Pea Picking

Grandma would arrive at pea picking time every year
To give my mama a hand with the canning she made clear

She gave all of us a job to do and checking out the pea patch was given to me
She told me to hop to it, get down the hill and check the peas

I walked to the garden and inspected the pea patch to see if It needed picking
I knew If I came back and told mama they weren’t ready and they were, I would get a licking

So I started picking till gallons of buckets were filled a job that took hours in the making
I hated picking peas, the vines were low to the ground, and picking the pods is backbreaking

After the picking comes the shelling and although there is no bending over
this job takes twice as long as the picking, I was ready to run for cover

We sat on the porch for hours and shelled peas or snapped beans listening to Grandmas’s voice

Most of us did it because we were told to and had no other choice

I remember the porch and grandma fondly but after hours of sitting and shelling and snapping

I was tired my thumbs numb, but I kept snapping to the beat of my toes tapping

I loved the smell of the garden scents as everything was growing
But you could keep the pea picking and all those weeks of hoeing

I’m reminded of how much life has changed when I open up a can of peas

One thing I’m sure of, is I’ll take the can of peas today that’s made with ease