peaved

I picked my first peas ever! From my first garden ever!

      And they were duds. Close sources have informed me that I waited too long to pick them. They tasted woody and fresh from the grocery store. For almost as long as I can remember I've been disinclined toward the pea. Mushy, fuzzy, chalky, full of taste in all the wrong places. Planting garden peas was my attempt to start afresh. Give peas a chance. I haven't given up hope however. I waited too long and that was not the fault of the peas. Blame the girl with pea-green thumbs. But I can't stay mad at her for long. She did not know. If I frown at her she will not plant them again. And she really wants to like peas.
      Peas. PEAS. Little peas that you are. Yes, you there, Pea. Your long-heralded sweet taste has all these years eluded me and now twelve more months have passed and I still do not like you. I want to like you but could you give me a little something to work with? Maybe wave a flag when you're ready or pinch me behind the kneecaps if I walk by and don't think of you. This would help. That is all.