Peas But Not Peace

Another day, another walk. I love the way the clouds seem to boil up above the trees, the road, my eyes. All those trees and you'd think there would be more shade on that sidewalk but no. At least not when I finally get out to walk. I'm sure there's a lot more in the early morning hours. 
I should check that out sometime.
Nothing of great interest occurred on my walk. Lloyd was just being Lloyd, baking in the unshaded areas, steaming in the shady places. Everyone with any sense was inside their houses although I saw a guy mowing the grass at the Volunteer Fire Department which is situated between the dump depot and the post office. A quonset hut houses the fire truck and all the gear needed for fire-fighting and responding to medical emergencies. I believe my mother told me that I was born in a quonset hut. I don't think I would have made this up. My father was in the Army at the time, stationed in El Paso, Texas, but there was some sort of horrible virus or something happening in the military hospital so a temporary hospital was set-up in an Air Force quonset hut. 
This may or may not be true. Or may only be partially true. But I like thinking that I was born in a quonset hut. This could explain a lot. 

After I'd cooled off from my walk and eaten some lunch, I put on my long overalls and attempted to do a little more work in the garden but I guess my body temperature was already elevated or something because it wasn't forty-five minutes before I started feeling a little woozy, at which point I came inside. Glen had been working all morning on installing a ladder onto his new boat. There's a plan for him to take some of the family scalloping on Saturday and a ladder is necessary for getting in and out of the water as one must do while scalloping. So he was hot too, having been working in the garage, even though he has a huge fan in there that would power a small airplane. So I said, "Let's go to the river."
He agreed this was a decent idea and we put on our bathing costumes and went to the Wacissa. Since the kids are back in school, it wasn't nearly as crowded as it was even just last week but there were a good number of children there and a few mothers. These are the homeschoolers. When you see nineteen children and three mothers you can assume they are the folks who homeschool their children due to their religious beliefs which include the teaching that a woman should have as many babies as the Lord sees fit to give her. Like the Duggars. This is a sect called "The Quiverfull movement."

Here's what AI says about them: 

The Quiverfull movement is a Christian subculture within the broader evangelical Christian and homeschooling movements that advocates for large families and emphasizes a biblical view of family structure, including male headship and female submission. The movement derives its name from Psalm 127:3-5, which speaks of children as a blessing and a quiver full of arrows. 

One of the big tells of a Quiverfull family (besides the inordinate number
 of children), is the ubiquitous Mercedes van with a pro-life specialty  license tag on it. Those vans can hold up to fifteen people and I imagine that some of the vans' seats are entirely filled with all the kids, the mom and dad. I have no idea how one man can make enough money to support that many children and buy a van that costs up to $70,000 but you can be certain it's the man earning that money because sure as shit the women are not going to be out in the evil world, working amongst the heathens. Her place is obviously in the home, creating new arrows in her quiver and taking care of the ones already there. 

I will say that there is a family in Monticello with at least a dozen kids and they are taken to all sorts of classes and also participate widely in the local children's theater scene. I know this to be true. 

But back to the river. When we first got there and took our first dives in, we were elated at how clear the water was, how pure and undisturbed it was. During the summer when it seems like all the kids in Jefferson County and half the kids in Leon County are there, the water gets all roiled around and it's not nearly as pristine. But oh, today, it was like ice cold gin. 
Until.
About six teenagers, girls and boys, decided to gather huge bunches of the vegetation in the water at the boat ramp and take it to the swimming area to throw onto each other, thus completely fowling what had been so beautifully clear, now littered by bits and pieces of hydrilla, which is one of the most invasive and harmful plants to be found in rivers and lakes. 

I got that picture online. I did not take it. 
And of course as the teens were throwing this shit all over the place they were screaming and laughing and one family's dog came bounding down to the water to jump in and paddle around, overcome with the excitement of the kids. 
Now generally, homeschooled kids are about the most well-behaved children I've ever seen. I'm pretty sure that the Spare the rod and Spoil the kid is absolute gospel for these families. You just cannot control that many children without some sort of capital punishment, I suppose. But in this case, not one of the mothers, who were all sitting under the one pavilion, said a damn word. 

So. Weed throwing, kids screaming, and large dog barking loudly.
And here's another thing- there was a Florida Wildlife Control truck right there, in the parking lot and whoever was in that truck didn't do a thing either. They didn't even get out of the truck. They may have actually been asleep. And before anyone could complain to them about the hydrilla gathering and the dog (dogs aren't permitted there), they drove away. 

It was so weird. The kids absolutely knew they were way out of bounds because one of them said, "We probably shouldn't be spreading all this around in the swimming area."
Uh. Yeah. 
And they all started trying to gather up the weeds and move them back to where they'd found them but before we knew it, they were back at it, throwing them at each other again. 
At one point, when we'd gone back into the water and cleared as much of a space as we could to swim in without coming up looking like a sea creature with hydrilla draped all over us, one of the kids started throwing MORE hydrilla and screams of joy and feigned fear began again. 
I could not control myself. 
"STOP IT!" I yelled. 

No one was doing a thing and lots of people were standing about, watching all this go on with expressions on their faces which seemed to say, "Someone needs to do something about this."

I don't know if the kids stopped or not. We waded back to shore, packed up, and drove home. 
So much for the peace and tranquility we were seeking at the river. 
And I need to add that I don't even know if those kids were part of the homeschooled kids. But I'm pretty sure that a kid who goes to an actual school wouldn't be skipping so early in the year, plus none of these kids looked old enough to drive. 

And that's my adventure report for today. 
When we got home I settled down and shelled some zipper peas. Or crowder peas. I don't even know which ones they are but they're pretty easy to shell. Whenever I go out to the garden these days, I always pick the peas first so that if I get overheated I'll at least have that done. 

I do not want one of those precious peas going to waste. As I say every year these are not the same sort of peas that are always round and green and that you always find in pot pies. 
Not these.

The peas we grow here in the summer are field peas, as a general term, and there are many types and varieties. Think of black-eyed peas. There you go. 

It there is anything more representative of summer in the south than women shelling peas on a porch I do not know what it is. And I have to say that wearing a dress for this activity is smart because those peas can fly and the odds are good that if you're wearing something with a skirt, the flying peas will end up in the hammock created by the skirt where you can easily find them and add them to the bowl. 

That's my how-to-do-southern tip for the day. 

Love...Ms. Moon