Do I Smell Like Garlic?

Tortuga Thursday 

In 2012, on the plains of Northern Arizona, two families joined forces and began the trials and tribulations of building a small family farm with nothing in the bank but love.

Helper Laura cleaning off the dirt.

As you know, for the last week and a half, I've either been pulling garlic from the field or sitting in the garage stringing garlic to hang. The garage is about two thirds full, ceiling to floor, at this point. Might be closer to three fourths, actually. My daughter-in-law, Christie, asked me yesterday if I thought I smelled like garlic. Good grief! I hadn't thought of that. I wouldn't know since I'm so steeped in the smell, I doubt I would be able to tell. I must have looked stricken, because she

Laura in the field.

blurted "but I haven't smelled you."

Today should be our last day of this stage. We're working faster and longer since rain is due in tomorrow. The relief of finishing will be

Zack pulling garlic

joyous! We have three buyers interested. Will they offer enough? Will they even make an offer? The waiting is killing me but no one else seems to be worried. Gourmet hardneck garlic has a market and we're one of the few growing it, perhaps very, very few in Arizona.

We'll have a couple of weeks before we have to begin trimming and

Frank stringing garlic

cleaning the garlic. Maybe I'll have a few days to put my author hat on. I've got the final look at Post-War Dreams in galley form. And the first round of edits for The Legacy of Love and Murder, book three, will be coming my way. I might even get to the toddler gym with Sadi. A little fun is called for!

Hanging garlic. Ribbons denote varieties.