Black & White Beans

Since it's "only" 90 degrees today, I decided to get busy and pick the white beans and the black beans. In the case of the white beans, I should have gotten busy a week ago. Most of them had dried on the vines. The black beans, however, were in their prime. Some of them could have ripened for two or three more days, but it's supposed to get hotter as the week goes on; I figured that the odds of me making it back to the bean rows in three days are slim to none, so I picked everything that was out there. After dinner tonight, the shelling will begin.

The tomato vines are heavy with red tomatoes. I should be out there picking them right now so that I can start canning them tomorrow after work. This year, I intend to make a lot more spaghetti sauce than I made last year. I also intend to can a mixture of tomatoes, chili peppers, and onions - my own version of "Rotel" tomatoes. I canned a similar mixture last year with the final remnants from the garden. We used it in cheese dip, in chili, and in soup, and wished for more when it was all gone.

Now that I've cooled off, I think I'll go pick tomatoes.

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Part 2

Earlier, when I'd been in the garden picking beans, Nanny had told Pop-Pop that Harley, the dog, was stinking to high heaven, and she had given him strict orders to bathe Harley. As I was pulling my wagon across the road to the tomato patch, I saw Pop-Pop at the end of his driveway on the riding lawnmower. Harley was loping along beside him, sopping wet, carrying his Frisbee in his mouth. It seems Pop-Pop had taken the easy route with the dog bathing, and had simply ridden the lawnmower up to the edge of our pond and sailed the Frisbee to the middle of the pond. Harley, being the water-loving Frisbee dog that he is, had leapt in after it. Instant dog bath.

Pop-Pop stopped the lawnmower at the tomato patch. He slowly and painfully climbed off and ambled over to the gate as delicately as his arthritic feet would let him. "Lord have mercy," he muttered as he scanned the rows of ripe tomatoes. He heard me coming with the wagon, and looked over his shoulder. "You fixin' to pick these ta-maters?"

"Yessir."

"I'd pick all the ones that are turning," he said, "and lay 'em out to finish ripening under the trees."

"Yessir."

"Lord have mercy," he said again. Shaking his head, he climbed back onto the lawnmower and went home.

I had set a HUGE Rubbermaid tub - the 40-gallon size - in my wagon. When I finished picking, the tub was full. My intention was to pull the wagon down the driveway to put the tomatoes on the tables in Pop-Pop's back yard, but it was too heavy to pull so far. I went back to my house to get our riding lawnmower, hitched the wagon to it, and pulled it down Pop-Pop's driveway. I took out the least ripe tomatoes and laid them out on the tables to ripen, then I pulled the wagon back to my house.

The tub is still half full. Looks like I've got some work to do tomorrow.

Lord have mercy.
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