It’s been about 13 years since I planted cucumbers and made dill pickles, so I pulled out my old hardcover Joy of Cooking and looked up canning and preserving. The instructions, quite extensive, are not detailed enough.

Firsttimers would not be clear on the sealing process; there is no instruction on when the outer lids go on the jars, whether the boiling water needs to be above the top of the jars; things like that. It also seemed to me that sterilizing the empty sealers by boiling three at a time for 15 minutes would be time-consuming, and was it really necessary? So I was a bit confused. I called my sister Jill.

She gave me a few pointers. I carried on and thought I was doing all right (I have done this before, after all, and none of us died; there must be some residual intuitions about what’s safe to do) until Farmbeau arrived home and started questioning me. Should I do this or that? What about the other? Had I read all the instructions from start to finish? (I had)

***

My mind can work like a mechanized jigsaw puzzle when it wants to, and sometimes I am amazed at the things I know and understand without remembering where I learned or discovered them.

They are often different things than those Farmbeau is knowledgeable about -- like the physics, the science of life, spatial relations, etc., which he has an affinity for comprehending -- and he seems to know something about everything. A strange machine in the restaurant foyer, and no one has a clue what it is? Farmbeau will know exactly what it is, and how it works.

There’s a teacher in that boy. He would have made a great physics or science teacher. He’s a natural lecturer.

:::
:::

Dad was out on Suzanne’s balcony on a hot hot day, with one of the baby’s sippy-cups sitting empty on the wide arm of his Adirondack chair. Farmbeau peeked out the door and said amiably, “Can I get you a refill on that?”

***
***

I phoned my aunt at work in town.

“Stop in on your way home. I’m pickling cukes and I need some questions answered.”

“I’m in a hurry after work, and I’m not sure where you live.”

“It’s practically on your way, and I’ll go out on the road so you can’t miss it. I’ll only keep you 15 minutes. I just need someone in person, not on the phone, to get some things clear in my mind.”

At 4:00 she phoned to let me know she was leaving, and at 4:01 I was out on the gravel road in my shorts and steeltoed boots, my red visor and sunglasses, striking out toward town.

I wish there was a way to capture the glory of the wind whipping past my face and the smell of it and the fields and trees and tall grass and the birds dancing together in the air like figure skaters and the endless sky and clouds and greens and yellows and blues all around me as I walk.

It’s too heavenly for words. I feel -- well, would “blissed out” be too strong a phrase? I could walk forever in this beautiful place.

********
********

So my aunt stopped in and picked up some cucumbers for her pregnant daughter, whom she and my Uncle Archie are going up north to spend the weekend with, and I led her through the process I used and got her to clarify a few details for me, and it appears I’ve done everything correctly so it is safe to eat the pickles.

I’d’ve hated it if that had turned out to be a wasted effort.

****************************************

“Smart but not wise,” an Indian said of white people.