Reading · The Lady Party with Margot Potter

Hello, Friend,

I come bearing tidings of joy.

We harvested our potatoes yesterday!

Behold the fruits (or the veggies) of our labor.

Huzzah!

Look at us turning one bag of seed potatoes into three bags of regular potatoes.

My Irish ancestors would be proud…or mildly amused…or utterly indifferent.

For our first foray into the fascinating world of tater farmin’, it was a fairly decent haul. I’m not sure if we’ll do it again, but it’s good to know that if we needed to, we could.

The Frankencorn has continued to grow at an alarming pace. I’m doing my best to ignore it. Did I ever tell you about the time a random Amish dude walked out of the corn field in front of our yard?

“Egads, Ephram! You scared the beejeepers out of me!”

I did not say, but it would have been funny if I did.

Well, funny to me at least.

Upon further investigation it turns out this particular corn is a hybrid bred specifically for height. The stalks and corn are ground up into a feed for dairy cows called silage. Larger stalks are a bonus for the farmer. It really is Frankencorn! Though all corn is genetically modified because the original corn (which was called teosinte) was tiny.

Fun Farm Facts, with Madge!

In other news, Cowbert has decided he is a horse. He’s flexible like that. He was a cow, then a sheep after Cowbert Sr. left and he and Lambert became BFFs for a summer, then a solo cow once the sheep flock returned, and now he’s tossed in his hat with the horses. Cows are social animals and it makes me happy to see him race around the fields doing his best horse impression.

He’s surprisingly fast for a cow.

We took Kismet (see top of post) to the groomer for the first time this week. I realized two weeks ago her coat was so soft it was felting itself. Subsequent efforts at brushing and cutting out the mats were futile. Moving forward she’s going to need daily brushings and more frequent appointments. Meanwhile, Buddy, our only male dog, has developed grooming PTSD. Today he wouldn’t go on a walk because he was afraid he was going back to the groomer. When he gets home from being groomed he flomps down on the couch like a big old baby and looks forlorn for the rest of the day.

The indignity.

I’m happy to report that everything we planted this spring is finally filling out and looking lush. Our yard is a pollinator paradise. Last night a wasp followed me inside and started dive bombing me in our tiny bathroom. I leapt up, no time to pull my lady pants back on, and waddle ran screaming into the hallway for Mr. Potter to help.

I am not surprisingly fast for a human, but I managed to avoid getting stung.

Have I mentioned I’m terrified of wasps?

When I was three I was attacked by a swarm of hornets, which I do not recall, but the memory is burrowed into my psyche. I prefer that stinging bugs remain outside. I feel this is fair.

They wouldn’t want me in their home either.

Thus concludes another thrill packed update from the farm. Please collect your belongings and exit to the left. Thank you.

Woot.