Rough patch.

Last week our sweet little girl bunny died.
I am pretty even-keeled, but something about her innocence just wrecked me.

We’ve been so busy this summer, that it’s been hard to find the time to really spend with the animals. It’s just maintenance at this point, and even that is a slog. Judging by my research, it was an intestinal issue.

Made me so sad.
And just so overwhelmed.

So we’re trying to hit reset a little. Scale back, help more, etc.

We’ll never do ducks in the summer again, just the fall. We will stick with our two remaining rabbits until we have time to create a real “breeding program.”

And I won’t have 3 gardens in the future, I will focus on scaling down to 1 and buying other delicious things that I cannot grow from the wonderful farmers that dot my town. I want to enjoy my life, not just work through it.

We are harvesting tomatoes though. And strawberries. And peppers.
And I planted some fall plants.
(Which the chickens are enjoying destroying. &@!^%!)

We have some big ideas for the future, and until that time comes I think we’ll stick it out at my little homestead. And if that is the case, then I am going to spend a little time making my existence more enjoyable and less work.

Fingers-crossed.

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Slow jam.

This jam maven is slowing down.

This week it is August. So far I’ve made 4 jars of strawberry-rhubarb jam, 3 jars of raspberry rose jam, 4 jars of apricot-thyme jam, and two jars of pickles.

All of it with local, raw honey too! Which makes me especially happy.

I want to focus on what we need, what we’ll eat, what I can gift easily.
I am tired of having 200 jars of food that I will end up throwing away.

We still have some beautiful sauces I made last year—peach barbecue, plum-tarragon, plum-ginger. We also have a lot of applesauce, and a handful of jams.

And I still have some designs on blackberries, cherries, peaches, tomatoes, beets, and tomatillos. Small-batched. And I did just buy this book.

I am enjoying this quality over quantity, and want to nurture this mindset.
Next year, the garden.