Post last updated: October 11th, 2018
I have been looking at that bean patch with the dread of someone facing the firing squad. I just did not want to go out there and pick ‘em. Nor did I want to hear Poppie screeching at the dinner table, “Beans again?”
So I put it off a day. Then another and another. Today I sat in my rocking chair on the front porch sipping some lemonade while glaring at those beans. Finally, I forced myself in front of the firing squad to pick the beans. Some of those beans are so big they look gnarled. Now I gotta shell the gnarled beans on top of not wanting to deal with the beans in the first place.
Can them you say? I have only a water bath canner and beans supposedly have to be done in a pressure canner. Thus, it becomes necessary to eat them or fob them off on some unsuspecting neighbor. Aren’t you glad you don’t live next door?