Every time I check on my peas, I get snippets of an old sea shanty called "Hogeye Man" running through my head. A hogeye is a kind of barge, so a hogeye man is one of its sailors. Apparently, this is one of the smuttier versions of the song in print and audio; various other versions were sadly deemed too blue for posterity.
And Sally's in the garden, pickin' peas,
Her long golden hair hangs down to her knee
(With a hogeye,
Railroad navvy, with a hogeye
Row ashore with a hogeye, oh
She wants a hogeye man.)
And Sally's in the garden, shellin' peas,
Her little hogeye a-sittin' on her knee
And Sally's in the garden, makin' duff,
The cheeks of her arse go chuff, chuff, chuff
I have always wondered about the "chuff, chuff, chuff" bit of the song. Awfully audio-visual, isn't it?
I think peas don't like me. Last year, I got about 6 pods, and bitter, miserable little things they were, too.
This year so far, I've counted only a few flowers. Soon enough, it will be too hot for peas, so this is not promising. I planted as I was told- even added sharp sand to the planter and dug it in for better drainage. Two years of trying and failing with peas may be the maximum failure rate for me. I'm going to erect shadecloth once it gets hot, and see if I can't extend their sad little lives.
Anybody have good luck with peas in pots? Maybe containers are not their scene. And it could be that I just can't plant enough for a reasonable pea harvest. At this rate, I'll never have enough peas to shell while sitting in my garden, wearing a blond wig, and chuffing. Oh, wait, that's with the duff. What the heck is duff, anyway?