Forget Christmas. It's Amish green bean season here in Waukesha. Hallelujah.
We have a little vegetable stand—a guy who sets up in the bank parking lot about a mile from here. For about three months every year, starting in mid-June, I live on his green beans, which he buys from the Amish up in...I don't know, I forget the name of the town. Shangri-La, should be, the mystical mythical happy land. And I remembered to go down there this morning before my coffee. I don't always remember, and he tends to run out.
It's green beans for lunch and green beans for dinner today. These green beans are so wonderful. (Did you know kids can detect a bitter taste in vegetables and people tend to like them more as they proceed through adulthood? I don't really know if that's true. Just something I heard somewhere recently.) I keep telling the vegetable guy to remember to thank the Amish for me. (You can't email those people, you know.) Those Amish up in Shangri-La, Wisconsin.
Today, just for fun, try thinking of one of those little things in life you're thankful for.
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Chip McDaniel: "I know what you mean about Amish produce. Here's some Amish handiwork from my neck of the woods."