Dill Pickles by Susan T. Moss

Dill Pickles
by
Susan T. Moss

Cucumbers and dill don’t mean much

unless you’ve had a childhood filled

with Ball jars lining basement shelves

and a grandmother who made

the best pickles every summer.

My brother and I helped,

all hands filling clear vessels

with small dimpled fruit, white vinegar,

coarse salt and fresh herbs

from a local farm stand.

Crisp and savory might capture the first bite

of those yearly treats of green gold,

but this wouldn’t say enough to describe

that moment.

A sharp taste spread over our tongues

and lingered on our lips. Breathing

slowed and nothing else mattered,

not the past nor the reality that this ecstasy

couldn’t last forever.

Grandma has been gone a long time

and so has her recipe. For years

my brother and I have searched grocery stores

for something which might come close

to the indelible taste only she could achieve.

We could try to make our own pickles,

but the possibility quickly shape-shifts

into more than the end product, a thing

beyond our capacity to recreate,

even though we know the basic ingredients.

Susan T. Moss lives in Evanston, Illinois, where she is serving her third term as president of the Illinois State Poetry Society. A former high school English teacher, she is the author of In From the Dark (Antrim House) and Keep Moving 'til the Music Stops (Lily Pool/Swamp Press) and her work has appeared in several journals and anthologies. Friends and family inspire and influence Susan's poetry, as has traveling to all seven continents, hiking Kilimanjaro, skydiving (once!) and attempting to finish her bucket list of adventures.

Jo:
This memory is brings me back to canning with my gramma, the basement filled with the jellies and jams, the cucumbers, etc. Those times still smell like pickles. Wonderful poem.
Posted 07/24/2015 04:10 PM

anne.lehman2929@att.net:
Oh, how wonderful is this memory. The yearning for not just the pickles but the tangible past is so present...thank you.
Posted 07/24/2015 10:05 AM

twinkscat:
Wish I could have one of those pickles too! My mom used to can cucumbers to make pickles.
Posted 07/24/2015 10:04 AM

cork:
I remember those basement shelves!
Posted 07/24/2015 08:30 AM

Janet Leahy:
Wonderful memory piece Susan, the green tinted Ball jars from our family now hold flowers but I too remember the taste of savory pickles.
Posted 07/24/2015 07:37 AM

Glen Sorestad:
I can almost taste that first bite!
Posted 07/24/2015 07:23 AM

Wilda Morris:
Well done! There are moments we just cannot recreate, even if we have the recipe.
Posted 07/24/2015 07:17 AM

Contents of this web site and all original text and images therein are copyright © by Your Daily Poem. All rights reserved.
As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. Purchasing books through any poet's Amazon links helps to support Your Daily Poem.
The material on this site may not be copied, reproduced, downloaded, distributed, transmitted, stored, altered, adapted,
or otherwise used in any way without the express written permission of the owner.