This recrudescence of first harvest abundances would not be complete without a hymn of praise directed at our peas, which have literally never before grown as tall and as extensive as this year, though at the mercy of the vigorous winds that has been beating upon us the last couple of days, thus creating odd shaped sculptures in Les Pierres veggie garden, like shipwrecks on organic green waves that will eventually push their knocked loose precious cargo ashore, we hope.
The rapidly expanding mess of tangled green vines, fragile white flowers and promising swelling pods also bring me straight back to biology class and its complex curriculum of chromosome combinations and other hereditary mysteries.
Spotting these anomalies in between their whiter than white siblings has me comfortably convinced that in our tiny paradise purple and pink will always prevail even the most straightforward amelioration.
With the same trust I devour a lot of the fresh peas straight from their pods, knowing there will be more than enough left for the kitchen.
They already featured in a cucumber salad last weekend and will be costarring in a Spanish potato omelet tonight, accompanied by the last of the spinach that will soon start to bloom and become too dominant in taste.
Other varieties will have to take over and yes, we obviously have a pink one growing.