Bean Picking, The Joy

Even though we always grow things for as long as they will keep coming, there is a specific time of year for premium, deluxe versions of any vegetable.  I haven't eaten a tomato in about a month except when Betsy makes her "party in your mouth" tomato toast.  While we may pick chard for the whole season, from beginning to end, it really only tastes good to me at the beginning of the year.  And because we like selling beans, we struggle through the first two months of the season, racing with the bean beetles who work around the clock to destroy the plants and leave bazillions of tiny eggs on the undersides of the leaves.  The eggs aren't the problem, it's those disgusting bright yellow larvae that stick themselves to every surface -- they turn into mustard if they get squished. Every year the workers wonder what that mustard tastes like, but I haven't heard that anyone has put it to the test.

But the prime time for beans is September and October. The plants are almost always vigorous and full, the bean beetles are slowing down in the cool weather, and there are many handfuls of perfect  beans hanging off each plant. It is bean picker heaven.

I have written about picking beans many times.  This activity has been a constant in my life for over 40 years. When I was 12, I was so pleased with myself for avoiding picking a single bean for the entire summer but after that I saw the error of my ways. It is one of the best jobs on the farm.  People who don't like picking beans just think that filling up a basket fast is more satisfying.  They chafe at the pace.  People who see the beauty of it understand that there is a rhythm to picking beans, one plant at a time, grabbing all the beans that you can with one hand while the other hand facilitates. You get to sit down, and if you want to, you get to talk. If you are alone, you get to think.

It is the talking and thinking that makes bean picking different. While your hands are working automatically, your mind can be busy with other things. It is the ultimate multi-tasking opportunity.

My nephews have probably spent more hours with me picking beans than anyone else, just through sheer longevity. It takes a few years to learn the joy of beans, so most people never get to the place where they can pick fast and think/talk deeply. And by now my nephews know perfectly well that they will be asked all sorts of questions if they are near me.  Like my mother, I am not shy about asking questions.  Like my father, I do not hesitate to offer advice or perspective.

Yesterday it was my job to pick all the beans for the Sunday markets. Usually we have a better plan but we were short of people this weekend and other priorities took up all the time. So I knew that when I headed out to Loudoun, it was just me and the beans.  I had a plan, in case of boredom.  I would pick for two hours, go and do a different task, come back and pick for two more hours, etc. I knew it would take most of the day, and it was one of those pristine October days with mixed clouds, no humidity, perfect temperature for sitting still.

To be honest, while I am picking I am also thinking about all the other things that are happening and I take breaks to send texts, asking for updates. Sometimes I have a long text conversation with another farmer in another state (who happens to hate picking beans but that's because he is really a mechanic at heart, not the kind of farmer who likes the work).  Sometimes I exchange messages with our friend Jean who is at home with family, fading quietly while still completely alert.

I had picked about eight baskets when Stephen rumbled by on the loader and saw me out there. He had been cleaning out the pole barn, getting ready for the reunion.  He came to join me for a while, and I got caught up with how things are going in his chaotic household.  I found that we were spending lots of time talking about his wife, and I thought I would rather hear directly from her, so when Stephen went to plant some rye and clover, I sent Julia a text and said we should have a bean patch visit soon. As it happened, she had time right then so she came to the patch and sat down to pick.  These conversations are really what make our world go round -- this is when we find out what we really wish for and figure out how to get there. This is when I get to put my own spin on whatever is troubling people, and when they expect me to be completely direct.  I learned so much yesterday about the visions that are slowly coming into focus for them, and how hard it has been to figure out how to get there.  I understand much more about what they are trying to do, and I can see they need some more skills, lots more time, and so much more time to talk things through with each other.  They have huge ideas, and no clear path. I believe it can happen but they need a lot more organizational (and bureaucratic) power.  You can't really create a whole new way of living without well articulated goals and people who can be persistent about making progress.

I never did go and do those other jobs.

Bean patch conversations are sometimes very long, often inconclusive, never boring, and I think they always move things along.  In this day and age, people don't often get a chance to sit and talk and talk about something that matters to them unless they go to a therapist or something.  I wonder what the non-farm opportunities are -- what makes it magical is that we are actually picking beans while we talk, so we are not just drinking coffee. There is no reason to stop talking if we haven't finished picking.  I was out there for almost six hours (and was stiff and sore that evening, I definitely do not have the elasticity of youth) and did not wish I were anywhere else.

I remember important conversations from years ago -- as I have said before, I get a chance to talk to young people in their 20s (I have come to think that is the hardest decade for most people) and offer the wisdom that comes with being many years ahead of them.  We used to talk a lot about marriage.  Now people don't get married so young. They are thinking about other stuff these days.

Michael wrote a song for my birthday called "Human Bean." He said he put together thoughts that we had talked about.  The chorus:

Let's pick some beans, you and I
There's a gentle breeze and a sunny sky
Pick a row but stay close by
I wanna know what's on your mind
Move your hands, sing a song
Cuz when we work, we belong
Yes you can live a life of ease
When you sit down and pick some beans.

And the verse that was written specifically for me on my birthday:

Count these gifts one by one
Your basket's full and the day's not done
Carry on in love and grace
There's nothing left to say but "thanks"
Sixty years, I'll be here
In the beans with you my dear
Settle down and come around
Dip your toes in fertile ground.


Yes, I do tell people to count their blessings quite often. That is how you figure out how to keep going and to get closer to where you want to be.