| Deb knows her way around canning, and she also knows that if I don't get my pickles, I'll get nervous, commit burglaries to feed my habit, and end up in a halfway-house for the pickle-addled misfit.|
So to save me from myself and keep my bloodstream at approximately the sodium level of the Great Salt Lake, she sees to it that I have the green at hand. She knows she's a co-dependent, but in the great tradition of all addicts, I use bribes to keep that kind of second-thinking to a minimum. 😊
These are dill spears for the most part, though in the back there are five jars of transverse slices, suitable for sandwiches and the like.
It'll be a couple of weeks before these are ready for consumption, but I still have enough stashed from the last batch to make it through the interim.
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