As I finish up tidying the back yard, well, not all the way, I haven’t gone back and weed whacked the poison ivy and grass, at least back to the stones that kind of define where the real wilderness begins, even though it’s pretty wild there on the other side of that edge, too, classic border community stuff going on, especially when it’s not been whacked back in some time, and it’s not, but the beds are all weeded and healthy and planted or retired, or semi-retired, greens will go again, so will peas, but as I pretty it up to sell as a garden spot, I resort to that good old hot weather stand by, easy to germinate, and quickly, beans.
I seem to recall Bob Dylan doing quite the bit on beans in that movie with Kris Kristofferson, that one Mom had to take me to because I wasn’t quite 17 yet, and man, was she ever horrified when the dimes came flying out that guy’s back, me, not so much back then, because I was kind of digging the cowboy movie with Kris and Rita and Bob, the Nobel Prize winner, reading about beans.
He did it with feeling.
Anyway, part of the thing today was getting those back beds all weeded, amazing, the squirrels haven’t eaten the corn yet, maybe they know I planted the ornamental stuff for them, or maybe they’re just waiting until it reaches sweet perfection, they sure haven’t much minded the not yet ripe peaches, but I figure they needed to be thinned, anyway, the peaches, maybe the squirrels are actually helping, who knows, because oddly enough, they sure did leave me a whole bunch of raspberries today.
They were good.
But as I was tossing water soaked black beans out there, and they’ve been soaking a few days, they’ve, like, totally imbibed, I was thinking about that old movie with Rueben Blades, and he’s the only character I can remember, because he was so cute, the Milagro Beanfield War. I’m pretty sure that’s where the line about the steenkin’ badges came from, but I won’t swear to it.
I do recall it was just about a simple guy irrigating some beans, just a man trying to grow a crop, and there was some gross injustice involved, no doubt against the brown guy, and Rueben had a good role, kind of a sheriff or something who was basically a good guy, as I recall, won’t swear to it, but he was cute, for sure.
I liked him even better when I saw him on that thing about the New Orleans Jazz Festival, singing, shaking his booty. I’d have voted for him, for sure.
Anyway, I got to thinking about the Nashua Beanfield War, as passionate plant growers from hither and yon all come scrambling to take over this property, to make it their own, love it as I have loved it, to grow beans of their own here. There are cukes and squashes and tomatoes galore out there, potatoes and berries of all kinds, carrots and broccoli, it looks really nice.
My price is negotiable. If I can find somebody who will buy Bubba, too, and let him stay here with them, that person will get first preference, for sure. Maybe even a nice discount.
We don’t need no steenkin’ realtors.