In the garden, the beans are going gangbusters. There are so many beans that while no one is looking, I've been yanking out plants and tossing them downhill.

Not all. Not all at once. But some had to go. Too many beans planted too closely together. We'll never eat them all and I can't possibly pick them all. I have other things to pick (and pickle). And soon, I'll have tomatoes and forget all about those beans.

Which is a shame.

Early in the year, when I'm looking at seed catalogs, I fall in love with beans and want to plant rows and rows.

I know I should freeze them, but I don't care for frozen beans. I've given plenty away but it doesn't make a dent.

I told my husband I'd been yanking out the beans, hoping he wouldn't be too upset. He's got a soft spot for stuff like this: viable plants. Wild things. Living creatures.

Like the mailbox spider. She (he?) made flossy nests in our mailbox, I guess for spider babies. When the spider tucked itself into my New York Times, no doubt trying to catch up with world events, it ended up in the car's backseat. For days David worried it wouldn't find anything to eat in the Subaru. He still mourns the spider. I admit the mailbox feels strangely empty.

Then there are the studio snakes. They live outside the cabin where David goes to paint and to get some quiet. They're coiled up near the stone steps next to a bucket of water. They dine on mice.

There's the porch toad who appears after dark every year in midsummer. Sometimes one of the dogs picks up the toad in its mouth, then really regrets it.

David cares for them all. Our non-pet creatures. The catbird and the red-tailed hawk he's been spotting high atop a pole in our neighbor's hay field. The wood frogs in the pond clacking the start of spring. The tree frogs croaking hoarse after a rain.

My kind-hearted husband wasn't upset about the "thinned" beans. He admitted there were too many plants and I held my breath and did not remind him that it was because he'd planted all the seeds in the packets.

Plenty of beans remain -- happier beans I would say. There's more light and air and just a few cucumbers encroaching on their space. The two best beans are yellow Goldmarie Vining and olive-green Italian pole beans, both tender, flat Roma types. They've outgrown their tall bamboo poles, twirling down from the tops. It's a lovely sight. It's been a wonderful season. The thrasher who dines on the blueberries and garden bugs simply loves it.

PG tested

A recipe from Matt Lee and Ted Lee's new book, "Simple Fresh Southern," due out in November. It's a delicious way to prepare beans involving two very Southern things -- meaty green beans and a cast-iron skillet. Don't use those skinny little beans here.

• 1 large navel orange
• 1 tablespoon canola oil
• 1 pound green beans, ends trimmed
• 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar, champagne vinegar or rice vinegar
• Freshly ground black pepper

Finely grate zest of orange; reserve. Cut skin and white pith off orange. Working over a bowl, cut out segments from between membranes, letting them drop into the bowl. Squeeze juice from membranes into bowl.

In large cast-iron skillet or saute pan, heat canola oil over high heat, swirling it to cover bottom evenly. When oil is smoking, add beans and scatter 1/2 teaspoon salt over. Cook, stirring only every 1 1/2 to 2 minutes, until beans are mostly browned and tender, 8 to 12 minutes. Transfer to serving bowl.

Lift orange segments from juice and scatter over beans. Sprinkle with 1/4 teaspoon orange zest.

Whisk olive oil, vinegar and remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt into orange juice. Pour over beans; toss and season with salt and pepper and additional zest, if desired.

Makes 4 servings.

-- Adapted from "The Lee Bros. Simple Fresh Southern" by Matt Lee and Ted Lee (Clarkson Potter, $35).

Slow-Cooked Mess O' Green Beans

PG tested

This is my modern interpretation of old-fashioned slow-cooked beans. It's quicker, the beans retain more integrity and there's a secret ingredient: smoked paprika. Don't substitute regular paprika. I used local bacon from Mike and Donna Eisenstat of Toboggan Hill Farm. They sell their delicious pork and bacon at farmers markets in Waynesburg and Washington.

• 4 slices bacon, cut in 1/2-inch pieces
• 1 large onion, halved and thinly sliced
• 3 garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1 1/2 pounds green beans, ends trimmed, halved, cut longer beans in thirds
• 1/4 cup water

In Dutch oven, cook bacon over medium heat, stirring often, until starting to get crisp, 5 to 7 minutes. Transfer bacon to paper towels to drain. Spoon off all but 3 tablespoons drippings (my bacon was lean so I added 1 tablespoon olive oil).

Add onion, garlic, a pinch salt and few grinds pepper. Cook, stirring often, until wilted, 4 to 5 minutes. Stir in paprika; then beans, water and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Stir well, reduce heat to low, cover and simmer 30 to 40 minutes, until very tender.

Stir in bacon and another tablespoon water, if pan seems dry. Cover and cook 5 more minutes to blend flavors. Season to taste with additional salt and pepper.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

-- Miriam Rubin