I'll Have A Blue, Blue, Blue Potato

Adirondack Blue Potatoes. Grew 'em and roasted 'em myself, I did. Ate 'em myself, too.

Now That's A Real Dilly!

Would you like to hear a sappy love story? Too bad, I'm telling it anyway. When I got home from work yesterday, and after I'd finished bawling my eyes out over the new work shift I'll be getting, The Big Guy and I rode our bikes (13 miles round trip) to Foley's Produce stand to buy some fresh dill.* Then we spent the rest of the day canning pickles together. And we're both still alive! The End
*I do have some dill growing in my flowerbed, but not as much as we needed. Note to self: grow more dill.

A cucumber grows in Ravensdale.

The Big Guy slices spears.

Jars kept at 180* because the book says so. And you don't
argue with the Ball Blue Book or you die. That's what it
says anyhow. It's a scary book.

The Little Glutton packin' pickles.

Big Pot O' Cannin'. It's Irish, I think.


Look! Christmas presents! (Sorry to ruin the surprise.)