Pickles and the green green grass of home

Is this really the prairie farm lawn in the first week of September? It makes me want to throw a football. Fall must be close. It's not that we didn't have beautiful weather this summer. We had great stretches of heat and sunshine in abundance this year. It's just that mowing grass is getting tiresome. So I'm grousing a bit.

Do you like the tent in the back yard? We live in a a place that's dominated by the wild things and the kids can't wait to sleep outside. The increasing disconnect between so many people and the challenges posed by the natural world is not playing out here like it is in some other places apparently.



I think the fermented pickles are dying. The two jars were assembled slightly differently and a week or so apart from each other, but both jars seem to be growing something other than the desirable bacteria. I've never been happy with the recipe so I tossed everything I thought I knew into the air this year. Maybe it's not surprising that it hasn't been a screaming success, but it's still disappointing. I only get a couple of cracks at this recipe every year so time's a wastin'.

The second jar seems to have a different kind of infection than this one and the brine still smells fantastic. I fed the worst jar full to the chickens this morning and the brine had a nasty cheese smell to it. The birds didn't mind a bit. Chickens are amazingly versatile consumers. The better of the two jars went into the fridge a week earlier (30%) than prescribed today. We'll try and eat them up I guess.