I learned a lot from growing potatoes this year. But the most important lesson was this:
My family…is ludicrous.
I decided to take advantage of some unused concrete in The Family’s backyard to plant some potatoes in grow bags because, well, the BMG is one opportunistic little homesteader. Of course, this naturally means increased exposure to my family, and just as with increased exposure to the sun YOU ARE GOING TO GET BURNED.
Tradeoffs: life is full of them.
So the plants (Yukon Gold and Adirondack Blue) had finally died back and it was time to go see if the summer had produced any taters.
The grow bag harvest method is simple:
*You’re really just digging through the dirt for buried treasure. Pirate hat optional (haha, just kidding, THE PIRATE HAT IS MANDATORY)
*If you want easy cleanup later, spread out an old tarp or tablecloth on your workspace.
*If you’re trashing or recycling the bags, go ahead and just cut right down the side with a pair of sharp scissors. Then knock the bag over onto the tarp, empty it out, and start sifting.
*If you’re doing this anywhere in the vicinity of your family…get very drunk first.
Now while I was going at my job in The Backyard with a shovel and a healthy amount of OH HELLZ BELLZ GUSTO and singing a made-up song about tater tots, The Boy decided to walk into The Family’s kitchen through The Back Door. This, apparently, was the end of the fucking world.
<<The Boy opens door.>>
The Mother: “OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?!”
The Boy: “Yes…why?”
The Mother: “YOU JUST NEVER USE THE BACK DOOR!!”
<<BMG making shovel sounds>>
The Mother: “I hear digging and scraping! What is that?! IS EVERYBODY OKAY?! What is all that digging and scraping? What is Genny doing out there?!”
The Brother: “Meh, probably burying a body.”
The Mother: “GENNY ARE YOU BURYING A BODY?!?!”
Me: “Oh, Jesus.”
The Mother: “DON’T TAKE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN!”
As you can see, the harvest was pretty successful–those Adirondack Blues are exciting, misfits–they’re blue all the way through! When I walked inside to show The Brother what I’d managed to do, I was once again reminded WHY I OH YEAH DON’T EVER SPEAK TO MY FAMILY.
Me: “Hey, dude.”
The Brother: “I am not dude…I AM THE GREAT CORNHOLIO!”
The Aunt: “Who is that? Is that one of your friends?”
The Mother: “Is he the Mexican?”
Harvesting potatoes: it’s a goddamn adventure.
© 2011, Genevieve P. Charet. All rights reserved.