After many visits to France over the years, it had been my intention to take my boat into the canal system of France and try to find a small piece of land to berth it the boat would then become my live-on-board home. The land would be turned into a small allotment, and the surpluses food sold off the boat’s deck to passing boats. Not really a business but a way of life, sadly life got in my way.
Last spring before I left for Austria, I planted some potatoes in an unused corner of the garden, being outside the old kitchen, where all the drains run, it was an awkward site.
The drills were short but clearly formed potato drills, on my return, the contract maintenance gardeners had levelled the drills and the new shaws chopped off, even before they broke the surface. I raked down and found new shoots starting to sprout, so I raked up the drills again and fenced off the area with string making it clear it was being worked on.
I had little hope of potatoes from the shaws since no flowers came. Today I dug up a couple of shaws for my dinner, the potatoes were like new potatoes with little in the way of skin, the verity planted a French potato.
Dinner today was a bit special, with small boiled potatoes and cauliflower, garnished with butter. The waxy fleshed potatoes were just yummy, for the taste was so much that of the Loire River, flowing slow and majestic, under an intense summer sun that glinted and sparkled like stars upon its surface. Dinner does not come sweeter.