Tidings From A Summer's Day

Dear Friends,

Today I tidied the unfathomable shed. Under rusting shelves a bag was malingering, clinking, but in a way that seems more like muttering, as I dragged it out. Contents: six forgotten bottles of six year old homemade cider. It would be vinegar by now, useful for a weed suppressant or wood preserver.  Taking the precaution of being outside - having summoned Mr also, should I be in need of first aid - grimacing for glass splinters, the first bottle catch was flipped - and out burst foam that smelled of cider, good dry cider. I dipped a finger, then a tongue - good dry cider it was! So we took a glass each. Shortly after this I fell asleep in my hammock, later to be woken by a heavy bee resting on my cheek. I went to look at the shed, and the bottles, now lined in the fridge to tame down the fizz, and none of it was a dream. There were many more jobs to do, of course, and many of them done. On hanging up the washing I found a slug in a trouser pocket (they come out clean enough at 40 degrees, if a little dead) but really the cider find was the talk of the day. 

I hope this story finds you well.

With love, and a raised glass,
Lisa xx


Geo. said…
When I was little, my father used to make his own home brew. We'd go into the cellar and he'd hit a bottle with a long stick. If it exploded, he'd say, "It's ready!" He also brewed ginger ale for us kids, but the test was in the taste --not detonation. Enjoyable post!
Lisa Southard said…
We also brew ginger beer, it can be feisty. A long stick is wise - as though your father would be anything else! :-) xx

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