Black Beans

I picked black beans the other day with my son
We pulled up the dried plants and stuffed them into a bushel basket
Family came to chat and by pity or guilt each brought a pile to their laps
We plucked the pods from the plant and shelled the black seeds into a pan
Cling, clang they rang as they dropped
Tedious work it is but good conversations, especially with children who come reluctantly to help
And then forget about resisting as they are hypnotized by the cling, clang and the smoothness of the beans between their fingers.
Oh once in a while one of us will say, “There’s got to be a better way.”
But we keep on shelling not thinking too hard about new methods that could be bought or built
And we comment on the late summer sunset, “That was beautiful.” “There she goes.” And “It sure does go down fast the closer it gets, huh Dad?”
Yep, it sure does.