We pulled up the potatoes a couple weeks ago. Three big rows. Pull out the plants. Shake off whatever potatoes we could. One person with the pitch fork turning the soil and trying not to spear the hidden potatoes. The other person on hands and knees snatching the loose potatoes as soon as they flashed through the dark earth. We saw some big worms and got some big potatoes. Laid them out on an old bedsheet to harden off a bit in the air, but frost was on the way so we tucked them in for the night with a tarp. Our garden, rather untended this year as we are living so many miles from it, was at least victorious in producing potatoes. Too many potatoes this year. Too many.