After weeks, even months, of intermittent work, the fence encompassing the front 20 acres of Purgatory Ranch is complete, gates and all. The barbed wire on the easy end will remind me of the location of the dreaded poison ivy. (Speaking of which, how have I stumbled into it three times this summer with tiny patches? No major outbreaks, but itchy nonetheless!)
Weeding this year is a battle. JoJo is a most delightful baby, much more cooperative than Jimmy ever was at this age, but I still can't seem to get ahead of the weeds. James set out to help me today... But before that story, bask in the sight of my not-quite-so-empty north potato bed. At one point, I thought I had lost 95% of this bed. Now I'd estimate my losses at 40%, which is much more reasonable and will undoubtedly yield more potatoes than we can possibly consume. I enjoy extras when it comes to food.
(The exuberance of tree onions always fascinates me.)
And the purgatory of the title can be summed up as... A once-friendly neighbor may have irreparably damaged our friendship by calling James some terrible names and attempting to bully James to solve his own problems. Thus, James spend 6 hours burning brush piles. I even have sunburned forearms to prove my participation in the excitement.
Until next time, remember, this is not paradise. It's Purgatory Ranch.
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