astaciamorrigen (astaciamorrigen) wrote in your_art,
astaciamorrigen
astaciamorrigen
your_art

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I wrote this last night.

Beans

It's a big bean morning
in the mountains.
The fog is low and thick
and looks like a blanket of cotton
placed upon us by the moon.
I can smell the honeysuckle
and the cucumber vines.
The tomatoes are almost ripe
and I can already tase them,
warm from the sun,
thickly sliced onto Mamaw's homemade biscuits.
One bird sings,
and another answers,
and soon there is a chorus filling my ears.
I am at peace,
content with the world
and my place in it.
I love big bean mornings.

-Winnie Vautrin

Backstory: In Scott County,VA, where I grew up therewas a woman known to everone as The Bean Lady. Every morning in September she would go outside at the crack of dawn to observe the mountains. If it was foggy she would place a bean in a mason jar; a big bean for a big fog and a small bean for a small fog. During the winter the beans were taken back out of the jar; big beans for big snows and small beans for small snows. For years she was able to accurately predict what kind of winter we were in for.
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