Friday, October 30, 2009

Henny Penny’s Sweet Spuds

Preparing pecans took a back seat to Mamie’s suggestion that the muddy sweet potatoes dug by Richard needed to be laid out to dry prior to storing. Who knew potatoes were so particular? Figuring I could handle this task in an hour and still get several batches of pecans roasted -- and possibly redeem myself for being so absent from the fields during the harvest -- I arrived at Mamie’s bearing gifts of red beans and rice and a jar of Muscadine Madness.

Mamie said she figured that I showed up because I couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to avoid it. She also got quite a kick out of the jar of jam I gave her. When I shared the story of how it got its unnatural color, she said that she calls the pulp from muscadines “ugly juice,” but uses it just the way it is. She thinks it makes a pretty jelly. I guess I should have consulted Mamie before making my mess.

As I sat sorting sweet potatoes, the weather was so beautiful and the temperature so mild, I got carried away with the feelings of fall. When this job was finished, I was reluctant to return to indoor activity, so I decided to see if the second potato patch was too muddy to manage. Four hours later, I was still popping potatoes out of their mounds, and Mamie had gone off with her daughter.

By this time, I needed to use the bathroom, so I headed the two miles down to our house for a potty break. Bless Richard’s heart, he returned with me to complete the ‘tater tasks. Richard and I must have looked like two hogs hunting for truffles as we crawled around on our hands and knees harvesting our sweet potatoes.

In another three hours we were the proud parents of about fifteen flats of sweet potatoes and a half bushel of baby potatoes for next year’s seed. We were absolutely covered in crud by the time the last spud was out of the ground. As we sat on the driveway to remove the excess mud from the spuds, Mamie’s hens joined us for a look at and a nibble of our fresh-dug treasures. They must have found them acceptable, as they kept stealing the seed potatoes from our basket. What a lovely way to spend the waning hours of the day – surrounded by the sounds and sights of curious hens as we admired our harvest and rested our aching backs.

We’ve finally finished pulling the potatoes out of the patch and placing them in Mamie’s garage for the mud to dry. The sweet potatoes like to be tucked in warm and dry for the cold months ahead, and I’m not sure where we’ll store our share. I know they can’t stay under our bed, as we’re assuring sweet dreams by sleeping on all our jams and tomatoes.

As Scarlett O’Hara would say while holding up one of her home-grown potatoes, “We’ll never go hungry again.” And about roasting those pecans, “Tomorrow is another day.”