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A couple friends mentioned making pickles recently and I just could not shake the idea.  Despite the fact that we are off on a 2000+ mile adventure soon, I insisted on going to the farmer’s market on Saturday to get cucumbers.  Must.  Make.  Pickles.

A lot of people I know would turn their noses up at the thought of bread and butter pickles.  Sweet pickles?  No way.  Pickles should be dill and garlicky.  I love a good dill pickle, but the sweet and tangy bite of a bread and butter pickle takes me back to my grandma’s kitchen in East Texas.


Not having my grandma’s recipe, I used the recipe in Ball’s Blue Book.  The smell alone took me back 30 years.  I canned two quarts and they are supposed to “ripen” for a couple weeks before we use them.  There were a few that didn’t fit, so I had a chance to taste test.  Who needs a time machine, when you have a pickle?

For you dill pickle aficionados, never fear, the vinegar has been replenished and the other 5 pounds of cukes are all queued up with their buddies dill and garlic.


I signed up for the Gocco Swap on impulse.  It is hard to resist the promise of 11 people’s inspired work arriving in my mailbox.  The problem was finding my own inspiration.

The theme of the swap is one.  One image?  One color?  One print per person?  It was up to each of us to decide.  Having always loved broadsides (and lacking any drawing skills) I decided to print some text.  A not-so-broad broadside.

I looked through multiple books of poetry, but nothing felt quite right.  Alas, sometimes inspiration is right in front of one’s nose.  In my case, it was hanging on the kitchen bulletin board.  Rising to the top of the visual noise of the board was a quote the hubby pinned up a while ago.   I don’t know about you, but it is a sentiment I need to be reminded of regularly.


Thanks to Hubby for finding the inspiring words and for being the ever-patient font master.