Did You Ever Wonder?

How many times have you bought a particular product at the grocery store and ate it without thinking about where it came from or how it grew in its natural habitat? I think that is probably true about a lot of food that we consume.
I've been an organic gardener for more than 50 years but there is ALWAYS something new to grow--something I haven't tried before.  This year it was peanuts.  Have you ever thought about what peanuts look like before they make it to the factory to become peanut butter or to a ballgame where you buy a bag of them roasted?  Do they grow above ground?
Technically, I HAVE grown peanuts before but it was at least 45 years ago so it really doesn't count.  A friend asked me this year if I would like to have some peanut seeds.  Of course, I said yes--I thought that sounded pretty exotic for growing in the mountains as I thought they needed a lot of hot weather (and I guess we DID have a LOT of hot weather here this year).  Anyway, I asked him where he got his seed.  His answer?  The produce department of Ingles grocery store.  He bought a bag of raw peanuts and shelled them.  That would never have occurred to me.
Well, they grew quite nicely--the only problem being a hungry rabbit ( whom I cut off from the supply with a low fence once I realized he was eating MY food) and later voles attacking from underground.  (Gardening is a series of challenges) I still ended up with a good crop and harvested enough for my husband to have several batches of boiled peanuts.  Frankly, I don't understand the boiled peanut thing--they just seem like wet, stale peanuts to me--but he loves them and that's enough.   Glad to oblige.  I'm going to plant them again next year--only more--and maybe I'll get to make some peanut butter for myself.
So, here is what a peanut plant looks like after it has been pulled up.  These plants are upside down.  The bulk of the peanuts grow at the base of the  plant and others grow along the runners that the plant sends out.  You can't see how many peanuts you have until you pull them up at the end of the season.  Yet another exercise in delayed gratification.