weeding, writing and 'rithmatic

today i traveled vicariously to germany, the czech republic and ireland through people's stories and music without leaving portland. i also discovered i am a Dumb Potato Farmer, hereafter referred to as a DPF to save time. why am i a DPF?

well, while weeding i decided to check on the status of the 25' row of spuds that, after several weeks were doing nothing. absolutely nothing. had i planted them too deep? not enough water? so i dug one up and stared at it, thinking dejectedly to myself, "this spud's for you" and empathizing with farmers of the historic potato blight era. when i stumbled upon the local farmer's market later in the day i found two farmers who looked like they knew what they were doing.

"aww, them grocery store potatoes. they put inhibiting spray on 'em, won't grow a sprout to save your life, darn shame. what you need, missy is some good seed 'taters, but they're all gone by now. march, maybe april's your best bet. heck, i swoop 'em up whenever i see 'em in early spring."

since advice is never truly free i felt obliged to pay for it in the form of a jar of strawberry jam and, yes, a bag of potatoes that had not been sprayed with inhibitor and would lower my DPF status considerably. i would try again because i am stubborn and part irish. plus there is nothing like digging up potatoes in the fall; like tumbling buried treasure out of the earth. but i digress.

gardening is going pretty well, for this year anyway. writing? i wrote chapter 4 in a collection i've been working on. and math? the latest chapter i read in the divine proportion made absolutely no sense. i am still trying to figure out the formula that gives the book it's title.

all in a day's work.