Potatoes grow fast and huge, here. The frame can hardly contain them.
A couple of days back I went out in the morning to find one third of the
potatoes flattened. Raccoon? Deer? Owl flapping its wings? Coyote
maybe? Don't know, but I had to string them up to get them off the
surrounding plant beds.
We hardly, if ever, consider potato flowers. These are light, light
purple. Most of the others are white. They're nice to see, and
appreciate, floating above the dense bed of green.
Fond memories of potato patches. My grandfather had them and the grandkids were always in the midst during harvest.
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