I have lamented here before my inability to sustain anything green beyond a week; but not so was the case with my maternal grandmother. I have such fond memories of her and her garden. It was nothing elaborate. She wasn’t even out on a farm; but her suburban-esque backyard was summer’s bounty. I mean, every time I have a green bean, I think of her *snapping* beans from one worn, plastic, white bowl to another. (She’s the one that taught me the key to successful green beans is adding bacon!) And I will inevitably think of her every time I see a cucumber too. She always had cucumbers — from her garden — ready for my sister and I to eat in the summer. You know, I hardly ever have cucumbers now, at least not by themselves the way she fixed it: one freshly peeled and sliced cucumber in a bowl of of ice water, with a pinch of salt. It really is the perfect summer snack.
* my maternal grandmother, circa 1967 *