Last time we planted the potatoes on St
Patrick's day a late April frost nipped at them so voraciously that they
blackened a while. The recovery was slow for the plants but not
for the Colorado Beetle.
In my mind I see the children of this
beetle, like something from a fairy tale illustration. Pinkish and
chubby and when squashed in the fingers they leave a stain.
Worse than stinkbugs which are at least
agile when they trickle round a plant stem like a squirrel to avoid being
seen. The child of the Colorado just sits there eating, in that
entitled way. Either that or he is stoned.
On Tuesday the weather looks fair, and this after the potato rains we've
been having. That cold rain which soaks, with no wind to dry it.
Gets into the old bones filling them with memories of other years - most of
which finally fell into summer.
Imagine, I briefly
lived on the shore of Lake
Victoria. Everyday pretty much the same. 60's in the
morning. 80's by the afternoon. Rain around 4pm. Three
crops a year.
Difficult to know when to plant in Kentucky, but then
again, perhaps by Wednesday or Thursday seed potato might have cost less.