Baby sweet potato plant. This picture was taken in mid-August, before the growth spurt. Two days ago this same plant was probably ten times bigger than what is pictured here. A big, beautiful plant.
I love sweet potatoes. I was so excited when I went to Walmart this summer and there were two different varieties just sitting there, waiting for me to bring them home. I bought both and planted them. I babied them, watered them, weeded them, and thought benevolent, loving thoughts. I loved those sweet potatoes.
The plants themselves were beautiful. One was green and the other, as you can see, was purple. No idea what the potatoes themselves looked like. But I'm getting ahead of myself. So they were beautiful. They would have made wonderful, ornamental plants all on their own, without the added bonus of food growing beneath the surface.
I had visions of eating sweet potatoes throughout the winter months. Baked, mashed, scalloped, stuffed...you know where this is going, don't you?
The green sweet potato plant began to look odd in August. The foliage looked flat, like it was just lying on top of the soil. That's because it was. Mick broke the news to me and got rid of the remains.
I broke the news to him this morning. Kind of. Heart filled with dread, I headed off to work and Mick headed out to the garden. I'd just returned from the garden, quickly picking a few things to give to a new co-worker. That's when I saw the evidence that my worst gardening fears were realized.
When I got home, Mick broke the news, "Not a one. Not one sweet potato left." When his shovel went in the dirt, it sank in, sank into an elaborate labyrinth of gopher holes.
I hate those damned gophers. I do. I hate them. I hate them. I hate gophers.
I'm an animal lover, always have been, and probably always will be. I like rodents and gophers are rodents. I don't even hate skunks. I don't even hate skunks even though Louise smelled like one for over a week with four baths and a trip to the doggie beauty parlor. I don't hate skunks even though that incident caused me unbelievable stress and fatigue, about $60, a head-ache, bad dreams, and shriveled nostril hairs. So I don't hate skunks. I wasn't happy with Louise for sticking her nosy face in skunk butt. I wasn't happy with Zeus for faking me out and acting like he needed to go out and pee at 1:00 a.m. But I don't hate skunks.
I DO HATE GOPHERS. I'M JUST A HATER. Go eat somewhere else. That was my family's food. I hate gophers. I have to go now. I think I'm going to cry. And then I'm going to pout. For a long, long time.
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