My mom makes the best pickles. Everyone says so. It’s one of her culinary claims to fame. The other being her famous spice blend. She learned from her dad, my grandpa Neil Bratton, and he learned from his mom, my great grandma Helen. My mom remembers being about five years old, helping scrub the cucs with her outside their Blue Mountain home with a big galvanized tub, soft brushes and the garden hose. As she aged, she was slowly brought into the entire process and looked forward to making them every year. Her mom, my grandma Stevie, would put a big X on the calendar noting when they were ready to eat. My mom and her three siblings would watch the the days tick by like hungry hawks, waiting to pounce on pickle eating day.