More Potatoes.

Several months ago I prepared a small patch of this rich Taranaki earth in readiness for planting potatoes. I've never grown potatoes but my father did and successfully. Milton always dug some from his garden to be part of christmas dinner eaten on the day of the harvest, although dinner in this case was the middle of the day, turkeys and trifles and christmas pudding with coins inside, and of course hats and crackers.

I researched what potatoes were most suitable for my needs and bought a small bag at a nursery. Instructions stated that they had to be laid out in a warm place and not planted in the ground until they had sprouted.

The problem for me was as soon as they sprouted I enjoyed their look so much I couldn't bear to bury them. Yesterday and today I have been looking again, now several months on. The sprouts have a purplish hue.

Still not reached the final version but my educational opinion is that it's a good idea to keep making sketches. Living with the versions that don't work helps me to understand what needs to be done. Not that I do it in words, much of it probably happens when I'm asleep. If I don't understand why a work falls under the bar I may be doomed to repeat it, which is what I fear most.

Meanwhile, the earth where I was going to plant the potatoes has gone back to weeds. I'll prepare it again but this time for a crop of Iceland Poppies. Last year I had about 40 plants, and with not an abundant amount of care, was able to pick bunches for months. I enjoyed being able to give bouquets away to my friends and neighbours. This year my goal is to plant 100 so if you see an older gent with glasses and a large bunch of Iceland Poppies in his arms, walking up Willis St it could be me. Please say hello.