To Harvest (v): To glean or collect or gather, usually pertaining to fruits, vegetables, grains.
We were told late last year of an abandoned apple orchard in our neighborhood, so this year we decided to harvest some apples for ourselves. The children thoroughly enjoyed running in the overgrown space, admiring the trees with shoots sticking out every-which-way, with kid-sized apples at their height.
And they happen to be MacIntoshes, my personal favourite.
We gathered a full bag or 2, some to eat, some to process into applesauce, and some to give to some very generous friends ...
Hmmm. Process. Applesauce. Two words that bring me to the second part of this post.
Applesauce goes very well with pork. If you remember, we raised two pigs this summer. (I certainly will not forget anytime soon, if EVER.). The friends who recieved our gift of apples gave us a generous gift as well -- their time and knowledge and skills -- to process our pigs.
It strikes me the various words we use to describe this: Harvest. Process. Dispatch. Slaughter. Kill.
Really. It's murder. There was nothing wrong with the pigs -- they were perfectly healthy -- perfectly happy. And we ended their lives so we could eat healthy meat. Although this is why we raised them, and we fed them as well as we were set up to do, kept them healthy, comfortable -- it still does not make me rest easy that we ultimately murdered these animals. Granted, they are by far my least favourite critter I have EVER raised, I still do not take their death lightly. It was over so quickly, so cleanly, so humanely, however, I'm not sure we will ever do this again. I was witness to the entire process. I felt that I owed them that much. They deserved respect, in life and in death, whether I enjoyed their piggishness or not.
Thank you to our friends. And Thanks to the pigs.
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