The Fruit of (their) Labors

In the spring, we tilled the soil. Then, we made our hills, and planted the young plants.

In the summer, we watered (and watered, and watered -- remember summer?) and weeded and watched out for the waves of beetles.

In the fall, we waited, and waited. Tomatoes were picked, the zucchini had finally ended, but still, we waited. Finally, the time was right (we hoped). We dug, and dug and dug some more. We hauled them all inside, and then...we had to wait again. They cured.

Finally, last week, we gave thanks for our harvest, and ate.

"Mom, you have to take a picture of me eating our sweet potatoes!" Levi said. All he added was a little brown sugar.

Those of you who know our family know that I do not have the green thumb (understatement). My brother grows things. My sister was born with a love of animals, which I also do not possess. I, however, have managed to learn to write about it all. Since we may never be able to grow sweet potatoes again successfully, I thought I had better report it now.