As I walk out of the house the past few mornings, along with a deep lungful of crisp air that smells like melting frost, I hear a lone cicada rasping its mating call. It's a beautifully strong sound, but filled with loss in that I know those final few clicks won't last long. The odds are stacked up against us, the cicada and me, autumn has arrived, and winter is not far off.
|Please make some jam out of these Italian prune plums. You'll thank me later.|
|One of my favorite grapes: Niagara.|
|There is something about walking through an apple orchard...|
|If you are familiar with New Paltz, you can make out Mohonk in the distance.|
|My teeny-tiny melon baller.|
For tons of great info on cooking and preserving apples, take a look at these great links:
I'd love to hear what you are preserving this autumn. Leave a comment!