As I stood at the kitchen counter shelling these lovelies, a rhythm developed.
Three pods for the pan, one for the mouth, three, one, three, one....
Oh yes, to be sure, I heard past voices, echos of Momma and Grandma saying "the pan, Ruthie, put them in the pan". Those were the days when the garden bounty was family fare and therefore to be shared, not selfishly consumed.
Today was different.
I heard the voices, but I just smiled and kept the rhythm of bliss going:
three for the pan, one for the mouth.
No sharing was required.
How good it all was.