I think it is fairly safe to say that Stevan and I are the world's worst gardeners.  We really like the idea of gardening, and having fresh vegetables directly from the garden, but in reality ....... well let us just say that the only thing we succeed in growing are rhubarb (which grows on its own without any help from us) and potatoes (the magic plant - you put one potato in and you get a nice batch of potatoes out).

We struggle to eat all the potatoes we grow (yes I know we could plant fewer but we're so good at growing potatoes!), with the result that this afternoon we were still digging up the last row of potatoes in the ground.  It turned out to be a family affair:

Peggy stood guard over the box of potatoes (in reality she was trying to catch each potato as I threw them in the box), and the hens came behind pouncing on worms whenever they appeared.  Lexie, on the other hand, decided that there was fun to be had out of a potato and she stole one and disappeared around the side of the house, leaving us with the work.



Eventually the last of the crop was gathered, and the tattie patch was left to the hens to pick over: