The Nesting. It Begins.

There have been murmurs, rustlings even. It was around the time pillow cases for the couch were purchased that suspicions should have aroused. Also when mother-in-law was invited over "just because." It is true, I baked for the neighbors, but that could have been a fluke, a one-off. After all, the excuses are legit: there is no prep table and the counter space in upstairs kitchen is limited. Still, now that there is a 32qt. stockpot on the stove with water in it ready for boiling, and now that the pantry has been stocked with 6 jars of jam, it is probably time to admit that I have nested.

Devoted partner is not necessarily a devoted picker of his own fruits. I am. I know that there is no true cost benefit and that instead of simply buying fruit I now have to pick it myself, but as anyone who has ever seen me spend 10 minutes going through the cherry bin at Union Square picking out the individual cherries I want could guess, I like having the kind of quality control that pick your own fruit provides. I tried a brand new farm because they had Honeycrisp apples (which are really really good) and because they also offered raspberry and blueberry picking as well as pears. It was like one stop shopping for all my in season fruit needs. I had not done much raspberry consuming all summer and knew I wanted to have some jam, so I beseeched devoted partner and he charmingly acquiesced (devoted partner likes picking apples which are easy and fun and he likes to eat them - devoted partner does not like eating raspberries and finds picking them from tiny low to the ground thorny bushes a pain). It was a rainy crappy day so we had the farm essentially to ourselves and 4 pounds of raspberries and about 35 pounds of apples later, we were returning home in a very sweet smelling Subaru. I made the jam Saturday night. Please note how cool the golden raspberry jam looks.

Saturday was also a big deal because we made some progress towards being able to see one another after sunset. Having been utterly failed by traditional home decor stores, we stopped at, no joke, Goodwill, to get temporary lights. I find it disturbing that for $5 we could get lights that didn't offend us any more, stylistically, than those we could have gotten at Crate and Ethan Barn for $150. So, now we have tide us over lights with the added hipster cache of having gotten them at goodwill (sadly there was very little in the leopard print clothing department).

Much as I adore summer and wonder at how I'm going to be able to make my tan last until winter vacation, the cool weather is finding me snuggled into a leather chair with my feet tucked beneath me knitting and watching DVRed episodes of Top Chef as I spread homemade jam on bread. The last bite of that nectarine cake will be my personal symbol of the changing seasons. I'll probably make the next one with pears.