Shoe,
I cannot imagine planting Okra, although I do like it fried the way Mama made it.
She also put it into all her long cooked beans and peas, but she put it on the top and did not mix it in, cause if she didn't I would turn my nose up and refuse it.
Of course, only where Dad could not see me. She loved it any way you cooked it. My brothers tormented me with making sniffing sounds when it was served.
My father sent us all away from the table more than once. Brothers know all the buttons to push.
Hope you enjoy your crop.
