For many weeks, the first thing I would do after coming home was rush and check for the wee ones, making sure they’re alright. Whatever I thought they’d need, they got it. Earlier this year, in fact it was on my birthday, I chucked a few hundred kilograms of bark over the fence, laying bare a 6m x 3m plastic sheet and underneath the equally sized vegetable patch. Then, as I could not invent a better deterrent for kids and dogs, a fence had to be built, mainly using leftover wood I found around the house.
Before burying the seed potatoes plenty hours had gone into manually loosening the rocksolid soil, removing all the solid rocks from the soil, and mixing in some compost.
Interjection: Never having planted anything properly (not counting the fruitless attempts of trying to grow a pineapple from it’s leftover cutting) I went full scale commando potato. I know that the final output won’t generate any noteworthy saving, the amount of crop can be bought for less than a tankful, but that was never the point in the first place.*
I’d say that I did not make all that many mistakes at this agricultural attempt. One flaw was discovered shortly after the first few green leaves had worked their ways towards the sun. I had bought four different kinds of seed potatoes, it soon showed that I obvously did not plant them systematically, but completely mixed up.
Then again, nothing but a minor burden on the aesthetic dimension and as I don’t suffer from OCD no bother at all. It did however make piling up humps around the 20cm tall plants (in order for more roots to emerge, growing more spuds) unnecessarily difficult, simply because all varieties reach that size in their own time. As hinted, the veg-patch was not revived in order to spend less money, but almost for its own sake. At least that’s what I thought while weeding and digging and earthing up for the past couple of months, enjoying most of it. It’s a huge bonus, I’d go as far as to call it luxurious, to send the kids (or myself) out the back to fetch a few taters for dinner and see them dig it, literally and with excitement. From plant to dish in half an hour, boiled, mashed, fried or baked; me gusta.