Forget Machu Picchu . . .

“If I put one of our own into my mouth and don’t get a buzz, put me in the ground. No, don’t. I might sully the earth in my full form. Immolate me before the sun goes down.”

My grandmother’s declaration was uttered every 4th of July, just before the fireworks from the Rose Bowl lit up the Pasadena sky. They didn’t stop as she approached 70.

“Tomorrow, we pickle.”

These summer tomorrows were embedded in my youth. They were always the hottest days of the year. Every bit worth it, as not one dill pickle since has matched the experience I had after sneaking one from the Mason jar hidden in the rear of the fridge. [If you can’t see them, you might forget them.]

Some climb Everest. Some get PADI scuba certification. Some go to Machu Picchu. I yearn for that buzz on my tongue, that fizz just behind where my wisdom teeth used to be.

I seek the fizz.

I will pickle. I will raise the cukes myself. From scratch. There are issues with this. I’ve never grown anything. I don’t have a farm. The recipe is lost.

Someone gave me a pink T-shirt a few years ago, “Reality is no obstacle” spread across my décolletage. Undaunted, I don my garden gloves and press on.

Day One

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Sowed a few seeds. Didn’t know they had to be in planted in mounds. Guess they don’t want to get their feet wet. The seeds look like . . . seeds that appear like stars when a cucumber is sliced. Don’t know why I was surprised by this. What did I expect?

No room for ‘mounds’ or ‘hills’ so I did the best I could. In the spirit of optimism, I photocopied the seed package and printed out a little signpost. Just in case something happened.

Day Two

Monday, April 27, 2015

Don’t ask. Why would I go out at 9:00 pm and shine a flashlight on the little patch of soil. What did I expect? Removed the signpost. I know what’s in there. I can hear them.

Three little peeping pckes.

Three little peeping pickles

Day Seven

Saturday, May 2, 2015

I have pickle! Birth. One green leaf is poking up through the soil like an almost-born baby. I am in awe.

Day Eight

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Going to have to keep a diary . . . by the hour! I need another trip to the nursery for more pots. Just noticed these are climbers. Need a trellis.

I don't need red arrows!

I don’t need red arrows!

Stay tuned. This will take a while.

He Got Away. Again.

IMG_2052 IMG_2051

Hayden thought her new ploy – constructing a beach resort, with green-water pool and pink squishy sand, plus coins, would trap the cagey Leprechaun.

One look at these images and you realize you’re viewing a crime scene.

Not shown: The trail of shiny Shamrocks and what occurred in the downstairs bathroom. The little guy must have consumed several pints of verdant Guinness. Something must have startled him, because he left before putting the toilet seat down.

Maybe he heard the Easter Bunny coming.