The Ink-Pot and the Palette

(Cross-posted at La Vida Locavore.)

Back in April I planted some potatoes.

They duly came up and filled the container with a riot of green, leafy plants, which I fed a diet of dishwater and what sunshine may come when the Pacific Northwest is having One of Those Summers.

Today, a couple of the plant-tops were yellowing and pretty well finished, so I dug down and lo! Spuds.

( Just like at the grocery store, only smaller. And fresher. )

I call it a win. A tiny, tasty triumph.

Today I pruned some shrubs, cleared a patch of ground for future vegetable gardening, planted an apple tree, baked bread, helped avventura1234 build a raised bed, bought a cabbage to make my own sauerkraut (per instructions from the class I took at Preserve last week), and bought some organic raw milk to make my own yogurt. And a jar to make my own kombucha.

I'm turning into some kind of...hippie. Or pioneer. Or something. It's very weird.

So anyway, my reward for a day of urban farming-related busyness was a long cool shower, followed by hot bread with more melty butter than is strictly consistent with best dietary practices, and some Due South. (I still don't have the whatever to watch the very last episode, though.)

Tomorrow: gonna make manapua, start the yogurt and the sauerkraut, and go see the new Callum Keith Rennie movie X-Files movie with my mom and my niece, three generations of X-Philes whether Chris Carter deserves us or not.

Back in January when inspiration from a little feng shui book by Karen Kingston prompted me to clear out my house a bit, I had an idea that there might be some outcomes beyond household tidiness.

What I absolutely didn't foresee was that one of them would be me growing my own potatoes.

( Really, really unintended consequences. )