Many, many days of my youth were spent sitting on my grandparents’ porch shelling beans. I do it often at my own home and there’s not a single time that I don’t think of them and the good times we had. In Louisiana, on a dusty dirt road, with no air conditioning for most of the years, Butch and Blondie, the cocker spaniels at our feet, while we sat for hours and hours shelling beans – pinto beans, purple hull peas, cream peas, lima bean . . you name it . . my grandpa grew it.
Friends would sometimes stop by, and, of course, they always grabbed a bowl and helped. My parents were sometimes there and they would always help.
There were lots of conversations held on that old front porch.
Shelling Beans
As I sit alone on our porch shelling beans for hours and hours, many thoughts run through my head. Last night I was thinking about my grandparents living in the same house pretty much their entire married life, probably more than 50 years in one house. I think my grandma was about 75 when they left the farm and moved two hours south to be closer to my parents and my uncle. I can’t even comprehend what it would have been like to have lived in the same house for 50 years, or the same town for 50 years.
I wish I had taken the time to tell my grandparents how much of an influence they had on my life but heck, when they passed away, I probably didn’t even realize the depth of their influence on my life. I believe my love for the country, the front porch, the chickens, the garden . . I believe it all started with the time I spent at my grandparents’ farm. I loved being there!
My grandpa had a huge garden. I have no idea how big it was. My own garden is 100′ x 100′ and if I had to guess, I would say his was at least four times that big. But I was a child and as I was running down the rows, it seemed huge. As I was a teen, it seemed huge because it produced all those beans I had to help shell.
When I was out picking beans last night, I thought . . this is probably the first time my grandpa would really be proud of my garden. I’ve always had a garden and if I know my grandpa, he probably laughed at my efforts. I’m sure he was happy to see me trying but, compared to his garden, mine was never a huge success but this year, I have a successful garden.
Purple Beans
I doubt my grandpa ever saw the purple snap beans like I have growing that are so sweet and so good. I don’t even know if he would have tried growing them or if he would have stuck with what he knew worked.
Lunch
Yesterday’s lunch was snap beans and carrots from the garden and leftover brisket. I’m not sure if I got my love of gardening from my grandparents. They may have done it simply because they had to do it to survive. Maybe they loved it. I have no idea. I’m so thankful for the memories I have . . time spent at their farm with the garden, the chickens and the milk cow.
This is the time of year when the grass burrs are horrible, the grasshoppers are flying down my shirt and up my sleeves and in my mouth and it’s hot and it’s dry and I’m saying . . I’m not planting a garden next year!
But, I know I will. I’m already thinking about what I’ll plant and where I’ll plant it!
Cilla says
My dad and grandma were my big influences, dad in gardening, grandma in quilting. Like you, this is one year where I am extremely proud of my garden. Every year I try a new item. This year is cow peas, a bean really ( I think). I’ve been here 17 years and have no intention of moving. It’s my little piece of heaven.
wanda j says
Can you wear rubber boots to keep grass-burs out? I wear them to mow due to I get hit with stuff and it cuts my legs. The weed-eater does a pretty good job too of cutting legs somehow . So just wondering about wearing rubber boots. They are slick and then they wouldn’t stick to them. Just and idea.
JudyL says
The grass burrs are way taller than my knees and my rubber boots only come up to my knees. I never go in the garden without the rubber boots now that the grass burrs are out there. Let one of those things get between my foot and the flip flop and it HURTS!!
I bend over and my shirt grabs one. I reach down to pick something and grab hold of one. They stick to the veggies. I come out of the garden with grass burrs in my shirt, all the way up my pants legs and even found one in my hair yesterday. I guess I bent over to pick a bean and one of the taller grass burrs stuck in my hair.
Sherrill says
I don’t have any sweet memories like that of my grandparents on either side. Never knew the maternal grandpa and really never knew the paternal grandparents. My maternal grandma was not a fun or sweet person. But the sand burrs and goatheads–now THOSE are what I remember!! UGH LOL
vivoaks says
Thanks for stirring the memories. Mine weren’t hugely different from yours, but enough so that it triggered my own memories. No one in my family quilted, but my grandmother was always knitting the cutest sweaters for toddlers with all kinds of designs along the bottoms – cowboys and horses, little girls on a swing, all kinds of cut designs. I still have some of her patterns hidden away somewhere. Maybe I should find them, just to see if they are something I might like to do in the future. Thanks!!
vivoaks says
*”Cute” designs….
Dottie says
Love your memories – a lot like mine. Sitting on the front porch at my grandparents farm in the summer – shelling peas/beans, etc. AND, eating watermelon and having “spitting (watermelon seeds) contests”
Eileen Wheeldon Eisner says
I believe they know and know they are proud of you. Sweet memories!