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Well! As folks used to say on an old TV program, “Wouldn’t that cock your hat?” I agree. Gifted by a sweet neighbor with tomatoes, Cat Matilda and I decided to can my favorite (and may I add, famous) veggie soup today.

I had already prepared and pureed the tomatoes, so all I had to do was chop the remaining veggies and add to the tomato pot, then throw in frozen baby limas and whole kernel corn and turn on the heat. Clean jars and lids were at the ready.

My former composition students would take me to task for all my “wells.” However, I have earned my so-called poetic license. I jarred the hot, lovely veggie mix, then carted the canner to the patio grill, settled in seven quarts of soup jars and turned on the flame. Yahoo!

Once the canner builds heat and the steam control begins to giggle, I can set my watch for 1 hour and 25 minutes to process. Great.

So. Matilda and I decamp to the patio. I take my laptop, a glass of libation and a snack for “Tilley.” We settle in, the canner is heating on the grill side burner, Matilda has had her first snack, and I have just begun this article.

Temporarily forgetting that Dog Days last until the 22nd and began and will end WET, I was typing away, the canner thing had begun to giggle, and the skies opened. Matilda made a mad dash to her outside “cat house” (another story), and under the patio table umbrella, so far, I was relatively dry. However, the rain began in earnest, so I made a mad dash inside for one of Sweet Sam’s huge umbrellas. It and I went to the grill where the umbrella sheltered both the canner and me, so the canner simply giggled along as if nothing weird was happening, until its time was up.

How do I get myself into these messes? The rain has ended, Matilda is now sitting by my elbow on the patio table, the canner is finished, the grill off, I’m only mildly damp, and the citronella torches are still blazing away. Sweet Sam always manned the gas grill when we canned on it; therefore, I’m simply pleased I didn’t blow up my small community.

As I’ve said before, my learning curve is expanding by leaps and bounds. We won’t mention that my lawn grass is near to bailing high since my mower is with my lovely fixit fellow and the death notice may or hopefully, may not come any time. I still have another run of veggie soup to can tomorrow, and a birthday looming that is both welcome (I’m still alive.) and unwelcome (No comment.) Anyway. I try to look at each day and be grateful for blessings; however, with lovely, overnight company most of last week, a canning workshop to do last Saturday, and down time since then, I’m a bit sad. Then I get a text from my wonderful, long-time colleague and friend to run away from home after she’d washed windows half the day, and I laugh and tell her I’m ready to go.

Love your special friends and let them know it.

Barbara McKinney is a retired teacher and administrator, eight years of which she spent at Marion High School, and then McDowell High School (1968-1976). She and her adopted cat Matilda, live in Yancey County in the midst of a mountain and backyard full of native birds and wildlife. McKinney enjoys gardening, reading, Swedish weaving and writing. To contact her, email bwmckinney164@yahoo.com.

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