Chapter 19 - Purple Hulled Peas

The large field was lined by tall pine trees on every side. The small group of workers approached the field from a small break in the tree line from the corner of the perimeter of the field where the old truck was parked before they arrived. The crop of purple hulled peas was slightly overgrown with weeds of various heights scattered among the crop. But the long purple and green pods were everywhere in front of them.
Each worker had a large container expected to be filled, emptied and re-filled until the sun set or the massive truck bed was full. The dew covered every blade of every plant in the early morning light. They gathered together and said a prayer. Everyone was aware of the work before them, and resolved to make it happen.
They began picking the purple hulled peas, pod by pod and each filled their basket, bucket or bag. Being careful not to cut their bare hands on any of the razor sharp saw blades of the weeds known as Bleeder weeds because they either choked nearby plants to death by bleeding the ground of all of its nutrients or they actually had blood on them from cutting through human flesh.
The workers fingers and hands started out wet from the dew, but quickly began to turn green from the constant pinch, pull and pluck at the base of each pea pod. Their pants legs were wet and uncomfortable as the sun began to rise and bring hell upon their necks. But the wet pants helped prevent bites and scrapes from the sharp edged living nature that surrounded them.
They carried their first load of peas back to the old truck and dumped them in the back. It was disappointing to see that the first hour of work barely filled one corner of the huge truck bed. The harvest was covered with a canvas tarp and they returned to the field determined to work until the truck was full.
The next several following loads seemed to move somewhat faster because a big white cloud wandered near and blocked the harsh rays of the sun for a few minutes and a slight breeze cooled them momentarily. A few of the workers brought their full containers back to the truck but did not immediately return to the field and the number of workers out in the field began to dwindle. Finally the last worker picked up the pace enough when he realized that lunch was being served and he was hungry.
Lunch for everyone was the same. A peanut butter and jelly sandwiche, an apple, a peach and a stack of four Oreo cookies. Water and punch were available from two large drink coolers that sat on a small wood bench along with a package of wax-covered paper cups. Most of the workers sat on the ground in the shade of the truck and ate.
As they finished eating and drinking, some went into the woods for a bathroom break, while others lay down and covered their eyes. After one hour had passed, the workers began to get up again and head back out to the field.
The afternoon wore on and the truck was slowly filling up. Each time they picked up the tarp to dump their pickings into the back, they saw that the pea pod hill was swelling and rising in the back of the truck. Just as the sun began its march toward the horizon, but before it hid behind the tree line, the workers had filled the truck as much as it could hold. Their hands were raw with dirt and plant matter. The dew that had moistened them in the morning was replaced by sweat over the course of the day. And now they had finished. Exhausted and fatigued, they began the long walk back home where they would spend the remainder of the day preparing the peas for dinner.
When they arrived back at their home, the workers spent several minutes refreshing themselves with cold water on their hands, faces and necks. Rinsing the dirt and grime away in preparation for the task before them. They gathered around the truck that they had filled and seen driven away from the field to their small camp. Someone grabbed a hose and sprayed the entire truck bed full of purple hulled peas to rinse away any dirt or other undesirable plant matter.
As they had filled the truck, they began to empty it until each worker sat on a chair, stool or bench with a large pile in front of them. They began picking up a single pod at a time and opening it with the thumbnail from one hand while the other hand held the pod just right. As soon as the pod was opened, they could run their finger down the inside of the pod scraping out all of the peas into clean bowl. Two workers to a bowl made them fill up fairly quickly until the bowls were emptied into a larger container that would be delivered to the main kitchen as soon as they were finished.
The sun began to set and the shadows inside the camp began to grow. In the fading light the fingers and hands of the workers were getting dark with the purple juice of the hulls. A few songs were sung by a few of the workers to help with the job. Even the ones that didn’t sing, enjoyed listening to the songs.
When the two street lamps that illuminated their camp flicked on in the dimness of dusk, they stopped and covered the remainder of their harvest in the truck with the canvas tarp. Some carried the fruits of their labor to the main kitchen where large pots of boiling water awaited the peas. Others moved the now emptied hulls to the compost heap and prepared themselves for dinner.