We love potatoes around the Laughing Place. My daughter eats them as hash browns nearly every morning, and we eat then a zillion other ways. Granted, they are lumpy little balls that are usually covered in dirt and come in unappealing plastic bags when you buy them at the grocery store. In fact, I have never thought of them as very attractive.
How wrong was I? I started to fall in love with the look of potatoes when I began roasting them. They take on a kind of glow when brushed with olive oil, and there is a rustic beauty to a bowl of small red spuds at a family dinner. Even the kind that come in bags look better when stored in the large willow basket that sits on our patio.
Then I planted some. Buried in the dirt, they send up shoots and lovely, crinkly leaves. Before you know it, they are tall enough to hill dirt around, and they start again with the shoots and more leaves. Then comes the stage when they grow with a kind of wild ferocity, filling every bit of the space they are allotted, pretty enough to be a houseplant, really. Then come the blooms. Delicate lavender stars with yellow centers hanging daintily above the leaves.
And then, just like that, the leaves turn brown and wither, and the potatoes announce that they are ready for harvest. Since we grew ours in grow bags, we simply turned each bag over into a wheel barrow and sifted through the soil to find the potatoes. Which, of course, looked just incredibly beautiful to me!