In a Coon's Age

This year I planted purple hull peas in my garden.  I had used the last of the fresh-frozen bags that my stepfather had given me a few years ago and, after trying the canned peas, I decided I wanted to grow my own fresh peas.  But, I wasn't sure if the climate was right to grow them here in Missouri.
Apparently though, climate change has impacted Missouri in only one positive way - it is now hot enough to indeed grow purple hull peas here...at least as hot as Louisiana. My Mother brought the 'seeds' to me earlier this year and I anxiously waited for the day when I could plant them in our raised beds.  To my surprise, they grew quickly.
This picture was taken on July 2nd. 

By July 16th, they had already put on many, many pea pods.  But as Paw-Paw always instructed, they're not ready until they turn purple!

After a few days of having to focus on my German Shepherd's hip issues, multiple vet visits and totally ignoring my garden, my check on July 22nd surprised me - the purple hull peas were ready, baby!
As I prepared to pick the purple pea pods on Wednesday, July 25th, I remembered what Maw-Maw and Paw-Paw used to tell us - "hold on to that plant stem, girl, when yankin' that pea off".  After all, you didn't want to break the plant when it could still yield more crop!  I brought out a large bowl and surveyed the crop.  As I started to pick them, I thought, "it's been a long time since I shelled and cooked purple hull peas - I wonder if I remember how?" and a flood of long-buried memories welled-up and flooded through my brain, like waves building and crashing over rocks.

I always associate purple hull peas (and okra) with my grandparents - they always had huge - yes, HUGE gardens.  My Grandfather's favorite welcome to infrequent visitors came to the forefront of my mind; "it's been a coon's age since I've seen you"! - and I laughed because - it's been a coon's age since I shelled and cooked these peas too! But I knew I loved them and that's why I grew them this year.  As I picked and picked, I thought of the many hours my sister, brother and I spent as kids in the huge fields alongside Maw-Maw & Paw-Paw, complaining & whining about picking ACRES - yes, ACRES of those peas, okra and all kinds of garden goodies, which we didn't call "goodies" at the time - we were kids and didn't think the same way then.

Kathy, Karen and Clint - 3 troublemakers

No one could shell peas like Maw-Maw.  Even Paw-Paw held second place to her shelling skills.  Maw-Maw would gather everyone in a circle with their own bowl and set the foot-tub, full of peas, in the middle.  Even if you were just visiting, you got a bowl and you helped shell peas.  Maw-Maw always had food on the table or in the fridge and she loved to cook.  But people weren't allowed to be free-loaders.  Somehow, in her own kind way, she let people know they had to contribute and they always did.  I never learned to shell peas as well as she did - her fingers could move ten times faster than mine and still carry on a conversation with whomever was in the shelling circle; "Sister Savada", she'd say, "how's uncle so-&-so", or "did you hear about so-&-so", etc., etc.  And she never missed a beat and always ended up shelling more peas than the rest of us.

Maw-Maw & Paw-Paw

My bowl of peas was small in comparison to the harvests we used to get out of their fields, but still, I hadn't done this in a long time.

As I began to tear them open though, to my surprise, muscle memory took over and even though my brain hadn't caught up yet, my fingers knew exactly what to do and working together, we shelled & shelled as the peas plinked in a satisfying rhythm into my bowl.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought of all the times I complained about doing this very thing, when I'd much rather be out riding my horse or jumping out of the hay barn. I didn't realize then how valuable that time with my Grandparents really was.  I ended up with 7 cups of shelled peas for my first harvest, and along with a pone of cornbread, Mr. Freeze also enjoyed them, although, I think the cornbread is his most favorite part.
Funny how a garden vegetable can bring back so many memories. Memories that I hadn't thought of in years.  I thought I had forgotten a lot of things that my Grandparents had taught me, but it turns out, your ancestors have influenced a lot more than you realized - and there's a lot more ingrained in your muscles, your personality and your brain than we know....until one day you go out to pick the peas that your grandparents grew on their farm a long, long time ago.