pea's garden


The tallest sugar snap pea plants now measure six feet. They’re flowering and you can see some tiny pea pods if you hunt for them. In a week, we’ll be eating a few, and then for the next month there will be more than we can keep up with. I’ll pull out all my trusty recipes that include them and scour the internet for more. We’ll have crispy, sweet peas packed in lunches and sautéed in a variety of different dishes for dinners.

I’ll do my best with them in the kitchen, but the majority will be consumed straight off the vine. We’ll stand at the hedge of towering plants and pick them in the evenings. We’ll talk about our days and litter the ground with the little strands we pull off before we pop them in our mouths.

Our lovely daughter Jill took these beautiful photos of our peas.

Quick life update

First, I want to state that I have mowed the lawn three times this year already, so there’s that.

And now, because I can - I’m burying the lead on the story. 

After almost a decade I’m leaving the newspaper business, switching sides, heading to work in marketing at my Alma Mater.

My mood can best be described as excited/scared. I am about 99% certain I’m going to be good at this job but that one percent lingers and eats at me. What if I’m no good? What if all I was ever meant to do was work in newspapers and have my soul slowly crushed by the business. What if I don’t deserve to make more money while working fewer hours. What if a thousand other things blah blah blah.

I suspect once I’m actually at the school doing the work I will feel much better about the job and my own ability, but sitting around now waiting for it to happen is practically enough to drive me crazy! And yes, I know, this has more to do with my own state of mind than it does anything else but still, I worry.

But the peas and potatoes look great, the beans have broken ground, my apple tree is putting on leaves and it’s supposed to be a beautiful day. I think I’m going to stick in a pin in my own doubts and head outside for a few hours. Who’s with me?