Lately, I have been spending a good portion of my weekends cooking and preserving food. My spinning wheel has been whirring along and I've got the back of the "Snowdrift" sweater finished. If I added actual house cleaning to that list, I'd say my nesting instinct was in full bloom. But lets not get carried away.
Saturday I hit the farmers market and bought some gorgeous yellow squash, leeks, and apples. There was also a woman selling the sweetest, most beautiful peaches in the world and I bought two big baskets. Half of the peaches got canned yesterday. They have the most beautiful golden orange color and look stunning in their little pint jars. I saved a few for eating and the rest for the wine making kit that should be here in the next few days. The squash got sliced up and frozen and I haven't even touched the apples, let alone the pears from last week.
My neighbor, Lillian, brought me a quart of goats milk when she came to dinner on Saturday. Since I'm not a big milk drinker I think I'll make some goat cheese. I found the directions on the internet. You can find anything on the internet. Lillian is the soul of independance. She runs a 1200 acre ranch by herself, the house has no electricity, no running water and an outhouse. During the week she lives in town so that her 15 year old daughter can attend the high school here in town. She has a little herd of dairy goats and 3 1/2 chickens.
All this domestic activity leaves me very little time to engage in my favorite pity-party fantasy: I will end up being the crazy old lady who lives with 50 cats. I understand that this is completely irrational. I've started seeing a lovely man who makes me laugh my butt off. And I don't like cats (other people's cats are fine). My single german shepherd makes enough hair for all of those fantasy cats and I don't need more animal hair in my life.