Weeding Potatoes

I went outside this morning to find the potatoes.  They have been swamped by grass and weeds and I wasn't sure that they were even sprouting yet.  The grass is mainly from the field (we tilled under part of the hay field when we created the garden), and it is impossible to get rid of.  So I decided that my approach would need to be more localized.

I began at one end of the first potato row, hunting through the weeds for any signs of what might be a baby potato.  I had a vague recollection of what a potato plant looked like, but I was confident that I would see a few of them sprouting in an unnatural pattern and be able to determine which plants they were.  After several minutes of hunting, I found one.  I carefully pulled all of the weeds out from around it, creating a two foot diameter circle around the sprouting plant.  I did all of this bent over in the typical weeding fashion.

I then began to search for the next plant.  My back was already aching so I crouched down, searching through the weeds.  Occasionally I would pull out a dandelion or thistle for good measure, but honestly, I was just interested in finding the potato.  Slowly, I found myself crawling on my hands and knees down the trough along the row bed.

When you are weeding, you have a lot of time to think.  Sometimes I sing, sometimes I think.  Today, after I had exhausted all of the songs I wanted to sing, I began to think.  And as I crawled through the trough, I began to imagine I was a soldier in a jungle, searching for lost men.  Each time I found a small sprout, I would talk to it.  "You're fine.  Let's just get you cleaned up and set to go."  I would attack the weeds as if they were enemies waiting to ambush my patient.  Insect soldiers would scatter as I uprooted their shelters.  There was even an invasion of black ants.  The helicopters practicing touch and gos at the airport only added to the illusion of a battlefield.  In the end, my potatoes were safe, open to the sun and the rain, ready to grow.