Some of my customers know the differences in beans very well. Most of those who do are “getting’ on up in years” and have raised and eaten a variety of beans over a lifetime.
They teach me things about pole beans, ram horns and
rattlesnake beans that I didn’t know, and I grew up listening to family and
neighbors debate the merits of all kinds of beans.
Today I had a customer who drove all the way from Jackson
County to get some goose beans. She’s
got a family member undergoing chemo who is requesting them, the only thing that
sounds good to him right now. Apparently
the fellow used to grow them himself, but hasn’t been well enough to in recent
years.
What is it with us hillbillies and our beans? Why do we love
them so? Will I be requesting them when the grim reaper comes calling, or will
I be begging for chocolate cake?
It’s hard to
say.
Sometimes I get tired of picking beans, growing beans,
stringing beans, EATING beans and discussing beans, but I know if I couldn’t do
it, I’d probably miss it.
Many of the older folks who come to market speak longingly
of the days when they were able to raise a big garden.
If there’s one thing you learn about gardening, it’s that there’s
a season for everything, and seasons don’t last long.
This....
looks like this
after two or three days of intermittent sunshine and a few hours in the oven. We call them shuckbeans.
Anyone know why?
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