My grandparents planted potatoes on Good Friday. Their parents and their parents before them did too.
Where the tradition started is difficult to say - but in most of the country - even here in South Wisconsin; when Good Friday arrives it is usually a good time to plant the potatoes.
Potatoes are fairly tough and can tolerate cool soil and a light frost. The earliest Good Friday comes is March 20 or as late as April 23. In most places, that's spring, even if there is snow on the ground.
One way my grandparents, Ralph and Clara, planted seed potatoes (whole or cut in pieces as long as there is one eye per piece) was right on top of the ground covered with a thick layer of straw.
I'm sure they weren't the first to do this, but it was a wonderful way to get around digging up very cold ground and when it was time to pick the potatoes they could lift up the straw to choose the ripest one and let the others continue to grow. Even as a kid growing up here, I thought that was pretty cool.
It is usually less than a month before the plants bloom and then its time to check the progress. There's not much better than fresh baked potatoes sitting next to a juicy steak for dinner!
One of the changes to farming that surprises me most these days is how small farmers have an opportunity to make a living these days. The kids set aside less than 10 acres for what we used to call "truck farming" and with the use of plastic covered greenhouses they generate subscriber ordered vegetables for a couple hundred people through community supported agriculture (CSA) operations. The subscribers pay up front, so the farmers get the money, and the buyer shares in the bounty or the risk. Last year the heavy rains literally blew up our strawberries as the water burst through the berry's skin.
Since I'm the old guy, they send me into town with the stuff we don't have claimed already and put it out at the farmer's market. That's a picture of one of my tables last summer. They sure look good, don't they?
I'm glad to be able to get these potatoes on the ground and covered, because the rain this week has made it too wet to plant in the fields. Any of the big tractors, even my little one, would get stuck in the gumbo we've got right now.
So, we bide our time. The cultivators are ready, the seed is bought, and the fertilizer guys are ready to make the first application. Half of farming is the waiting... and thankfully... that's something I've gotten pretty good at over the years.
I'll get to the potatoes this morning, because our whole family is taking the early afternoon off to head over to church for service.
Do you remember way back - maybe 30 years or so - when the stores and businesses closed from 12 to 3 on Good Friday to remember Jesus' last 3 hours hanging on the cross?
Our little country church still holds a 12 o'clock service and we'll be there.
My Grandpa used to say if we are going to ask God to send the rain for our crops, then the least we could do is take a little time to thank Him and honor Him with our time, thanks, and praise.
It's a quiet day around here otherwise - we'll milk the cows, of course - but it's a solemn day. Like everyone else, we're waiting for Easter Sunday.
Now, if you ever want to get yourself into some real good food - you find a seat around the table for Easter dinner - there's ham, chicken, and the best cinnamon rolls my mom ever made. My Dad, my uncle, and I each used to get a pan of them to ourselves and the rest of the family had to fight over two other pans!
That's a celebration, right there. The kids search for the hidden plastic eggs in the yard and eat all the ears off the chocolate bunnies - good conversation and time to catch up. There's no better way to celebrate on the farm.
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