From Guest Blogger Liza Bennett Gyllenhaal, who also took these photos:

I have to admit that I first started to grow peas because I loved the line illustration on the seed packet: the delicate white flowers, the curling tendrils, the dangling pods topped with those charming green, elf-size caps. What I discovered inside the packet was far less impressive: a handful of dried-up, khaki-colored seeds, wrinkled and hard as pepper corns. But I planted them anyway. It seemed easy enough: you stick your finger in the dirt about an inch, drop a pea seed in, cover up the hole, and pray for rain.

This year I got my wish. It rained in the Berkshires in biblical proportions. Literally: we had rainfall for 40 straight days. Everything else I planted in early spring — arugula,radicchio, rainbow chard, a mesclun mix — sat grumpily in damp rows, full of complaints and refusing to budge. But, oh, the peas!

They rejoiced in the cold, wet weather, climbing eagerly up through the trellises I’d erected, the long tendrils reaching — you could almost feel the effort — and grasping the next rod up. There was something truly magical — think Jack and the Beanstalk — about their growth. Within weeks they’d outgrown the trellises and were literally climbing on top of each other, leaves and shoots all intertwined, like some vegetal modern dance troupe. As with so many things that reach too far, too fast, they eventually collapsed in a heap and, though obviously a bit shaken, picked themselves up again — and started to blossom.

Every stage of a pea’s life is pretty to look at — just as every part of the pea itself is delicious to eat.

A few years ago I began to notice recipes incorporating “pea shoots” in their ingredients — or as a garnish. These are the tender leaves and tendrils of the growing plant. Used raw, in a green salad or as garnish, they add a sweet pungent kick to any dish. Sauteed — in a stir fry, for instance — they hold their shape and flavor beautifully. I like to add raw shoots to a saute of fresh (or frozen) sugar snap peas, peas, and asparagus cut into one-inch pieces. Just reheat, stir in plenty of fresh butter, salt and pepper — and perhaps a sprinkling of parmesan— and you have a delicious and very nutritious (pea shoots are packed full of antioxidants that help protect against certain diseases) accompaniment for chicken or salmon.

This past weekend, with an abundance of peas — in all stages of growth — on my hands, and a Cordon Bleu-trained friend and his wife coming for Sunday lunch, I decided to see how my humble peas would comport themselves in a more gourmet setting. The day before I prepared a chilled pea soup that I found on the internet made with fresh peas and chicken stock, fresh ginger, garlic, shallots. It was simple, fast, and when served the next day with a squeeze of fresh lemon, a dash of plain yogurt, and a garnish of lemon basil, a real hit with everyone.

For the main course I prepared one of my all-time favorite summer dishes— Cajun-Spiced Shrimp and Corn Salad. What a great and unique combination of tastes and textures: crusty, warm shrimp (to keep it simple, I used my grill pan), sweet corn kernels, cilantro, chopped dates, lime juice, and pea shoots. The Food and Wine recipe calls for a pickled red onion component which I think is really more work than necessary (just add a tablespoon or raw or sauteed shallots). On the other hand, on really hot summer days most cooking seems to be more work than necessary. Peas come in their own edible packaging: just pry open the pod and pop a handful of sweet, crunchy peas right into your mouth. They make a great snack — for anyone of any age.

Liza Bennett Gyllenhaal is a novelist who divides her time between the Berkshires and New York City. Read about her new novel Local Knowledge at www.lizagyllenhaal.com