Fart-i-chokes!
With the garden tidy and all the chicken in their respective pens attention has turned to the vegetable garden. Digging the artichokes is always a laborious task, as every earth covered tuber must be graded by hand then placed either in the premium bucket for selling, or the seconds bucket for ' seed ' and animal feed. You will notice there is no third receptacle mentioned for home consumption - the ferocious flatulence induced by the innocuous looking nodules is such that Em has imposed an outright ban on their usage. A few years back in a slightly unkind yet ingenious prank, I loaded Mr. C up with roasted artichokes on the evening before his first night at Kit's (his girlfriend's) house. The result was explosive in every conceivable meaning of the word - so I don't bother saving any for him nowadays either. The best specimens are now washed and waiting to be taken to the farm shop with the next consignment of quail eggs, the proceeds from which should pay our vegetable seed bill for this year. Naturally the rejects will not be wasted and I worked until dark planting row after row of them in the pig run. There is so much meat in the freezer we don't plan to have pigs again until early autumn, by which time the artichokes should be fully formed. The quantity I planted should provide a significant amount of free fodder and will undoubtedly supply hours of entertainment for the porkers as they root them out.
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