Jeff the Potato

So, you know how you hear a lot of "plant after all chance of frost has passed and when temperatures are consistently in the 70s" when you're sowing vegetable seeds?

Yeah, so that's totally useful information to absorb rather than completely ignore like I did because it was March 30th and don't you try and stop me from planting vegs now because we are well past our last frost date and I'll fight you.

And then it rained for a month.

So, instead of actually having to fight someone (because my idle threats are starting to pay off. Nice.) I just went ahead and learned my lesson the hard way by sowing seeds that didn't germinate because it rained for a month. Have I told you it rained all month? Yes. It rained all month because April was getting tired of being chastised for not producing the May flowers the last few years so GUSH. Which meant my heat loving seeds also didn't germinate. They also, according to my thorough finger-poking research, didn't rot in the soil as I was warned they might, so I guess they must have been either eaten by birds or abducted by aliens.

Which I guess is possible because why do we assume that if aliens made it to earth they'd just automatically abduct human beings? We're really big. What if their spaceships are small and they only have room for tiny things. Tiny things like Mexican Sour Gherkin seeds? You see what I'm saying here. My first sowing of seeds was abducted by tiny aliens in mini spaceships.

Makes total sense.

What also makes sense is that since it's been hovering precariously in the 70s for the last week or so, my second sowing of seeds has begun germinating, the apple, lemon and cherry trees have set fruit (!), the tomatillos are falling madly in love and producing fruit-filled lanterns thanks to some sage advice from my empty-lantern growing friend and my flip-flop tan is back.

And if you don't mark the return of warm weather with the reappearance of a flip-flop tan then you need to right some wrongs in your world is all I'm saying.  Free your toes! They'll thank you for it. Or threaten you with bodily harm if you don't get a fucking pedicure because EW.

So, all told, my garden is ready for summer and finally showing signs to indicate as much. Not that they all broke out their bikinis or flashed me their flip-flop tans, but you know what I mean.

Clockwise from the top: Gravenstein apples, Mexican Sour Gherkins, Purple Podded Pole and Kentucky Wonder beans, artichokes, nasturtium, Black Krim tomato, Burpee Bibb lettuce, cherries, tomatillo (with bun in the oven!), Lollo Rosso lettuce, jalapeno, Pickler cucumber.

You'll notice that there's no mention of watermelon or our Adopted Crop, jelly melons. That is because they apparently need one or more of the following: temps in the 80s, a miracle, fewer aliens looking for their long lost cousins. I'll let you know if they show themselves. OR, worst case, what sprightly and promising seedling replaces them when they refuse to grow altogether.

And now a story about the potatoes. Specifically, why I call them, "Jeff".

See, I worked with a Jeff at my college paper and, on Wednesday mornings, which was our deadline morning to get the paper out, he would roll in practically still wearing his bed.

Typically this would look like a 6'2" man in shorts (despite sub-freezing outdoor temps), an old wrinkly Tshirt, Vans and a filthy hat trapping his hair underneath like an escaped guinea pig.

Well, one day Jeff decided to forgo the hat and expose us all to the wrath and power of his untamed bed head.

To say that it was alarming would be a massive understatement. And his only response to our shocked faces was to say, "Good morning, friends. As you can see, I am no longer restricting my hair."

Much like I am no longer restricting the potatoes by adding more tires. I am just letting them grow as tall and crazy as they want because I can't be stripping the Prius of its wheels just so that I can grow another half foot of potato. Because you know that wouldn't be enough. I'd need a friggen semi's worth of tires to contain this behemoth now, and I'm giving up.

Live free or die, potatoes! AKA - Live an unrestricted life atop your limit of four tires. Enjoy.

And that is what happens when the mercury hits 70 degrees in NorCal.

Also this flip-flop tan happens.