Sitting cross legged on the
porch I snap green beans. Grandpa tells me to keep as much of the green bean as
possible. Don’t be wasteful. God wants us to use his bounty right. The green beans ring against the tin bowl
when I drop them in singing a requiem before their ultimate demise. After I finish my task we take the bowl to Grandma. She is pleased with our labors but with a disapproving
shake of the head she removes a leaf from the bowl.
A little, measly leaf that
didn’t harm anything. Grandma’s simple
head shake causes me to cower.
Slumping outside I see unripe
peaches in the tree above me,. One day they will be transformed into fruit
leather. On that day Grandma will let me stir the simmering peach puree on the
stovetop. The smell will be peaches and
cream in a dream. I hear Toby bark,
begging me to come and play. There is Grandpa’s neighbor, the DelMonte hat guy
raking leaves next door. I don’t like him because he always eats Grandpa’s
peanuts whenever he comes over.
Patient Grandpa kneels down
getting wet dirt in the ribs of his corduroy pants. He pops a jagged dandelion weed out of the
ground. The root brakes. His wrinkly hands dig in like worms to light
grasping at the deeply imbedded root. He
pulled out a root as long as my life and told me this,
“Shannon, when you are feeling sorry for yourself do
something nice for others. This will never fail you. Now, Let me show you how you pull up the deepest roots”
I picked dandelion top after
dandelion top leaving Grandpa to show me yet again the right way to uproot a
root as long as my life.
The leaves bled milk. Milkweed.
Tearing the leaves like confetti upon the garden bed feels as wonderful
as pulling brand new tissues from a box and sprinkling them like gently falling
snow. Grandpa asked me to pick up the
pieces and put them in the compost bin so more weeds wouldn’t grow. Just like Mom who tells me to fold the
tissues back up and put them in the box.
They both say “Don’t be wasteful.”
It is very hard to refold
tissues and put them back in the box. And ever harder picking weeds that exist
to live in the earth. By their very
nature their root hairs grip the dirt clinging to their mother earth.
My hands smelled like green
and earth. The smell pleases me more
than peaches and cream dream. It smells
free and joyful.
After grandpa labors and I play, it is suppertime. Rice soufflé, squash
with butter and meatloaf. Grandma’s
house smells like old hotel soap and winter vegetables. Leaving some of the rice and cheese on my
plate Grandma chides, “Lick your plate clean.
Don’t be wasteful”
Grandpa picks his plate up
and does just that. He put Toby to shame
with long, steady licks and a plate clean and good as new. After eating the last few morsels of rice I see
the full picture on my plate, Rudolph the Red nosed reindeer, who cares if it
is July. The great thing about Grandma’s—eat
your dinner and you find a picture on your plate. Grandpa heads to the ice box and pulls out a
carton of strawberry ice cream. My
strawberry palm in his riveted palm we walk to Toby’s doghouse. And what to my wondering eyes did occur than
Grandpa instead of tossing the eaten ice cream carton into the rubbish can -carefully
unfolds it and gives it to Toby the happiest Springer Spaniel in the whole wide
world.
Grandma calls out, “Harold,
what are you doing to that poor dog?! I
know what you’re doing. I told you that
dog can't eat ice cream. …and Fred’s come to call!”
-That’s the Delmonte Hat
guy. Grandpa calls back, “You said lick
your plate clean. Toby’s just doing what
the good Lord intended. Waste not, want
not.”
We sit in the sitting room
and they talk about boring adult stuff. “These
are great peanuts!”
"How much rainfall there has
been this year. . Crunch, smack,
crackle. The best way to get rid of
aphids on tomatoes" and all the whole while DelMonte hat is helping himself to the
shelled peanuts on the table. “I should stop..?!” “Oh, no, go one, that’s what
they are there for. Really?! Granted no one asked me but I’d say he had more
than enough. I keep watching. Would he dare eat them all? Come on Mr. DelMonte hat. Waste not want not.
30 years later with my
children and I share a bowl of peanuts and conversation to help them ask
questions in their youth that will yield bounteous results. One says, “Hey,don’t take so much!” and in that a moment I am taken back to what
a peanut really is. Grandpa saw no waste
in relishing and especially sharing heavens rewards. I ask them all “How do you
get to know God?” My mind flashes to the
root as long as my life. I remember an impatient, impetious miniature mirror of myself and an imbedded
truth that lies deep in my soul, it lies deep and is anchored steady in my
heart.
You get to know Him, my
beautiful children by digging up weeds, snapping green beans and letting your
brother have more peanuts than you.
And in my heart, I thank
Grandpa for the fruit of his labors, for the healing power of dirt, for sunshine
and for milkweed.
