Digging potatoes

I dug potatoes with my daughter today.  Our hands clawing at the earth, fingers probing the dirt - it was like digging for treasure.  In addition to our haul of four bags of red potatoes, we discovered a few grasshoppers, some crickets, several lady bugs, assorted beetles, numerous potato bugs, a tiny fuzzy spider and one toad (which peed in my hand).  The sun was on our necks and the dirt and weeds made us itch, but we were too preoccupied with the joy of searching for our bounty as a team of equals.  As we walked back between the rows with our heavy sacks, our faces were looking down, but our hearts perched happily upon satisfied shoulders.  My daughter's bright green boots dragged through the dirt as she cheerily noted how we'd have potatoes to eat whenever we wanted.  We were sweaty, dusty, and fully content.  You'll never experience a better afternoon than that.

Potato Dig at KYV Farm

Bitter Herbs

I like Passover because the whole family has to stay at the table for more than the usual ten minutes. Let's face it, it's all about the kids - when they're there. ...asking the four questions, searching for the Akikomen, learning to sit still with empty stomachs while sitting at a table brimming with delicious food - what kid wouldn't look forward to that?! But, what I really like, is the bitter herbs. They serve as a reminder of the bondage of our ancestors in Egypt, which is immediately reflected on the faces of those around the table who actually eat the bitter herbs. Believe me, there is nothing like a mouthful of horseradish to capture your attention. Even a dime-sized portion on the corner of a a piece of matzoh will set your eyes watering and force you to think of nothing else but our enslaved forebears. It will also provoke you to lunge across the table for more matzoh to absorb the burning in your mouth and nose. For those few moments, everyone at the Passover table - young and old - is caught up in the need to ignore everything else and focus on the nearly incapacitating nature of true bitterness. And as it begins to fade with the intake of Manischewitz and matzoh, you feel immediate gratitude for the fact that it was only temporary - unlike that of those whom we commemorate. There is a divide in this experience between the younger and older folks at the table. The older ones know exactly what to expect as they lift the traditional food to their lips. The younger ones are merely following their example, coaxed along with time-honored phrases such as "try it," "just a little taste," or "it's good for you" (an obvious risk). Seeing the children's faces as they actually taste the horseradish is like watching someone take a swig expecting delicious hot chocolate, but getting old, bitter coffee instead. You can't help but feel a little bad, while you rush to give them more matzoh to ease the sensation. The mental picture I've just created makes me want to take an actual photo. Perhaps we'll manage to get one next year, just as everyone has taken that fateful nibble. We can keep a copy around just to prove that - although we did get together and enjoy a filling meal - it wasn't that much fun. After all, it's not as if it's a celebration. It's more like a post-commiseration... ...with food.

Twinge

Forget about that twinge in your stomach, and "Just Do It" today. Tomorrow will come soon enough.