I grew up in Trout Cove near Brasstown, North Carolina, and we always had a vegetable garden. Daddy would religiously follow the signs of the zodiac and the moon in the Farmers’ Almanac to plant all his crops, and every year, he and Uncle Joe Lee would compete to plant their cherished Irish potatoes first. I remember one planting season well.
“Trease,” Daddy called to Mama. “Where’s the ? I want to see if
