We got a little overexcited at the apple orchard, which left me with a bushel and a peck of apples, which, in modern measurements, translates to a Half a Metric Cubic Shitload.  This meant a lot of applesauce, because our Squirrel, now 2, subsists on the stuff.
It was, sadly, more than my beloved apple corer/slicer could stand, and the handle snapped right off. Â Which makes me lucky to live with this guy.
(Yes, I know, I’ve been gone for a year and instead of updating you on huge gardening and canning success, nor the introduction of pigs and goats and an additional 13 acres of land on which to enjoy these things, I’ve returned to a sad elegy to my dog and a vertical video.  Sit tightly on your hands, remaining two readers!)