Like Gold
When my dad heard that I was moving back to Minnesota, he promised to plant lots of peas in his garden for me. Why peas? Because I have a reputation (deservedly) of being a pea hog. When I was little I would be sent out to the garden to pick the peas. Once out there, I would sit my butt down in the row and eat and eat and eat, barely putting any in the bucket. My dad is out of town, so he called to let me know that his city garden was ripe for the pea picking. I went over on Thursday night and picked a big bag full. I can tell I have grown a little and now understand delayed gratification. I only ate a few in the garden which meant I could bring a bag of the peas for my sister and I to eat during our afternoon on the beach today. Jessy's blissful look above is because these are delicious, heirloom peas that, in our family, are the equivalent of gold.
Yes! I had amazing peas from my dad's garden this weekend! What a treat.
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