Harvesting Potatoes With Grandpa

“There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on,

and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now, in October.”

-Nathaniel Hawthorne-

journal entry:

Grandpa likes to wait for help.  This kind of help.  He thinks that harvesting from the garden or the trees is a million times more fun when children are around.  They find magic in everything.  Grandma asked for twelve, big, potatoes for dinner.  Grandpa asked George if he wanted to help find the potatoes.  George talks very well and said “I do.”

They got some buckets from the sandbox.  Grandpa got his pitchfork and explained to George how it worked.  Grandpa put the pitchfork under the dirt and lifted.  He told George to watch.  George did.  Grandpa’s hand went into the dirt . . . and pulled out a potato !  WOW.  George had never seen a potato come out of the dirt.  He had seen them in bags.  Clean.

George stuck with Grandpa.  Grandpa lifted the dirt and George harvested the potatoes.  They didn’t quit until they had just the right number.  Grandpa thanked George.  George smiled and told Grandpa he was welcome.  They shook hands.  George laughed at that.

It is impossible to be ungrateful when you harvest from your own garden.  Grateful for peace and plenty.  Grateful for an earth where wonderful things grow.  Food.  Grateful for good food and plenty of it.  Bringing in potatoes, onions is a wonderful feeling.  We may not have a root cellar like our ancestors . . . but we have baskets and a very cold garage.

“She had only to stand in the orchard to put her hand on a little crab tree

and look up at the apples, to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting.”

-Willa Cather-