And the Potatoes. ..

Time to Dig the Taters

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time to Dig the Taters

The latest we've ever waited but last Sunday afternoon we finally got to it. Our nephew and his son, our great-nephew, came out for some farm time and to help with the harvest.

As usual, we were fully attended by dogs -- including Willa on a long, long lead. She was let off for a bit and was ecstatic to be running free but when she started down the road she had to be retrieved and releashed.

There were wooden crates lined with hay to store the potatoes . . .

Otis feels the cold and was happy to take advantage of the hay. 

Pit bull or snuggle bug? You be the judge.

Time to Dig the Taters...

I was on the phone with my agent, telling her about San Francisco and my meeting with Herself.  But then I had to cut the conversation short because it was time to dig the potatoes.

Nothing like farm chores to keep one grounded -- John ran the tractor, busting out the taters, Justin and Claui picked them up, and I sorted -- Big, Medium, Small, and Cut or otherwise damaged and needing to be used soon.

As always, there were a few oddities -- the ducky, the snowman, some unnameable things and, my personal favorite, the goldfish.

I haven't had time to go blog visiting -- trying to get  unpacked and organized after my trip but I'll be around to say hi soon.  Just now I'm fading fast after a long day...

Here's a little slide show from Monday -- so nice to be back where I belong -- milking, the growing chickens, and  the latest addition to the mix -- Ruby, the horse who came with our new tenants, Nancy and Suzy.

 

Tater Digging Time Again

Time to roust out all those fine Kennebecs and Yukon Golds.

John and Justin and Claui and I spent part of a chilly afternoon picking the potatoes from the dark clinging soil after the plow had 'busted' them out. It was a bountiful crop -- far more than we'll use. And we still have this many again left to dig.

Alas, potatoes bring about 23 cents a pound!

We talked about ways of marketing to make the crop more desirable -- "Organically grown Appalachian pommes de terre - 'apples of the earth' -- sustainably raised in a heritage mountain cove and artisanally tended and harvested. No animals were harmed in the production of this traditional crop. By appointment to royalty."

Okay, so the last bit's not true. And maybe we need to use lovely tradional burlap bags for the harvest instead of our recycled petfood bags. Although the recycled bit could be a selling point . . .

Bustin' Out the Taters

Drat! I missed one of my favorite fall rituals today -- busting out the taters! At lunch I was suddenly struck by the onset symptoms of a migraine -- little jagged shapes quivering just at the edge of my vision and I knew that the only way of averting a full-blown painful migraine was to go lie down and keep my eyes closed for several hours.

So while I was in bed with a black sock draped across my face (I don't have one of those fancy sleep masks -- luckily migraines are extremely rare with me, maybe one every ten years or so), John and Justin and Claui got the potatoes up. And they were thoughtful enough to take along my camera.

They tell me the tractor ran out of fuel and there are still a couple of rows to dig so maybe I'll get a chance to participate another day.