When in Rome, uh I mean Ukraine…

Strange as it may sound, I have always wanted to dig potatoes with Ukrainians. I thought it would help me accustom myself to the people and their culture better, and understand first hand the physical hardship it involves. I suppose, if you have done this every year since you were 9 or 10 years old, you would be used to it, but for a first timer, it was pretty tiring and painful. Most families don’t have modern equipment, so it means taking a horse-drawn plow row by row, gathering the potatoes that have been unearthed into buckets,  and then emptying the buckets into 70-80 lb. sacks that the men will load onto a horse-drawn cart and take home to store or sell.  There is a hand tool used to break up dirt and find any potatoes that aren’t seen on the surface. It involves a lot of bending, reaching, and lifting.  Don’t get me wrong, I really did enjoy doing it, and it was a good time and a testimony to the Bardwell’s unsaved neighbors. Four of the  Bardwell kids, Laurel, Olena, and I all came out to help them that day. And next year? We’ll see.

row by row, potato by potato

The 92 year old grandmother worked right beside us.

Praise the Lord for great weather.

All in a day's work.