It is with a mixed sense of pride, relief and fear that I find this view on the kitchen table.
Pride for the several varieties of tomatoes from the garden :: from sweet tiny broad ripple currants to large juicy mortgage lifters, there they sit, patiently waiting to be made into sauce, dried or eaten just as they are, sliced onto toasted sourdough. There's still a lot left in the garden too, and after last year's sad effort, I'm so pleased to have something to tuck away for the winter. We're okay for sauce.
Relief that I scored the motherload of plums. Zeiglers, damsons and sloes. Enough stone fruit to make preserves, jam and gin after a pretty average season here Tasmania. The damsons are still on the branches, pruned from the tree and straight into the groaning basket. We're okay for jam.
And here's where the fear comes in. Fear of the overwhelming task of ahead me. To get this lot cooked, pureed, bottled or dried and packed away before it ends up on the compost heap. However, with my schmick new toy, it should be a little easier. Not sure quite what I'm doing here, snoring puppy on my lap!
Yes, this plum job will keep me busy for a while. Might put the kettle on before I get started. We're okay for procrastination.