Snappin’ beans on the front porch is a summertime ritual in the Appalachia area. My Great Grandmother, maw, aunt, mom and I would head out into the garden in the early morning hours on a July day. The favorite variety of beans in our family is the Pole Bean. It got its name because it’s a climber; so, you would put poles (stakes) in the ground for the bean to climb. Pails in hand, hats donned and gloves on, we were prepared to pick. Out of the four of us, I did the least pickin’.
Sometimes there would be a light mist hovering over the garden. The moisture against my cheek as I ran up and down the rows of vegetables must have been God’s gentle kiss. The view from the garden was a converging of two mountains. As a young girl, I saw this view as a huge Lazy Boy chair. I just knew it was God’s Lazy Boy chair. The fog that fell from the mountains seemed like a good morning greeting before God settled into his mountainous chair and awaited my arrival to the front porch.
With the pails full of beans, it was off to the kitchen where the ritual really began. My maw would fill up the farm sink with water and we all dumped our beans in to give them a rinse. After a minute or two, maw would drain the water, and the four women would divide the beans into three piles. Then they would scoop a pile of beans into their aprons. Now it was off to the front porch to start snappin’.
Four generations of women focused on the task at hand which is done lovingly in a meditative rhythmic pace. Looking back, I believe snappin’ beans on the front porch must have been my first exposure to mindful meditation. Rarely, within the 30 to 40 minutes we were snappin’, did conversation take place among us. But that was just fine. In fact, it was perfect. This activity is a full sensory meditation with God. The “snap” provides a melody of music against a backdrop of silence.
Pole beans come in a variety of colors; we always had the green ones. Green is a color I have always liked. It reminds me of good health and great wealth. We certainly were nourished by these beans; and with five of us snappin’, there was quite an abundance of them. This bean is quite long and flat on 2 sides. The “snap” is the result of bending the bean until it breaks. This break happens at least twice with one bean; sometimes, the bean is long enough for it to be broken four times. Once you snapped the end of the bean, you then ran its long string down its side to the other end. Then snap this end and take the string down the other side. Now you’re ready to snap the long bean into 3 or 4 pieces. The outside skin was smooth to the touch. The sound of the “snap” was strong and bold. An air of confidence that these beans knew they had fulfilled their purpose on this earth. Due to the exposure of the inside of the bean, after every snap, a fresh scent was released. This was a crisp scent with a hint of sweetness. To hold one of these beans in your hands has a cooling sensation (always welcomed in July). When the snappin’ was complete, my women elders would wipe their hands on their apron, look intensely at the snapped beans and caress the bowl. It was as if an unspoken prayer of gratitude were being bestowed over the beans. With the bowl of beans in our laps we all sat another few minutes in quiet. The ritual of snappin’ beans was over now. I looked out at God’s mountainous chair until it was time to take our beans inside to the kitchen. God and I connected once again on the front porch.