No radishes in my garden

My dad enjoys radishes dipped in salt in the summer time. I have never liked this summer garden treat, and no one in my family likes radishes at all. Consequently, I usually don’t plant radishes. I do have two antique saltcellars; they belonged to my two maternal great grandmothers. I use them to hold my earrings, as you can see.
I am sure they are not worth much, they are just glass and look rather common; but are precious to me because they are a link to my great grandmothers. As a child visiting my grandmother’s house, I always enjoyed looking at the glassware she had in her dining room hutch. It was a freestanding wood and glass paned piece of furniture, purportedly made by someone in the family who was a carpenter. (I don’t think it was uncommon for farmers of the 1800-early 1900’s to make their own furniture, either) It was stuffed with dishes and knick-knacks that she had received from her mother and mother in law, as well as gifts from her children and grandchildren. My grandmother and grandfather were both the last of their families, so their house was a treasure trove of old ‘stuff’ from their parents, including a lot of dishes, an old moth eaten military uniform (Spanish American War or 1812??) letters and pictures. Nothing that would make a stir on that PBS Antique show, but precious to our family, because these remnants tie us to them as we hold them, use them, study them.