Monday, 9 May 2011

Pea Green

It was a tiny back garden, but a perfectly magical one.  A little lawn, catching the sunshine, just enough space for a paddling pool.  Visitor - your newly acquainted eye, would travel round, round, up and then in.  Shady, woody and trailing.  You're drawn in, intrigued.

An apple tree, as small in stature as its habitat but proudly fruit bearing; come in, more fruit trees, pears, plums and then, quite unexpectedly at the very back of the garden, where you think, believe, there are blackberry brambles, your eye catches.  Lingers.  Is it?  Can it be?  Stepping in, you eagerly follow the trailing vine, up the wall.  Your gaze halts.  Perfect, sweet clusters.  There are grapes growing, hiding, a perfect garden secret.

Wisha, wisha, wisha.  The trees swaying gently. A child's laugh.

There I am.

Sitting, listening to my breath.  Outside noises, softened: birds, trees, breeze.  I am hidden.  A wall of twisting, gently grabbing tendrils, reaching up to a point above me, surrounding me in brilliant sunlit green.  The perfect place for a four year old girl to day dream - a pea wigwam.

It was here that I had my first taste of freshly popped peas.  Straight off the stalk.  I would of, if I could of, eaten the wigwam bare.  It was and is to this day a flavour, that makes me utterly happy, in the moment.  There is simply nothing quite like new peas.  Grassy, sweet, but singular, bold.  Wonderful enough to be eaten with nothing more than fresh air.

I have spent the day building pea wigwams.  Creating little hiding places.  Building new memories.

x

4 comments:

Miss Holly said...

I am there! yummmmmm

::cupcakesandbiscuits:: said...

My first memories are not so idyllic; more like pinching them through gaps in fences of a neighbour.
We later found out said neighbour knew all along about us kids scoffing his harvest but didn't mind as long as someone was eating them. I swear they tasted all the sweeter when they were forbidden.
xx
By the way you are a sweetheart leaving a 'missing you'. We must write snail like soon m'dear!

Saphy said...

nice, I remember sitting in the farm garden, picking them off and eating them, then chewing on the pods to get the taste out and spitting out the husks...

PaperFish! said...

sadomasochism.
nice.

Flush..... anything with Sh....

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