When I first started writing my blog, my brother once said “I don’t understand the Uncle Bob angle.”  I’m probably not Uncle Bob’s favorite niece, true enough; I was one of many nieces when we were growing up.  These last ten years, I’ve been the niece who has likely given him the most grief and in spite of all that, I think I’m growing on him.  I’m grateful he’s let me set up my experimental “Lettuce Farm” in his back yard and I know he’s looking out for things when I’m not there.

Uncle Bob provides good blog material.

Last year, I grew peas for the first time, both in my Hampton Victory Garden spot and at home.  I didn’t really know what I was doing, so I didn’t grow very many peas.  The ones I planted next to my garlic at Uncle Bob’s were “okay” but not fantastic.  The trellis was too low.

This year, in spite of Uncle Bob’s skepticism, I planted a whole row of peas right next to the rhubarb.  When the seeds sprouted, Uncle Bob made a trellis out of poles and chicken wire.  It’s been a team effort and the peas have grown happily all spring.

Last night, I had the good fortune to be at home for a fleeting few hours and I was elated to see that the peas had arrived.  Uncle Bob came out to visit and told me he had been eating and enjoying them.  They’re Amish snap peas; they can be eaten whole, pea pod and all.  According to the seed package, they will yield over a 6 week period if kept picked.

Wow!

That means we’ll have peas right through the Moxie Festival.

I don’t know what Uncle Bob really thinks about the peas.  In my storytelling mind, I’d like to think they remind him of peas O’Pa grew in the garden back in the days when peas were an early summer treat and not something cheap and pale in a can.  Uncle Bob knew how to jigger up a pea trellis, which tells me he has a remembrance of peas past.

Peas perdu.

It doesn’t matter if Uncle Bob has an existential connection to peas or not.  He’s peaceful and calm about everything and I need a little more peace and calm in my life.  Peace and calm and peas.

I love you, Uncle Bob.