The tree has been stripped bare.
This, not Labor Day, marks the true end of summer, Chez Crumb.
Last year the pear tree produced so much fruit, we hosted a party and forced all our guests to take home bags of pears.
This year, not so scary. Early on, I trimmed out baby fruits so there wouldn't be so much crowding.
When the survivors matured, we pulled off plump pears and snuck them over to the farmers market, where we'd give them to our favorite farmers and artisans.
We gave sacks of pears to friends. Including a pair of pear friends who brewed up a most insane pear brandy! I had my first sip of this year's vintage last night, and it's crisp, fresh, pearish. Insane. Must consume quickly, while the nectar is sparkling.
I had plans to concoct 10 recipes for pear soup, but only got around to three of them.
I will sadly confess that I am not a total pear aficionado, but I feel that we did honors to our tree this year.
And today, Cranky climbed that creaky ladder, with me holding on, and he pulled down the remainder of the crop.
We saved a few specimens in the fridge for, well, just eating out of hand. Which we should have done much more of.
There are about three or four pears up high he couldn't reach. Fine. I love it that the birdies can come and snack.