If I had my way, I probably would never leave my parents farm when I went back to the US to visit. Sitting with two dogs on a couch? My idea of heaven.
My mom's garden was going into serious overdrive while we were there. I made a giant thing of fridge pickles and there were bags and bags of cucumbers that we also picked and made plates and plates of cucumber salad.
Inspector Climate was champion plum picker. With the help of a dog, of course!
We also picked pears, apples, zucchinis, pumpkins, and tomatoes. And green beans. And corn. And, and, and!
Pears are interesting because they ripen from the core outwards, you're supposed to pick them when they're not ripe and let them ripen off the tree.
One of my parents' dogs takes his job of protecting the farm very seriously. And most nights could be found sitting outside the kitchen door surveying his land. The other dog would be running down to the orchard for post-dinner snack and go pick himself an apple or plum off the ground and bring it back up to the house eat it. Hilarious.
Just a few apples. In fact, we took 30 pounds of apples and turned into apple butter and apple sauce (recipes 37 and 38 on my life list to cook 100 new things! Expect more of these coming soon). My mom and I (and Inspector Climate helped too with the peeling, coring, and slicing and dicing) spent hours in the kitchen preserving the abundance of produce.
I felt like I spent most of my time in New Hampshire with sticky hands from peeling so much fruit.
Just some of the bounty. We also made plum jam, which holy moly was good!
The green of New Hampshire seriously rejuvenates my soul – cheese alert! – but it is one of those things that I'm completely not aware of missing, needing, or craving until we start to drive north from Boston. And then, suddenly, the mountains come into view, and the green leaves on the miles of woods, and despite the jet lag and the exhaustion I feel a burst of energy.