What do you remember about your grand parents' house? Curtis and I were talking this over, and I specifically remember digging potatoes at my grandparents' in Wilsall. I don't know if these memories stem more from photos of Steve, my dad, and I, along with one of my grand parents. In the photo, the "pit" where my grandparents kept potatoes for the winter figures prominently. I remember the fact that this was a pitchfork job, and my dad is usually holding it. I can even remember the feel of dusty, fall, mountain dirt. Wilsall is high, and one would never dig potatoes there in May.
Which brings us to Missouri in May, where Curtis' dad's potatoes were already big enough to both dig and eat!
L, J and E were thrilled by the lift of the pitchfork to reveal the potatoes beneath. Curtis' dad would find the father potato to show them, then let them pick all the babies from the dirt. There is something purely magic about putting a pitch fork in the ground, turning the soil, and finding an actual food there.
Of course we ate them for dinner. And, brought some home ;)
And, if you dig the potatoes, you really should get to ride out to the mail box in the bed of the truck, right? I hope they remember ;)
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