Harvest season can be a time of joyous anticipation for the gardener, especially when heading out to unearth the potatoes. Unlike corn and pumpkins, which are blatant about the level of their productivity, the potato plant’s show of greenery above ground tells us nothing about how many spuds lie below, nor how big those tubers might be. Only when the tops die back and the earth is moved aside is truth revealed.
Will it be a good year or a bad year? The question burns in my mind as I put on my work gloves and gather my big bucket and digging tools. This summer has been hot and dry and the spaghetti squash loved it and produced madly. In fact, all my squash varieties thrived in the sun and heat. Dare I hope the potatoes liked it, too?
Last year, I had a bumper crop of potatoes. The yield of fifteen hills of Red Pontiac plants filled two knee-high buckets with smooth, well-developed tubers. I was amazed and impressed. Today, I know I should not expect as much as last year, and yet, I can’t help but hope.
OK. Now I’ve dug the potatoes and H is definitely NOT for hope. Hopes have been thoroughly dashed. This year I did not get two big, big buckets of potatoes. I barely filled one bucket. And the filling of that bucket took lots and lots of little potatoes, the type I refer to as Tots. Yes, they are cute and tasty, but they refused to pack on the weight necessary for good yield, meagre, miserly things that they are.
By cheery contrast to this year’s potato production, I tell you the tale of my pumpkin harvest. Last year, I planted 6 vines and brought in 9 pumpkins, a respectable number. This year, I again planted 6 vines and brought in…brace yourselves…19 pumpkins. Nineteen! The enormity of such a yield snatches the air from my lungs.
This is the way of the garden, the Tao of it, if you will. Crop A hates the conditions of a particular growing season and sulks its way through to a meagre yield, while crop B loves them and thrives. As long as I plant many varieties of crop, I can be sure at least one will like what the climate and weather provide.
In whatever way the season plays out in a given year, the crops that do well will reward my joyous anticipation of the harvest. What’s not to love? Perhaps H should be for Hug.
H is also for Hat, Horn, and Hawk, as human tots can discover in my video, Letter H and the Secret Window: