When the Peanuts Come Up

Dear Friend,

Well, it's peanut season in the Wiregrass. Not that anybody around here needs me to announce it.

The tractors are rolling, the dust is flying, and if you get behind a truck hauling peanuts down a two-lane road, you might as well settle in and enjoy the scenery. You'll get there when you get there.

Now, the other morning, I got up and opened the back door to let the dogs out to do their business, just like I do every morning. Except this particular morning, I looked out toward the field behind our house, and there was the farmer on his tractor, digging up peanuts.

Well, shoot. I needed pictures!

I've been wanting to share more about the place I call home, and here was a perfectly good opportunity happening right outside my back door. So I hurried up, threw on some clothes, grabbed my phone, and headed outside.

Now, I wanted pictures of the farmer working, but I didn't particularly want to stand there looking like some strange woman spying on a man who was just trying to get his peanuts out of the ground. So naturally, I wandered around the yard talking to the goats, chickens, and turkeys, pretending I was just out doing my morning chores. Because that's not odd, right?

Nothing suspicious happening here. Just a woman having a perfectly normal conversation with her chickens while occasionally pointing her phone toward the peanut field.

I don't know whether I fooled the farmer, but I reckon the chickens were convinced I had finally lost my mind.

And the funny thing is, I really was enjoying watching him work.

I've always admired farmers. There's something about watching somebody out there working the land, day after day, that makes you appreciate just how much goes into the things we sometimes take for granted. They're working to take care of their own families, but what they grow also helps put food on tables far beyond the Wiregrass, for people they'll probably never meet.

And there's a whole lot of hard work between putting something in the ground and seeing it end up on somebody's table. I think that deserves a little appreciation, especially when you can see it happening right outside your back door.

Now, I've watched cotton and corn being harvested, but peanuts are a little different. One minute you've got a beautiful green field. The next, a tractor comes through and turns those plants over, exposing bunches of peanuts that have been growing underground all this time. And there they are, hanging from the plants, covered in that good ol' Wiregrass dirt.

It's fascinating to watch. At least I think so. And judging by how long I stayed outside pretending to talk to the chickens, I'd say I was pretty entertained.

Those peanuts are still lying out there in the field as I write this, waiting for the farmer to come back with the combine.

And yes, I'm hoping to get pictures of that, too. The goats and chickens may have to put up with another round of suspiciously enthusiastic morning chores.

But there's something else about peanut season around here. We're part of the Wiregrass, home to Dothan, Alabama, the Peanut Capital of the World.

Think about that for a minute.

Peanuts aren't just something we grow around here. They're part of our history, our economy, our traditions, and a whole lot of our memories.

We've got the National Peanut Festival, giant painted peanuts scattered around Dothan, generations of farming families, and roadside stands selling boiled peanuts all year long.

And for those of us who didn't grow up in farming families, peanut season meant something pretty exciting. It meant the Peanut Festival was coming! The rides. The fair food. The livestock barns. The exhibits. The excitement of knowing that before long, we'd be walking around the fairgrounds with sore feet, sticky fingers, and probably a whole lot less money than we arrived with.

As kids, that was what we looked forward to.

But for children growing up in farming families, this time of year could mean something entirely different. While some of us were counting down the days until the fair opened, they were watching the fields and getting ready for harvest. Long days. Hard work. Getting the crop out of the ground. Watching the weather and hoping it cooperated. For some of those families, everybody had a part to play.

And I wonder how many of us who were just excited about the fair ever stopped to think about that. I know I didn't give it nearly as much thought when I was younger as I do now. It's funny how two children can grow up in the very same place, look forward to the very same time of year, and have such different memories of what it meant.

Of course, we can't talk about this part of the world without talking about boiled peanuts. Honey, you can find somebody selling those on the side of the road year-round. And if you've got strong opinions about boiled peanuts, don't worry. We're going to have that conversation. Just not today.

Because there's a whole lot more I want to talk about first.

The farmers in the fields. The little roadside stands. The festivals. The family traditions. The people who've spent their lives building and preserving the communities we call home. There's so much about this place that we see every day without giving it much thought.

And I wonder how many of those stories are slowly being forgotten. Not because they aren't important, but because sometimes the things closest to us are the very things we forget to talk about.

So I've decided we're going to do something about that.

I want to share more stories about the Wiregrass. The people, the places, the history, the farming, the food, the festivals, and all those little things that make this part of the country what it is. Because as much as we're known for our peanuts, there's a whole lot more to the Wiregrass than that.

We'll meet people, visit places, and maybe learn a thing or two along the way. I know I will.

And I hope some of you will share your own memories and stories, too. Because I don't want this to be just me telling you about where I live. I want it to be a place where we remember what makes this part of the country special.

The big things. The little things. And the ordinary things that turn out not to be so ordinary after all.

So whether you grew up here, moved away years ago, or have never set foot in the Wiregrass, I hope you'll come along. We've got a lot to talk about.

And apparently, I've got a farmer to keep an eye on.

From a perfectly respectable distance, of course.

While talking to my chickens.

Love,

Miss Sas ☕🌻