This week I canned 32 quarts of these gorgeous and super delicious pears.
I would have done a few more, but we just kept eating them.
Brandt would eat three or four at a go, snarfing as pear juice ran down his chin.
Blythe would eat about half a pear, take a short break, and then come back for more.
Aren't they lovely?
Less lovely are the four quarts of meatloaf I canned--just to try.
It looks weird but smelled delicious while it was being pressure cooked.
I'm going to try it when I feel a bit hungrier.
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