This is my fourth summer of unrelenting pear harvest.
The first year was so daunting, I forced about 30 friends to come over for a party. The rule was, no one could leave without a sack of pears.
We are taking it a little more casually now. Cranky likes to deliver little loads of the perfect fruit to his friends when he's out on coffee patrol. If the pears get too ripe, we cavalierly dump them into the green can. (I have NOT convinced myself to throw them on the compost heap. Rats? Raccoons? Eep.)
Still, we have a lot of pears. And I'm not even talking about the plum tree. Yes, I am. Daunting. Making some sort of plum sludge in a hot pot today; really, better than it sounds.
Fortunately, the harvest of both trees is nearly finished. A few more breakfasts of sliced cold pears, and I'll probably be looking forward to next year.
That plum sludge? Not so sure.