Mud! - July 22, 2020

Sunday, when I last picked the purple hull peas, I took only the ones that were the deepest purple, the stage that is so easy to shell.  The plan was to pick again on Tuesday (yesterday), at which time I could finish off the crop and pull up the vines.  Well, it rained yesterday - bucket loads - and the storm was in process just as I was getting home from work.  I didn't want to pick peas in the rain, so I didn't, but I knew that I'd left peas on the vines that would be pushing their good-ness limit if they weren't picked pretty soon.

It was not raining when I came home today, but the southwest clouds were dark.  Even though I knew the garden would be muddy after yesterday's rain, I put on my boots and went down there to pick the purple hull peas.  The soil was soupy.  I started at the driest end of the garden and had worked my way only halfway down the first row when it began to rain.  There was no warning sprinkle; it was not raining, then it was. 

Nanny came out on the back porch and hollered, "It's raining!"

I hollered back, "Yes, I know!  I'm fixing to quit!"  My 2-gallon bucket was already full. 

I extracted my feet from the mud and hurried to the back porch with the bucket, swiping my muddy boots on the way.  Nanny met me at the back door and took the bucket.  I came home and fooled around with my mandolin for an hour, and when I looked up, it had quit raining. I put my boots back on and went back to the garden.

Nanny hollered, "Aint it too muddy?"

I hollered back, "Yes, but everything out here needs picking."  And on to the garden I went, carrying a basket because Nanny still had my bucket.

I was halfway down the last row, when Nanny hollered that she was through with the bucket if I needed it.  I did need it.  My basket was heaped up.  She said she'd bring it to me, but I knew she couldn't get to me without marring up.  I asked her to bring it to the edge of the garden, and I would come get it.

She came out a few minutes later in her mud boots and a long sleeve shirt, announcing that she was going to cut the okra.  I had slogged across that end of the garden on my way out when the rainstorm hit, and I knew from experience that it was r-e-a-l-l-y muddy on that end, and I nearly begged her not to fool with the okra.  I told her I wasn't sure I could even get myself out to rescue her if she fell.  But nothing would do but for her to cut the okra. 

She let out a little "woops!" as soon as she stepped in the garden, and I thought to myself, Um-hmmm....  It wasn't two minutes before she fell flat on her butt.  I flung my pea-basket down and was trying to get myself loose from the mud, hollering, "I'll be right there!," when she hollered back, "I'm OK.  I can get up by myself!"  And so I waited, and in a minute she hollered, "I'm up!" 

I said, "Nanny, LEAVE the okra.  If it gets too big, we'll cut it off and grow some more!"  And she complied, thank goodness.  It probably shook her up a little more than she tried to let on.  I met her in the grass at the edge of the garden and traded her my full basket for her empty bucket, then I went back and finished picking the peas.  Got another gallon. 

Nanny and I are both a bit awed at the amount of peas that have come off those vines.  I planted four long rows, but only half of them came up.  We expected to get only enough peas for a meal, now and then, but Nanny has kept busy for two weeks shelling and preserving peas. 

I don't think she knows, yet, about the four new half-rows that have sprouted on the back side of the garden.

When those peas finally poop out, I'm going to try some sweet peas in their place.  I bought a couple of seed packets this afternoon - just those little things you find on racks.  I also got brussels sprouts  seeds and carrot seeds.  And dirt for the potatoes I'm going to try growing in a tub in my back yard.

Uncle Jack said he'd sprout my b.sprouts for me in his new greenhouse.