Fourteen weeks have passed since I planted the early potatoes. This morning I extracted the well worn graip from the tack room and advanced upon the waiting tubers. It was time to dig the first potatoes of the year.
Would there be a plethora of good sized, "spuds," waiting to be teased to the surface or would the weather have presented me with several marble sized results latching on to the haulms? The greenery of the top which I attacked suggested a decent crop and it didn't deceive. Some nine medium sized potatoes came to the surface as a result of my ministrations with the graip, (aka fork). I have now consumed certain of their number having basted them with a liberal sprinkling of home made mint sauce.