Harvest time

Well, we've been deeply engaged in trying to bring forth the fruits of the meager harvest we eek out in our little village home. This means I have a dehydrater full of celery (had to try something with it...), several jars of canned tomaotes (had to do something with them all...) and my personal favorite, jarred apple cider.

Bob planted apple trees in our yard long before we met. The entire time we've been married, I wished we had a way to salvage the rather wormy and otherwise buggy apples, but nothing came to mind. Enter our good friends, Dan and Rachel Howells, the local king and queen of harvest time. Rachel is a very frugal lady and when family members were helping to clean out her grandmother's house for a move, Rachel bypassed the dressers and other furniture for a cider press. It may be one of the few things of which my very modest friend is vocally proud. Anyone with access to an apple tree has pretty much set up camp at the Howells place for cider pressing and preservation lessons, including us. We borrowed their apple picker and Bob picked as many apples as he could off our two trees. We filled every container we had at the house and hauled it over. Every Tuesday night, we feed the missionaries and the college students that attend our ward. (There are three students and whomever they show up with....makes for interesting Tuesday evenings...) The students had a blast helping press cider last Tuesday, and Bob worked very hard to press our apples into five gallons of cider. That doesn't sound like much, really, but it took me two hours to process it. I am the proud owner of 21 quarts of apple cider, which I plan on drinking on special occasions through the winter and turning into jelly.

Bob writes about our doings here. Everyone else, proceed to the pictures.

The Process

Man picks apples. Wishes wife would stop taking pictures of everything.

Men press cider. That would be Dan Howells in the hat doing the hard work, turning that handle to chop the apples up. Sister Bennett is tossing apples in. Bob is turning the handle to press chopped apples into juice. Yes, this is a lot of work for a few gallons of juice.

This is not Ellie's first cider pressing rodeo. Last time we did this, I gave her a cup. Left to her own defenses, she figured out a new way of getting juice into her mouth. I don't think her binky ever tasted better.

Simple delights. There is a reason I call her my little fuzzy head.

College student and missionary labor helps churn out 20 gallons of cider. What these kids won't do for a free meal...

So, you bring the cider home. Put the kids/husband to bed. Start boiling cider. Before it boils over, you ladel it into hot jars. Put the lids on and they will seal themselves. There you have 21 quarts of lovely, preserved juice. Yummy!