I remember having them as a kid, but the ones I remember came from a jar that my sister and I bought for my mother. I’m not sure I’ve ever had them home made before. It seems like the kind of thing one of my grandmothers would have made. I remember dills and sweet lime pickles.
When I got home from work tonight, I cut up a watermelon to store in chunks in the fridge and I kept thinking what a waste it was to throw all that potential food away. So I went online and looked up recipes in hopes that it wouldn’t be too involved. The basic recipe on Epicurious is pretty simple, even though it requires some attention at a couple more 8 hour intervals.
I don’t know why these things seem worthwhile now when for most of my life they didn’t. Maybe it’s because I’m not writing or feeling guilty about not writing every waking hour of the day. I am writing in my journal and I’m working on a new short story at a leisurely pace. And I’m doing lots of other more or less creative things like gardening, cooking things I’ve never cooked before, and making little sketches.
Pretty soon I’ll be back to work full time and I hope I still make room for these explorations. Life’s too short not to follow your nose into a little adventure pretty darn often.
It’s funny because I find some people are interested in things like making watermelon pickles, and some aren’t, and a few people will lightly mock me for being interested in something so uncool. I, myself, try not to judge.