Monday, March 17, 2014

St. Patrick's Day

My grandpa Rhoads always planted potatoes on St. Patrick's Day. I remember my sister, Jessie, and I helping out on those blustery cold March days. Grandpa always took the potato pieces out to the garden in a large burlap bag. First he dug a small hole, then he took out his pocket knife and cut out the eye of the potato and planted it in the hole. Jessie and I "hilled" up the cold, wet dirt around the plant. 

By the end of the first row of potatoes, our fingers and toes were raw with dirt and the coldness of March. Our grandma seemed to know just the right time to bring out the thermos of "milk" coffee for us. It was warm milk with just a hint of coffee. It was enough to finish the job.

When we dumped out the last of the potatoes onto the ground there were two silver dollars waiting for us among the dirt and last of the potato pieces.

I always remember this story on St. Patrick's Day and try to honor my grandpa by planting my own potatoes on this day. However, with our long winter, my
garden is still blanketed in snow. The best I can do is to toss the potatoes out onto the snow drift and see what happens.

Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone. 

Potatoes from the bin at Rural King