The patch was deep turned with a spading fork during harvest. It took a lot of passes with the tiller to return the resulting clods of Iowa clay loam to a friable condition. It took good nights rest to return me to normal.
This weekend, I have been laboring at harvesting our redskin potato patch.
We store them in a dark room in the basement in bus bins. I have made a rack so the bins work like drawers. I haven’t had time to wash them yet. Don’t judge.
To get the bins to the rack, I had to carry them past this little item hanging on a nail in the door frame:
I’m not cruel to little potatoes. I told them to hide their eyes.