pickin’.

pickin’.

Back to the farm we went this morning, in search of elusive strawberries (there were few), and returning with some homemade soy candles and soap, Hungarian paprika peppers, garlic, and pickling cucumbers.

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At one point in our strawberry hunt, I realized that I was humming. All of that peacefulness and quietness and the moments of meditation I’ve been seeking have been right inside all along. :)

Humming.

The humming didn’t even follow any particular tune, but there it was.

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It took those folks two hours to find that many berries this morning, but now they have enough for about six pints of preserves. Yummy.

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I didn’t change any settings between the two photos above, only my position. In bright daylight, the sun will turn your subject more blue and bright, or more golden and warm.

In the end, the pickling cucumbers were the big surprise. We should be set for our winter pickle consumption.

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Hank and I are trying to see how little we can go to the grocery store this winter, between milk deliveries, cold frame gardening, canning and pickling, bread baking, and elk and deer hunting. Just call us the [sub]urban homesteaders. :)

 

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