Skipping to Harvest
Jan. 17th, 2003 08:09 amI dreamt of digging potatoes. It was warm, sunny, and the sky was incredibly blue. I stuck the garden fork into the lofty loam. I lifted the tines up by pressing down and back, and up came several brown and golden tubers. I remember thinking that they were larger than last year's potatoes, and bent to retrieve one from the soil. It was warm, and I could feel the grit of soil on the skin. I brushed it off, and then felt the smooth skin. It was large, and I looked at the upturned soil to see several more, some even larger. The handsome plant was tilted askew, and I felt a pang of loss for something as straightforwardly attractive.
I remember turning and handing the potato in my hand to someone, and lay the garden fork aside. I knelt in the soft and arible soil, and began burrowing with my hands in the hole for more. The soil was warm to the touch, and I could smell it. It smelled sweet, with a hint of leafmold from all the shredded leaves I'd added last fall. I cradled the potatoes to my chest, and then dumped them into one of those white plastic 5 gal buckets, and heard the hollow thunder as they hit the sides.
I woke up, and when I looked outside, it seems we had snow in the night. The earth is still frozen beneath a fresh blanket of snow. No potato digging for me today.
E
I remember turning and handing the potato in my hand to someone, and lay the garden fork aside. I knelt in the soft and arible soil, and began burrowing with my hands in the hole for more. The soil was warm to the touch, and I could smell it. It smelled sweet, with a hint of leafmold from all the shredded leaves I'd added last fall. I cradled the potatoes to my chest, and then dumped them into one of those white plastic 5 gal buckets, and heard the hollow thunder as they hit the sides.
I woke up, and when I looked outside, it seems we had snow in the night. The earth is still frozen beneath a fresh blanket of snow. No potato digging for me today.
E