To burn the fingers of your right hand at any time BUT when the peaches are ready that is just soo stupid. The blackboy peaches were slowly rotting on the tree just because we didn’t have the drought we were expecting and the beautiful fruit has been bruised whilst on the tree by the heavy raindrops at just the wrong time and I had burnt my hand.
I had intended to stew and freeze peaches as well as make more blackboy peach jam and maybe even peach ice-cream. None of that has occurred. Best Beloved is not too good with fruit and my right hand has been burnt.
I know I could still have done it and I did go and pick the best of the remaining peaches doing so through the swarm of buzzing bees and wasps who were all having such a party in the fermenting peaches. I bought in two large bowls and set them on the bench to process but couldn’t manage the peeling and slicing with my bandaged hand.
So this morning I took the remaining peaches out to the chickens compost area – and had to fight another swarm of bees and wasps enjoying the fruit there already.
I just hope the chickens are wise enough so that they are not stung.
And next year when the fruit is ready I will not be injured.
I will not.
Lovely daughter sent down a jar of her homemade BlackBoy Peach jam made from our peaches.
A lovely consolation prize.