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While people far away are stuck in the grips of the polar vortex, Bryon and I ponder the garden. It had become almost feral during the August peak, but now it was simply unruly.Clean SlateIt was past time to get it under some sort of control. The alternative was to be invaded by more sorrel, sweet potatoes, and rosemary. We also decided that grape tomatoes were more trouble than they are worth–better to grow Romas or San Marzanos. Clean SlateFirst things first:  major clean up. The renegade sweet potatoes, peppers, and rosemary were dug up and tossed over the fence. How many pounds of old, purple, gold, or puny potatoes were excavated as we raked our way toward the coop? At least 40, but they’re long gone–eaten by one of the night critters.

Apricot buds, trimmed five days ago. Blossoms still blooming

Apricot buds, trimmed five days ago. Blossoms still blooming.Clean SlateThe girls, waiting for a treat.

A lone early blackberry flower. A sign of things to come.

An early blackberry flower. A sign of things to come.

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