We planted a potato this year. And despite our Irish ancestry, our harvest was less than, um, bountiful. If we were among the original settlers in the New World, you could pretty much guarantee we would be the last of our line. Forget making it through the winter, we wouldn't have made it to opening week of the NFL season. (I wonder if the Bengals were as terrible then as they are now?)
Here are the whopping three delicious looking potatoes we hauled in this year.
Not exactly enough to feed a family of six.
And by family of six, I mean six mice.
Yes, those are actual Idaho potatoes (as grown in Ohio).
Julie thinks it's hysterical. Truman wants to know if I grew them small on purpose. Jameson thinks we're going to starve. Personally, I'm optimistic. By this time next year I bet I'll be growing potatoes the size of quarters.