The harvest started today in earnest. Not in Ernest, as my Aunt Izzy used to refer to her freezer. But I have put six bags (tidy one-cup servings suitable for my household) of beans in my freezer, and I have not made a dent in the pile of beans in the kitchen.
Worse, I have not made a dent in the bean picking. I had to stop when my big stainless bowls and my pockets were full. I can only freeze in small batches, anyway, so I will be doing 2-4 batches at a time from now till the beans stop for the winter.
I picked the pencil-thin green ones, the wax beans, the hunky green ones, and one side of the flat Italian row. I really must figure out what these beans' proper names are so that I can enjoy the compulsive's five-way taste test come winter. The purple ones aren't ready yet, and it looks as if I might get a few limas and black-eyed peas, the gift of our hot summer. Even the okra is a good ten inches tall (insert uproarious laughter from the Southern contingent accustomed to seeing four-foot tall okra plants) and might give me a few pods this year.
The beets and chard look good, the zucchini and pumpkins are on their way to being appropriately menacing, and all is right in my world. I even see one tiny cherry tomato that is almost red.
Update: up to 28 one-cup servings. Not a bad day's work.