While cleaning beans at my kitchen sink, I glanced over to our neighbors who were sitting out enjoying their patio. At 150 yards away, I couldn’t tell if they were looking at me or just in my direction. I remembered that they enjoyed the sound of running water made by our fountain. With the beans on the stove in the first cycle of my boil-soak –rinse method I headed downstairs to plug in the fountain.
The fountain needed water added to it, and the rose bush next to it looked dry so I gave it a drink. With hose in hand, I looked around and everything looked like they could use a good soaking. So I started in, watering everything in sight including my bare feet.
I started chuckling as I remembered Pop telling us during our visit in the summer of that he had watered his lush garden in Kentucky only twice that summer. Pop Cobb was married to my Grandma and he was one of the kindest men I have ever known. He was an Arkansas boy who couldn’t read very well but, boy howdy, could he coax more cucumbers, strawberries, okra, tomatoes and whatever else you’d like from his garden. Pop Cobb said there was something special about working in a garden right as a rain shower was ending, the rain is sweeter then. I think Pop just liked to get out in the rain. Pop never could see our pleasure in living in the desert Southwest. Easy to understand from a gardener who grew three types of string beans.
There came a time when Pop decided he needed to cut back on the size of his garden. His rule of thumb was to plant what you could tend to, not what you have room for. Pop would be real tickled with my two pots of tomato plants on our deck which are thriving..
. As Pop’s gardens grew smaller and took longer for him to tend, a light began flickering in his heart, reflected in his eyes. One late spring morning Pop got up from his easy chair, slipped on his mud boots, and snatched his gloves from the hook by the door. The screen door slammed behind him, leaving Frisky on the wrong side of the screen door. His constant companion since Grandma had passed, Frisky knew Pop would be back when he finished in the garden and he would get a treat if he was good. Frisky sat patiently by the door, waiting for Pop.
As the sirens got louder Frisky forgot about his treat and he started barking and howling. Mrs. Shannon who lived next door and who helped Pop with cleaning and cooking had found Pop face down among the carrots and onions. Pop had left his little piece of heaven on earth, taking a bit of earth with him as he entered heaven.
Running up the stairs, I had three thoughts which crossed my mind:
You are too old to be running in the house.
I sure do miss Pop Cobb… And….
There’s not a darn thing you can do with burnt beans.
