At the farmers’ market this weekend, I ran into friends I hadn’t seen in awhile. As part of our conversation, we discussed our planned purchases. For me, it was juneberry pies for my cousin and myself, and they were purchasing products for canning pickles. Just the mentioning of this summer project immediately invoked the memory of how our farmhouse smelled with the sharp vinegar, the pungent garlic, and the fresh dill permeating the air. Chatting with my mom about “girl stuff” and having these fragrances swirl in our noses is a favorite metaphorical souvenir of summer on the farm.





