Nineteen quarts from the Outdoor Stove, the last eight under conditions of Tornado Watch, with wind gusts, rain and some kind of down flow from the heavens which caused large biting drops, that felt more like Arctic Mosquito bites than what you might expect from a Sunday in July with a feel like temperature of 120 degrees Fahrenheit and which caused what might have been an eclipse of the Sun.
I mention this heroism because it's sometimes necessary for a Gardener to know
that he has the necessary grit to can stuff under very, very, very trying
conditions. And if you want to know the secret of such a demonstration of
courage, it emerges essentially from that much maligned mental attitude called
dourness. A good Gardener is never, ever cheerful. He's more like a Horn
Worm that way, slow plodding and resolute.