Early last summer the garden center had red potato seedlings. I planted a few in the yard just for kicks.
We had had fun growing potatoes in straw beds years ago in San Diego...maybe planting them in real soil would give us a crop worth talking about.
I had dug up a few by the time Bernie came down to snap a few photos of our "harvest". His back was tweaked out, and there was to be a hard freeze, so I "pioneer-woman'd" up and did the necessary spade work to lift our taters out.
(BTW: My grad school, TWU, are the Pioneers. And we are still undefeated this football season!)
May I just say that digging up potatoes planted in straw beds is a whole heck of a lot easier than digging them up in heavy soil?
I'll bet you already knew that.
This was fun for about, oh, say, four minutes tops.
If more potatoes had popped up after the first turn, I might have enjoyed the activity more. As it was, I also realized that I would have been wise to have put on a pair of gardening gloves. Dirt beneath my nails: not pretty.
So there they are, fresh from the dirt, with a few other veggies plucked against the upcoming cold.
That lone shallot and yellow bell pepper sure made for a meager crop. When I think of how much good soil we hauled in to the vegetable plot, and all the watering and feeding we did....sheesh. What a rip off.
See? I really did dig out every blessed potato, and I didn't care how little they were. They were MY potatoes!
Take note: I will concede to Idaho's glory and purchase potatoes from them at the grocery store or road side stand in the future.
Lord knows my family didn't risk everything leaving Ireland to come to America back in the late 1800's so future generations could still be digging potatoes.
Especially not as woman with an advanced degree from TWU. Pioneers make for a great mascot, but I do not aspire to play out the role when really I don't have to. I maybe blond, but I'm not that dumb!