Ahhh, the sense of comfort as the
freezers and pantry shelves fill up a little each day. The garden is
"coming in" as we say. Each day there is squash to slice,
bring to a boil and freeze in quart bags. 80 quart bags so far. Not
enough yet, but getting close.
Peas, peas and more peas. Unc corrected my post from the other day. These are not Black Eyed Peas. These are "Pink Eye Purple Hull Peas", also known as "Field Peas". Apparently Field Peas is the generic term for these "peas with eyes" as some Danish friends called them years ago.
The true Black Eyed Pea is larger and can be bought, dried in bags at the grocery store. It seems I have grown up with these delicious little legumes in my life, and I am just now learning the specifics of what they are.
I happen to love shelling peas. In a few days, I'll take a picture of my two thumbs and two pointer fingers with their purple stains, proud proof of our industry. Unc's hard work putting in the garden, tending it, picking the produce, Mama and my shelling services. Unc and Miss Dollie have been putting up the bags of squash.
This 80 quart count of squash does not include the six bags of frozen slices of squash ready to fry for Gordon. I mentioned in an earlier post that we slice the squash thin, freeze the slices on a cookie sheet and then bag up enough slices per bag for the five or six people who eat at our table at noon each day.
Even Gordon got into the Garden Season today yesterday by rinsing and straining the shelled peas, looking for stung peas and bagging the little bites of nourishment. We have 11 quarts of peas so far.
There is a stung pea in this picture.
Can you find it? Whatever insect stings peas and leaves a larvae that
becomes a worm and then does whatever those worms do, has been
hampered by our daily afternoon rain showers. We have not put any
poison insecticide on the garden this year.
I could be trendy and say that we wanted totally organic vegetables, but actually, we have been so busy, and the rain every afternoon would have washed off the protective chemical dust.
I took all of this for granted growing up here on the farm. I can see Grandma now, shelling peas so fast, an enamel baking pan in her lap, the cool moist peas scampering out of the purple hulls that unzipped flawlessly for Grandma.
When I lived in Alabama in the 1980's,
living in a town with a tiny yard and no garden, I lost track of the
By that, I mean I lost the sense of new
beginning when the soil is prepared for the crops or the garden. That
earthy smell that drives one to plant or prune or nurture or
transplant like hummingbirds are genetically pre-programmed to return
from Mexico to their respective States.
This is as far as I got last night on my blog post musing about the joy of gardens and the psychological need to experience the seasons.
We had 1.7 inches of rain overnight, and our Internet satellite did not have "a clear view of the Southern sky", so I could not upload anything.
More later! Took some pictures of pretty and delicious figs this morning!