The potato digging theme of my days continues. I’m not sure how many ways I can express my adoration for our potato harvest this year, but I sure will keep trying. We began the season with fresh seed stock (as opposed to saving our seed from year to year, which is our norm, replacing every 3-5 years), and boy that brand new certified disease free stock always injects new life into our potato security. All of our seed came from The Maine Potato Lady
It was also a big workday for me, which is how most weekdays look, though I don’t share that aspect of my life much. I’m not sure how I will include the telling of that in this daybook, as I do enjoy a little behind the curtain mystery when it comes to how my work is produced. I like there to be an element of surprise for Hearth & Home members each week. Suffice to say, every weekday includes time devoted to the production of our lessons there, and the general management of our website, community, and all that goes into running a business. I just don’t discuss it much, but I also don’t want to give the impression that no time is required to maintain such an entity, because goodness that is entirely untrue. Anyway, lots of special work on this day, just like most days… and potatoes!
For some reason, I’ve been thinking of my childhood pediatrician, Dr. Hines. His first name was Peter. His nurse, Joanne. She was tall, slender, had dark hair, and wore white pants. I cannot recall her face at the moment, but she was always so kind. It never felt like we were entering a highly profitable corporation when we visited our family doctor; in fact, the walls were adorned with that terribly practical yet homely 70s wood paneling. Not good wood paneling, but the thin, veneer variety. Ubiquitous to the era.
Dr. Hines’ office was located on the second floor, above a restaurant that would be best described as a diner. Always bustling. You could sit in a booth or at the many, many feet of counter that was surrounded by chrome swivel stools with red vinyl seats. It wasn’t retro themed, it just was. Now that I think about it, they even had a small animal farm out back for customers to enjoy. Petting zoo? I recall goats, but can’t think of what else. On one particular visit, that included a needle to my tush, Dr. Hines took me (and my mom) downstairs for an ice cream cone after. Ice cream was a rare treat back then! I was so excited and gladly accepted, even though I was a little confused because I didn’t even cry from the shot. What a thing for a doctor to have time for.
The doctor’s office, restaurant, and petting zoo are all gone now. Last I recall the entire building was vacant and overgrown with ivy.
I admit to romanticizing the old days, while omitting plenty of hard aspects in my storytelling. Hopeless romantic I believe is the term. I don’t mind the association.