I went to up to Kentucky to visit the grandparents this week. And I FINALLY had a mess of beans to pick out of the garden!
I headed over to Granny and Papa’s from Grandmother’s Thursday morning, and not long after I arrived Papa and I decided to go pick beans. Per usual, Papa was not impressed by my gardening attire and suggested I change. I had been wearing jean shorts, a T-shirt and flip flops. After Papa told me that the weeds around the bean plants were about “yea-high” (hand gesture to suggest 30”), I resolved to put on my cotton pajama pants, a pair of Granny’s socks, and my hot pink crocs. If ever there were a fetching outfit, this surely was it.
Papa had already mowed down a section where he had grown the earlier vegetables.
The bean plants had grown up and out quite a bit. These were close to 8 feet tall. I had Papa stand next to them to give a sense of scale.
I also snagged a few peppers to spice up my life.
Granny keeps trying to get me hooked on the banana peppers, but I’m not biting. I’ll stick to my cayenne.
An extremely bulbous eggplant.
Okra. This one would be terribly tough because it’s so big. I’m still not so sure about okra.
Bell peppers that are determined not to turn red so I can use them.
Missouri Wonder beans that aren’t quite mature enough yet to pick.
Bucket o’ beans.
Papa and I picked for 20 minutes or so and then we went back to the house where Granny and I set up to shell. I have many memories of summertime in Kentucky that involve Granny and Mammie, my great-grandmother who passed away when I was in high school, shelling and breaking buckets of beans out of the garden. I didn’t have much interest in the process at the time, but it’s actually kind of relaxing, especially if you’re outside on a porch.
We plowed through that mess o’ beans in no time and then packaged them up for me to take home and freeze. I can’t wait to enjoy some homegrown butter beans in the dead of winter.
Now all I need to do is go get myself some salt pork or bacon grease and cook up these suckers!
Y’all eat up,