I Plant Potatoes

A Yacavone in Georgia milestone has been reached. I planted the first vegetable in my garden—potatoes.

 

I was not planning on planting potatoes. It was an impulse planting. That’s the gardening equivalent of an impulse purchase. 

 

It was prompted by two events. First, the UGA professor who taught the segment on vegetable gardening at the Master Gardener class mentioned that now is the time to plant potatoes. Second, I was at a local nursery when this old boy walked in, said it was time to plant his potatoes, and walked out with a 50 pound burlap sack of seed potatoes over his shoulder. You may think this is really strange, but I get a kick out of living in a place where people buy seed potatoes by the sack, and a burlap sack at that!

 

I don’t want to say I panicked, but I was overcome by this feeling that if I did not plant potatoes now, I was going to be left out of something. The next thing you know, I was walking out with 10 pounds of seed potatoes.

 

Now a seed potato, for those of you who don’t know, is simply a potato that has been allowed to grow eyes (little sprouts). I cut the potatoes into sections being careful to make sure that each section had an eye, and then I planted them. Thank goodness my youngest son was home from college on spring break. He helped me make the potato beds and plant the potatoes. 

 

We planted two 40 foot rows. By my calculation I planted at least 60 potato seed pieces. Assuming optimum growing conditions my two rows of seed potatoes should yield about 100 to 150 pounds of potatoes in about three and a half months. 

 

I have no idea of how many potatoes or potato meal servings that is, but I’ve been told I will have a “shit ton” of potatoes if all goes right. So if you happen to visit me in July, be prepared to eat potatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Maybe I can learn how to make vodka.

 

I've decided that I'm not going to grow vegetables on my entire garden plot this year. It’s about 800 square feet, and I am beginning to understand that 800 square feet is an extremely large vegetable garden even by Fannin County standards. I’m not prepared to take on such a task just yet.

 

I’m going to plant a cover crop on the part of the garden that I don’t grow vegetables on. A cover crop is a crop that you grow to till under in order to enhance the soil. On the advice of local gardeners, I will be “intercropping” soybeans and buckwheat as my cover crop. 

 

I bought the soybeans and buckwheat at the Fannin County Farmer’s Coop. Once again, you may think this is strange of me, but I felt pretty cool walking out of the coop with ten pounds of soybean seeds and ten pounds of buckwheat seeds. Just the idea of growing a crop like buckwheat is almost enough to give me a Mr. Greenjeans’ woody.

 

I asked the folks at the coop when I should plant the soybeans and buckwheat, and I was told they should be planted when the dogwoods bloom. So now I’m on the lookout for a blooming dogwood as I drive around. They’re the ones with the white flowers, right?

 

Some people around here still plant by the signs and swear by the practice. I have a calendar from a local nursery that tells me what the signs are. It has general instructions like this: 

All plants, trees and vegetables planted in the new of the moon will grow vigorously. All crops that produce their yield above the ground should be planted in the new of the moon. Those that produce their yield in the ground should be planted in the old of the moon.

I hate to admit this but I’m unsure of when it’s the new of the moon or the old of the moon. That’s one of those questions that I want to research myself rather than ask a local person for fear of being pegged as a complete rube.

 

Each day of the calendar has a little notation about a zodiac sign. Some of them are:

 

           Pisces, Feet

           Gemini, Arms

           Capricorn, Knees

           Libra, Reins

           Sagittarius, Thighs

           Virgo, Bowels

           Aquarius, Legs

 

I think these notations are connected in some way with planting by the signs, but I am clueless how it is supposed to work.

 

I’m glad I’m not a Libra because I have no idea where the reins are. Maybe that’s a polite way of referring to los huevos, otherwise known as the family jewels or the twins. I can see a man in mixed company complaining that a woman has him by the reins.

 

I’m a Virgo, and I’m not sure what to make of the fact that Virgo is associated with bowels. Does it mean that I have my head up my ass on those days? Does it mean that I’m going to be an asshole on those days? Maybe this just confirms my theory that I was really born under the sign of Feces.

 

I’m a little bothered by the fact that I can’t find a day when Virgo is not in the bowels. You’d think that every now and then the powers of the Zodiac would cut Virgos a break and associate them with a more pleasant part of the body. Personally, I’m holding out for boobs, but I’ll take shoulders, elbows or even the middle finger.

 

I am very skeptical that planting by the signs really works. I could believe that planting by the phases of the moon might make a difference. The moon exercises gravitational influence on earth, and I know that fish bite better on a full moon, so it’s not too much of stretch to believe that the moon can influence plant germination and growth. But I find it very hard to believe that the position of twelve constellations in the night sky means anything.

 

Am I surprised that people believe in that sort of stuff? Not really. I heard recently that over sixty percent of the people in the U.S. believe that astrology is a science. When you see advertisements for Madam Cleo, the power of crystals, and the healing power of copper bracelets this should come as no surprise.

 

I suspect that you’ll hear a lot about gardening and planting from me in the next several months. It’s getting to be that time of year here.

 

And that’s it from Old MacYacavone for this post. Ee-aye-ee-aye-oh.