Monday, 14 December 2015

He's in aisle 12 potato 27

We know that animals pick up on our moods and behaviours.  But I didn't expect our number one son cocker spaniel to pick up potato farming as quick as he has.  No sooner have we opened the back door and he's off to the paddock, nose down, tail up and disappears amongst the green.  He sniffs up and down each row.  We only know he is there because I see a mexican wave of potato leaves bowing as he brushes by.  He gets to the end of the row, then dashes up the next one without lifting his head.  Twenty five kennebecs, twenty six kennebecs, twenty seven...uh oh, I smell possum.  Then the potato rows rustle a little bit faster.  We're learning about spuds, about watering, growing and harvesting.  We've snuck a few out of the patch for trial, and compared our kennebec with our neighbour's pink eyes.  I've learnt in this part of the world you can discuss religion and expect as much interest as a cross stitch discussion at the bar of the local pub, but don't get onto your preferred spud of choice or they'll be more than pink eyes on offer.  I've seen women roll up a sleeve when it comes to the better baker or boiler.  So for now we'll keep growing and learning and with the help of our special spud patrol boy, I'm sure they are in safe hands for now.

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