The String Bean Patch
“You’ll be doing Grandma a real big favor, if you go on out there and pick all the beans that are ready in the green bean patch.” Grandma had a way with words. I believed that no one could pick the beans the way I did. It was an honor to do it too, because I knew she had special plans for the ones that I picked. They would be delicious, no matter how she would make them. Off I went, bucket in hand, to my enchanted place.
The vegetable garden was outside to the left in the back of the house. The bean patch was at the far end. It had to be that way because the beans grew taller than anything else. Being on the far perimeter of the plot; they would not block the sun from the other vegetables. Where the bean patch was located, wasn’t anything that I gave any thought to at the time. It was far enough for me to dream and close enough for me to see everything else that was going on. No one else would have seen it quite the way I did. It was a haven, a safe place to be, dream and imagine life as an enchantment. It was perfect.
The primary mission was beans and the journey would take me past the herbs and lettuce, beyond the tomatoes, through the peas and around the carrots and finally to the beans. I always started at the end closest to the house, so I would be seen picking right away. That way I would have peace and quiet for my visit to the bean patch.
The bucket filled quickly because the crop was always abundant. Picking beans was a lot like going to church for me; I reflected on the process. Planting the dried beans in the spring when everything was still gray and cold was a clear demonstration of faith, but the warm days that followed would awaken the beans and sprouts would shoot up as if by magic. They were the fastest growing plants in the garden and I believed that if I watched them closely enough, I could see them grow. With a bucket almost full, I sat down to try it. Never did see them grow but my musings about life blossomed every time I tried.
I wondered about clouds. What would it be like to sit in the middle of a big fluffy one and float around the world? Imagine stopping it when and where I wanted, so I could step off and see what things were like in other countries; then get back on and float away again.
Occasionally a garter snake would appear and I would wonder how they lived and why they had no fear. I was much bigger and yet they were content to slither around my arms and hands then go on their merry way. Birds were the same. They would stand right next to me and peck at the ground, happily chirping away, munching on a worm or bug and then fly away when the spirit moved them. These were my great fantasies.
I wondered about people too; in general people did not seem happy. This was a big mystery to me. It seemed everyone always wanted something that they did not have. It could be money, things, relationships or a host of things. Every time I overheard conversations, I would hear talk about not having something or someone else having it instead. So I would try to personalize these desires to understand what they meant. I couldn’t.
I would try to imagine what would make life better. These were tough questions that I was pondering. It was the same whether it was on a global scale or between neighbors. People just disagreed. Well there you have it. I would get on my cloud and help people become more agreeable. Happiness was sure to follow. Those mental journeys were always fun for me. I was still young enough to imagine away any troubles, and wise enough to know that down the road life could dish up serious stuff.
These flights of fantasy were possible because in the green bean patch I believed I was safe from anything that could happen in life and I was surrounded by love. I needed nothing else. They began at the very best stage of my life and allowed me the creativity to innocently question some of life’s toughest conundrums. The answers that I found in the green bean patch were not the end-all solutions; they were the beginnings. Though the green bean patch is long gone, my lifelong search for answers continues still. I believe I am getting closer.
Ellen Rossopoulos
August 2002
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