The sweetest pickles

The fruit (make that vegetable) of my labor. And Wade’s. Poor Wade. As I was sealing the last jar of pickles Wade looked at me and said, “Do you know what this means, honey? We get our kitchen back! Now, you only do this once a year, right?”

Next year I’ll have to document and photograph every sticky step. This year, being a pickle virgin, the recipe called for my undivided attention.