Pears Out The Wazoo
Photograph courtesy of Dustin
What the hell is a wazoo? I have a vague notion., but what do the experts say? According to dictionary.com a wazoo is “1. the anus 2. the buttocks”. Well, which one is it? Get it together folks! The anus and the buttocks are two distinctly different entities. I mean, they live in the same neighborhood, but not under the same roof. Cambridge dictionary also waffles, failing to help the inquiring mind make the crucial distinction, defining a wazoo as “a person’s bottom (= the part of the body you sit on) or anus (= the opening through which solid waste leaves the body)”. Dammit! The sub-definitions were precious, but don’t they realize that there is an enormous difference in structure and function between the derriere and what Frank Zappa affectionately referred to as the “poop chute”? What a messy world these definers of words would have us live in! Merriam-Webster is a bit more decisive in identifying the wazoo as the anus. Finally! Screeech!!! Hold the phones… Maybe this isn’t the most appropriate terminology to apply to something that we’re planning on consuming. Pears Out The Wazoo An Abundance of Pears. Yeah. Let’s go with that. Sounds way more sanitary and palatable.
Late summer and early fall in northeast Tennessee is time to harvest pears. Sometimes we get a harvest. Sometimes we don’t. When we don’t, it is usually due to a late frost wiping out the delicate flowers that blossom in the early spring. We don’t scramble to try to cover the trees to protect them from the frost. We tend to just let nature take its course rather than try to fight it. This year, we have been blessed with a glut of glorious, ugly organic pears. The picture above is the tip of the iceberg,
Despite my deep desire and mission to live a home-based life with family-centered adventures, for the last few months I’ve been on the road more than Bob Seger. I’m living the rock star life, minus the fame, booze, cocaine and orgies. It’s not optimal, but I’m working on it. Being home more. Not adding the fame, booze, cocaine and orgies part. Things run more smoothly on the homestead when my wife and I are both present.
I took that brief detour to say that this year, I haven’t been able to participate much in the harvesting and processing of the bountiful pear harvest. Thankfully the kids have stepped up. Sometimes with a good attitude. Sometimes not. Sometimes they don’t love it. Sometimes they resent it. Sometimes they hate it. But they do it. Their way. At their own pace. In their defense, it can all be quite tedious. It takes more time than most people realize. They have a solid foundation and I am confident that they will come to appreciate the unique homesteading experiences that we have gone to great lengths to provide them. I suspect that some of them already do. The kids, some of which are now young adults, have learned a lot. More than they realize.
So, what are we doing with all of those pears? Pear sauce. Pear butter. Pear chutney. Pear jelly. Pear vinegar. Dehydrated pears. I could go on, but I’m starting to sound like Bubba from Forrest Gump and I think you get the idea. Why preserve pears? They store in a cool room pretty well, but they only last so long. The harsh reality is, you can only eat so many fresh pears without blowing out your wazoo. Merriam-Webster definition. Literally. Besides, who knows if there will be a harvest next year? So, we make the most of what we have. It’s the way of the homesteader, right? There isn’t really any waste. If the pears go past their prime, they go to the animals. The donkeys really enjoy them and pigs and chickens aren’t exactly picky eaters. That’s how fruit is converted to delicious meat. (Not the donkeys. We don’t eat them.)
When you experience abundance, how do you react?
Do you live for the moment, make provision for the future, or a combination of the two?
In what ways do you share your abundance and who do you share it with?
