Once again the prompt for today has brought up memories.
I grew up on a farm, as perhaps those of you who read my blog already know. In the summer, the green beans were a chore.
It seems like my parents took care of the planting, after they got grandpa to take a couple swipes through the garden with the plow. That part was easy, even if we kids did take part in it.
The hard part was weeding and hoeing. Hoeing we did in the middle of the row, just to keep a path open to walk in. By mid-summer the path in between rows was hard-packed dirt (of course not too hard for weeds to grow), and it took some effort to dig the weeds out.
The worst part was the weeding. It seems like it was always wet, the weeds that is. Maybe because we did it in the early morning when there was still dew on the plants. But it would still be hot, and we'd be kneeling on hard dirt, digging at wet weeds ... I don't know, I guess some people enjoy it.
Next came harvesting. I don't remember that being so hard, picking the beans. Maybe because we weren't allowed to do it; mom kept that job for herself, so that we wouldn't pick them too small.
Our job was to snap them. Pluck off the two ends first, then break them into thirds, or fourths, if the bean was big enough. We did this job gathered together on the front porch, in the shade. I don't remember it being unpleasant, except for the boredom.
Mom handled the canning all by herself. I remember, when she boiled the cans to seal them, how it would fill the house with the smell of ... what was that smell? Could we smell the green beans boiling inside a sealed can? Or was just the humidity of a large pot of boiling water that filled the house? Maybe she had to add something to the water, salt, I don't know.
At any rate, this was done in June or July or even August, so all the windows had to be opened and even then it was uncomfortable to stay in the house.
Thankfully, we had an entire 140 acres of Indiana farmland to escape to.
