The saga of the kitchen garden continues. It remains my favorite garden spot - confined, rustic, and eclectic. I am ignoring the shade, and the moss. As a matter of fact one of my small raised beds has become a moss covered japanese maple bed, right next to the soapstone water fountain. Everything is growing well. Radishes are mingling with roses. Clematis vines are entangling the plum branches, next to the jostaberries. Lettuce, spinach and arugula are rampant and delicious. The plum tree is laden with fruit, unfortunately most of them will drop before maturity due to lack of sunshine.
And today I planted my first potatoes. I was tearing up as I pushed the ugly nodes into their trenches. Potatoes were my later father's favorite crop. He was a master potato grower and each year he had a competition with a dear neighbor to see who could harvest the first sweet white new potatoes. All methods were allowed to secure the win... I miss pappa terribly, and I am thinking that my potato growing efforts would have made him proud.
