Potato friends

My coworker Jenn says farmers are perverts.

I don't know why. Over the course of the past couple weeks we've dug up 5 or 6 rows of potatoes and in these rows we find wee potato people, whole families even-- essentially large potatoes with an attached smaller potato or a misshapen potato that resembles a human body and head. The potato above has... an appendage and some hair, and it wasn't the only one that made us chuckle.

My favorite potatoes are the itty bitty ones that barely catch my eye in the dirt, so small they nearly get lost in the mounds of loose soil and digging hands. I pick them up and keep them in my palm for just a moment longer than the others, admiring them the same way I admire baby chicks or lambs. The cute factor is overwhelming.

And then I pick up some massive tuber that barely fits in my hands and I marvel at the difference. I'm tempted to make a joke about size differences within the same variety, but given the potato picture up top I think I've already reached the perv factor for the day.

Let's clean up this blog post, yeah? After digging a while I encouraged Bodhi, the farm dog, to come along side and dig potatoes. He ignored my instructions and instead laid down in the cool dirt in typical fashion. I shooed him along and assigned him the task of guarding our precious box of potatoes. The dog fell asleep on the job.

Isn't he too cute?