Over the weekend, S determined that the black beans we planted were ready for a first pass at harvesting.
Over the weekend, I learned a valuable lesson:
Beans are not shucked.
Apparently ‘shucking’ is exclusive to corn. (Who knew?)
Beans are hulled. Or you break beans. But they are never shucked.
It is currently uncertain if I will ever live that down with S and his family.
(Beans waiting to be hulled. Sorry it’s blurry)
(Empty shells. Success!)
(First bean gathering filled a gallon ziplock)
(The bean garden. We’ve started calling my husband ‘Farmer S’)
I really pushed myself to finish hulling the beans earlier this week. I stayed up late and spent hours getting it done. S, who sometimes didn’t get off work until after 11pm, came home not long after I had finished. Having put off the rest of my ‘to do’ list to finish the beans, I was stressed and still sweeping the floor when he got home.
S: “Hey honey. How was your evening?”
C: “Well I finally got the beans finished. I sat working on them for hours.”
S: “Oh yeah…. I guess I forgot to tell you… The landlord said we didn’t have the hull them. He was going to do it.”
There was a tense moment in which S was nearly impaled on a broom handle, but don’t worry. He pried the broom from my fingers and told me to sit down while he finished the sweeping just in time.