Monday Memories--Mom's pickles

My children have such wonderful memories of my mother, and they are now at the age (late 40s) where nostalgia is really kicking in. When they were small, we'd vacation at her farmhouse near Franklin Grove, Illinois, which has recently been sold by my brother who lived there a few years after moving back to Illinois from Florida. So they remember working with her in the garden, mowing the yard, or picking raspberries, or playing in the dusty barn, or using the building blocks stored in the living room window seat.  I did those same things when I was a child, so it's a pleasant shared memory. Yesterday my daughter e-mailed me photos of her 21 jars of pickles using a recipe my mother had given her 23 years ago. That desire skipped right over me. I canned a few jars when I was 17 and decided it was way too much work to do again. But I will certainly enjoy a pint of these beauties.

Mom working in her garden, watercolor by my husband