Sunshine on a cloudy day

Our mail carrier is, like so much of our neighborhood, a real treasure. He never ever wears anything but shorts with his uniform. I suppose he doesn't get cold. He's unfailingly cheerful, stops to talk to the children, is interested in gardening, gardens himself, and is just generally a dear. I look forward to his visits and am always vaguely disquieted when a Different Mail Carrier brings our mail.

Yesterday was a gray, cold day. We've finally turned on our heat stove, to prevent the children from scampering from bed to bath all day long. Yet, up drove Shane, in shorts as usual. I saw him hand Tor a box from his mail truck and drive on. Tor scampered in, "A package from mama!"

I didn't remember ordering any new yarn, so I couldn't think of what it might be. But there, nestled inside, was a jar of pure summer:


Ribbit had sent, as threatened, a jar of chunky peach and red pepper sauce. I can't wait to broil up some chicken and serve it with wild rice. If I really loved my extended family I'd somehow work it into our shared Thanksgiving dinner, but family fealty only goes so far.

Thanks Ribbit! I can hardly wait to taste it.

In other news, I did the "really last" harvest out of my hives and bottled that honey up directly in sale jars. 42 pounds of ready-to-go honey. I've sold some, but not as much as I'd hoped, but two jars paid for a haircut for one of my kids. Our hairdresser travels to our house, and she's just great. I cut kids' hair myself for a long time, but I don't do well with even ends on very straight hair, and the teenager has a certain cut she wants that I won't even try. Bridget does a great job, loves the kids, and loves honey and eggs! I'm going to explore bartering in the future, too.