Got pecans?

It's that time of the year again... the branches of the pecan trees are bending with the weight of the thick green pods which are filled with brown-shelled pecans... all ready for picking. And how do we know when picking time is at its zenith? When the huge black crows fly into those trees, scream out a cawing sound that translates into "Get your fresh pecans here!" and then my husband goes out into the yard with an air-horn to chase away the crows. That's when I remind him that living out here in no-man's-land means you have to share some of your pecans with huge birds that disrupt the silence of the countryside. (Actually, that blasted air-horn does an even better job of disrupting the silence.)

Every morning before it gets too hot on that side of the property I go out there with a sack and fill it up with pecans. I now have five sacks in the fridge, each filled with pecans that need to be shelled. With both jobs (the picking and the shelling) I wear those thin throw-away latex gloves. The thick pods will make the tips of your fingers lime-green, and the shells will turn your fingertips a sickly shade of brown. Neither color is much of a match with magenta nail polish.

I use the pecans in everything... in salads and cakes, on top of fish, in breakfast cereal... anything that could possibly use a bit of crunch gets a splash of chopped pecans. A couple of years ago, I sent my cousin some of our pecans... "From our own trees! I picked them myself! They're delicious!"  I think I was more excited than she was. I know she was thinking that she could easily drive herself to the supermarket, buy a bag of pecan halves that have been perfectly shelled without her having to use those horrible latex gloves... and her manicure wouldn't be damaged a bit in the purchase of those store-bought pecans.... and a pecan is a pecan is a pecan.

Talk about bursting a country bubble....