I decided to take a stroll outside today and during my stroll I noticed our garden. Every year we plant several rows of peas and every year my Dad puts up 4-foot fences; and every year, without fail, the peas grow to be about 6-foot. You must understand, this happens every year; we suggest that he put up taller fences and he points to the seed packages which say the plants should grow to 3 1/2 feet; and the plants proceed to grow up over the fences, falling into each other, forming barricades and obstacle courses for the pea-pickers.
So this year we but up 5-foot fences; and, yes, you guessed it, the peas grew to be 3 feet. Now that's what you call ironic. So we have been watching these little plants produce flowers. But today when I went to check on them, there were peas! These little plants are loaded with pea-pods. So Sarah and I happily ate our way down the rows- no baskets, no "two for the basket, one for me." It was just "All for one, and more for me."
It looks to be a different year- we will have to bend double in order to pick; this may be an improvement over having to fight your way through long tendrils that somehow find their way into your hair, tickle the back of your knees, and slowly form barricades behind you, preventing your escape. I say it might be an improvement, as long as there are still enough peas!
1 comment:
How about 2 for you and one for Aunt Sylvia? The smell of warm pea vines is a strong memory for me. My dad had a number of rural parishes that he serviced when I was young and in late summer when the combines went through the pea fields he would drive out into the field and reap the remaining vines into the flat bed of the hatch back. When he got home we would unload to the back porch and sort through the vines for the remaining pods and shell them (well most of them, some we ate) into big bowls and have peas and corn for dinner. Yummmm!!!!
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