A thunderstorm passed through in late afternoon, scrubbin' the air clean. I love that. It leaves what we'uns call The Green Light. I stood on the back porch lookin' at the green air hoverin' over the shrubs and the bird feeder. The back gate clanged so I knowed someone was comin' round back.
"Hey theah Belle!"
It were young Raleigh Jenkins wif'a bushel of acre peas what had been shelled already--an' thas' gold! I'd be half the night blanchin' and freezin' these beauties. Ain't talkin' about cow peas, or purple hull peas, but them itty bitty white acre peas--thas' akshully light green.
"Oh, Darlin' youse a Prince Charmin'!! " I bubbled.
We doan even imagine a Thanksgivin' wif' out them peas. Cooked wif' ham hocks of course. Not many outside the South knows of these wee peas. Lordy, thanky fer makin' us'uns Southern!!
(I is sorry ya'll is so underprivileged...really.)
