Wednesday, July 16, 2008

on the beauty of peas

Early in May, I helped Ed plant peas. Or, you could say that he helped me. Because really, I don’t know much about growing peas. Flowers, herbs – yes. I’ve planted my share over the decades. Peas? No.

Even though I have picked many a growing pea in my life. My grandmother’s garden in Poland had lots of peas, beans, and other climbers and periodically she would send me out before supper to pick her a handful. Loved that job. Tak, Babciu, oczywiscie, tak, od razu (yes, grandma, of course, yes, right away).

I so wish she had lived long enough that I could have told her how much I enjoyed picking peas for her. Kind of silly, I suppose. She probably knew.

And here I am, growing peas.

So often these simple acts become disproportionately important for reasons that have little to do with the final outcome. Peas. Big deal. I mean, it’s just peas.

But, the sweet pea -- it’s my birth month flower (do people still pay attention to birth month flowers?) and then there’s my grandmother…

003 copy
Purchase photo 1892

So wonderful, so truly wonderful that we can make a big deal of these very small events.