in my head as my song of the day. Why? Hangman and family visited last weekend and he brought my traditional birthday gift and more. What was it?

Bagged and brown, it's manure! 1000 pounds of gardening richness, in bags. That man knows what to buy a woman who gardens, all right! More and better homegrown produce to can!

 Not only that, but he brought the Ball Blue Book, two flats of canning jars, canning spices and mixes, and a set of canning tools! He says it's my birthday, Christmas,  and all the other gifts of the year, and probably next year, too. Thanks, Hangman! I've already used a flat of the jars to bring my total of Jarred Dinners to 80!

With the pressure canner ready to go, I really needed a new jar lifter. Mine is probably antique, it falls apart when I try to use it unless I bend it first. Imagine the accidents in a canning kitchen with an undependable lifter. I shiver as I imagine the sound of breaking jars.

From the Blue Book I've learned rabbit meat can be canned with bones in. I wasn't looking forward to boning all that rabbit meat first. There's some delicious recipes for stews, and main dishes to try, and veggie recipes too.

 I think I'd better re-organise my pantry soon. When I complete the Jarred Dinners one shelving unit will be full. I need another unit to hold the pressure canned items I'm planning, so it looks like a spell of carpentry looms on the horizon.
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Can't get to the dehydrator yet. It's behind the insulation pile in the Hut.
Seedlings fill the porch kitchen counters waiting for us to finish one of the back gardens. Weeding has taken three days, and we're making hay of some of the wild grass we're pulling up. Rabbits seem to like it.

Two Men and a Bulldozer

Who else but Art could borrow a bulldozer? Memorable? You bet, especially when two men get down to work with one of the kings of men's toys!

In  the picture, Matt is moving my office building/guest house to a new location. Anyone can get guys to move furniture; I want buildings moved!

Vehicle trails through the woods needed clearing. The rumble of the diesel engine could be tracked over the property as the dozer crunched over small trees and dodged the larger ones.  After several days, however, Homeplace had as many trails as it really needed. According to me.

When it threw a track, the guys had to buy some esoteric pry bar specifically designed to muscle the track back on to the bogies. As they worked, the rise and fall of cursing turned the air smokey until the track was snug in place again. The local hardware store made more money when a mysterious glass bubble shattered as Matt backed up into something. More elaborated language. More diesel fuel. More reciepts for taxes.

 Testosterone levels rose as the menfolk regarded the driveway. “Needs scraping,” Matthew said. "One day
Mom's going to high center on that puppy!" He roared down the drive and back, blade lowered. 

 “You left bumps!” Art pointed out. “Let me do it the right way!” Down the drive and back he rumbled in a cloud of dust. 

“You call that smooth?” asked Matthew. He hauled himself into the seat and growled down the drive  and back again.

“Hah!” said Art as he climbed up once more. They traded insults and turns on the dozer all afternoon.  Good thing the headlights didn’t work.  They’d have spent the evening turning the driveway into a canyon.

The dozer has returned to its rightful owner. I have a pile of reciepts and memories of two men and a bulldozer.