2010
Stringing Beans
My dad and stepmom like to buy loads of produce anytime they visit family in Tennessee. This past weekend was no exception, and I carried home armloads of beans and tomatoes. Fine with me, since our own garden is pregnant with loads of zucchini, a handful of peppers, but nothing much in the way of anything else just yet.
So this morning I figured it was as good a day as any to get to work on the beans. I carried out a couple bowls – one for the strung, snapped beans and another for the scraps. The kids sat by me and I attempted to teach them stringing techniques and gave that up in favor of having them break my already strung beans. It is a beautiful day here, plenty of sunshine, hot but not too hot. The birds were chirping, and the kids, while taking breaks from “helping” me were turning cartwheels in the yard and pretending to be trains.
I suddenly realized I was, in fact, turning into my great-grandparents. This is no bother to me at all, because they epitomized the “simple” portion I strive for in my own life. I could write a 20-part series about them on this blog, but all you need to know for this post is that I vividly remember stringing beans on my great-grandmother Lena’s back porch, with the scratchy green outdoors carpet under my feet, the birds singing, my hair sticking to the back of my neck in the humid summer afternoons, and wondering how they didn’t get bored with all that quiet they seemed to pipe into their little hollow. (Now I wonder if I can’t pipe some into here.)
Put plainly, their house was my favorite place on earth. And if I can pass that along by teach my kids the joys of stringing beans on the porch in the middle of the summer, you bet I will.
That sounds wonderful! Snapping beans and shucking corn are two of my very favorite relaxation techniques.
I loved stringing and breaking beans on my grandparents porch. I remember when I became good enough at the stringing to be given the responsibility on my own, although I know mawmaw did a double check, just in case.