Zucchini relish simmers on the stove while the canning jars bubble away in their sterile hot water environment. A box of pears calls to me -- peel us, slice us, drop us in jars. The peaches join the chorus, as do the plums, and the frozen cherries in the garage.

I'm tired though. 6 hours of sleep and one hour of worrying and slap me and call me wiped.

I untoweled, desheeted, and untarped the garden. The frost got most of the plants anyhow. I only really saved half a squash plant, 2 peppers, and several halves of tomato plants. I collected what green tomatoes I could find for jam and relish. They too call on me. I watered my patch, and the next week is supposed to be warm, so I'm hoping I get some survival out of these damned plants. I've got tons of tomatoes in the fridge, cilantro and hot peppers that I should can up salsa out of.

The snow has all but melted off the mountains, now. You can see a few patches hiding on the north side of trees. I hope we get a lot more because the drought here is getting rugged and I don't want to come up with a fortune to redig my well.

Today, however, I dig through laundry and fruit. I'm sure there's some kind of moral or pithy saying in there about fruit of the loom, but I'm too exhausted to think what it might be.