Pickles and paradise…

The sun sets on another day…

Snow is coming, which means in a few minutes I will be out plowing, won’t that be fun? The sunset was there, but it looked awfully white tonight.

It is funny how memories can come so strong and define a moment quickly. It is even funnier when you consider that we are all made up of memories, and we push ourselves forward based on how we were treated, and how we reacted previously to similar situations. You decide, funny ha ha or funny strange.

I had a spectacular grandmother in middle Michigan. I have a fantastic grandfather as well, but this is about my grandmother.

When I was young they live din the country and I spent a great deal of time there in the summers. I learned how to bail hay, split wood, cut down trees and so much more. When I was young there were three channels and no cell phones or other items. I read a lot, and was outside most of the time. If we got hungry, there was always something to eat, from digging up raw potatoes, to eating an apple when they were in season, to blackberries, carrots, cucumbers and more. Raw rhubarb became a fun sour feast, and a salad or tomato was never far away if you were willing to pick it. I remember picking strawberries in the early times, and corn in the falls, and all along my grandmother would can.

She often said, we are “getting ready for tomorrow and enjoying today” when we helped, and pickles were very fun. Now, let me start by saying, if you like pickles from a store and never have had homemade pickles, well, you have missed out. Whether we were making dill pickles or bread and butters, sweet pickles or something new and different, the pickles always turned out amazing. Grandma would spend a lot of time matching the right spices that were usually grown in the garden as well, and making sure each pickle type was handled and canned with care. the jars didn’t look like much as we put them in the pantry, but when they were opened, they were a piece of paradise. What does this have to do with anything?

It took me years to realize I was a pickle as well. My Grandmother and Grandfather built a series of morals into me and a need to love, to live, and to be more. I did not see it then because, well, I was stuck in a jar, but now I see it plainly every day. Every bit of spice was added to make me part of who I am today, knowing how good it would be later. I look back all the time wondering how they knew what to give me, and what to tell me, but I was glad they did.

Who canned your pickles? Did they turn out fine? What did they do for you to show you a way to paradise? It is easy if you think about it. Just remember, accept who you are, remember you are made of your past and building towards a future, and only you can decide how you will grow. That being said, are you feeling pickled yet? (Bread and Butter, yummy)

So as the sun sets on another day, it is hard to know where we become who we are, but it is definite we are who we are made to be, by both nature and nurture, the things that were put in, and the care used to make us, we are who we are today. I would like to think we all turned out okay, and together maybe we can make pickles, and a little paradise. Define yourself with what you have, and enjoy every piece that went into who you are, no matter what.

Sleep sweet, love life, and live it daily…



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