TODAY was garlic harvest day. It was one of, if not the largest garlic harvest in my garlic cultivating career. I may not make tomatoes, broccoli or carrots, but garlic saves the day, if not my questionable reputation as a competent gardner. I seem to be able to do garlic.

These days, I’ll take any affirmation I can get. As long as I can get garlic, I’ll keep planting various other things as well. Perhaps I have mentioned: this is the fourth year that my carrots haven’t even germinated!! I am that close to calling the Agricultural Extension Department. Something is going on, for sure.

Be that as it may – the garlic harvesting moment was wonderful. As usual, as I always do, I pealed a clove of freshly pulled garlic and popped it into my mouth. It is always “brisk”, not to put too fine a point on it. This was more like chugalugging a shot of battery acid! Weeyow!. That was “brisk”. I began to be concerned for my stomach lining and the rest of the digestive tract. It took a few moments to realize the welcomed truth that I’d probably not have to dial 911.

So, a great pizza from the North Pownal Store and a cool one and my gastric distress has been relieved. When will I ever learn? God, how long have I been asking that dumb question?

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