Radishes with Salt

When we were kids, we had a swimming pool that Dad would set up each summer in the far corner of the yard. It was only 18 inches high or so, but it felt plenty deep, especially when we lay on our stomachs, arched our backs and floated in the cool water. When we were in the pool, it meant that it was really summer and anything was possible.

When summer was over, the pool would be dismantled and put in the garage. In its place each fall was left a circular patch cut out of the lawn like a cookie cutter. In the patch were dead weeds, mud and lots of worms.

A few years went by, 18 inches of water just wasn’t deep enough, and Dad stopped putting up the pool. I don’t remember missing it.

Dad kept the circular grass lawn cut out and turned it into a garden. He grew corn that was small and often full of holes. He grew baby carrots and I think beans. He grew lettuce that I was never quite fond of because it was bitter. The lettuce grew very well. In my opinion, we had too much of it. Dad would tend the garden each night after work, in his shorts, squatting down, pulling weeds and putting salad fixings in a colander for dinner. Each year he would enlarge the circle a little bigger to accommodate more plants.

But I will always remember the lovely radishes.
One early evening when my grandparents were visiting and admiring the garden, I pulled a beautiful red radish. Up to that point, radishes were more beautiful than tasty. My grandmother explained that they tasted best with salt. I just remember washing off that radish and bringing the salt shaker outside into the garden.

Now my radishes come from the produce department at Trader Joes, tied in muddy bunches with big blue twisties. I take them home, snip off the leaves, wash them in a colander, and of course enjoy them with salt.

Now I miss the pool and long for 18 inches of water.