Norwegian Farmer’s Son…May 12th

May 12th…“WHAT WAS A SPECIAL NICKNAME YOUR MOTHER CALLED YOU AS A LITTLE BOY ON YOUR FARM?”

nfs 5.12i
Elliott’s mother “canned” many tasty foods for their family.

POEM – “Puny, Puckered, Pickle Ole Pete” by N. Elliott Noorlun

With cucumbers fresh, From garden near,

Mom’s kitchen resounded, With things I’d hear.

Pots n pans, Clinking Mason Jar tongs,

As steam from hot water, Would sing its songs.

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Equipment for preserving food in jars.

I’d watch with baited, Culinary thrill,

As fragrance flowed, From sprigs of dill.

A touch of color, Added seasonings right,

Guaranteed the flavor’d, Be out of sight.

Mom knew her best customer, Of pickles to eat,

Was none other than, Puny, Puckered Pickle Ole Pete.

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Pickle Ole Pete….alias Elliott

Be they “Bread n Butter” chips, Or sour dills,

My tummy never grumbled, Or showed any ills.

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Watermelon Rind Pickles were among Elliott’s favorites.

Pickled Watermelon Rinds, Were a treat from Heaven,

For this farmer boy, Turning six or seven.

And Mom’s Pickled Beets, Were a tangy delight,

That sent my taste buds, Clear outta sight.

nfs 5.12d
Rows n rows of cucumber creations.

From boiler pan to jar, Our tastes were never fickle,

This Pickle Ole Pete, Could eat every last pickle.

Lord, bless our mother, In Heaven up above,

For feeding her dear family, with pickles made with love.

nfs 5.12h
Elliott’s mother put many tasty foods “under glass” for the Noorlun family to eat during the long cold Winters.

 

 

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