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Remember when we picked all these pears? Six buckets of pears.
Pears, pears. Everywhere–pears. They mock me. They say I can’t handle the pears.
They might be right.
It rained and rained yesterday, and I peeled and chopped and peeled and chopped.
It was a day for ducks.
But me, I was engaged in a battle. Me vs the pears. I’m freezing them in syrup. (See this post for how I freeze pears.) When I’m dealing with a large quantity of fruit all at once, I freeze as a first step. Preservation is the crucial rush. With pears, by the way, if they’re still hard, I can use a peeler, which makes it much easier. When I blanch them in the syrup, they become soft. I freeze them in pints so I can easily take out as much or little as I want later to use in cakes, muffins, breads, pies, crisps, or further process by canning into jams, butters, mincements, chutneys, or mixed fruit. I like this method of first processing because it allows me to put a large quantity of fruit “on hold” quickly and leaves all my options open. (I have a bunch of peaches and apples in the freezer awaiting further use or processing, too. I love having lots of fruit! It’ll be another year till free fruit comes around again.)
Six buckets is a lot of pears. Like I used to suddenly need to clean my bathroom when I had a book deadline looming, I was tempted by other things. Not the bathroom.
I was tempted by this pumpkin. What could be inside such a lovely monstrosity? Regular pumpkin goop? It was enticing to abandon the pears to play with my new friend. Hello, Mr. Funky Pumpkin.
I think I love you. Isn’t that what life is made of?
I miss the Partridge Family. Have I ever mentioned my cosmic connection to David Cassidy? His birthday is one day apart from mine. When I was 12, I was sure that meant something important. Like that we should get married.
Maybe I should go download the complete Partridge Family music collection from the internet. Like a project. Like instead of cutting up pears……
Or–
Hello, Mr. Pear. What a handsome fella.
Suzanne! Get to work!
But there are too many pears! I can’t handle the pears! I wonder if somehow there could be fewer pears? I wonder if Mr. Pear wants to go outside?
Mr. Pear? Would you like to meet Mr. Funky Pumpkin?
Mr. Pear, you lost your hat! That’s okay. You’re still a cheerful (and handsome) fella. You wanna meet Clover next?
Mr. Pear: “Oh noooooooo!”
Don’t be afraid, Mr. Pear! You know I mean you harm. I mean, you know I mean you NO HARM.
Clover, meet Mr. Pear. Mr. Pear, meet Clover.
Mr. Pear: “NOOOOOOOO!”
Clover: “Come to me, darling.”
Mr. Pear?
Are you okay, Mr. Pear?
Mr. Pear!
Clover! Where is Mr. Pear, you beautiful goat?
Clover: “Mr. Pear who?”
I apologize for this post. I’m under a lot of pear pressure.
P.S. Some pears were harmed in the making of this post.
Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink
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