For such a strange weather year for gardening and a crummy output at best with certain of our crops, somewhere along the line the tomatoes weren't told about this sad state of affairs. Consequently they put forth an enormous effort and the ensuing crop just about brought me to my canning-weary knees.
Funny thing about that feeling though... Somewhere about the time it is -20 (yes, that is below zero) in the middle of January and I am longing for a fresh, organic garden tomato, I will remember all those tomatoes so lovingly and painstakingly canned. Blithely I will skip my way down to the Harvest Room and grab some of these luscious jars for chili or soup....and I will have forgotten every aching muscle spent planting, growing, harvesting and finally processing these beauties.
And I will long for the next garden season so I can do it all again.
Just like childbirth, canning is its own form of insanity.