We are thick into the season where the garden literally takes over our life. No matter how much the weeds have taken over, garden produce for the year has gone from the trickle of strawberries, to now a full out invasion of peas, beans, broccoli, cabbages, as the raspberries wind down. The tomato plants are heavy with green orbs that look as though they may blush any day. Then life outside the garden and kitchen will virtually shut down. The cucumbers as well look like they will be ready to be pickled by as early as next week. I’ve never grown my own pickling cukes, so I don’t know how long that season is. I know very little about it. Last year we were given lots of cucumbers by some of Knut’s cousins who had excess in their garden, and the fermented dill pickles I made were to die for. I could sit and eat a whole jar if I let myself. I knew right away I could no longer go back to store-bought. The garden has ruined me for yet another food that I no longer want to buy.
I am so joyously ruined. Silje jokes that I’m ruining them all for life because they will never be satisfied with normal food and will be forced to garden as adult. I tell her it’s all a part of my evil plan.