Thousands of peaches. . .

Oh, how I love fall. Okay maybe it's not technically fall, but we're doing typical fall things: Abby started school, I'm back at piano lessons, and we're starting to harvest things from the garden (by "things", I mean tomatoes. Mostly cherry. I managed to kill everything else). Other things I love about fall? I was born in the fall, which has improved my life tremendously. I was married in the fall, which has improved my life at least as much! There is one thing about fall that I think I still love (ask me next week), which will be the subject of this post:

Peaches.

I was raised on canned peaches. Beautiful, tasty canned peaches. I have fond memories of going to Schumaker's or Williamson's to pick peaches with my silbings and my mom, and then having boxes and boxes of peaches in the kitchen while she spent the week artfully cutting, sugaring, and canning them, then lining them in gorgeous rows. Those weeks were wonderful. We had sliced peaches on waffles, sliced peaches on ice cream, peaches and cream, peach scampi, peach a la king. . . sorry, I was channeling Bubba for a second. I know I'm seeing those weeks through peach-colored glasses, because only now I'm realizing the amount of work those weeks were for Mom! 

I've always had quite a domestic bent. I yearn to be the kind of homemmaker my mother has always been. I usually fall flat, but I try. This year, the church orchard had a bumper crop of Elberta peaches, so I decided to try my hand at canning.

Dad, Mom, the two little ones and I set out for Caldwell on Monday morning. The drive was lovely. The weather was perfect. Driving up the hill to the church farm, there is a breathtaking view of the orchards and vineyards and fields below. We found the right rows. The peaches were perfect. Plump and fuzzy with beautiful hues of yellows and oranges and reds. My little ones were having fun, I was hanging out with some of my favorite people. I was in heaven. 

Peach fuzz does things to a person's skin that are not pleasant. Nevertheless, I had a goal in mind. We spent the first part of the morning picking for the welfare cannery, then started picking our own. By now the baby was starting to fuss, so I was in a hurry. I was shooting for 2 or 3 bushels, so I spent the next hour picking and hauling as quickly as I could. We got ready to leave. Dad looked in the back of the van and laughed at the quantity. More like 5 or 6 bushels. Oh well, I thought, even better! Lots of peaches.

Well. . . yesterday I sorted through them and reboxed, in order of ripeness. I had a small box of pretty ripe ones, but not enough for The Big Production, so I decided to make jam. That would be a good use of the small box!

Two hours and five peaches later, I had 6 1/2 pints of jam and aching feet. 

So this morning, I moved on to freezer jam. That would use more!  Four peaches and a few small containers took me a little over an hour. And gave me an aching back.

So I said to myself, hey, self, we use peaches for smoothies. Let's just freeze the rest! Over an hour and a little more than half the box later, I have about 3 gallons of peach slices in the freezer.

Folks, I haven't even used half a bushel. I asked my mom how many bushels she used to get. Twelve. TWELVE. She'd spend all day, every day for the better part of a week canning those twelve bushels. And my mom is Superwoman, if you didn't know. She can outwork any man or woman I can think of, and that's not hyperbole. 

So here's some math I know:

If my mom cans 12 bushels of peaches in a week, how long will it take me to can about 6? Factor in the Superwoman factor, and I'm hoping to be done by Halloween. Of course, they won't last that long.

Thankfully, Superwoman is coming over tomorrow to get me going and give me her hard-earned wisdom. Fifty-ish years of being a housewife, and I get to glean all of that knowledge. Maybe I'll be done sometime this month.

I love peaches. . .right?