The year has begun well. Our little farm has produced vegetables that, like Jack’s beanstalk, growed and growed, till they were pulled out by an alarmed maali, who claims to have seen nothing like it in his life. The radish crop is humungous-sized, and the largest among them tipped over two feet in length, half that in circumference, and couldn’t be weighed on the kitchen scale that is used for more delicate measurements. Ten days after it was farmed, we’re still serving portions of it to guests with their drinks, and having it in salads for lunch and dinner —
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