Fifty pounds of seed potatoes have been riding around in the back of my jeep for over a week now. But the weather finally cooperated and the ground dried out and John and Justin and I got the cut-up taters in the ground.
Some folks plant by the signs; some plant on Good Friday ( in hopes of a sure resurrection, I suppose;) we plant when we can. It's an important yearly event for us but it's a movable feast.
These are Kennebecs -- ordinary white potatoes -- and, if nothin' don't happen, they'll yield plenty to keep us all well supplied through the year. I'm going out today to try to find some Yukon Golds and some red potatoes as well to plant down at the lower place.
It was a beautiful day -- perfect for this Spring ritual we've enacted for thirty five years now. Back at the house for an omelet that included the first asparagus and shitakes, we felt truly blessed in this country life.