Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

I kneel on warm ground by loaded rows

Of small green peas that my garden grows,

Feeling a kinship with summer and God

Each time I pick a ripe, green pod.

In my kitchen, I hull away

The covering from my food bouquet,

Exposing small jewels of sparkling hue,

Bits of warm sunshine and parts of dew

That shimmer like jade in a showcase.

Canning green peas is not commonplace

But something like conquering Venus or Mars,

When I store the summer away in clear jars.

These poetic words by Ruth B. Field struck a chord with me because last week I also felt a “kinship with summer and God each time I picked a...