Sound clip from the Writer’s Almanac. Garrison Keillor reads the poem, “First Sown”. To skip to the poem, slide the bar about two-thirds of the way for the reading.
March 7, 2012
Pea brush as early support until pea vines find the six foot trellis behind. If you’re planting peas this month or next, see my earlier post for tips.
First Sown
Peas are the first thing we plant
always. We lie full length
on the cold black earth and poke
holes in it for the wrinkled
old men of the seeds.
Nothing will happen for weeks.
Rain will soak them, a white
tablecloth of snow will cover
them and be whisked off.
The moon will sing to them:
open, loosen, let the pale
shoots break out. No,
they are pebbles, they sit
in the earth like false teeth.
They ignore the sweet sun.
Then one unlikely day
the soil cracks along miniature
faults and soon baby leaves
stick out their double heads
and we know we shall have peas.
