Some cookies and bars are just better with walnuts. English walnuts, that is. But each year, my grandparents spend countless hours collecting, sifting, shelling and selling black walnuts. This is also the time of year that, when Grandma sends cookies home with you, you inspect them first and if they pass the non-black-walnut smell test, they’re safe to eat.

I know I’m being biased about my particular taste preferences, but I compare it to black licorice, which I also don’t like.

We have five very large black walnut trees along the creek in our yard and one of these days, I’ll put my son to work helping me pick them up for Grandpa. Not that I want to contribute to the cookie fear factor, but Grandpa is 89 and I figure I’m more able to bend over for an hour picking the darn things up. (Boy how I wish I could turn those into English walnut trees.)

The things we do for our grandparents!

Until we walk again …