My grandmother made you "look" your peas and pick out any that had the slightest discernible flaw. And Lord help you if she found one in your bowl later.
I was just thinking last week about helping with the vegetables every summer, and how good fresh tomatoes taste, and how yummy homemade creamed corn is. I got downright nostalgic. Great memories.
Yummy, yes. But as a kid, I was pretty picky about vegetables. Now, I don't think that there is one that I don't like. I guess because I haven't had to pick them in so long.
There was nothing worse than a summer morning when it's already about 90, even before the fog has cleared and you have to head to the pea patch with a 5 gal bucket. You may not be able to see the end of the row because of the fog but you know that you gotsta fill that bucket up several times to get a "hamper". Most of you gay guys on here don't know what a hamper is, I know.
And then, butter beans. Don't get me started. I would itch so bad from allergies to the leaf but that didn't get you a pass.
Shelling butter beans was the worst. I don't know when the auto sheller was invented but I remember it was basically a washing machine tub that rotated and knocked the beans out.
I was number 21 of 22 grandchildren and myself and #22 basically stayed in the country with my grandmother during summers for the first 10 years of my life. We got away with a lot and got out of a lot. We could not escape the pea patch. It was really like convict labor. And if we didn't do it, it wasn't our grandmother who was the enforcer. Our mothers knew how to use a peach tree switch.
And if anyone doesn't think a peach limb switch can make a mofo dance, I'll be glad to show you. I really do think this treatment may have contributed to the anxiety issues that I suffer from.
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