Hides underground all winter.

Loves chicken manure and seaweed.

Is so juicy fresh out of the ground.

Even the roots make my hands smell like witch hands.

Is a hefty carload.

Feels like a gift you gave yourself nine months ago.

(Like a baby! But only waiting-time-wise.)

(Otherwise garlic is nothing like a baby. When it’s ready, you just hang it in a well-ventilated area and it takes care of itself.)

Makes me feel rich in something.

Actually was a gift from a maine farmer named John, and we’re still growing and saving it.

The “small” ones aren’t even that small this year!

Giving it to the CSA feels like bestowing jewels or something.

You can stick it wherever you have a problem and it fixes it.

(The above mostly applies to sore throats and yeast infections. It is as-yet-untested in relationship troubles, but is sure to clear something up.)

Someone please give me some mussels to go with this.

Tomatoes! Get ripe!


You can hang it in your house too. No more vampires.

Garlic harvest is holiday #1 for this girl.